"..."
X opened his eyes from sleep, and what greeted him once again was the familiar interior of the Control Team's main rest area.
Even though this was a dream, the exhaustion lingering from before he fell asleep still clung to his mind.
He had to admit it—although this place was filled with strangeness and uncertainty, walking through this so-called Inner Lobotomy Corporation did, in fact, allow him to temporarily forget the fatigue brought on by his daytime work.
Hmm… could it be that this process itself already counted as a form of "rest"?
However, today's Inner Lobotomy Corporation seemed a little different from before.
Because the moment he opened his eyes, X saw someone sitting right across from him—hands propping up her cheeks, eyes bright and fixed intently on him.
The person before X was a girl wearing a white lab coat, with a black choker around her neck.
The hem of her lab coat was embroidered with gear-shaped patterns, and several mechanical arms floated around her like remote drones, helping her hold various tools and objects.
In the center of her red pupils were the same gear-like motifs. If anything, compared to Angela—the true AI—this girl looked even more like a machine.
"..."
"..."
The two of them remained silent for a long while. Awkwardness gradually spread between them, the atmosphere drifting in a distinctly strange direction.
"Um… hello?"
Noticing the armband on the girl's arm—nearly identical in style to those worn by the other Sephirah—X tried greeting her:
"Are you Angela's consciousness avatar in the Inner Lobotomy Corporation?"
She had an armband. Though the letters on it differed from those of the department heads he knew, she was probably still a Lobotomy Corporation staff member… right?
"Angela?"
The moment she heard that name, the girl's previously calm expression stiffened. The hand supporting her cheek paused slightly.
She lifted her head and stared straight at X . A clear flash of displeasure—and even a hint of offense—passed through her bright eyes.
"Perhaps I should address you as X now. Yes, X —please do not lump me together with that kind of machine."
Her dissatisfaction at being mistaken for Angela was obvious, her words dripping with sarcasm.
"I am human. A real human—one who can receive your gaze, one who can walk beneath the sun of the City."
As she voiced her displeasure, X also became certain of one thing:
This person was absolutely not Angela, nor any derivative of Angela.
Her voice, her manner of speaking, and the emotions embedded in her words were completely different.
They could not possibly be the same person.
"I'm sorry…"
Realizing that his rash assumption might have offended her, X spoke with an apologetic expression :
"It was wrong of me to assume you were someone else. I apologize."
"Then, may I ask—what is your name?"
"My name…?"
Almost the instant she heard X 's sincere apology and the question that followed, all the displeasure and mockery on the girl's face vanished without a trace.
The speed of her expression change was so fast that X almost felt as if—
Those intense emotions from before had all been deliberately acted out.
She raised one hand and placed it over her chest.
"Farad. That is my name, X ."
"I am not Angela, nor am I 'B.' I am Farad—the head of the Observation Department of the Inner Lobotomy Corporation."
She paused, her gaze seeming to flick briefly toward the top of X 's head before quickly pulling back.
"Normally, you wouldn't have met me this early. But for some reason, when you entered today, you triggered the Observation Department's purge protocol, so I had no choice but to come see for myself."
Farad's gaze drifted slightly.
"However, the moment I saw you, I understood why you triggered it."
"You mean this?"
Following Farad's earlier glance, X instinctively raised a hand to touch the top of his head.
There, the crown of thorns—reappearing after he entered the inner world.
"Is it dangerous?"
"It's not dangerous. At least, the E.G.O accessory that Abnormality gave you isn't."
"But I don't like it."
For some reason, X keenly sensed a faint hint of something in Farad's words—
Jealousy.
As if something that should have belonged to her had been taken by something else, occupying an important place instead.
"You may think Abnormalities can be communicated with,"
Farad continued, her gaze once again settling on the crown of thorns atop X 's head.
"That at times, they seem more real… more reliable… than humans."
"That way of thinking isn't wrong. After all, Abnormalities are—"
She stopped abruptly.
Again.
Just like the mysterious "B," she deliberately cut herself off right at the most critical point.
This infuriating way of speaking—always holding back at the core—gave X a headache, yet also stirred his curiosity so badly that he wanted to press her for answers.
"In any case, what I must remind you of is this—"
Farad stood up.
"No matter how well you get along with them, you must always keep a bottom line in your heart."
"Abnormalities are, in essence, beasts formed from various desires. At any moment, they may lose control—and do something irreversible to you."
"That is all I will say. Since you enjoy interacting with Abnormalities, and can even grow stronger through such interactions, I have no reason to stop you."
"Rest assured—here, you are not as fragile as the employees outside."
After leaving these final words behind, Farad said no more. She turned and walked toward the exit of the rest area.
She didn't look back at all, leaving X no opportunity to continue questioning her or delve deeper.
"Alright…"
X nodded reflexively.
"…Wait—no!"
But just as Farad's figure was about to vanish through the doorway, he suddenly realized—
He still had a mountain of crucial questions he hadn't asked her!
What exactly was the Inner Lobotomy Corporation?
Why had B specifically told him about this place?
And what exactly did this so-called "Observation Department" observe?
Questions swirled endlessly in his mind.
X hurried after her.
"Farad! Wait!"
Tap—
However, when he pushed open the door and stepped into the corridor outside, he couldn't even see Farad's departing silhouette.
The hallway was completely empty.
Only his own hurried footsteps remained—along with the fading echo of his call.