Although he himself had thought he would get beaten to a pulp by Siegfried for bullying his daughter and boasting about it in his thoughts.
But that iron fist of the man never landed on him, causing the simulated Yumeji, who had already braced himself for a beating, to look up in confusion.
And then, he heard a sigh. It was a sigh that was not only tired but also filled with melancholy and a touch of sadness. He didn't understand the meaning behind that sigh and wondered whether the man in front of him was just holding back his anger with it.
Because when he looked up, all he saw was Siegfried rubbing his face as he leaned back in his chair. That posture, combined with the fact that he was a middle-aged man, reminded the simulated Yumeji of the image of some drunkard slouching around in a bar.
-Creak, creak.
He heard the creaking sound as Sieg leaned back into the chair and pushed it back and forth with his legs, one leg propped up on the table while using an arm as a headrest.
Normally, that would be considered rude behavior, but in reality, none of the people here were human—just simulated data and an A.I. Forcing beings like them to comply with human etiquette in the absence of any oversight was an incredibly foolish and meaningless act.
So he simply tilted his head and waited to see what Siegfried intended to do to him.
And then, after a moment of thinking and downing a few beers, Siegfried finally looked Yumeji in the face and said:
<
He said that to the simulated Yumeji, then got up from his seat and started walking toward the exit.
Simulated Yumeji looked up at him, and then he, too, began to lift himself from the chair.
As soon as he began to move, Ai-chan, who had been floating above him, also started moving along.
While heading for the door, simulated Yumeji began to entertain a certain silly thought.
(When you think about it, isn't this the kind of scene you often see in school-themed movies?)
He thought that what he was about to go through was just like when a student gets called behind the school building or to the rooftop because of a challenge letter left in their shoe locker or something along those lines.
But no matter how things unfold up to that point, what happens next is usually quite predictable.
What's about to happen is definitely a fight—the odds of that are at 98%.
That's why simulated Yumeji was looking forward to it. He was still hesitating on whether or not to fight, but if he let Siegfried hit him first as a form of atonement for earlier, he could spin it into a self-defense situation, and once he started to fight back, he would use his silver tongue to escalate that reluctant skirmish into a full-on battle.
The reason for it could be completely nonsensical.
The root of it was entirely his own selfishness.
It might become the most meaningless fight of all.
But that didn't matter. From the very beginning, he was born as a simulation with a terribly rotten personality baked into his programming.
He was a shitty, battle-crazed bastard right from the start.
And yet, he felt no discomfort or dissatisfaction about that. He had no idea what the original version of himself was like—maybe that guy was a much better person—but he didn't feel jealous. He might be a distorted simulation, a warped reflection, but he felt at ease with that.
Because if he had been given a kind personality, or had been weepy or overly sentimental, it would've made it hard for him to live and enjoy the short, fleeting life of a simulated character.
In that regard, he felt like he should thank Kiana for having such negative thoughts about the original him—because of that, he got to be born and live comfortably in the role he was given.
******
A simulation can hear, speak, see, think, bleed, and suffer injuries. But they cannot understand concepts such as flavor, fragrance, aesthetic appreciation, pain, or exhaustion.
If they do show any signs of those sensations, it's only because the one imagining them defined them that way. In truth, the life of a simulation is fairly empty and meaningless.
They're just like NPCs in a fighting game—created for players to train with, gain experience, and blow off steam.
They can bleed, slow down from injuries, even grimace in reaction—but it's all just to add realism to the battles they're placed in.
In reality, that thing called pain that they supposedly feel is extremely vague.
Vague—yet still meaningful. After all, combat was their intended purpose from the very beginning. So when they throw themselves into a fight, it gives them the sensation that they're truly alive—not just clusters of data.
People might ask why they don't try something else. But the truth is, they simply weren't designed for that kind of convenience.
They're similar to AI—but different.
They're given knowledge by the server. They understand the concept of right and wrong, but they have no notion of good and evil.
Their actions can be formulaic, and there's no way for them to evolve.
But that only applies to soulless NPCs.
That doesn't apply to broken simulations like Yumeji or Siegfried. They can't level up or gain new skills like players do—but they can accumulate experience and adapt how they use the skills they already have.
Also, it's hard to tell what simulations actually know—so the knowledge they're given isn't exactly extensive. It's fairly basic. But in exchange, they can access unknown information within their minds through the server's information network.
This feature means nothing to NPCs who have no self-awareness. But for those two glitched simulations, it's a different story.
Depending on their preset personalities, each of them utilizes that convenience in their own way.
Speaking of which—although they lack a sense of good and evil, they do possess the concepts of like and dislike.
Their thoughts may just be more complex expressions of those feelings—layers upon layers of that simple binary, repeated until it feels like depth.
In a way, it's these likes and dislikes that reinforce their preset personalities—and those very personalities are what give meaning to those preferences.
*****
Normally, a battle would begin after a long-winded explanation.
But no. That's not how this story works.
*****
As soon as Yumeji set foot on the white snow after stepping through the door of the house, he mimicked continuing to walk in the direction the man in front of him was going.
He covered his face with his hands while moving because a snowstorm was happening outside.
However, just as he walked about 50 meters away from the wooden house, the snowstorm suddenly stopped, along with the man in front of him.
Yumeji wondered what would happen next while trying to remove the mascot girl clinging to his head to maintain balance against the previous storm.
He grabbed her head and lifted it as if he were pulling off a piece of gum stuck in his hair. But she wouldn't budge and remained firmly on his head.
<
<
<
He frowned, not understanding what was going through her mind.
<
<
<
Despite his objections, the stubborn Ai-chan held her ground.
<
<
He was frustrated, his eyes clearly showing his disdain for the current situation. But then, he suddenly had an idea and sat down.
Ai-chan tilted her head in confusion, wondering what Yumeji was doing, and then.
-Splat.
A thick and wet sound from hitting something both hard and soft rang out. Followed by the sound of something falling to the hard ground.
<>
For a moment, just for a moment, Ai-chan was puzzled and didn't understand what had just happened; without the concept of pain, she only realized in that instant her vision turned white.
And then...
-Splat.
-Splat.
-Splat!
It was only after experiencing that three more times that she truly understood what was happening. That damn jerk was continuously packing snowballs with both hands and throwing them at her face.
As if to tease her, his hands appeared pale and trembled when coming into contact with the cold snow before quickly regaining their rosy hue and warmth when a golden-orange flame flickered in his palms.
And then he continued that childish yet inhumane act without hesitation.
He kept using his hands to scoop, roll, and pack the layers of snow at his feet into snowballs the size of his fists and blatantly threw them at her face.
-Splat.
This didn't hurt.
-Splat.
This definitely didn't hurt at all. But!
-Splat, Splat.
But this was definitely extremely annoying and it was repeating endlessly.
<
<
<
-Splat!
Another snowball hit Ai-chan's face as she yelled.
<
-Splat!
<
<
Despite saying that, she decided to glance at Yumeji's monologue, that annoyance comparable to the useless advertising messages that kept popping up on her phone.
.....
I was diligently digging through layers of snow on the cold white ground of Siberia. In some strange way, the cold served to enhance the realism of my character.
Even though I didn't feel discomfort or pain or even numbness when my hands touched the snow, they still trembled as if it were only natural for bare hands to shiver while scooping up snow, rolling it, and molding it into a snowball.
And then, I flung it over my shoulder.
<
I worked tirelessly like a mole—except what I was digging and tossing wasn't dirt, but snow.
I flung another freshly made snowball over my shoulder.
I kept at it until my fingertips turned a purplish hue from the cold, then defrosted them with my power and continued working.
I mean, I'm clearly a hardworking person, right? I should probably get a medal for this or something.
Oh, and yes, I threw another snowball "over my shoulder."
.....
<<...>>
Ai-chan's eyes were completely dead inside after reading that ridiculous monologue. She couldn't believe that such an insufferable, shameless creature existed. (Then again, it's not like he's even human.)
<<…You lunatic. Right here you clearly wrote that you 'threw the snowball over your shoulder!!'>>
<
<
<
<
She was so angry that her face turned red as she yelled, and then Yumeji simply responded firmly to her words.
<
<
<
Then, another snowball was thrown at her, but this time she flew up to dodge it.
And then the snowball landed on the boy's head due to a miscalculation, but he simply brushed it off with his hand while grinning and said.
<
Ai-chan was fuming. Furious that she had instinctively moved just like he wanted her to—despite all the nonsense he had just spewed, despite the completely baseless accusations.
But still… she <
That truth annoyed and frustrated her. But the real reason she'd moved was because she just didn't want to take another snowball to the face.
And so, Ai-chan decided to use her admin privileges to strike back.
A lightning spear crashed down from above, striking simulated Yumeji with a million volts and sending sparks flying.
<
A little ways ahead of them, Sieg was leaning against a tree, arms crossed, silently wondering if he was currently leading two completely unmanageable kids.
And while normally, he'd be rolling on the ground laughing at a scene like this, this time he tried hard to press his lips together, keeping a straight face to avoid getting caught up in the crossfire.
Part of him was honestly just afraid that lightning spear might hit him next if he so much as chuckled.
So he kept that serious face, paired with an expression that was equal parts affection, pity, and sheer speechlessness as he watched the boy sparking and sizzling before him.
After all, <