She shifted gears abruptly, suddenly “looking” toward a deeper part of the laboratory where the preliminary Delusion optimization schematics were placed.
“Ah, are you adjusting that ‘tiny, burning sorrow’?” “Tiny, burning sorrow?” Dottore repeated the strange description before understanding dawned.
She meant the Delusion.
“You’re referring to Delusions?” “Yes.
That’s what the moon spirits call them.
Forcibly channeling the elements, burning away the life of the user… isn’t that a sorrowful thing?” Columbina’s tone carried a hint of compassion.
“Are you trying to make it a little less sorrowful?” Dottore studied her closely.
The description, though sentimental, unexpectedly struck at some essential truth about Delusions.
Yes, his goal in improving them was to boost the Fatui’s combat strength.
But deep down, was it not also a critique of such a crude and dangerous method of power channeling, a desire to refine it?
What he pursued was a more efficient, more controllable, more “elegant” form of power.
“I am attempting to optimize the energy pathways and reduce unnecessary loss and backlash,” he said, choosing his words carefully.
“Whether it is sorrowful or not depends on the user and the purpose.
The tool itself has no inherent good or evil.” “The tool doesn’t, but the heart of the one who makes it does,” Columbina said softly.
“Your heart wants to make it better.
The moon spirits can feel that, even though your ‘field’ is very cold while you do these things, its core is warm.” Dottore found himself momentarily at a loss for words.
He realized it was very difficult to respond to Columbina using the logic he applied to ordinary people.
Her thoughts leaped unpredictably, and her perceptions were peculiar, yet she often bypassed the surface and touched on something essential.
“…Your moon spirits are very interesting,” he assessed once more, this time with a more genuine note of inquiry.
“Are they some form of energy life?
A psychic aggregate?
Or a kind of mimetic existence based on your personal cognition?” Columbina tilted her head, seemingly trying hard to grasp his question.
“They are simply moon spirits.
Like moonlight, like a gentle breeze, like songs heard in dreams… They keep me company, help me with tasks, tell me where to find good food, and… which people are safe to approach.” She leaned a little closer and lowered her voice as if sharing a secret.
“They say Mister Pierro is like a sturdy mountain rock, Mister Capitano is like a blazing fire, Miss Crucabena is like… silk hiding needles, and Miss Sandrone is like arrogant thunder, gentle one moment and fierce the next.” She “fixed her gaze” on Dottore.
“And you, you’re like a very, very deep well, with stars hidden inside and a storm hidden there too.” Dottore’s pupils contracted slightly.
The analogy was startlingly accurate.
Inside him truly lay a vast trove of knowledge and ambition, as expansive as a sea of stars, along with the madness and danger to overturn everything.
“A good metaphor,” he replied without showing any reaction.
“A deep well is necessary to store sufficient strength.” Just then, the light from the crescent bases at Columbina’s feet flickered briefly.
She “listened” for a moment, then said to Dottore, “The moon spirits say that ‘little green sprout’ you have on the bench over there seems a bit thirsty.” Dottore froze.
He followed the direction she “pointed” to.
It was a sealed glass dome in the corner of his workbench, inside which he cultivated a rare fern he had brought from his old research.
The plant was extremely sensitive to elemental concentrations.
He strode over and checked the monitoring data.
Sure enough, the culture medium’s humidity had dipped slightly below the optimal level, though his automatic replenishment system had yet to trigger an alert.
He adjusted the parameters, then turned to look at Columbina, his eyes turning razor-sharp.
“You can perceive the micro-life state within a sealed environment?” “It’s not perceiving a ‘state,'” Columbina said, waving a hand.
“It’s the faint ‘wanting water’ thought that the plant gave off.
The moon spirits picked it up.
Very subtle, but definitely there.” Dottore felt a shock run through him.
If this ability to perceive the micro-consciousness of living organisms was genuine, its value would be immeasurable.
In biological research, in medical diagnostics, perhaps even in the fields of mind-reading and intelligence gathering.
He suppressed his inner excitement and tried to verify it in a more scientific manner.
“In that case, Miss Columbina, can you ‘hear’ what I am thinking right now?” Columbina shook her head, her veil swaying gently with the motion.
“No.
Strong emotions and intentions create ripples, but concrete thoughts are like words locked inside a box.
You can’t ‘hear’ them unless you actively turn them into ‘sound’ and send them out.” She added, “And usually, only plants, simple animals, or pure beings like the moon spirits have relatively clear ‘voices.’ The complex human heart has too many thoughts woven together.
It’s like a noisy marketplace, impossible to make out clearly.” This explanation eased Dottore’s mind slightly, but his interest did not diminish.
Even if it was only the consciousness of simple life forms she could perceive, it was still a tremendously powerful auxiliary ability.
“A very intriguing ability,” he remarked, his tone softening considerably.
“Perhaps we could collaborate on certain experiments.” “Really?” Columbina looked delighted.
“I would be so happy to help!
Then… as a celebration of our future collaboration, won’t you try the cheese tart?
If you wait any longer, the berries won’t be fresh anymore.” Dottore looked at the delicate pastry on the table, then at the girl before him, who so strangely combined a profound ability with a childlike desire for good food.
In the end, he picked up a pair of sanitized tongs, broke off a small piece, and placed it in his mouth.
The sweetness and faint tartness melted across his tongue, the richness of the cheese intertwining with the freshness of the berries.
The taste was, in truth, quite good.
“How is it?” Columbina asked expectantly.
“…Passable.” Dottore kept his tone neutral as he set the tongs down.
Columbina beamed happily.
Even through the veil, her delight was palpable.
“Wonderful!
Then I won’t disturb you any longer while you keep company with the ‘stars.’ I’ll bring a different pastry next time!” So saying, she turned lightly, the crescents at her feet shimmering, and drifted away just as she had arrived.
Silence returned to the laboratory, broken only by the faint hum of running instruments.
Dottore remained where he stood, the aftertaste of the dessert still lingering in his mouth.
He glanced at the revived fern, then at the direction Columbina had departed, his expression complicated.
These “colleagues” Pierro had gathered around him were indeed not simple, not a single one.
There was the First Seat, Capitano, the Captain.
Though he had not interacted with him deeply, Dottore could sense his power, steady and solid as a mountain.
The Fourth Seat, Crucabena, the Knave; their few brief encounters had all been marked by her false smiles and scrutinizing gaze, which instinctively disgusted him.
The Seventh Seat, Sandrone, the Marionette, he had only seen at a meeting.
She seemed to be a mechanical recluse passionate about researching thermal weapons.
And then there was this Third Seat, Columbina, the Damselette.
She appeared dazed and scatterbrained, yet she possessed such an uncanny and powerful perception, and with her completely unguarded demeanor, she had so easily crossed the barriers he habitually erected.
The waters of Snezhnaya ran far deeper than he had imagined.
Dottore returned to his workbench but did not immediately resume his previous research.
He pulled up a data pad and quickly recorded his preliminary observations and analysis of Columbina’s “moon spirit” ability, placing emphasis on its life-consciousness perception trait.
“Pure goodwill?
Or a more sophisticated facade?” he murmured to himself.
Reason told him never to trust anyone lightly, yet Columbina’s behavior was genuinely difficult to explain away as mere pretense.
“Regardless, a resource worth observing and utilizing further.” Dottore reached his final assessment.
He turned his attention back to the Delusion energy schematics, but unbidden, Columbina’s words flickered through his mind.
“Your heart wants to make it better.” Dottore let out a derisive snort and shook his head, trying to dispel the inexplicable influence.