The room, equipped with an automated CAD tuning suite, was technically known as a "Fitting Room." It was the standard facility used by students and staff to calibrate their devices for personal use.
The "Maintenance Room," however, was a different beast entirely. It wasn't just for adjusting a CAD to its user; it was a workshop designed for deep-level customization, hardware tuning, and even light modification. Because the equipment there required high technical expertise and was notoriously difficult to handle, the room was rarely occupied. That was exactly why Tatsuya had chosen it as the place to bring the P94.
The entourage was a familiar crowd: Isori and Azusa were joined by Miyuki, Honoka, Erika, Leo, Mikihiko, and Mizuki. Tatsuya's original "client"—the student who had begged him to look into the matter—seemed overwhelmed by the high-profile presence of the group and had made a hasty exit.
Hattori had taken it upon himself to bar any further onlookers from entering. There was a peculiar complexity to his character; even though he had technically excluded himself from the inner circle, he had allowed the likes of Erika and Leo to remain inside.
"First, could you tell me exactly what happened?" Tatsuya asked, looking toward Isori. The senior looked visibly relieved now that the gawking crowds were gone. "I've only heard the rumors circulating through the halls."
Tatsuya's request was reasonable; the classmate who had dragged him here hadn't bothered with a proper briefing.
"The incident began this morning at exactly 7:00 AM," Isori began, his voice taking on a business-like tone.
February 15th, 7:00 AM.
The 3H P94 model—affectionately nicknamed "Pixie"—had been stored in the Robotics Club's garage. It woke from its suspend mode via a wireless power feed. While these Humanoid Home Helpers (3Hs) are equipped with internal batteries for rebooting, the manufacturer recommends using an external power source for the initial startup to reduce the strain on the fuel cells.
Pixie's awakening at an hour when no students were on campus was a scheduled event: the execution of its self-diagnostic program. According to the 3H user manual, it is ideal to run a full diagnostic before daily operations. While most households ignore this step, the Robotics Club—which had been loaned the P94 for monitoring and testing—followed the manual to the letter.
The diagnostic progress was monitored automatically by a server running a remote management application, while garage cameras watched for any abnormal physical movements. The diagnostic completed without a single error, and the program terminated. The 3H should have returned to its suspend state.
It didn't.
Despite the lack of errors, the P94 did not power down. Instead, it initiated unauthorized communication with the school server. Its target? The student registry.
The remote management software flagged the behavior as a likely malware infection and issued a Mandatory Kill Command. In military hardware, there are physical safeguards to prevent remote overrides, but such "hardened" hardware is never installed in civilian models. The P94 had no such defense. Even if there was a slight lag as the machine transitioned into a safe shutdown sequence, it was fundamentally impossible for it to ignore the command.
And yet, Pixie remained active.
The access requests to the server continued until the server itself severed the wireless link, finally forcing the P94 into a localized halt.
Throughout the entire duration of this abnormal activity, the surveillance cameras recorded something impossible: Pixie was smiling.
"It looked... excited," Isori concluded, his voice trailing off. "Like it was looking forward to something. Like it was waiting."
Beside him, Azusa's face had gone pale. To her, that smile wasn't a sign of humanity; it was a chilling, uncanny horror. If a machine that lacks the physical hardware for facial expressions starts to look "joyful," anyone—including Tatsuya—would find it disturbing.
"I checked the P94's logs," Isori continued. "The forced shutdown command was received. In fact—as unbelievable as it sounds—if the logs are to be believed, the command was actually executed within the P94's electronic brain."
"In other words," Tatsuya summarized, "the P94 continued to operate even though its electronics had technically 'stopped.' This suggests the unit was being controlled by a signal originating from something other than the electronic brain—something non-electronic. You suspect it was either a Psion wave itself or a magical force accompanied by Psions."
"Exactly as expected of you, Shiba-kun. Professor Tsuzura said the same thing. I can't think of any other explanation."
"I see..." Tatsuya murmured. "I'll take a look."
Based on the story, a sophisticated new strain of virus seemed the most logical culprit, but that didn't explain the "smile." Tatsuya was hesitant to use his Sight in front of Isori and Azusa, but it was clear that a standard diagnostic wouldn't suffice here.
"Pixie, wake command. Resume from suspend."
"Awaiting instructions," the machine replied.
"I am accessing the operation and communication logs from 0700 hours today. Lie face-up on the platform and enter Inspection Mode."
"Verifying Administrator privileges."
Tatsuya's command required high-level access, and Pixie's response was a standard, preset protocol. Since Tatsuya wasn't registered as her primary administrator, he couldn't rely on "face-recognition" authorization; he had to provide evidence of his credentials.
Tatsuya had an Administrator Keycard clipped to his breast pocket. Normally, Pixie's optical sensors should have dipped toward his chest to scan the card.
Instead, Pixie's gaze remained fixed. Her eyes stayed locked on Tatsuya's face, unmoving. It was a long, heavy pause—a moment of stagnation that went beyond a simple scan. It looked less like a machine processing data and more like a person staring.
A chill ran through the room. Tatsuya, Azusa, and the others all felt it: something was wrong.
Then, Pixie moved.
"Found... you..."
A small, synthesized voice escaped her lips—the words "Mitsuketa"—and she stepped off the platform with a movement that was unnervingly deliberate. The next instant, she lunged at Tatsuya.
(Evasion: Impossible. Threat level: Low.)
A flash of compressed thought surged through Tatsuya's mind. He didn't retreat. As the body of the P94—over a head shorter than himself—hurled toward him, Tatsuya braced his weight and caught her head-on.
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