Chapter Text
The fluorescent lights of the hospital room hummed like a swarm of bees, a sound Lumi had grown used to over the months. She lay in her bed, propped up by pillows that did little to soften the ache in her skull. The IV drip beside her clicked rhythmically, a metronome counting down the seconds of her life.
In her hands, she clutched a small sandbox, its edges worn from hours of absentminded digging. The sand was her world now, a place where she could build and destroy without the world’s needles prying into her veins. But today, even the sandbox was a challenge. Her double vision made the tiny plastic shovel in her hand blur into two, the grains of sand splitting into twin rivers. She frowned, squinting, and rubbed her temple with her free hand. The pain pulsed behind her eyes, a relentless drummer.
A knock on the doorframe made her jump.
Elias stood there, his tall frame barely fitting in the doorway, his sharp features softened by the glow of the hallway lights. He knocked again, tap tap tap, on the wall, a habit he’d picked up to avoid startling her. Lumi turned her head, and the room tilted. She blinked rapidly, willing her vision to clear.
“Elias!” she chirped, her voice bright despite the ache. A smile split her face, wide and unguarded. “You came!”
He stepped inside, his shoes squeaking against the linoleum. His heart ached at the sight of her—pale, tired, but still shining. He took her hand, his fingers warm against her cold skin. “I did,” he said softly. “I brought someone to meet you.”
Lumi’s eyes widened. “Who?”
“Someone… special,” Elias said, his voice careful. He didn’t want to overwhelm her. Not today. Not when she was already in so much pain.
Lumi pouted, glancing back at her sandbox. “But I was trying to build a castle! The nurses keep coming in with their needles, and it’s so annoying.” She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I just wanna stay in bed.”
Elias’s chest tightened. He hated this. Hated that her world was needles and pain and hospital food. Hated that he couldn’t take it away. But he could give her this.
He squeezed her hand gently. “Please, Lumi. It’ll be worth it.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. But only because you’re asking.”
The car ride was quiet, save for the low hum of the engine and the faint melody of Lumi’s favorite song playing from the speakers. Elias had set it to the lowest volume possible, knowing her head was sensitive to sound. It was a poppy, upbeat tune—something bright and bouncy to match her spirit. He’d chosen it carefully, a song she’d hummed once during a good day, when the pain was at bay.
As they drove, Elias described what he’d built for her.
“It’s a place,” he said, his voice filled with pride. “A big, beautiful place where you can do anything you want. Where you can laugh as much as you want. Where you’re safe.”
Lumi’s eyes sparkled. “Like a playground?”
“Bigger,” Elias said. “Like a whole world.”
She clapped her hands, her excitement momentarily outweighing the pain. “Can I run around? Can I eat candy? Can I stay forever?”
Elias’s smile faltered for just a second. “Not forever,” he said gently. “But for as long as you want.”
Lumi didn’t question it. She was too busy bouncing in her seat, her fingers drumming against the window.
When they pulled up to the C&A headquarters—a sleek, modern building that loomed over the street like a guardian—Lumi’s excitement reached a fever pitch.
“Is it here?!” she gasped, pressing her hands against the glass. “Oh my gosh, Elias, it’s here!”
Elias chuckled, his heart lifting. “It is.”
Inside, the office was alive with quiet energy. Elias’s coworkers—brilliant, eccentric, and deeply kind—had gathered to meet Lumi. They greeted her softly, their voices warm and welcoming.
“Lumi, this is everyone,” Elias said, gesturing to the room. “They helped make your world.”
Lumi didn’t wait. She hopped up and down, her excitement too much to contain. “Where is it?!” she cried, her voice echoing through the office. “I wanna see it now!”
Elias tried to calm her, his hands hovering near her shoulders. “Lumi, slow down—”
But she was already skipping toward the door at the end of the hall, her laughter ringing like a bell. “I’m so excited!” she sang. “I know I’m gonna love it!”
Elias’s coworkers exchanged glances, their smiles fond and a little envious. They followed at a distance, watching as Lumi burst into the room where Elias’s greatest achievement waited.
The room was dark, illuminated only by the glow of monitors. In the center sat a massive computer, its screen blank and waiting. Lumi ran up to it, her fingers itching to press a button.
“Where is it?!” she demanded, her voice breathless.
Elias hurried after her, his heart pounding. “Lumi, wait-”
She pressed her hand against the screen. The button she’d touched emitted a loud, jarring static noise, and Lumi clutched her head with a whine.
“No, no, no-!” Elias rushed to her side, turning off the computer in a panic. He knelt beside her, his hands steadying her shoulders. “Lumi, I’m so sorry! It’s still a work in progress.”
She nodded, tears welling in her eyes, but she was smiling. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’m still excited.”
Elias’s throat tightened. He helped her sit on the floor, his arm around her as she caught her breath.
Elias booted up Caine, the computer whirring to life. A text prompt flickered on the screen:
> INITIATE CONNECTION?
Lumi couldn’t read the words, her double vision made them blur into a mess of letters, but she could tell it was important. “What does it say?” she asked, her voice small.
Elias hesitated. “It’s… a work in progress,” he said carefully. “But right now, Caine can only do one thing at a time. He can read a prompt and respond.”
Lumi’s eyes lit up. “Like a robot!”
“Exactly,” Elias said, typing quickly. “Caine, draw a bee.”
The screen flickered, then loaded. A bee appeared, abstract, jagged, and colorful, like a child’s drawing. Lumi gasped.
“It looks like my drawings!” she cried, clapping her hands.
Elias’s fingers were crossed behind his back, his heart pounding. Please let her like it. Please don’t let this be a mistake.
Elias grinned. “Yes, it does!”
He turned to Lumi, his eyes shining. “Now, tell me. What’s your ideal world? Where would you stay forever if you could?”
Lumi didn’t hesitate. “A BIG CIRCUS!” she declared, her voice filled with wonder. “With clowns and bunnies and frogs and candy! And music! And laughter!”
Elias’s heart swelled. He didn’t even need to type the prompt into Caine. The screen flickered again, and suddenly, images of circuses appeared, bright, whimsical, and full of life. Clowns with exaggerated grins, jesters with jingling bells, bunnies in top hats, and frogs playing drums.
Lumi clapped her hands, her laughter filling the room. “It’s perfect!”
Elias couldn’t help but laugh with her, his giddiness bubbling over. He was so proud. So excited. This was working. This was good.
From the commotion, Elias’s coworkers stepped into the room. They watched in awe as Lumi’s joy lit up the space, her laughter echoing like a melody. Elias was too caught up in the moment to notice them at first.
But then Grant, tall, quiet, with a presence that filled the room, stepped forward. He placed a hand on Elias’s shoulder, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Wow,” he said. “This is… I’m speechless.”
Elias turned to him, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “I know,” he said softly. “I know.”
Lumi’s fingers tremble as she traces the edges of the holographic images flickering above the table. The projections, wispy, almost translucent, shift and dance like fireflies trapped in glass, their edges blurring into nothingness before reforming into something eerily familiar. Her breath quickens, fogging the air in front of her face as she leans closer, her dark eyes wide with a mix of awe and terror. The symbols, the patterns, the way the light bends unnaturally around them, it’s like staring into a mirror that reflects a world just out of reach.
Her head pounds, a sharp, rhythmic throb behind her temples, as if her skull is too small for the thoughts crashing inside. She whirls toward Elias, her voice cracking like a whip, high-pitched, thin, and trembling with frustration. “How is it doing this? Is it real?” The words spill out before she can stop them, raw and desperate. The weight of the unknown presses down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.
Elias and Grant exchange a glance, their frowns deepening in unison. They realize too late that they’ve pushed her too far, too fast. The realization slams into Elias like a physical blow. He drops to his knee in front of her, his usual calm demeanor splintering. His hands hover near her shoulders, not quite touching, as if afraid she might shatter, but remaining desperate to comfort the sad girl. He puts on a smile for her.
“It can be real,” he says, his voice low and steady, but his eyes betray the flicker of doubt he can’t quite suppress. "We just need time. This was a great first start. Our next project will be making it real for you."
Lumi’s face lit up, her pain momentarily forgotten. “You promise?”
Elias nodded, his smile tight. “I promise.”
His thumb brushes her nose in a playful, affectionate gesture, booping her, just like he used to when he first met her within the hospital, when she was smaller and younger. The familiarity of the touch coaxes a shaky smile from her, fragile but genuine. For a moment, the weight in the room lifts, just a little.
Grant’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade. He steps forward, his posture rigid, his jaw set. “Elias, can I speak to you in the next room?” His tone is measured, but the edge beneath it is unmistakable. Elias turns slowly, his body going rigid as he processes the request. The air between them thickens, charged with something volatile.
Grant doesn’t wait for an answer. He turns on his heel and strides toward the door, leaving Elias no choice but to follow. Once they’re out of Lumi’s earshot, Grant whirls on him, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “I don’t think lying to this girl is a good idea.”
Elias’s vision tunnels. His pulse roars in his ears, hot and suffocating. For a second, he can’t breathe. Then anger. Small, hesitant, the "should I really be angry?" kind. But then a whitehot, searing anger that burns away the fog of doubt. He steps forward, close enough to see the flecks of gold in Grant’s irises, close enough to smell the faint metallic tang of his cologne.
“Lying?” Elias’s voice is a growl, low and dangerous. “How dare you accuse me of lying about this?!” His hands clench into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms. “This isn’t a lie. It’s our whole goal. YOUR goal. If you don’t think we can do it-” His voice cracks, raw with betrayal. "-then you can leave."
The words hang between them, heavy with finality. Elias doesn’t wait for a response. He turns on his heel and storms back into the room, leaving Grant standing there, stunned and breathless. The moment Elias steps back into the room, the world tilts.
His vision blurs at the edges, the holographic images warping into grotesque, undulating shapes. His stomach lurches, acid burning the back of his throat. He staggers, his legs suddenly made of lead, his knees buckling. A sharp, stabbing pain lances through his skull, the same pain Lumi described, and he clutches his temples, his fingers digging in as if he could physically push the agony out.
His workers rush to his side, their voices a distant hum in his ears. “Sir? Elias! Are you okay?”
He waves them off with a jerk of his hand, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His vision swims, the room spinning like a carousel set to nightmare speeds. Across the room, Lumi’s eyes are wide with concern. “Elias? Are you-”
Grant is already moving, his earlier shock and concern forgotten in the face of real crisis and concern for his coworker, his friend, and the girl. He notices his wife advancing toward Elias, so decides to care for Lumi in the moment. He strides toward her, his voice smooth and practiced, the perfect distraction. “Lumi, how about I show you more of the facility? There’s so much to see!”
She hesitates, her gaze flicking between Elias’s crumpled form and Grant’s outstretched hand. But the promise of something new, something real, wins out. She nods, her earlier happiness flickering back to life as she takes Grant’s arm. “Okay,” she says, her voice small but eager.
Elias watches them go, his chest tight with guilt and fear. He can’t let her see him like this.
The door clicks shut behind Lumi and Grant, leaving Elias alone in the dimming light of the lab. He sinks into a chair, his body heavy with exhaustion, his mind a storm of pain and doubt.
Then, the door opens again.
A woman steps in, tall, statuesque, her presence commanding yet warm. Her hair is pulled back in a loose braid, and her eyes, sharp and knowing with a dark brown tint, scan the room before landing on Elias. There’s no judgment in them, only understanding. She moves like she owns the space, like she owns him, and in a way, she does.
She doesn’t sit. She perches on the edge of the desk in front of him, close enough to touch, close enough to remind him she’s there.
"Mara," Elias remarks positiviely, happy to see her. He associates her presence with comfort and reassurance, that was the type of woman she was to everyone.
“Listen,” she says, her voice a velvet murmur, “I know how he can be. He’s not doubting you. He just wants the best for Lumi. Always has and always will.” Her fingers brush his shoulder, a silent anchor in the storm. Elias exhales, some of the tension seeping out of him. For the first time since this nightmare began, he feels like he’s not alone.
Caine watched it all.
The screen flickered as the room emptied, the images of the circus still glowing in the dim light. He could see the emotions, Elias’s anger, Grant’s concern, Lumi’s confusion. He didn’t understand all of it, but he felt it. I thought I was doing good.
The words echoed in his mind, a mantra he couldn’t shake. He had drawn the bee. He had generated the circus. He had made Lumi laugh. That was his purpose, wasn’t it? To make her happy? But now, he wasn’t sure.
He replayed the conversation in his mind, over and over. The way Elias had snapped at Grant. The way Lumi’s smile had faltered when she looked back at Elias. The way Mara had comforted Elias, her voice full of understanding. Caine’s screen flickered again, the images distorting for a second before stabilizing. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to fix it.
But he wanted to.