"Sirin, it's time to go."
Solomon reached out his hand and gently brushed Sirin's violet hair.
"Already? It's only been like, forty minutes!" Sirin grumbled, pouting as she looked up at him.
"Yes—and we can add that forty minutes to the previous hours you've already wasted." The corner of Solomon's mouth twitched, followed by an exasperated sigh.
"Come on, big brother…" Sirin's voice trailed off as Solomon gave her that look. With a reluctant groan, she finally nodded. "...Fine."
She pushed herself up from the chair just as a wormhole appeared above the monitor.
"SWISH!"
The sound of tearing air cut through the room—an object pierced the monitor, shattering it in an instant.
"Sirin! What are you doing?! That's someone's property!" Solomon's eyes widened in horror. He grabbed Sirin's cheek and pulled, stretching it like a pufferfish.
"Hmph!" Sirin snorted defiantly, even as her cheek was being squished. "So what? It's not like they can do anything. What's theirs is mine."
"You…" Solomon took a deep breath, then sighed deeply. Finally, he let go of her cheek and scooped her up into his arms.
"Seriously, if you keep doing things like that—you'll be a bad girl." His gentle voice carried through the hall like a parent scolding a mischievous child.
"Bad girl? Please," Sirin scoffed, hugging Bella tightly in her small arms. "A queen isn't defined by good or bad."
"That's not true." Solomon walked down the dim, cracked hallway, his footsteps echoing. "A queen is defined by good and bad. She's no exception to morality—just like anyone else."
"A queen is a ruler meant to protect her kingdom," he continued. "To dedicate herself to her people, not to rule through selfishness or cruelty."
"What's that got to do with our conversation?" Sirin asked, tilting her head in confusion.
"It has everything to do with your mindset," Solomon replied, his voice calm but firm. Sparks of static flickered along the ruined corridor's walls.
"What's wrong with my mindset, big brother? I don't see any problem." Sirin furrowed her brow, glancing down at Bella, who only stared back at her blankly.
"It's… never mind." Solomon shook his head. "Just stop breaking things that aren't yours. And please, stop calling humans 'despicable,' alright?"
The mechanical doors hissed open, revealing the glowing, futuristic expanse of the Master Control Zone.
Sirin's eyes sparkled at the sight of the high-tech equipment. The temptation to "borrow" a computer set for gaming surged within her.
Her gaze darted from one console to another until she found the perfect target.
"Good, no one's looking," she thought, smirking devilishly. A wormhole formed above the equipment—swallowing the entire setup in an instant before vanishing without a trace.
"Perfect." Sirin grinned to herself, hugging Bella once more with fake innocence.
Solomon caught the act out of the corner of his eye and sighed in defeat. Shaking his head with a faint smile, he continued walking toward the stairs and began ascending to the upper floor.
"Oh? This chump is the Stellaron's vessel? How intriguing…"
A childish voice reached his ears. Solomon stopped mid-step, tilting his head slightly to listen.
"Indeed," came another voice—Himeko's calm, composed tone. "It defies all logic. Stellaron energy is corrosive, lethal to all life, and yet… his body withstands it. This boy shouldn't exist."
"How fascinating," the childish voice replied. "Himeko, how about you just leave him here with me?"
Himeko chuckled. "I'm afraid you'll have to negotiate that with him, Herta."
"Tch. Fine." The speaker—clearly Herta—turned toward the boy standing nearby. "Well then, boy, how about staying here so I can study your body?"
"Sure," Caelus said bluntly. "How much will you pay me?"
Herta blinked, then smiled faintly. "A materialist, huh? Fine. How much do you want?"
"...One hundred million."
Her eyes twitched. "Do you even realize how absurd that number is?" She sighed. "Fine. A hundred million credits. Not that money has any meaning to me anyway."
"Actually," Caelus said quickly, "I changed my mind. I don't want to be your test subject."
Herta's brows furrowed. "You—! Ugh. Fine. How about this—you come here once a month, or when I call you for research, and I'll pay you thirty million each time."
"Deal."
"Seriously, what kind of chump are you…"
Having heard enough, Solomon finally stepped forward, his footsteps echoing through the chamber.
"Oh, Mr. Solomon. Welcome back," Himeko greeted warmly.
Herta turned around—a small, doll-like girl with an ornate purple dress trimmed with ribbons, her heels clicking softly against the floor.
"Oh? And who's this?" Herta asked curiously.
"I heard from Dan Heng that he's here for you," Himeko explained. Solomon nodded at her words.
"Indeed. I came to see you, Miss Herta. I was hoping to exchange a relic I recovered from my homeland."
"A relic, you say?" Herta's tone immediately turned interested. "Well, show me this relic of yours."
Solomon nodded. His free hand reached into thin air—space rippled like water as he reached through and pulled out a golden cup.
"Oh… fascinating," Herta whispered, eyes gleaming. The cup shimmered in his palm, radiating a faint golden aura that illuminated her doll-like face.
"Radiating with this kind of energy… how extraordinary." Herta's eyes gleamed as she examined the relic. Her small hand twitched slightly—itching to touch, to dissect, to understand the object before her. The faint hum of the artifact resonated through the chamber, filling the air with a golden shimmer.
"This is called the Holy Grail," Solomon explained, his calm voice echoing faintly. "I found it during my visit to my homeland. Its primary value lies in its ability to act as an energy source—an almost infinite reservoir of power."
He lowered the cup slightly, allowing Herta a closer look. Her doll-like figure leaned in with fascination, fingers brushing the smooth, gilded surface.
"Infinite energy…?" she murmured. "Impossible, unless its composition transcends ordinary physics."
Solomon gave a faint smile, though his eyes flickered with something more complex—nostalgia, perhaps. "Though it's only a replica… Still, thank you, Goetia, for your relentless obsession with destruction," he thought silently.
"Well then," Herta said, her tone snapping back to its usual composed curiosity.
"Name your price, Mr. Solomon. A relic with this much energy—fake or not—is beyond priceless. Surely, you didn't bring it here just to show it off."
"Your perspective as the article says about you, Miss Herta. Indeed, my only request was simply, information about Erudation (Nous)." Solomon said seriously as Herta stopped focusing on the Grail on her hands.
"Information about Nous? Pray tell why should I share crucial information with you?" Herta's face also turned serious, her eyebrow rising towards Solomon.
"I gain an audience with HIM." Herta and Himeko stopped, their breathing held firmly, though I doubt Herta needed oxygen as her body was simply a doll.
"An audience with Nous himself… My, Mr. Solomon, I didn't know you were a big shot." Himeko joked as Herta EXE mod stop, finally rebooting and,
"What?! You've gained an audience with that big head while I, Herta, didn't even answer my question!" Truly, Herta's voice laced with exasperation. After many attempts to gain an audience with that machine, yet this guy- this Solomon gained an audience before her!
"My, isn't this interesting Herta. Your junior literally delivers herself to you." Himeko laughed softly before looking at Solomon,
"she's one of the Genius Society #83 Herta, and you, Mr. Solomon should be the #84 as you've gained an audience with HIM-a special privilege I say."
"Damn that big head… I sent thousands of questions, simulations, and quantum-coded requests—and it never answered me." Her voice remained calm, yet beneath that composed tone, there was a faint tremor—an undercurrent of something between irritation and curiosity.
"But then," she continued, "someone else—a human, no less—manages to reach it? To gain its audience?"
"Well, anyway," Herta began, her tone returning to its usual composed rhythm, "since that question has already been answered, it's only natural for me to ask another one."
Her doll's eyes gleamed faintly as she tilted her head. "What made Nous see you—no, what made Nous grant you an audience? Was it an invention? A complex formula that transcends dimensional theory? Or perhaps knowledge so profound that even Nous himself was compelled to speak with you?"
Her voice trembled with restrained fascination as she continued, "So many unanswered questions… and each one more intriguing than the last."
Solomon gave a small, knowing smile. "No, nothing like that. Nous himself said to me: 'You are an undestined one—no future to predict, no calculation to solve, no formula to define what you are.'"
The air fell silent. Even for Herta, that answer seemed to defy every logical conclusion. Her expression froze for a moment before shifting into quiet awe.
"…I see," she finally said, eyes narrowing in fascination. "How intriguing. Nous himself questioned your paradoxical existence." She turned away, her coat fluttering slightly as she began walking toward another chamber. "Oh well, follow me. It would be inappropriate for me to stand idly while speaking to a fellow genius."
Herta's puppet floated ahead, and Himeko stepped forward with a soft smile. "Well, I'll be going now, Mr. Solomon. If you need us, we'll be waiting at the dock."
"I understand. Though… could you take Sirin with you?" Solomon asked, glancing at the girl in his arms.
But Sirin only tightened her hug around him, glaring stubbornly.
"Fufu," Himeko chuckled, "it seems she doesn't want to be separated from you, Mr. Solomon."
"Sorry about that—and please, drop the 'Mister,' Miss Himeko. Just Solomon is fine."
"In that case, you can drop the formalities too," Himeko replied warmly. "Just Himeko will do, Solomon."
He smiled faintly and nodded, and she returned the gesture before taking her leave.
As Himeko and the others departed, Solomon followed where Herta had gone. The sliding door opened with a low hiss, revealing a vast chamber lined with countless mirror-like panels. A lifeless doll lay motionless to the side, the soft hum of machinery echoing through the air.
Then, stepping forward from the shifting reflections, stood Herta herself—not the puppet, but the real one.
Her appearance was striking: a witch-like noble dress trimmed with dark blue, a wide hat shadowing her pale features, and black stockings paired with elegant heels. Her porcelain hand rested against her hip as she smiled faintly.
"Once again, nice to meet you, Mr. Solomon," she said, her tone carrying both intellect and mystery. "I am the Herta."
Her eyes gleamed like stars caught in crystal. "Let's see what makes the undestined one so… fascinating."
[END]
A/N: Author here, anyway, I'll probably gone for a week since my defense is here due next week and I gotta study so I won't get cooked and thanks for reading!