She knew exactly what answer he wanted.
She could have stopped right there.
She could have softened her words.
But she didn't.
She chose truth over comfort—every time.
She explained when she didn't need to explain.
And when she could have told L175246 about the divine penalty, she said nothing.
Others like to coat lies with more lies.
She did the opposite—she carved truth into truth, chipping away every soft illusion with blunt honesty.
Every word she spoke was real, and that was precisely what made it hurt.
L12185511 tilted its cube head up, staring at her for a long time before speaking again.
"You're really awful like this. It would've been better if you just said no. You're afraid I'll be sad, but you also don't want me to expect anything. You're really awful."
Then, as if unable to stop himself, he continued, explaining what he meant by "you kept haunting me."
