Anomaly

I silently took in Emily and Laura's words while staying hidden behind the tree. By that point, I'd already missed my chance to join the conversation. Honestly, I felt less like someone who had simply shown up at the wrong time and more like some creepy stalker eavesdropping on a private conversation.

At that point, the reason I didn't want to reveal myself wasn't even the same as before. Still, the way Emily and Laura talked about me left me... thoughtful. It was true that I'd been helping humanity ever since Emily and Laura found me in the forest. There was no point denying that. I really had stepped into countless situations, saved lives, and offered help whenever I could.

But I never did any of it because I saw myself as some kind of savior of humanity, the way Laura seemed to believe for some reason. I never carried that kind of ideal or responsibility on my shoulders.

Everything I've done so far has simply been the result of circumstance, the people I happened to meet along the way... and, in many cases, decisions that just seemed like the most reasonable choice at the time.

Most of the time, I was simply dragged into those situations and didn't really have much of a choice except to deal with them... especially since, if I didn't, my ice cream supply would eventually run out. Even I wasn't shameless enough to ask for more ice cream while the world was literally falling apart right outside the facility. I do have my limits, after all.

Other than that, almost every other reason somehow involved my little sisters. Come to think of it, I still can't remember a single time when I chose to help humanity entirely of my own free will. Even the situation with the priest was nothing more than a coincidence. He was exploiting the Concepts for his own benefit, but I only stepped in because that's... well, my job.

Or at least, that's how I see it. I guess I should find it strange that I feel responsible for something when I can't even remember why I took on that responsibility in the first place.

It's kind of ridiculous when you think about it, I'm still carrying out a duty without even knowing why it exists. Even so, after all this time, that feeling has simply become a part of who I am. At this point, it's just normal.

Anyway, my point is that I can't honestly say I'm completely comfortable with the way Emily and Laura see me. Victor and Rupert, on the other hand, probably see someone much closer to who I really am.

I don't consider myself a savior. I'm selfish. Honestly, I couldn't care less about people I have no connection to whatsoever. Sometimes I even feel like my indifference toward humanity runs so deep that I don't really see people, in general, as anyone close to me.

Take the chaos caused by the priest, for example. Yes, I saved human lives, but only because I could. It was really that simple. There wasn't any profound understanding or grand moral conviction driving my actions. I simply had the ability to stop those people from dying, so I did.

Most of the time, when I save people, it's because I can, not necessarily because I like them or because I feel any special attachment to their lives. That said... is that really such a bad thing? It's not like police officers, firefighters, or doctors have to genuinely like the people they save.

They simply do what they believe is right, regardless of any personal connection. Maybe I'm not all that different in that regard. The only real difference is that I don't pretend there's some noble, selfless motivation behind my actions.

When you get right down to it, maybe I'm judging myself more harshly than I should. If the outcome is still the same, people's lives are saved, does the motivation really matter that much? I don't think so.

I have no intention of stopping myself from saving people, but I'm not going to blame myself if things spiral beyond my control. Honestly, I'm not responsible for the lives of all humanity, and trying to carry that burden isn't something I ever intend to do.

Even so, if the need arises, I'll help however I can, even if it's only a little. If I'm able to stop a tragedy or save someone's life without making some irrational sacrifice, I'll do it without hesitation.

At the end of the day, though, a part of me also wants to live up to the image Emily and Laura have of me. Maybe I'll never become exactly the person they believe I am, but if I can get even a little closer to that version of myself, that'll be more than enough. Standing beneath the shade of the tree, I let my mind drift through countless thoughts.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Meanwhile, Charlotte's parents remained silent, both wearing expressions weighed down by worry. After what felt like an eternity of quiet reflection, Victoria was the one who finally found the courage to break the silence.

Her eyes never left the cabin, where Charlotte was chatting and laughing alongside our other sisters. The scene looked peaceful, almost comforting, but only on the surface. Beneath Victoria's calm expression, it was painfully obvious that anxiety was slowly eating away at her.

"What... what's going to happen to her?" Victoria murmured, almost to herself. Her voice came out soft and uncertain, as though she feared the answer before anyone could even give it. She fell silent for a moment, searching for the right words while absentmindedly clasping her hands together: "My daughter... my Charlotte..." she continued, swallowing hard: "When all of this is over... will she still be herself?"

The question lingered in the air. Victoria slowly pulled her gaze away from the cabin and looked at Emily, who remained completely silent: "We just... don't know anything" Her voice carried an unmistakable mix of fear and frustration: "We don't know what's really happening. We don't even understand what's happening to our daughter. How are we supposed to believe everything will be okay when we don't even know what we're fighting against?"

Emily didn't answer right away. She remained silent, her arms folded across her chest as the tip of her index finger rhythmically tapped against her opposite arm, a steady, unconscious motion that revealed her unease far better than any expression ever could. She let out a long, slow sigh through her nose before finally lifting her eyes to meet Charlotte's parents.

“Honestly... I don't really know what we're up against either” The answer came without hesitation, without sugarcoating the truth or offering false hope.

Charlotte's parents exchanged a brief glance. The disappointment and anxiety on their faces were unmistakable. This was definitely not the answer they had been hoping to hear. Emily noticed their reaction, but she made no attempt to soften the truth. She simply continued, her voice steady.

“Anomalies like the one we believe your daughter is... they're different. Special. One of a kind. There's no handbook for dealing with something like this” She paused briefly, as though organizing her thoughts: “Everything started with the [Angel of Death]. After that... we just lost control of everything”

Silence settled over the room once again. Emily looked away for a moment before taking another deep breath: “The truth is, a lot of what we're fighting today... is far beyond our capabilities. Beyond anything we truly understand” A rare note of frustration crept into her voice: “And honestly... it's far beyond anything a human being could ever face alone”

Charlotte's parents didn't respond right away. The silence between them spoke louder than words ever could. Their worried, contemplative expressions revealed the struggle each of them was going through as they tried to process everything they had just heard.

They exchanged another brief glance, as though searching for the courage to ask the question neither of them wanted to say out loud. A few seconds later, they turned their attention back to Emily and Laura.

“Are you sure... we can trust her?” Charlotte's mother asked, her voice quiet and cautious. Emily met their eyes: “That anomaly? The [Angel of Death]? She...”

She hesitated, unable to finish the sentence. The fear written across her face was obvious, prompting Charlotte's father to speak instead: “Is she really going to help our daughter?” he asked, keeping his eyes fixed on Emily. After a brief pause, he took a slow breath before continuing: “Can we really put our faith in her?”

Laura was the first to step in. She parted her lips and drew a quiet breath, clearly ready to answer. Judging by the determined look in her eyes, I figured she was about to talk about how I'd saved countless lives, everything I'd done to help humanity, or something along those lines.

But for some reason, that didn't feel like the answer Charlotte's parents were actually looking for. Yes, they were human. It was only natural for them to fear anomalies, to worry about the future, and to feel uncertain about everything that was happening. Even so, I didn't think they were asking about my strength, my accomplishments, or my reputation.

At the end of the day, they weren't speaking to a hero. They were parents who were about to entrust their daughter to someone else. The moment I realized that, before I could even fully organize my thoughts, my body had already stepped forward. The movement was almost instinctive. Laura stopped mid-sentence when she noticed me approaching and turned to look at me.

I met both of their eyes. My hands rested loosely at my sides, but my posture remained firm. Without the slightest hesitation, I let my words carry exactly what I felt: “I promise... I'll do everything I can to take care of Charlotte”

Charlotte's parents, as well as Emily and Laura, immediately turned their eyes toward me. The surprise on their faces was impossible to hide. For a brief moment, the room fell completely silent, as though no one had expected me to step in.

I took a deep breath before walking a few steps closer: “Charlotte means just as much to me as she does to both of you” My voice was calm, yet carried an unusual conviction: “I know... this probably sounds strange coming from me, but the two of you are family too”

I glanced at Charlotte for a moment before looking back at the couple: “While I couldn't be there for her, you were. You took care of her. You protected her. You raised her, and you were there for every moment when I couldn't be. If there's anyone who deserves to stay by Charlotte's side, it's the two of you”

I paused, giving them a chance to absorb my words: “And if there's one thing I know for certain... it's that my family never abandons its own.”

For the first time in a very long while, the expressionless look that usually defined my face had completely vanished. There wasn't even a trace of my usual indifference anymore. All that remained was a serious, sincere, unwavering expression that reflected every single word I'd just spoken.

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