As I stand at the kitchen sink, the warm water running over my hands, I can't shake off the weight of the past four years. It's been nothing short of hell for me, a relentless struggle that has left its mark on every fiber of my being. The dishes in front of me seem trivial in comparison to the daunting task that lies ahead.
The idea of building a device beyond the technological bounds of this timeline feels like a cruel joke. I mean, seriously, it's practically impossible. Yet, here I am, compelled by circumstances to create what I've come to call the Interdimensional Router. The very concept of such a device challenges the limits of my imagination.
With each plate, I scrub, my mind races with the intricate details of the device. It demands delicate parts, the smallest unit being the size of a damn blood cell. I pause, my hands still in the soapy water, as I ponder the absurdity of the situation. How on earth am I going to build something so incredibly intricate and minuscule?
The water drips from my hands as I reach for a dish towel, the weight of the challenge settling over me like a heavy fog. The Interdimensional Router isn't just a gadget; it's my, Rachel’s, and Evandel’s ticket out of this hellish existence. I wipe my hands, feeling the determination rise within me. If I've survived the past four years, I can damn well figure out how to build the impossible.
Hell, I say, but the true inferno of the past four years lies in the sinister dance of my sleepwalking. It's a nightly torment, a twisted waltz with the shadows that have become an unwelcome companion in my life.
The memories are vivid, and disgusting. The last confrontation with Lancaster in my original timeline is etched into my mind like a grotesque painting. In a desperate bid for control, I manipulated my AI System, forcing my body into sleepwalking mode. Anything to break free from the shackles of those parasitic entities that had brazenly seized control of my will.
Lancaster, that vile puppeteer, had unleashed a malevolence upon me that transcended the physical realm. The resentment still simmers within me, a slow burn that refuses to be extinguished. Those parasites, like insidious tendrils, had wrapped themselves around my autonomy, strangling the essence of who I was.
Even today, as I stand here, recounting the horrors of that confrontation, the taste of bitterness lingers on my tongue. The scars of that battle aren't just on the surface; they run deep, etching their mark on my very soul. The sleepwalking, a manifestation of that struggle, serves as a nightly reminder of the darkness that Lancaster had thrust upon my existence.
I shake my head, trying to dispel the images.
Occasionally, I will still go into sleepwalking, my subconscious taking over. Thankfully, I have Rachel with me who can help me on my worst nights. When my subconscious self takes control, I tend to do very irrational things like robbing a bank. I sigh at the memory.
I'm elbow-deep in soapy water, scrubbing away the remnants of dinner when the curious voices of Mommy Rachel and Little Evandel catch my attention from the living room.
Rachel glances at something in Evandel's hands. "What is that?"
Evandel beams, holding up the object. "It's Dad's Christmas gift to me from last year!"
Rachel squints at it. "That looks like a gun…"
Evandel shakes her head excitedly. "No, look! It's a Freeze Ray! Look at the design, Mom! It has whirlies, and it's blue! It's definitely not a gun! Not even a weapon! It's a toy."
Rachel raises an eyebrow, skeptical. "Hmmm…"
Their conversation catches my attention, and I can't help but pause, intrigued by their exchange. The clinking of dishes momentarily stops as I strain to listen, wiping my hands on the kitchen towel.
Evandel's enthusiasm is palpable even from here. Her insistence on the nature of the gift speaks volumes about her passion for it. Yet, I can sense the skepticism in Mommy Rachel's tone, a hint of concern perhaps, lingering in her.
I shake my head, smiling faintly at their interaction. I see the so-called ‘gun’, and realize what it is… Aah… I might be in trouble. I return to washing the dishes, playing coy and innocent.
Despite the chill creeping up my spine, I push the uneasy feeling aside and focus on the dishes. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Rachel looking at me.
She smirks, "Let me borrow it."
Evandel clutches the Freeze Ray protectively. "No!"
Rachel persists, "Let's see." She aims it at me, and instinctively, I duck low, avoiding the Freeze Ray's sight.
Rachel, amused, calls out, "Mr. Hyon, I haven't shot yet. Can you explain to me why you're reacting like this?"
Peeking out from the kitchen, I catch Evandel avoiding my eyes, a hint of guilt on her face. Rachel, on the other hand, wears a mix of amusement and annoyance.
I decide to intervene, joining them. "It's an Anti-Bully weapon, like a Taser or a pepper spray," I explain, emphasizing the non-lethal nature of the Freeze Ray. "Perfect for self-defense—it doesn't kill, just immobilizes people."
Rachel raises an eyebrow, her expression shifting to concern. "Giving weapons to children is not cool, Mr. Hyon."
Rachel, a mischievous glint in her eyes, aims the Freeze Ray at the cactus plant I've been diligently caring for and shoots. The green cactus, snug in its pot, is suddenly encased in ice.
She turns to me, a challenging look on her face. "Does that look nonlethal to you?"
I playfully retort, "We'll see after two hours when the ice melts."
Rachel scoffs, "We'll be late by then," and drags Evandel outside. I breathe a sigh of relief, watching them go. Evandel steals a glance at me, raising a peace sign in apology. I silently lip-sync, “All good,” forgiving Evandel for her mischievous plan to bring the Freeze Ray to her kinder school, despite my vocal objections to her.
Returning to the task at hand, I resume washing the dishes, the warm water soothing my hands. The pile is nearly conquered; all that remains is a quick rinse for the plates. As I work, I find myself snickering at the thought of how adorable Evandel can be. Parenthood, I muse, is one funny business.
Glancing over to the wall, I catch sight of the forged marriage certificate I meticulously created four years ago. It proudly hangs there, accompanied by a photoshopped wedding photo—a visual charade we've maintained for the sake of a cover story. Rachel and I dove headfirst into the marriage route to weave a narrative that fits the mold of societal expectations. It's our shield against prying eyes and judgment.
We couldn't possibly continue our lives in the anonymity of motels, especially with Evandel in tow. The truth needed a disguise, and a marriage certificate seemed like the perfect mask. It's a peculiar dance of deception, but a necessary one. We can't tell people Evandel is adopted, because no one will believe it anyway, and I refuse to let Evandel grow up feeling like an outsider.
The clink of the last plate being rinsed signals the end of the task at hand. As I dry my hands, I can't help but marvel at the complexity of the web we've woven. The dishes are clean, but the challenges of our unconventional family persist. “If only everything is so easy…”
Evandel is not a weapon. In this life, there are no grand expectations thrust upon her. No destinies carved in stone, no burdens that weigh heavy on her small shoulders. It's a simplicity, a quietude, that may just be the ideal life for both Rachel and Evandel.
In their original timelines, Rachel would have been entangled in the responsibilities of ruling a nation. A life dictated by politics, power, and the weight of a crown. But here, free from the shackles of royalty, she's just like any other woman with dreams and hopes for herself. It's a life untethered from the expectations of an entire nation, and in many ways, that's not a bad thing.
Rachel is not like Yeonha, filled with ambitious pursuits, or Nayun, guided by unwavering belief and reason. Stripped of the mantle of rulership, she's free to explore her own aspirations, to forge a path that aligns with her true desires.
And then there's Evandel. In her original timeline, a cruel fate awaited her—to become a weapon for humanity. A childhood overshadowed by the looming responsibility of a destiny not of her choosing. Here, she enjoys a semblance of a normal childhood, surrounded by warmth and love. It might not be perfect, and there will inevitably be bumps along the way, but those are the necessary challenges for her growth as an individual.
In the original timeline, every aspect of Evandel's existence was molded for the sole purpose of shaping her into a weapon. Here, she has the chance to be something more, to defy the predetermined path laid out for her. It's a life where her growth is not sacrificed on the altar of a greater purpose but rather nurtured in the embrace of a family that cherishes her for who she is.
As I step outside, the crisp air hits me, and I begin the task of bringing my tools back into the garage. The clatter of metal and the shuffle of equipment fill the quiet space. Among the tools, there's a peculiar machine I've been tirelessly building for the past two months—a magic generator of sorts. It sits in the corner, still in its prototype state, but I'm confident I'll have it functional soon.
Dragging the machine into the garage, I mutter to myself, "Almost there, just a bit more tweaking."
The Interdimensional Router, my magnum opus, is now at 99% completion. A mere whisper away from being fully operational. My excitement is tempered only by the realization that I need a powerful power source to make it truly effective.
I glance at the prototype magic generator, contemplating its potential. "Once this baby is up and running," I murmur, "we'll be able to make contact with someone from a distant future. A lifeline to rescue us from being trapped in this First Iteration."
With a sense of urgency and determination, I set to work, eager to bridge the gap between dimensions and secure our escape from the peculiar reality that has ensnared us.
As I stand at the kitchen sink, the warm water running over my hands, I can't shake off the weight of the past four years. It's been nothing short of hell for me, a relentless struggle that has left its mark on every fiber of my being. The dishes in front of me seem trivial in comparison to the daunting task that lies ahead.
The idea of building a device beyond the technological bounds of this timeline feels like a cruel joke. I mean, seriously, it's practically impossible. Yet, here I am, compelled by circumstances to create what I've come to call the Interdimensional Router. The very concept of such a device challenges the limits of my imagination.
With each plate, I scrub, my mind races with the intricate details of the device. It demands delicate parts, the smallest unit being the size of a damn blood cell. I pause, my hands still in the soapy water, as I ponder the absurdity of the situation. How on earth am I going to build something so incredibly intricate and minuscule?
The water drips from my hands as I reach for a dish towel, the weight of the challenge settling over me like a heavy fog. The Interdimensional Router isn't just a gadget; it's my, Rachel’s, and Evandel’s ticket out of this hellish existence. I wipe my hands, feeling the determination rise within me. If I've survived the past four years, I can damn well figure out how to build the impossible.
Hell, I say, but the true inferno of the past four years lies in the sinister dance of my sleepwalking. It's a nightly torment, a twisted waltz with the shadows that have become an unwelcome companion in my life.
The memories are vivid, and disgusting. The last confrontation with Lancaster in my original timeline is etched into my mind like a grotesque painting. In a desperate bid for control, I manipulated my AI System, forcing my body into sleepwalking mode. Anything to break free from the shackles of those parasitic entities that had brazenly seized control of my will.
Lancaster, that vile puppeteer, had unleashed a malevolence upon me that transcended the physical realm. The resentment still simmers within me, a slow burn that refuses to be extinguished. Those parasites, like insidious tendrils, had wrapped themselves around my autonomy, strangling the essence of who I was.
Even today, as I stand here, recounting the horrors of that confrontation, the taste of bitterness lingers on my tongue. The scars of that battle aren't just on the surface; they run deep, etching their mark on my very soul. The sleepwalking, a manifestation of that struggle, serves as a nightly reminder of the darkness that Lancaster had thrust upon my existence.
I shake my head, trying to dispel the images.
Occasionally, I will still go into sleepwalking, my subconscious taking over. Thankfully, I have Rachel with me who can help me on my worst nights. When my subconscious self takes control, I tend to do very irrational things like robbing a bank. I sigh at the memory.
I'm elbow-deep in soapy water, scrubbing away the remnants of dinner when the curious voices of Mommy Rachel and Little Evandel catch my attention from the living room.
Rachel glances at something in Evandel's hands. "What is that?"
Evandel beams, holding up the object. "It's Dad's Christmas gift to me from last year!"
Rachel squints at it. "That looks like a gun…"
Evandel shakes her head excitedly. "No, look! It's a Freeze Ray! Look at the design, Mom! It has whirlies, and it's blue! It's definitely not a gun! Not even a weapon! It's a toy."
Rachel raises an eyebrow, skeptical. "Hmmm…"
Their conversation catches my attention, and I can't help but pause, intrigued by their exchange. The clinking of dishes momentarily stops as I strain to listen, wiping my hands on the kitchen towel.
Evandel's enthusiasm is palpable even from here. Her insistence on the nature of the gift speaks volumes about her passion for it. Yet, I can sense the skepticism in Mommy Rachel's tone, a hint of concern perhaps, lingering in her.
I shake my head, smiling faintly at their interaction. I see the so-called ‘gun’, and realize what it is… Aah… I might be in trouble. I return to washing the dishes, playing coy and innocent.
Despite the chill creeping up my spine, I push the uneasy feeling aside and focus on the dishes. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Rachel looking at me.
She smirks, "Let me borrow it."
Evandel clutches the Freeze Ray protectively. "No!"
Rachel persists, "Let's see." She aims it at me, and instinctively, I duck low, avoiding the Freeze Ray's sight.
Rachel, amused, calls out, "Mr. Hyon, I haven't shot yet. Can you explain to me why you're reacting like this?"
Peeking out from the kitchen, I catch Evandel avoiding my eyes, a hint of guilt on her face. Rachel, on the other hand, wears a mix of amusement and annoyance.
I decide to intervene, joining them. "It's an Anti-Bully weapon, like a Taser or a pepper spray," I explain, emphasizing the non-lethal nature of the Freeze Ray. "Perfect for self-defense—it doesn't kill, just immobilizes people."
Rachel raises an eyebrow, her expression shifting to concern. "Giving weapons to children is not cool, Mr. Hyon."
Rachel, a mischievous glint in her eyes, aims the Freeze Ray at the cactus plant I've been diligently caring for and shoots. The green cactus, snug in its pot, is suddenly encased in ice.
She turns to me, a challenging look on her face. "Does that look nonlethal to you?"
I playfully retort, "We'll see after two hours when the ice melts."
Rachel scoffs, "We'll be late by then," and drags Evandel outside. I breathe a sigh of relief, watching them go. Evandel steals a glance at me, raising a peace sign in apology. I silently lip-sync, “All good,” forgiving Evandel for her mischievous plan to bring the Freeze Ray to her kinder school, despite my vocal objections to her.
Returning to the task at hand, I resume washing the dishes, the warm water soothing my hands. The pile is nearly conquered; all that remains is a quick rinse for the plates. As I work, I find myself snickering at the thought of how adorable Evandel can be. Parenthood, I muse, is one funny business.
Glancing over to the wall, I catch sight of the forged marriage certificate I meticulously created four years ago. It proudly hangs there, accompanied by a photoshopped wedding photo—a visual charade we've maintained for the sake of a cover story. Rachel and I dove headfirst into the marriage route to weave a narrative that fits the mold of societal expectations. It's our shield against prying eyes and judgment.
We couldn't possibly continue our lives in the anonymity of motels, especially with Evandel in tow. The truth needed a disguise, and a marriage certificate seemed like the perfect mask. It's a peculiar dance of deception, but a necessary one. We can't tell people Evandel is adopted, because no one will believe it anyway, and I refuse to let Evandel grow up feeling like an outsider.
The clink of the last plate being rinsed signals the end of the task at hand. As I dry my hands, I can't help but marvel at the complexity of the web we've woven. The dishes are clean, but the challenges of our unconventional family persist. “If only everything is so easy…”
Evandel is not a weapon. In this life, there are no grand expectations thrust upon her. No destinies carved in stone, no burdens that weigh heavy on her small shoulders. It's a simplicity, a quietude, that may just be the ideal life for both Rachel and Evandel.
In their original timelines, Rachel would have been entangled in the responsibilities of ruling a nation. A life dictated by politics, power, and the weight of a crown. But here, free from the shackles of royalty, she's just like any other woman with dreams and hopes for herself. It's a life untethered from the expectations of an entire nation, and in many ways, that's not a bad thing.
Rachel is not like Yeonha, filled with ambitious pursuits, or Nayun, guided by unwavering belief and reason. Stripped of the mantle of rulership, she's free to explore her own aspirations, to forge a path that aligns with her true desires.
And then there's Evandel. In her original timeline, a cruel fate awaited her—to become a weapon for humanity. A childhood overshadowed by the looming responsibility of a destiny not of her choosing. Here, she enjoys a semblance of a normal childhood, surrounded by warmth and love. It might not be perfect, and there will inevitably be bumps along the way, but those are the necessary challenges for her growth as an individual.
In the original timeline, every aspect of Evandel's existence was molded for the sole purpose of shaping her into a weapon. Here, she has the chance to be something more, to defy the predetermined path laid out for her. It's a life where her growth is not sacrificed on the altar of a greater purpose but rather nurtured in the embrace of a family that cherishes her for who she is.
As I step outside, the crisp air hits me, and I begin the task of bringing my tools back into the garage. The clatter of metal and the shuffle of equipment fill the quiet space. Among the tools, there's a peculiar machine I've been tirelessly building for the past two months—a magic generator of sorts. It sits in the corner, still in its prototype state, but I'm confident I'll have it functional soon.
Dragging the machine into the garage, I mutter to myself, "Almost there, just a bit more tweaking."
The Interdimensional Router, my magnum opus, is now at 99% completion. A mere whisper away from being fully operational. My excitement is tempered only by the realization that I need a powerful power source to make it truly effective.
I glance at the prototype magic generator, contemplating its potential. "Once this baby is up and running," I murmur, "we'll be able to make contact with someone from a distant future. A lifeline to rescue us from being trapped in this First Iteration."
With a sense of urgency and determination, I set to work, eager to bridge the gap between dimensions and secure our escape from the peculiar reality that has ensnared us.
