Chapter 147

Xain wiped away his tears as he heard Grace's words. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice still shaky.

"You really have a way of swaying my core, you know?" Grace said with a subtle, humorless smile.

"Core?" Xain asked, thinking he had misheard her. Grace walked up to him, grabbed his right hand, and pressed it against her chest. Normally, Xain, like any boy his age, would have been very flustered, but instead, he felt nothing—no beat, no movement, no nothing. It was like he was holding a doll, lifeless. Even Lennix felt more alive than her. "Why do you not have a heartbeat?" he asked, bewildered.

"Because I'm not human," Grace replied, her smile still present as she removed Xain's hand from her chest.

"Not human? Are you some sort of demi-human? Or maybe a demon or angel?" Xain asked, staring at his hand in disbelief.

Grace shook her head. "No, Xain, I'm not a living being, and it's not in the undead way if you're thinking that," she said with a humorless chuckle.

"Then what are you?" Xain asked, his eyes locking onto hers once again.

"I'm not sure, actually. At least, I don't know the actual term for a creation like me," Grace replied, her finger on her chin as if in thought.

"Creation? Are you saying you're an automaton?" Xain asked, trying to grasp her words.

Grace nodded. "Yeah, let's go with that. That's probably the closest definition to what I am."

"No, no, that doesn't make any sense. I saw you breathe before. I saw your skin get flushed. I'm sure I did," he insisted.

Suddenly, he heard a voice in his head. *She's a homunculus or golem, though I'm leaning towards homunculus,* Ercale said.

*You knew?* Xain asked silently.

Ercale continued without answering directly. *Homunculi are magical creations that mimic normal living beings to a nearly indistinguishable degree, the only thing setting them apart being their internals, as instead of a heart they have a core that powers them,* he explained.

"I can mimic normal body functions, though I don't need to. Do you understand that, Xain?" Grace asked before leaning in close to him. "I don't need to breathe or eat or even drink. I don't even age. I just exist," she looked down at the ground, her voice tinged with sorrow. "With no purpose, without any need. I could just go into a cave and sit still for hundreds of years, and not a single thing would change. I'd still have no need for anything, no wants to push myself—nothing."

Xain stood silent, unable to say anything. What could he say to any of this?

"And despite all that, I'm still loved and blessed, like I needed even less," Grace muttered, confusing Xain even more.

*She's talking about being loved by the ones from above and below, gifted by gods or god-like beings from above and the denizens of Hell and the Abyss from below,* explained Ercale in Xain's head. *She doesn't understand that there is an even bigger blessing flowing through her,* he added offhandedly.

"I can see thoughts, Xain, that's why I'm so good at fighting," Grace continued, her words startling Xain, who went wide-eyed with shock. "You—you can see thoughts?" he stuttered slightly, trying to comprehend this new revelation. Grace nodded calmly, raising her hands reassuringly. "Yep, though don't worry, I can't read yours anymore for some reason," she explained, a hint of curiosity in her tone.

*That's because of me,* Ercale's voice echoed in Xain's mind. He closed his eyes momentarily to gather his thoughts before meeting Grace's gaze again. "And I'm guessing that memory-altering ability is related to being loved?" he asked tentatively, to which Grace nodded affirmatively. "Well, it's more about altering memories than erasing them, but yes, you're correct," she clarified.

Xain shifted gears, trying to grasp more about Grace's nature. "You said you don't age. How old are you exactly?" he inquired, genuinely curious. Grace pouted playfully, "Come on, Xain, don't you know it's rude to ask a girl her age?" she teased, trying to lighten the mood. Xain looked genuinely confused. "Isn't it weight that's rude to ask? Never mind, we're getting off-topic. Just tell me, please?" he urged. Grace sighed deeply and thought for a moment before answering, "Around 64, I'm pretty sure."

Xain nodded, his thoughts racing. *Younger than I expected, to be honest.* Grace noticed his expression and gave him a knowing look. "You're thinking something rude, aren't you?" Grace accused, catching Xain off guard and making him flinch, "I thought you couldn't see my thoughts," he mumbled, feeling a bit exposed. Grace crossed her arms with a playful smirk. "I still have eyes, you know," she quipped, teasing him gently.

Trying to refocus the conversation, Xain pressed on, "How long have you been staying in Wolfdale, then?" He wanted to understand more about her recent history. Grace sighed softly, considering her response. "Not long, just around six months," she replied,.

"And I'm assuming you altered their memories during this time?" Xain asked, probing deeper into the mystery. Grace nodded solemnly, her expression tinged with regret. "Why? Why didn't you just live with them? Why alter their memories?" Xain's voice held genuine curiosity and concern.

Grace let out another sigh, her demeanor shifting to one of vulnerability. "Xain, I'm a perpetually sixteen-year-old girl who doesn't need to eat, sleep, or do anything. I'm an immortal machine that just exists. I can't have a normal life. I can't interact with everyone like a normal person. You might not have reacted negatively, but do you think everyone would understand me and accept me?" Her voice quivered ever so slightly with emotion.

"I didn't want to do that, but I felt like I had no choice," Grace continued, her gaze steady on Xain. "I was lonely. I wanted someone to talk to, to experience what little life I could. But even then, it felt wrong. None of these people knew the real me. They only knew a fabricated version of me—a girl named Grace, an orphan who was strong, admired by all. They didn't know the automaton who doesn't even know her own name or why she was created."

"So, Grace isn't even your real name?" Xain asked, shock evident in his voice. Grace let out a dry chuckle. "What even constitutes as real for something like me? But you can keep calling me that, just to avoid any confusion," she said, her gaze shifting away from him.

"Xain, you shouldn't care so much about giving me a happy ending. I'm little more than a machine. I existed before you were born and will keep on existing long after you die."

Hearing this, Xain shook his head vehemently. "I don't care about what you are. You still have feelings; you're still alive. Being what you are won't change that. So please, just come with me, back to the village, this time as the real you with no fabricated memories. I'll tell them what you did, I'll vouch for you. You can and should be happy. You can start over from the beginning as who you really are. So please," he pleaded, extending his hand toward her. "Come back with me."

Grace looked down at his hand before meeting his eyes, which were filled with sincerity, as always. She let out a sigh. "You're overwhelmingly good and lovable, you know that?" she said with a soft smile.

Xain felt a wave of relief wash over him. "So you'll come back?" he asked hopefully. It looked like Grace was about to take his hand, but instead, she snapped her fingers and disappeared from view. Xain's hand fell limp by his side.

"Why can't I ever do anything right?" he muttered to himself. He always failed, always made things worse, always lashed out. 

*Calm down, ape,* Ercale spoke up unexpectedly in Xain's mind. *She was never going to go back with you. She had made up her mind from the very start and was going to stick to that no matter what. Stop blaming yourself constantly—it gets annoying.*

Xain rubbed his face with his hands. "Shouldn't you at least try to comfort me?" he asked aloud.

Ercale scoffed. *I told you to calm down, didn't I? That's the most comfort you're getting out of me, ape.*

To be honest, this was more comforting than if Ercale had actually tried to be sympathetic. Xain looked in the direction Grace had been walking before turning around and doing the only thing he could do, *I hope we meet again, Grace,* walk away.