I Am Not a Robot. Beep-bop

Chapter 9: Overseer Oriana 3

“I am Oriana Haleson, a First-Class Overseer of Ark. From now on, I will accompany you until your safety is guaranteed. If you wish to refuse, just say so.”

“…..”

“…Oh, poor thing…”

When I silently nodded, I noticed a slight shimmer in Oriana’s eyes as if they were teary.

Though what resided within me was a cunning being living its third life, my outward appearance was merely that of a frail and delicate girl.

It seemed that Oriana had momentarily forgotten how I had taken down those gas mask-wearing humans, looking at me with pity and sympathy, as one might for a helpless child.

What a relief.

We are people.

We are civilized beings, capable of reason and dialogue—how wonderful is that?

Though it had seemed like we were on the verge of combat, a precarious situation moments ago, Oriana chose to respond to my circumstances with understanding and tolerance.

While in my second life, as a Demon King at the pinnacle of power and malevolence, I didn’t shy away from fights; I saw no need for unnecessary battles.

Besides, wasn’t I being truthful?

Even though I had acted as a young girl, I truly had no idea about the origin of this body or why I ended up in such a state with fragmented memories.

The undeniable fact remained that I had fallen into a pitiful situation requiring assistance like a helpless child.

In such circumstances, the help of someone like Oriana, who appeared to hold a high rank in Ark, was indispensable for adapting to this new life.

‘Had I been unlucky, I might have encountered bandits, beasts, or cultists—those incapable of communication.’

“Come here,” Oriana said, extending her hand toward me with a gaze mixed with pity and goodwill.

Though her treating me like a child was somewhat irritating, the fact that even the Artificial Spirit had vanished made it clear she had no intention of fighting.

Hmm, good.

If this were a typical possession or otherworldly transfer scenario, wouldn’t the protagonist and the first person they met almost always end up fighting?

It’s practically a trope for the initial meeting to involve conflict, leading to an intense relationship between the two characters.

However, Oriana’s approach to me was vastly different.

She didn’t attack recklessly; instead, she extended her hand to a girl she thought was in need.

She chose dialogue over combat and even believed my words.

Naive, but that’s how humans should be.

When faced with someone who appears fragile, shouldn’t empathy and conversation take precedence over aggression?

Well, admittedly, my first encounter with the gas-mask people wasn’t exactly conversational…

But someone once said humans are inherently good and kind at birth.

Kindness, compassion, and basic courtesy correlate with intelligence.

To me, those without intelligence are less than human—beasts in human skin, undeserving of humane treatment.

So, how could those gas mask-wearing fools, who tried to stab a young girl with an awl, ever be considered human?

They were mere beasts pretending to be people.

Even in my Demon King days, I wasn’t like that.

Judging from Oriana’s reaction, those gas mask bastards seemed to be criminals or something similar.

They were likely part of a penal unit or some sort of law enforcement.

If I’m not mistaken, innate criminals just happened to cross paths with me, their unfortunate victim.

With that thought, I took hold of Oriana’s reliable, outstretched hand.

-Zzzt.

‘…What was that?’

The moment I grabbed Oriana’s hand, a peculiar sensation crawled up from my fingertips to my wrists, through my arms, spine, and all over my metallic skin like bugs scurrying around.

It was such a fleeting moment that an ordinary person might not have noticed.

“You must be very hungry. Let’s return to the base and eat something first.”

“……”

‘Oh, now this is interesting…’

Oriana, this woman—

Did she just scan my body the instant we touched hands?

She spoke without changing her expression even slightly.

‘A First-Class Overseer, huh… She certainly lives up to her title.’

Though she appeared to reassure me and show kindness, it seemed she used some magical or technological means to scan and observe my body.

She was likely trying to figure out what kind of being I was or whether I posed a threat.

Still, Oriana probably didn’t glean much.

Even I didn’t know much about myself other than the fact that my entire body consisted of metallic skin and a mechanical android structure.

She wouldn’t have had enough time to analyze anything stored in my brain or memory modules.

That said, her pity and goodwill toward me weren’t feigned.

Despite that, she didn’t lower her guard, promptly scanning me the moment we made contact.

Clearly, she wasn’t just some gullible fool; she upheld her title as a high-ranking official.

‘Here I thought she was just an easy mark, but she’s quite capable.’

Though scanning me without permission might feel intrusive, it’s a quality befitting someone in a high-ranking position tasked with safeguarding others.

Such cautious judgment is both a virtue and a qualification.

Initially, I thought she was merely a naive pushover, but clearly, that wasn’t the case.

With that realization, my opinion of Oriana rose ever so slightly.

“Your name is… Oh, you don’t remember, do you? Then, what should I call you…”

“Alice.”

“What?”

In truth, I had already decided on my name for this third life.

I didn’t know what name I had used in my past lives, but the pursuit of personal romance and idealism seemed to linger within me as an almost instinctual trait.

Falling into a strange world as a girl—why not borrow the name of a protagonist I once read about in an old, peculiar fairy tale?

“Do you remember your name?!”

“…No. I just want to use it.”

“Oh, I see…”

Oriana looked slightly disappointed.

She probably hoped to trace some clue about my origin or creators through my name, but my response—that I simply wanted to be called that—gave her no answers.

From her perspective, the mystery surrounding my existence remained as impenetrable as ever.

“Alright, Alice. I’ll help you, but before that, I must emphasize that I am a First-Class Overseer of Ark. It’s my duty to eliminate any threats to the city or Ark, and since your origin and nature are unclear, you need to follow me obediently—”

At that moment, my vision turned crimson.

No, it wasn’t just crimson—it was a web of lines.

Or perhaps planes.

Trajectories.

Or flashes.

Everything around Oriana and me was bathed in red.

I recognized this phenomenon.

Moments earlier, when the gas-mask people had tried to attack me with an awl, some system or module embedded within my body had predicted their attack routes with absolute precision, rendering them as those crimson lines.

Now, that same predictive module had identified an attack route that enveloped both me and Oriana.

In the fleeting instant that followed, my thoughts accelerated, and I could even see the dust particles dispersing before me.

Both Oriana and I were caught within those crimson lines.

Something was attacking us.

Something my body had detected and predicted before I could consciously grasp it—an attack from an unknown source.

My mind raced.

What were my options?

1. Warn Oriana and escape.

Impossible.

If I could see the crimson trajectories, the attack would land before I could even open my mouth.

When the gas-mask people had hurled their awl at me, the crimson trajectories had appeared for no more than a fraction of a second—barely one-tenth of a second.

I didn’t know how strong Oriana, a First-Class Overseer, truly was, but at the moment, she seemed completely unaware of the incoming attack.

This suggested that the attack was either long-range or faster than sound.

Could Oriana summon her Artificial Spirit and respond before the attack engulfed us both?

That was uncertain.

2. Abandon Oriana and run.

The simplest and easiest solution.

Oriana was far from a naive fool—she was cautious, almost too businesslike.

Whether due to professionalism or a clear separation between duty and emotion, she wasn’t someone I could manipulate easily.

This massive crimson trajectory encircling us suggested a widespread explosion or a similarly devastating attack was imminent.

There was no guarantee I’d survive it unscathed.

The simplest approach would be to abandon Oriana and flee immediately.

But there was one last option besides the first two.

-Whack!

“Ah!?”

I shoved Oriana forcefully.

Caught off guard, Oriana, in her defenseless state, was hurled quite a distance away by the strength of my android body.

She landed well beyond the crimson trajectory I had seen.

Naturally, her eyes now bore a mix of confusion and disbelief, as if asking, “What the hell are you doing?”

Oh, by the way—

The last option was, of course, for me to play the fool.

Before Oriana could say anything, something gray crashed into the spot where she had been standing moments ago.

“!?”

Rust?

Molten metal?

No—solder?

What was this? Liquid metal breath?

I didn’t know what it was, but it didn’t look like something I wanted to touch.

“…Scrap Breath?!”

Oriana’s voice was filled with shock.

So that’s what it’s called—Scrap Breath?

What an unimaginative name.

Whatever monster or creature had launched this attack wasn’t to my taste, either.

The sheer volume of molten metal, resembling solder or rust water, coalesced into what appeared to be a massive beam weapon.

Oriana scrambled to summon her Artificial Spirit, but the molten Scrap Breath was already about to engulf me.

Ah, naturally, I didn’t want to play the fool.

I didn’t want to act selflessly, nor did I want to help someone just because they were a pretty woman.

But clichés exist for a reason.

The protagonist who willingly sacrifices themselves or becomes a fool for others—it’s a trope that some readers find frustrating, like eating an unripe persimmon.

Still, clichés have a reason for their popularity.

They are the standard.

They are more satisfying.

They are more romantic.

“And besides, I’m confident I’ll survive this.”

-KWAAAAAANG!!!