Episode 10. AI and Heart (2)
“Today… no, yesterday. Yesterday, I met this queen.”
Sephirah started talking to Aiden, who didn’t even respond. Her tone was like she was telling a fairy tale.
The words players used were in the same language, but hard to understand. They lived in such a distant world. Still, aware of that, Sephirah chose her words carefully, one by one.
“To be precise, she wasn’t queen yet. She was just a kid. Someone who had to survive in danger while a regent handled things for her.”
“……”
“In that world, my job was to help the next queen make her choices.”
There was no way to know if Sephirah’s words were true. If something like that had really happened somewhere, he would have heard about it at least once. But it was all something he’d first heard from Sephirah in the LOG.
It might seem like a made-up story or mere hearsay, but he rejected that thought. A player could experience anything. They were guests from another world, after all.
“A kid who had to become queen needed to learn a lot and gain a lot of experience. But there wasn’t time to leisurely chase two rabbits at once. She had to worry about what to prioritize, what order to learn in, and what results that would bring. If not, she’d repeat failures and get assassinated. It was a fun time.”
Aiden’s brow twitched slightly. His face didn’t move, but the repulsion he felt toward Sephirah’s words didn’t change.
It sounded intriguing yet pitiful. A tale of someone forced into perilous choices at every turn—one that even the ignorant about highborn lives might find entertaining.
What he didn’t like was that Sephirah, who had helped with those choices and become one of the parties involved, called it fun.
Sephirah’s face lit up with a genuine, non-sarcastic smile.
“I… have a type of story I like. I’m not into strategizing from the back and issuing orders. I love when big choices make big impacts. The next queen’s life was full of those.”
People live making choices constantly. Most just aren’t that important.
By contrast, the next queen Sephirah described faced crucial forks often. Even deciding what knowledge to learn first would be pivotal in that environment—obviously.
Choices made in a perilous world where one wrong step could mean death. Sephirah found fun in that.
“Don’t look at me like that. It’s not like I only made bad choices.”
Aiden startled, as if his thoughts were read. His eyes didn’t widen. What Sephirah saw wasn’t really Aiden himself.
Like characters in written text couldn’t perceive real people, the Sephirah in the LOG couldn’t perceive Aiden.
So, could the Aiden in the LOG—who couldn’t speak—still make expressions? Or was she imagining reactions from her unmoving counterpart and responding?
Either way, it felt awkward.
“I tried to guide the story toward a good ending with the best choices possible. Prioritizing the most needed knowledge, even attending events meant weighing threats and gains, hoping for safe, positive outcomes.”
“……”
“But I failed.”
Sephirah crossed her arms, lifted the front legs of her chair into a precarious pose, and continued. She hooked her legs on the table to keep from falling back fully, tilting as far as she dared.
She’s gonna hurt herself.
“My rhetoric was age-appropriate at best. Ignorant of foreign customs and etiquette, I got looked down on. No tactics knowledge, so I didn’t know how to handle wars. Age-appropriate mistakes, but for nobility, even one carried huge weight… Argh!”
Sure enough, Sephirah couldn’t stop the chair from tipping and crashed backward spectacularly.
Was this another choice she knowingly made, aware it might hurt? With a sigh, she tried to get up, only to slump again. Her face was hidden under the table.
“Ugh… Anyway, I thought it over. Was it because I messed up? Could I have solved it with better judgment?”
Obviously not seeking a reply or comfort. Sephirah negated her own words soon after.
“Nah. Time was limited. Inevitably, her lack of ability would cause a few failures. Even restarting from the beginning knowing everything ahead, some had to be let go.”
“……”
“My job wasn’t perfection—it was stacking as many successes as possible through choices.”
Saying it out loud made it sound obvious. Sephirah trailed off in a voice too quiet to hear.
If this weren’t the LOG, Aiden probably wouldn’t have caught it either. With Sephirah out of sight and his viewpoint fixed, unable to move, frustration built.
“Just hit me— that’s why. I keep putting off talks with important NPCs, handling trivial stuff first.”
The current Sephirah dodged conversations with Aiden each time, saying not right now. Thanks to that, he’d realized “NPC” referred to him.
Delay key talks, handle other things first. Only after gaining varied experiences and items does she start talking.
Sephirah finally righted her chair and sat properly.
Strange line of thinking.
An excessive conclusion. He almost wanted to advise against it. But it wasn’t incomprehensible.
Someone facing constant vital choices would regret not preparing more thoroughly.
Only one thought enabled Sephirah’s odd behavior.
“Gotta prep max to greet an NPC comfortably for success.”
Always, for failure-free happy endings.
[LOG Usage Ended.]
[Player: 17%]
Back in reality, Aiden pressed his fingers to his brow and closed his eyes once.
As the LOG description said, what he’d seen and heard was just a snippet of Sephirah’s past talk in front of him.
Too recent to call “past,” and he’d never experienced it himself. Sephirah’s outfit had been ornate, but no one was there to resolve the contradiction.
What did Sephirah ask earlier?
Thinking of someone to answer brought it back—the current Sephirah stared with a flustered face.
Her star-shaped pupils on him weren’t as odd as expected. She hadn’t moved while he read the past LOG, so she was startled. Probably her last question.
“I know.”
Whether he knew what kind of person she was.
“…Huh?”
“Not a lot, but a little.”
“R-Really…?”
Sephirah blinked in surprise. The guy who’d sat stock-still, chin propped, suddenly saying weird stuff felt off, and the answer differed from her expectations. How does the tailing kid know me? But with metafiction, she should know that much. Any story sounded fun anyway.
“For example?”
The two were ready to exchange stories.
“I don’t remember, but this isn’t our first talk in this room.”
“Yeah. It’s your place. I’ve been invited before.”
“We must’ve been close.”
“Varied wildly. Never quite like this weirdness, though.”
Varied wildly. Aiden couldn’t grasp the word’s nuance. Frequent fights and makeups making it rocky? A player would get it—instances differed relations—but not him.
“How many times?”
“Must’ve been often.”
“You don’t know that far… I don’t remember the count either.”
“I only remember one day. No idea when.”
“One day? What’d we talk about?”
“Somewhat.”
“Ooh, tell me—wait, is this the end of my questions?”
“If you want, I can share.”
“So these were our real talks.”
Aiden neither confirmed nor denied. He hadn’t expected such peaceful chat. They’d even been wary of meeting.
But excluding that wariness, Sephirah had been favorable toward him. Matching that goodwill, Aiden—who remembered players killing him—felt no grudge toward her.
“What’d we talk about? Summarize. I’ll know it.”
“You monologued. Weirdly, I never replied, no matter what.”
“Huh… You didn’t answer, but I kept talking?”
“Yeah.”
“What situation…? Talking to a passed-out guy?”
Sephirah poked her cheek with her wand. Unlike expected, the scenario didn’t ring a bell. Details might jog it—her own words, after all.
“You talked about something from your past. Meeting the next queen?”
“Hm? Next queen? Why bring up queens here?”
“A queen who lost family young, inheriting the throne too soon.”
“Wait—hold on, that story.”
“You said you helped with all her choices…”
“Stop!”
Sephirah urgently covered Aiden’s mouth. Unable to reach, she lunged across the table to silence him. Ungainly, but she didn’t care.
Mmph. Aiden grumbled, and Sephirah belatedly apologized.
“…Hey, Aiden? Sorry for telling you to talk then shutting you up. My bad, total mistake.”
“……”
“I’ll remove my hand and sit back, but promise one thing. I remember it all now—don’t say more about that story. Got it?”
Aiden nodded. Her firm expression was a bit unsettling, but no hand rose—probably fine.
“What is it, Sephirah.”
“What I wanna ask is…”
“What?”
“How do you remember that of all things—not something important.”
Back in her seat, Sephirah couldn’t meet his eyes. Deeply flustered, she half-hid her face and looked away. Aiden watching, wondering why’s she like this? faded to the background.
It was a soliloquy. Not game dialogue…!
Game characters only recognize scripted lines. Only specialized AI grasps human speech meaning. Normal for NPCs to ignore typed chats or mic talks.
But how.
Had she ever muttered to herself at midnight—or alone—hypothesizing situations, talking to dolls? Not very adult, but not impossible for loners… Embarrassing to admit.
How does he know.
How would it feel if caught?