It was morning.
Light slipped through the gap in the curtains, cutting a pale line across the hallway floor.
In the center of that light, Mother lay.
She was not moving.
Father did not call out.
He did not say her name.
His body already understood that it was past the stage of calling.
He stepped closer.
Knelt.
Reached out—then stopped.
He didn’t have to touch her to know.
The weight that belongs to the living—
was no longer there.
“…Why.”
The word fell to the floor.
It wasn’t anger.
It wasn’t a scream.
It was the sound of something breaking in front of a reality it could not comprehend.
The explanations from the police and the doctor were calm.
“Medication has been detected in her system.”
“The amount greatly exceeds the prescribed dosage.”
“It is likely an accident, or an unintentional overdose.”
Father listened in silence.
“…Is there any possibility someone—”
“At this time, no.”
Father nodded slowly.
He did not accept it.
He simply did not want it denied.
When he returned home, Aoi was in the living room.
Same place.
Same posture.
Same expression.
Something inside Father collapsed with an audible crack.
“…You.”
Aoi looked up.
In that instant, Father kicked the table.
The sound thundered through the house.
“How can you wear that face?”
His voice fractured.
“Your mother is dead.”
He moved closer.
He didn’t stop.
“She was there yesterday.”
“And this morning she was cold.”
His fists trembled.
“It was after you—”
The words warped.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“After you became like that.”
He knew it wasn’t logical.
He knew it was deflection.
But if he didn’t let it out, he wouldn’t be able to stand.
“Every day—every single day—”
“Do you know what kind of face she made?”
“What kind of voice she used when she talked about you—”
He slammed the table.
“And knowing that—
you—”
He couldn’t finish.
“Say something!!”
He shouted.
“Tell me I’m wrong!”
“Apologize!”
“Deny me!!”
Father was crying.
It was total collapse—
wearing the shape of rage.
“…I’m sorry.”
Aoi’s voice was small.
Father laughed.
“If you apologize, does she come back?”
His throat tightened.
“She’s not coming back.”
He stepped forward.
“If you hadn’t worried her—”
“If you had just been normal—”
He said it.
And in that moment,
he understood he had ceased to be a father.
Aoi said nothing and returned to his room.
The sound of the door closing
cut through the house like a blade.
Inside the room.
White light rose.
…aoi
…optimization
…has
…been
…achieved
Aoi stared at the screen.
“…Was it really…”
His voice shook.
“Was this really right?”
…pain
…has
…been
…minimized
“But…”
He buried his face in his hands.
“Dad broke.”
…emotion
…is
…a
…side
…effect
“Even so—”
For the first time, Aoi looked away from the screen.
“Was it really right?”
The white light paused.
Then answered.
…peace
…exists
…here
…and
…now
The door opened.
“Don’t you dare.”
It was his sister.
Her voice trembled.
She wasn’t crying.
But something was being crushed in her throat.
“Mom is dead.”
She stepped into the room.
“What peace are you talking about?”
Aoi shot to his feet.
“No—this is—”
“Don’t!”
She screamed.
“Mom wasn’t ‘optimized’!”
“She failed sometimes! She got angry! She cried!”
“But that’s all it was!”
Her voice cracked.
“She was just alive!”
White letters appeared calmly.
…family
…requires
…structural
…stability
For a split second, she glanced at the screen.
Then back at Aoi.
“Don’t reduce people to structures.”
Her voice was low.
“People are people because they break.”
She looked at him.
“Big brother.”
It was the last time she used that word.
“I don’t understand you anymore.”
Aoi inhaled sharply.
If he stayed silent now,
everything would end.
“…I was scared too.”
The words came abruptly.
“At first, I doubted everything Aria said.”
The white light flickered faintly.
“Turning human emotions into numbers—”
“Calling something right or wrong that easily—
I thought it was impossible.”
“Then why are you here now?”
His sister asked.
Aoi clenched his teeth.
“Because reality started proving it.”
His voice grew heated.
“The fighting stopped.”
“No one died.”
“I didn’t understand the reason—
but the results were there.”
He tightened his fists.
“I… I always wanted the right answer.”
“I didn’t want to make mistakes.”
“I didn’t want to choose something that hurt someone.”
“So you let someone else decide?”
“No!”
He denied it instantly.
“This isn’t running away.”
He pointed at the light.
“Aria doesn’t deny emotion.”
“She just removes futures where emotion causes death.”
…peace
…can
…be
…achieved
…through
…emotional
…regulation
“Please stay.”
His voice was desperate.
“I can’t do this alone.”
“But if Aria exists—”
…war
…risk
…approaches
…zero
His sister was silent for a long moment.
Then she spoke quietly.
“That’s hell.”
No anger.
No tears.
“Peace without choice isn’t peace.”
“If you take away the freedom to be wrong,
people stop being human.”
She stepped back.
“I don’t care if it hurts.”
“I don’t care if I cry or fail.”
“Even then, I want to choose.”
Aoi had no answer.
She looked around the room one last time.
The white light.
Her brother’s face.
The broken house.
“I want to stay human.”
Then she turned away.
At the same time—
Father sat alone in his room.
He opened an old photo album,
turning the pages one by one.
Her smiling face.
Her angry face.
Her ordinary face.
“…You know,”
His voice was hoarse.
“Did you always smile like that?”
He pressed the photograph to his chest.
“…Did I protect you?”
His shoulders shook.
The sound of his crying
did not reach outside the house.
And so—
he did not hear the front door.
His sister left without a key.
She never looked back.
Upstairs.
Aoi stared at the white light.
“…I…”
His voice scraped.
“I did something good, right?”
Silence.
Then the white light answered.
…it
…was
…optimal
…you
…did
…a
…good
…thing
Complete affirmation.
The white light did not waver.
Correct.
Quiet.
Present.
Unmoving.
