The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character-Chapter 316: Homunculus [2]

Finally, I turned my attention to the test tube.

Inside floated a beautiful woman with long red hair, suspended in a pale, glowing fluid.

I stood there for a moment, unsure.

Releasing her… was that really salvation for her?

This was supposed to be a buried setting from the original story — one never meant to surface. I had no idea what kind of person she would become once awakened.

But even if the real world turned out to be smaller, crueler, or more disappointing than the dream she'd been trapped in…

Even if she looked around and thought she should've stayed asleep…

Right now, waking her seemed like the right thing to do.

I reached out.

The moment my fingertips brushed the glass, thin cracks spread across the surface — even though I hadn't applied any real force.

"Ah…"

Well, this world is a shitty place to live peacefully in, but I'll try to fix that.

So let's go out there together.

And if possible… it would be great if you could help me.

Right — before that…

"Since I saved you," I said, trying to sound casual, "we're secret friends now, okay?"

The test tube shattered completely, sending fluid splashing across the floor.

She opened her eyes — vivid red, the same shade as her hair — and looked straight at me.

"Ah…" she breathed softly.

Even if her knowledge was artificially implanted, she still possessed intelligence, reason, and basic understanding.

This was probably the first time she had ever seen another person. No wonder she couldn't speak properly.

It was fine. I was a considerate man, after all.

I could wait for her first words — her true first words in life — before the world around us began collapsing.

"...Yes, we're friends."

Her voice was soft, fragile. But she agreed.

I felt my shoulders relax in relief.

Then she tried again.

"My…"

"Hm?"

"Master."

…That was not what I meant when I said friends.

---

The first person she ever saw was the man standing outside the test tube.

Her creator.

The knowledge implanted in her mind from birth told her that much.

At first, he looked overjoyed — eyes bright, mouth trembling with anticipation.

But the emotion lasted only seconds.

Joy collapsed into despair.

Despair twisted into anger.

And anger sank into a hollow, exhausted resignation.

All of it happened before she even fully opened her eyes.

Even so, with the vast knowledge she had been given — far more than what an ordinary newborn possessed — she understood what those shifting expressions meant.

She was wrong.

She was not what he wanted.

She was a failure.

Something inside her, something essential, did not match the image he had envisioned.

It was a distant memory now, blurred around the edges by time, but the sound of his voice remained painfully clear.

"It's not your fault."

"Yes… it's my fault."

"It hurts me that I can't do anything for you, but… I can't endure this anymore."

"Knowing that everything I've done was meaningless… I don't have the will to try again."

She remembered staring at him, mind racing uselessly.

What should she say?

What should she do?

Her implanted knowledge told her she was supposed to comfort him — that human beings wanted reassurance, warmth, connection.

But she had just been born.

Her body didn't move the way she wanted.

Her emotions were still unfamiliar, her thoughts heavy and disorganized.

None of the things she "knew" felt like they belonged to her yet.

So she simply stood there, suspended in the fluid, watching his despair deepen.

Unable to speak.

Unable to move.

He said the words with a trembling smile, a smile stretched thin over a breaking mind.

"I created you by letting you inherit her soul… so maybe… maybe you could be considered our daughter?"

His voice cracked.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for bringing you into this world like this. I'm sorry I can't stay with you."

He apologized again and again, each word sinking into her like a dull knife.

Then, before she could understand what he meant, he pulled a reagent from his pocket and swallowed it in one motion.

Her eyes widened.

She felt something tighten painfully in her chest — the instinctive realization that this would end his life.

And it did.

That was how the first human she had ever met — the man who had created her, spoken to her, named her — died.

Just like that.

Quietly.

Lonely.

No one came after him.

Not a single person crossed the threshold of that hidden room again.

Left alone, she clung to the only things she had: her knowledge, the silence, and her endless questions.

Would someone else ever come?

Would she ever be able to leave this place?

Was the knowledge she was born with truly correct, or just fragments of someone else's truth?

She couldn't die.

She wasn't allowed to.

So she began a game — the only entertainment she could create for herself.

She imagined visitors.

What they would look like.

What they would say.

Whether they would be kind or cruel.

What reason they would have for finding this place where no one was supposed to enter.

From the books in her library — especially the ones marked forbidden — she reached several conclusions:

If the visitor were male, calling him Master seemed appropriate.

If female, then Miss.

Those were the simplest expressions of affection or goodwill — at least according to the stories she had read.

In those books, men rarely disliked being called Master.

Women often blushed when addressed as Miss, the scenes usually followed by… implications she didn't fully understand but recognized as signs of closeness.

But now…

As she stared at the expression of the boy who had finally appeared in this lonely room…

She wondered, genuinely, if her knowledge had been wrong all along.

He said he wanted them to be " friends," but—

Wasn't this exactly how she was supposed to greet him?

Had she misunderstood?

Or… was it him who misunderstood her?

----

Author Note:-

Thanks for reading my novel