She had the appearance of a young girl with jade-colored hair.
Slim limbs and pure white skin.
Rather than a human, it would be more accurate to call her a crafted work of art.

The inorganic, mechanical movements that were inconceivable from her childlike appearance made it immediately clear that she was not human.

The second successful model of Demonsgear—Shieru.

Originally, this Demonsgear should have been sleeping in the deepest part of the Fectom Comprehensive Academy.

“I shall speak with you today as well.”

Shieru stated in an uninflected voice.
The tone, so different from the endearing chirp of a bird hopping across a keyboard, still felt somewhat dissonant to Miroku even on the third day.

However, her youthful appearance fortunately allowed Miroku to interact with her as if she were a younger girl.

“Thank you, Nana-chan.”
“…I am Shieru. You have mistaken my name.”
“You said it yourself, didn’t you? Version 7, right?”
“Yes. I have undergone numerous updates. I am now the most advanced among all the sisters.”

Shieru puffed out her chest with a “hmph.”
Though her expression remained unchanged, the gesture was undoubtedly that of a young girl.

“Then, your hand.”
“Yes.”

Following Shieru’s instructions, Miroku extended her hand.

“…What is it?”
“Until now, all subjects have shown fear, terror, or even violence—negative emotions—towards me by at least the second day. You are the first to offer your hand so willingly.”
“I just want to talk with Nana-chan. To do that, I have to hold your hand.”
“Are you not afraid?”

At Shieru’s words, Miroku fell silent for a moment as if in thought, then smiled and replied, “Not at all.”

“It’s boring here, so I want to have a conversation. Besides, failing to fulfill my role here would be far scarier.”
“Is that so? Then, I shall make contact.”

With those words, Shieru grasped Miroku’s hand.
In that instant, an overwhelming and repugnant sensation engulfed Miroku’s body.

“Ugh, gah… haah…”

The feeling of blood boiling and an icy chill rising from within assaulted her.
It was only a simple hand grasp, yet the torment exceeded imagination.
Above all, a sharp, ceaseless headache consumed her world, preventing her thoughts from coalescing.

“…!”

Amid her dimming consciousness, Miroku reached for a syringe with her free left hand and plunged it into her neck without hesitation.
By the time the syringe’s contents had been fully injected into her body, the discomfort subsided to a level that could be endured with effort.

“It’s all right now.”
“Is that so? Then, let us proceed.”

Still holding Miroku’s hand, Shieru quietly sat beside her.
Watching her, Miroku felt the discomfort ease somewhat.

“What shall we discuss today? Nana-chan, is there anything you wish to talk about?”
“The first day was the subject’s self-introduction. Yesterday was about the academy. In that case, it is only logical that I speak about myself today.”
“About Nana-chan? Please, tell me.”

When Miroku smiled, Shieru nodded and began.

“I am the second successful Demonsgear model, Shieru. My role is computation within the Stellar Plan and the termination of star-readers who have completed their task.”
“I see, that’s impressive… Um, is this right? I’m encountering quite a few unfamiliar terms, so I’m not sure how to respond.”
“It is correct. I possess the highest computational abilities among the Demonsgear models.”

Once again, Shieru puffed out her chest.
Silence fell between them.

After a while, Miroku hesitantly asked,
“Um… Is that all? Don’t you have any favorite things or hobbies?”
“I do not.”
“Oh, I see… Is that the end?”
“Yes.”
“I… see.”

Why had she said she would talk about herself? Miroku wondered but chose not to voice her thoughts.
She had dealt with similar individuals in the past.

(It’s like dealing with the old Mizuhi. Though back then, it was out of wariness.)

“Is there anything you’d like to try doing?”
“I do not.”

Her blunt words caused Miroku to frown.
For a young girl, such words felt somewhat hollow.

“Unlike me, Nana-chan will one day go outside. It might be fun to think about what you want to do when that time comes.”

At Miroku’s suggestion, Shieru silently shook her head.

“I am a tool with a designated role. A tool acts solely as a tool.”
“…I see.”

Sensing that further conversation would be futile, Miroku decided to stop.
Perhaps the words of someone on the verge of death held no weight for her.

“…Did I say something wrong? I cannot compute human emotions.”
“No, it’s fine.”

Miroku forced a smile as she looked at Shieru.

“Forgive me for saying this, but I’m glad you’re the Demonsgear I’m talking to.”

Not understanding the meaning, Shieru tilted her head.

“I feel the same way as you, Nana-chan. A role must always be fulfilled.”

In this world, everyone had a role.
This was a truth Miroku had come to understand throughout her life.
No one existed without a purpose.

If so, what was the role of the girl named Aosei Miroku?

“My subjects also have roles?”
“Yes. My role is to sacrifice myself to save the academy. It’s something only I can do.”

Beyond self-sacrifice lay completion.
Miroku had assigned herself such a role.

(With my limited strength, this is all I can do.)

In this academy city where strength dictated value, this was the only way Miroku could validate her existence.

“So, stay with me till the end, Nana-chan.”
“Of course. That is my role.”

Shieru nodded mechanically.
For now, that coldness felt comforting.

“Next, I’ll talk about my teacher—ah, ugh… agh…!”

Suddenly, her vision flipped.
By the time she realized she had collapsed, Miroku was already on the floor.

The medication had worn off.