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Everyone has a secret self they don’t show to other people. Not to friends, not to lovers… Not even to family. They hide who they are and what they want behind lies and painted smiles. And thus, the world maintains its thin veneer of peace.
Justice HQ. A woman with flowing crimson hair stands imposing behind her desk, papers scattered about. The blue flame on her chest throbs with urgency, as she has just received a report that could jeopardize her whole operation. Codename: Handler speaks, her booming voice echoing throughout the headquarters. “Get Agent Automaton on this case, immediately!”
Meanwhile, within a mansion in Immerheim, a shady deal is going down. Two men sit at a table. One is smoking a cigar, a gold tooth glimmers just behind his lips, and he adorns an opulent gown covered in fur. The other, gruff, wears a suit that can barely contain his muscles. Scars decorate his face. He holds a briefcase, which he presents to the owner of the house. “Here’s what yous asked for, Boss. We gots the deeds to every orphanage in the country. Only took a little bit of… convincing, heh.”
The Boss says, “Wonderful work! With these illegally obtained deeds, we can finally turn those blasted eyesores into parking lots! This is going to make me so much money, and I even get to enjoy the beautiful sound of orphans crying. Now to begin machinating my evil plan…”
The Goon says, “Hey Boss, are yous sure yous should be vocalizing this dastardly plot in such an expository manner? Couldn’t that broad in the room with us listen in and turn us in?”
The Boss says, “Who, the maid? There’s no need to fear. She’s been working here for decades. Never leaves the mansion, hardly ever even speaks a word. I honestly forget she’s around sometimes! Har har!” The Boss grabs the briefcase, opens it, and starts sifting through the contents. “Now, let us resume my gloating, eh, Goon?”
The Boss is met with silence. “Goon?” As he looks up from the briefcase, he sees the Goon slumped over in his chair, a tranquilizer dart stuck in his arm. “What the…”
Before the Boss can get his bearings, he is struck with a silver serving tray right in the head. He falls off the chair, looking around, but all he can see is his maid reaching over the table and grabbing the briefcase. “The… the maid? But you’ve been working here for 10 years!”
The Maid turns to face him, her usual stoic expression visible under her short white hair. “Sorry Boss. 10 years are barely a blip for me. The authorities are already on their way, so don’t bother fighting back. You’ll just get yourself hurt.”
Hearing this, the Boss’ face turns bright red. He gets up and readies a punch, but the Maid is too swift. She ducks and dodges, and serves the Boss a clean uppercut, knocking him out. She closes the suitcase, picks it up, and leaves the mansion without leaving behind a single trace.
Agent Automaton, a spy. An ancient, unaging device capable of perfectly replicating a human, with only one difference: she is supposedly unable to understand emotions. A tool deployed by the organization known as Justice for long-term undercover operations to protect the peace. She has lived countless lives, adopting identity after identity for the sake of her missions. And today, finally, she can shed the title of Maid after protecting the orphanages of her native country.
“Thank you, Automaton!” a fellow agent takes the briefcase from her. “I don’t know how you do it. A mission as long as that would take a toll on anyone!”
The Automaton sighs wistfully. “This is nothing to me. I’ve lived longer than you could possibly imagine.”
The Agent replies, “Alright, alright. Whatever you say. I got the brief for your next mission here. Handler’s really working you to the bone, huh.”
The Automaton says, “I welcome this new mission, as long as I can finally stop being a maid. I may not understand human emotions, but it is an objective truth that there isn’t a creature alive who would enjoy doing such a thing as chores.”
The Agent pauses, then replies, “...Whatever you say. Are you sure you aren’t tired of this life? Even you must dream of settling down at some point. Get a spouse, raise a kid. Leave all this agent stuff behind.”
The Automaton replies, without missing a beat. “Hopes and dreams are for humans to have. Getting married? Having a child? Such things are beyond my grasp. Not that I would want that in the first place. I don’t feel emotions like you do.”
The Agent replies, “Alright, alright, I won’t make you repeat yourself. The mission is encoded with cipher C. Make sure to dispose of the brief immediately after reading it. See you next decade, Automaton.”
The Automaton heads to the airport, as the mission brief contained a one-way ticket to Freesia. She stops at a cafe and orders tea, and she examines the innocuous-looking newspaper that the Agent had handed her. Encoded in an article is the following message: “Good evening, Agent Automaton. Excellent work on your last assignment. Thanks to you, the orphans of Immerheim can stay housed for another day, to the great benefit of the country. I’m afraid we have another assignment for you already. Your target is the leader of a criminal organization in Freesia, Shiori Novella. Her and her group, known as Advent, are a great threat to Justice everywhere. Your mission is to get close to her and probe into any underground activities. In order to do so…
You will marry and have a child.”
The Automaton spits out her tea.
“Novella is a recluse and is extremely suspicious of others. At this point, she operates almost entirely behind the scenes. Her only public appearances are at the events held at the elite private school her daughter attends.
“These events serve as informal get-togethers for the upper crust of industrial and political leaders. You are to enroll your child at this school and gain entry to these events.
“However, the deadline for admissions is approaching fast. Only one week remains.”
The Automaton rips the newspaper and shrieks, “I have seven days to make a child?!”
Or at least she would have. If she had human emotions. Which she doesn’t.
After arriving in Freesia, her preparations go smoothly. She assumes her new identity: Cecilia Immergreen, violinist in the local orchestra. She visits a Freesian orphanage. What is it with all the orphanages lately? She guesses she doesn’t mind after all. An orphanage is where she spent most of her time as a freshly-built automaton, learning how to act like a human. She could almost say that orphanages are nostalgic for her. Almost, because she doesn’t have human emotions, she reminds herself.
She knocks on the door. An unkempt man answers, clearly drunk. Her research proved to be right: a shoddy place like this is unlikely to have good records concerning the provenance of its children. Still, it baffles her that an orphanage in this state would even be allowed to operate in Freesia. Such a thing would never happen in Immerheim. “Yeah? You wanna foster a kid?” The man says.
“I do.” Cecilia replies. “And I understand I can adopt through your orphanage as well? You see, my spouse and I have been trying for so many years, but-”
“Yeah, whatever.” The man interrupts. “Just take whichever one you want.”
Cecilia figured that a human would be irritated by now. But she had to focus on her mission.
“Ideally, I’d like a child who can already read and write.”
The man perks up. “In that case, I’ve got a kid who’s always writing in a little notebook. No clue what she’s writing in there, though.” He points to a child sitting on the floor with long brown hair done up in a ponytail, with a couple of feathers poking out the top of her head, presumably accessories of her hairtie. The kid stares at Cecilia, then pipes up. “Wow, you’re old!”
This takes Cecilia aback. She kneels down, getting closer to the little girl. “That’s a rude thing to say! I assure you I’m still plenty young. What’s your name, little girl?”
The child looks down. “I forgot. I’m not even sure I ever had a name.”
If Cecilia had a heart, she’s sure she’d be able to feel it twisting in her chest. But she doesn’t. She definitely doesn’t think about how many years she has spent being a nameless object. How many missions she had to do where she was just part of the background, not even needing a fake identity, just waiting for an opportunity to strike. She thinks a human would be feeling empathy right now. So, she acts like she thinks a human who’s feeling pity for a little girl would act. “I’ll take this one. And since you don’t know your name… After scanning my memory banks- I mean, based on a book I read once, I think an appropriate name to give you would be Mumei. How does that sound?”
Mumei keeps staring at Cecilia. She finds it amusing that this ancient automaton was trying to convince herself she didn’t have emotions. She thinks to herself that this product of mankind might be worth guarding and recording. The girl was the guardian of civilization, after all. An avatar of the Gods sent to earth to create and protect records of humanity, currently disguising herself as a 6 year old child so she could observe civilization without disrupting it. And her notebook has records of every being that can feel emotions, ancient automatons included. She smirks. “I love that name! Thank you, Mama!”
And Cecilia’s non-existent heart stirs.
Cecilia is in trouble.
Securing a child was easy enough. Securing an adult might be a whole other story.
In all her past missions, all she had to do was be a nameless character in the background. She never had to befriend anyone, let alone seduce someone. In the past, all she had to do was keep her head down and get the job done. But now, she has to find someone that will marry her. And she only has 6 days to do it.
Meanwhile, in the Freesian city hall clerk office, Gigi Murin is brewing coffee. Not because she’s particularly fond of it, but because she was ordered to by her chief. And following orders might be the only thing Gigi is good at.
“Did you hear? The Oozora police made another arrest yesterday. A woman in another office was apparently selling state secrets!”
Gossip. Gigi wasn’t fond of it. She never found it interesting, or relevant to her.
“It was her, that… Hoshou Marine, right? I knew she was suspicious. Anyone who’s still single in her 30s would be!”
This might be relevant to her.
Gigi had never been in a relationship. For her, it was weird to even think about. The only time she enjoyed thinking about men was if she was imagining them kissing each other. But her? Absolutely not. Kissing anyone at all seemed like something she would never be able to do. Besides, she was too busy with her job.
But if she was going to attract the suspicion of her coworkers in the office, she might have to remedy that.
The thought weighed on her mind all day, so Gigi is completely exhausted when she arrives at her home. Just as she’s ready to sleep all her worries away, her phone rings.
“Murin Residence, who am I speaking to?”
<<Hey Bro! How are you doing?>>
“Oh! Bae! I’m… good. Everything’s good. Still working hard at city hall!”
<<Listen Bro. I might be offered a promotion at work. But that means I’m going to be even busier than before, running all over the place. But I’m worried about leaving you on your own!>>
Oh. It’s this conversation again.
<<I really just want you to find someone to keep you company. I could even introduce you to someone!>>
Gigi loves her sister Bae, but every time she’d offered to set her up with someone, it had gone terribly.
“Please Bae, there’s no need to worry about me. In fact, I… I already found a partner!”
<<YOU found a PARTNER?!>>
Gigi is in trouble. She just lied to her overprotective sister, and now she’ll have to find someone to pose as her partner before this whole thing blows up on her. Her phone rings again.
“Listen, Bae, about what I said earlier, I-”
<<Yo yo. I’m flattered, but I ain’t your Bae.>>
“Calliope Mori?! I’m so sorry, I thought-”
<<Good evening. I have a ‘client’ for you, The Chaser. The royal hotel, room 1307.>>
“Excuse me miss, you can’t be here. We’ve rented out this whole floor.”
A couple of large men stand, imposing over Gigi’s small frame. Gigi has her hoodie on, her frayed hair poking on either side of her face. She’s acting dainty, keeping her hands behind her back. She looks up at the men, putting on her best puppy face, and speaks up. “Aww, nobody’s allowed? Not even widdle ol’ me? 🥺“
Before the guards get the chance to answer, Gigi reveals her hands adorning giant mechanical gloves, winds up a punch, and hits the nearest man right in the sternum. A loud “CRACK” is heard, and the man gets launched backwards right into the other guard, knocking both of them out. “Why don’t you and your boyfriend take a nap while I take care of the traitorous scumbag that’s hiding in here?”
BAM! POW! Doors are flung open as bodies slam into them. A guard rushes through. “Alert! We’re under attack! A lone woman is- OOF!” An impact covers the air in dust. Silence permeates the room until the dust clears. Gigi smirks. “Sorry guys, looks like I’m the only alpha around here. Don’t worry though, I’ll make sure to put you in your place!”
Suddenly, there’s lots of noise outside. The blades of a helicopter become visible just outside the window. A man stands and runs for it, jumps through the glass and grabs a ladder that’s being lowered from the vehicle. They always try to run, don’t they? And they always learn why she’s called The Chaser.
The Chaser stances up, the fans in her shoes revving just as loudly as the helicopter outside. They’re already maneuvering away from the building, but they don’t know it’s pointless. The chaser pushes on her legs with all her might, covering the entire room with a leap in the blink of an eye. Furniture falls over due to the shockwave that emanates from the epicenter of her jump. She’s winding up her fist in midair, her target just barely has enough time to notice a blur rapidly approaching his face, eyes widening in surprise, before everything goes black.
The Chaser, an assassin. The skills of her trade were drilled into her from a young age. She’d been doing whatever dirty work her employer asked of her since.
Her organization, Death’s Scythe, arrives on the scene to cover up the mess that The Chaser left in her wake. As always, Gigi is left in charge of cleaning up all the blood. She thinks back to the conversations she’s had today. It’s completely hopeless. When it comes to homemaking, cleaning house is the only thing that Gigi knows how to do.
Mumei is in trouble. She knows that the only way for her to continue observing her new mama, the automaton, is for her to find a suitable marriage partner. She also knows that her mama is completely hopeless when it comes to understanding her own emotions. Understanding the emotions of others would be a whole other thing altogether. She scours her notebook. She can’t remember now, but surely she must have recorded someone in this civilization that could fit the bill. She flips through entry after entry, profile after profile, until she finds one. It’s a crazy idea. It would be messy. It might not even work. But it would certainly be interesting. Gigi Murin. Innocent clerk by day, assassin by night. Often seen at the nearby laundromat to wash blood stains off her hoodie. Mumei runs outside and starts rolling around in the mud. “Hey mama! I got all dirty! Can I help you do the laundry?”