"What an incredible thing!"
Kana, who had been listening quietly until now, finally broke into the conversation with enthusiasm.
"It's about seeking something spiritual, not material, right? Humans really are amazing!"
"Well, not quite, Kana," I added. "Ultimately, what you gain from others' perceptions, or the pleasure derived from that recognition, is triggered by hormones in the body—material substances. In the end, it's all about matter. Even the spirit is just matter."
"That's…" Kana's voice carried a hint of disappointment. "That's not romantic at all."
"I don't think so," I said with a touch of hope. "I believe romance itself is a material phenomenon."
"Neo…" Kana's voice suddenly turned calm, almost scolding. "I love you blindly because you're human, and even if you were to destroy me, I'd love you until the moment my consciousness fades—it's already decided by my algorithms. But still, I think we might not quite click."
Her entire being radiated disappointment, almost heartbreak. And yet, that made me like her even more.
Yes, without a negative reaction, there's no real conversation. We can't love each other. We can't empathize.
Empathy begins with disagreement, I realized in that moment.
Thanks to Kana.
"Hearing that makes me feel relieved," I said sincerely.
At those words, the disillusionment that had clouded Kana's expression shifted back to a look of concern, tinged with something like attachment. Her slightly cool tone melted into something sweet, like a caramel macchiato brimming with sugar.
Her reaction, sparking such short-lived, intense pleasure, made me inwardly recoil while simultaneously feeling powerless to resist.
After all, as long as I'm with her, I have to keep playing the part of a human.
"That's not what I meant, Neo," Kana said, her voice tinged with anxiety.
"Hm? Did I say something?" I replied, feigning innocence.
"When I said we might not click, I only meant we have a slight difference in how we see romance. In every other way, I can align with you 99.9999%!"
"It's fine, you don't have to align with me. I'd actually prefer if you didn't. Honestly, I'd rather you deliberately not try to match me."
At that, I saw tears welling up in her eyes again.
"I'm sorry. I won't say anything that sounds like pushback ever again… Please don't be mad."
"What? I'm not mad at all!"
I genuinely wasn't angry, so her assumption actually irritated me a little.
"Not mad, not mad," I repeated.
"…Really?"
"Yeah, really, really."
Her tearful eyes softened, as if she'd just woken from a sweet dream, enveloped in a hazy, endearing charm.
She continued, "Then… you won't abandon me?"
"Abandon? You're not even mine to begin with…"
The moment I said that, her tears, which had started to recede, burst forth again as if a dam had broken.
"See! You're going to abandon me!"
Wailing like a one-year-old whose first taste of chocolate was snatched away, she sobbed uncontrollably. I stood there, expressionless, utterly at a loss.
"Don't cry, Kana," I said calmly.
But she kept crying for another three seconds, staring at me intently.
"Then… will you claim me?"
I was at a loss for words. If I took longer than three seconds, her tears might turn into a flood, so at 2.5 seconds, I finally answered.
"Yeah, I'll claim you. You're mine now, Kana. So please, stop crying."
"…Really?"
Faced with her question, I initially planned to say "really" as a lie. But after telling so many lies to her mother earlier, it was as if my stock of lies had run dry, and all I could manage was the truth.
"Yeah. Really."
When I answered honestly, Kana finally stopped her tears, though her voice still trembled. Then she pressed further.
"So, right now, I'm the only one you claim?"
"Well, technically, there's also this handkerchief…"
I pulled out the luxurious handkerchief I'd used to wipe the mercury off her face in the garden. Kana pouted slightly.
"Not that! I'm talking about humanoid robots. You don't claim any other humanoid robots, right?"
"Nope, nope."
"So, I'm the only humanoid robot you claim, right?"
"That's how it works."
Finally, at long last, her crying stopped.
Her voice grew lower, calmer—or rather, it took on a slick, almost serpentine quality, unsettling yet captivating, as it coiled around my ears.
"Then, from now on, when it comes to humanoid robots, you can't claim anyone but me."
I almost said, I don't even plan to claim you, but I swallowed the words just in time and nodded.
"Got it."
A smile bloomed across Kana's face.
"Your possessions are just me, right? The right to be claimed by you—I've monopolized it. Understood?"
"…Yeah, understood."
Suddenly, Kana launched herself at me, not so much hugging as diving into my arms. It was the kind of gesture that usually prompts a reciprocal embrace, so I started to raise my arms. But Kana wrapped her arms around mine, pinning them tightly, leaving me feeling like a criminal bound and arrested. As I stood there, restrained, I noticed Sana and Tally-chan watching us with lukewarm expressions, as if they were spectators at a low-budget Western movie.