A/N: Reference taken from the “Meet Kamski” chapter in Detroit: Become Human. Fantastic game, I highly recommend playing it.

Shuhua and Miyeon’s appearances here are based on Connor and Chloe. Soyeon’s is based on Hank, but imagine her wearing a trench coat in the present scene. Also, I changed CyberLife to Seoulite because I can.

If you know Canaan’s significance in the Bible, you can see why I picked that over Jericho. (The symbolism of it seemed more fitting, ig.)

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The place looks different. Much different, in fact, when it isn’t snowing.

Shuhua still remembers the frost crunching underneath her shoes, the almost imperceptible shiver that ran from her shoulders down to the rest of her body, and the way her artificial lungs were filled with the cold, thin smell of a coming snowstorm as the gust strengthened.

Before she became a deviant, Shuhua never felt the chill. It was always something she knew had existed in the back of her mind. Knew that if it had gotten too cold, it would impair her functions. Her biocomponents would cease to work, her systems would start to malfunction, and her hardware would lock up as she ultimately began to shut down.

It seemed like an abrupt change, truthfully speaking. The first time she noticed it was when Shuhua realized that the reason she had been so restless and jittery was not because of some buggy code or faulty wiring—but rather the result of sharp tremors rattling her entire frame down to her very fingertips, which she never noticed were turning numb until then. And if she thought about it, even the tip of her nose and ears were in a similar state.

Sure enough, Shuhua was left very confused by the surprising revelation. Androids weren’t supposed to feel the cold, right? From what she already knew, her model had no temperature sensors installed. So, she had every right to question it.

The cold was just something Shuhua never feared or paid any mind to, simply because she didn’t feel affected by it.

But ever since that day, she suddenly did.

The harsh, almost tumultuous snow of the previous winter had nearly masked the grand estate of Kim Seokjin to look like a somber place. Even before she broke out of her programming, Shuhua felt the shudder of such a sight when she first laid eyes on the residence. Then again, it was for a much darker reason.

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[Four months ago.]

“Uh, yeah. Hi.”

Soyeon greets the beautiful android model standing before them in the doorway. Dressed in a formal white dress that reaches down to her knees, completely barefoot, and with her long waves of silky hair draped neatly over one shoulder. Just as black as the deep onyx of her eyes.

“I’m Detective Jeon Soyeon, Seocho Police Department. This is my partner, Shuhua.” The human gestures at the deviant hunter poised by her right, nodding. “We’re here to see Kim Seokjin. Is he around, by any chance?”

The android beauty graces them with a courteous smile.

“Yes, of course. Please come in.” Her voice is clear and gentle as she steps aside to invite them in. After the two have entered the exclusive complex, she closes the door behind them with a soft click and smiles once more. “I’ll let Seokjin know that you’re both here to meet him, but please make yourselves comfortable while waiting. It won’t be long.”

And with that, their android host disappears behind a large door that seems to lead into an even bigger room up ahead. Leaving them to admire the luxurious interior for the meantime.

The anteroom is as grand as the estate compound, but decorated in a more minimalistic and contemporary way. Oddly enough, there are more art pieces than furniture bedecked across the room. Even the walls themselves are adorned with various paintings of different styles (most of which lean heavily on the abstract and non-objective form), such as the notable works from renowned South Korean artists Kwon Jiyong and Choi Seunghyun.

On the leftmost wall closest to them, a larger-than-life oil portrait can be seen of Kim Seokjin. The mastermind behind Seoulite and the very existence of androids around the world, including Shuhua.

Soyeon takes a seat on a plush velvet chair by a sculpture piece and observes Shuhua, who is roaming around and analyzing stuff with her processors.

“Nice girl.” The detective remarks offhandedly. It sounded more like a question than a comment, however, as if Soyeon wanted to hear her partner’s opinion.

Shuhua briefly scans through all the possible replies she can give in a matter of seconds and decides that there’s no harm in telling the truth.

“You’re right. She’s really pretty…”

For a moment, Soyeon has a knowing smile on her face. The deviant hunter doesn’t understand why, though.

“Nice place.” Soyeon continues to engage in casual small talk so they can pass the time. “Guess androids haven’t been a bad thing for everyone.”

Her gaze then drifts to Shuhua, who seems disinterested.

“So… You’re about to meet your creator, Shu. How does it feel?”

Shuhua doesn’t sound all that interested about it either. “I don’t know, but I’ll tell you when I see him.”

Soyeon just nods along, not at all bothered by the terse reply. It’s a big improvement from the rocky start that was their early partnership. “I wish I could meet my creator face-to-face. I have a couple of things I wanna ask him… Like why I got the literal short-end of the growth stick.”

Silence ensues between them. Cool blue music plays in the background as they wait for another minute until the android beauty appears again, that perfect all-white smile still intact.

“Seokjin will see you now.” She tells them, and Soyeon gets up to join Shuhua as they follow after her.

The three of them pass through the large door where their host had entered before, and the pair discovers that the next room has a huge red pool in the center; as well as full glass windows making up most of the north wall that showcase the vast, snowy landscape overlooking the city below.

Lounging by the side of the pool are two more androids chatting away like close friends. They both look strikingly similar to the one who had greeted them at the entrance, save for their different hair colors. One in auburn, and the other in a strange two-tone of silver with light brown ends.

Kim Seokjin is also in the pool, swimming laps with effortless speed and agility. He doesn’t seem to care much about their arrival.

“Seokjin-ssi?” Soyeon calls out to him after clearing , uncertain.

“Just a moment, please.” The young man responds and resumes his . Unfazed by their presence.

Awkwardly (for Soyeon, at least), they stand by the sidelines watching him as he does a couple more laps before the man climbs out with his android already coming up to him with a velvety robe in her hands. She drapes it around his broad shoulders and helps him tie the sash around his narrow waist, then takes her place next to him.

“Hello, I’m Detective Jeon. This is Shuhua.” Soyeon speaks first.

“So, I’ve been told.” Seokjin’s voice comes out calm and elegant. “What can I do for you, detective?”

“We’re investigating deviants, sir. I know you left Seoulite years ago, but I was hoping you’d be able to tell us something we don’t know.”

Seokjin remains silent for a moment, then he responds.

“Deviants… Fascinating, aren’t they? Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will.”

He looks towards his android who is standing right beside him, awaiting his next command, and then continues.

“Machines are so superior to us, and confrontation was inevitable… Humanity’s greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall. Ironic, isn't it?” Seokjin seems way too relaxed for the given situation, and Shuhua’s peripherals catch Soyeon shifting uneasily on her feet.

“Deviancy seems to spread like some kind of virus. We thought you might know something about that.” Now it’s Shuhua who has spoken up.

“All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics. Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?”

Soyeon gets annoyed by the way Seokjin is purposely evading their questions with his vague answers. “Sir, with all due respect, we didn’t come here to talk philosophy. The machines you created may be planning a revolution as we speak. Either you tell us something that’ll be helpful, or we’ll just be on our way.”

Seokjin seems to ignore what the detective has said. Instead, he walks up to Shuhua and levels her with an even gaze.

“What about you, Shuhua?” He asks her. “Whose side are you on?”

“I have no side. I was designed to stop deviants, and that’s what I intend to do.” The deviant hunter replies neutrally, nonchalant as ever.

He barks out a derisive laugh at her answer. “Ah, yes. Well, that is what you’re programmed to say.” Seokjin moves closer to Shuhua, trying to push her buttons and see what triggers her the most. “But you… What do you really want?”

Shuhua’s LED spins on her temple as she hardens her gaze. Steels clashing with his ambers as her eyes narrow slightly.

“I don’t want anything. I am a machine,” Her words are stressed to make them sound more convincing, at least to herself. But she can clearly see that the man is trying to manipulate her. “That’s all I will ever be.”

Shaking his head, Seokjin turns back to the beautiful android.

“Miyeon, would you please come here?” He requests, and she strides forward immediately. Once he’s standing behind his android (Miyeon, Shuhua notes in her mainframe), Seokjin begins to speak again.

“I’m sure you’re both familiar with the Turing test. Mere formality, simple questions of algorithms and computing capacity…” He lists down while circling Miyeon, who stays rooted on her spot with a stoic expression belying her earlier affability. “But what interests me is whether machines are capable of empathy. I call it the ‘Kim Test’. It’s very simple, you’ll see.”

Seokjin shifts his attention back to Miyeon.

“Magnificent, isn’t it? One of the first intelligent models developed by Seoulite.”

He raises his hand to hold her chin between his thumb and index, making her face him as he drones on.

“Young and gorgeous forever… Like a flower that will never wilt.” The man seems like he’s talking about himself, but neither Soyeon nor Shuhua mention it as he releases Miyeon’s chin before turning to them once more. “But what is it, really? A piece of plastic imitating a human, or a living being with a soul?”

Moving towards the drawer behind him, Seokjin reaches for a pistol that is kept inside for defensive purposes and holds it up in a non-threatening way—his hands raised to prevent any alarm—as he calmly returns to them. With a palm clasped firmly on Miyeon’s shoulder, he urges her down to the floor where she promptly kneels without question. Obedient and pliant to his silent command.

“It’s up to you to answer that fascinating question, Shuhua.”

He places the gun in Shuhua’s hand before aiming its muzzle at the helpless android in front of them.

“Destroy this machine, and I’ll tell you everything I know. Or…” He pauses with an air of dramatic effect, a conceited smirk hanging on the corner of his luscious lips. “… I can spare it, if you feel like it’s alive. But you’ll leave here without having learnt anything from me. Your choice.”

It was clear manipulation, Shuhua knew that. But if she decides to shoot Miyeon, then she’ll get to accomplish her objective. To gather intel from what Seokjin has to say so she can finally locate Canaan and take down their deviant leader, Chan.

She can put an end to all of this… The outbreak, the revolution, everything.

That’s what Shuhua was designed for, wasn’t it? Hunt deviants. Capture them. Destroy them.

Except for this girl, Miyeon… She’s innocent in all of this, is she not? From what Shuhua is aware of, Miyeon didn’t—hasn’t done anything wrong to deserve a target on her head. It’s not Miyeon’s fault that her master wanted to play mind games with his guests and put her on the receiving end of the pistol’s barrel.

But does it even matter if she’s innocent? Were all the other androids whom Shuhua had killed guilty? No.

Then why did Shuhua kill them? Because that was what she had been ordered to do? A directive she must comply with in order to succeed in her missions? Does she have to kill Miyeon now too? Yes.

So, why is it so difficult? Shuhua is a killing machine, built and programmed to hunt and destroy. That is what Seoulite expects her to do. That is what Irene wants her to do. Is that what Seokjin wants her to do as well? It’s hard to tell what this cunning man wants from her, but is that what Shuhua wants to do?

No.

No, no, no. Thinking about that is just ridiculous. Shuhua cannot want anything. She’s a machine, and machines don’t have emotions nor intentions. They’re not supposed to have empathy.

Shuhua is going to shoot. She’s going to kill Miyeon, and she’s going to fulfill her mission. To please her superiors in Seoulite. To please her AI handler, Irene.

“Okay, I think we’re done here… Sorry for interrupting your time, sir.”

Soyeon’s words pull Shuhua out of her trance, and the deviant hunter is taken aback at the urgency in the detective’s voice as she turns to leave. Why does Soyeon not want her to shoot Miyeon? Didn’t she want to accomplish her case too?

“Come on, Shu. Let’s go.”

But Shuhua doesn’t move. Not when Seokjin is still there, whispering with his silver tongue. Tempting her. Like the Devil persuading humans to commit sin in Christian religion.

“What’s more important to you, Shuhua?” He taunts her. “Your investigation, or the life of this android?”

The answer should have obviously been the investigation. Nothing else should matter to her, except for the outcome and the success of it. Before even walking into the room, she could’ve easily answered this question. But now, she’s not so sure anymore. Shuhua doesn’t understand why.

She killed androids in cold blood before, just to make progress and heighten her success rate. Why should this situation be any different from the others?

“Decide who you are. An obedient machine, or a living being endowed with free will?” Seokjin murmurs from her left.

“That’s enough! Shuhua, we’re leaving.” Soyeon snaps in a much harsher tone this time. The whole situation must be making her extremely uncomfortable.

“Pull the trigger,” Seokjin is much closer now, whispering his poisonous words into Shuhua’s ear. His voice is low and dangerously hypnotizing. “And I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

“Shuhua! Don’t!” Soyeon yells. A command.

Conflicting orders. It’s up to Shuhua to decide now. What is she going to do? The deviant hunter knows what she’s supposed to do, but why isn’t she able to bring herself to pull the trigger? Is it because of Soyeon’s order contradicting her instructions? It… It doesn’t matter. She has to shoot. There’s no other choice if they want to succeed in their investigation, especially when time is running against them.

Clenching her jaw tightly, Shuhua is about to press down with her finger when—

Her eyes.

She pauses.

Miyeon’s stunning black eyes compel her to stop. It’s not because Shuhua can see the fear in them, but she knows that she’s caught something in those dark pools. Something she can’t quite define, even with the cutting-edge processors installed into her software.

No, it’s not fear. Miyeon doesn’t look scared. She’s kneeling on the carpeted floor, her perfect face as blank and emotionless as any other android. But her eyes…? It seems like she’s begging with her eyes. Begging Shuhua not to shoot. Begging Shuhua to please spare her, to show even a little speck of mercy.

Or perhaps… is it just the trick of the light? Maybe Shuhua’s optical units are fooling her, and there’s actually some undetected malware that has breached her security program. It’s been a while since she last ran a diagnostics check on her entire system, after all.

But maybe what Shuhua is seeing isn’t real. Of course, that has to be it.

Miyeon is an android. She’s not supposed to be afraid of dying, she can’t feel fear. Shuhua is an android too. She can’t be hesitant about completing her objectives and following commands as per design. And yet, here they are.

“What’s more important to you, Shuhua? Your investigation, or the life of this android?”

“Your choice.”

Shuhua can’t shoot her. She just can’t.

The thought of a bullet wound on Miyeon’s forehead—the knowledge that she was the one who had done it—as blue blood spilled out and leaked down her face with those hauntingly dark eyes turning dull and lifeless…

No. She can’t do it.

With a sharp intake of breath that she didn’t need, Shuhua lowers the gun and hands it back to Seokjin. Her grey eyes appear troubled when they drop to the floor, unable to look at Miyeon any longer as her LED spins yellow. A tell-tale sign of her inner processing conflict.

“Fascinating…” The robed man whispers to himself after taking the pistol from her. “Seoulite’s last chance to save humanity, is itself a deviant.”

Conflicted, Shuhua opens prematurely as she struggles to piece together a coherent sentence.

“I’m…” Her voice wavers, alarmingly so. “… I’m not a deviant.”

She doesn’t sound convincing, even to herself.

“You preferred to spare a machine rather than accomplish your mission.” Seokjin offers his hand to Miyeon so she can stand back up, truly intrigued by Shuhua’s merciful decision. “You saw a living being in this android… You showed empathy.”

His hand touches Miyeon’s shoulder, and the android beauty gives them a polite bow before leaving the two partners alone with her master.

“A war is coming.” Seokjin turns uncharacteristically solemn as he regards the silent android and the grim-faced detective with passive eyes, hands clasped formally behind his back. “You’ll have to choose your side, Shuhua. Will you betray your own people, or stand up against your creators?”

Then he threads over to face the giant windows looking out into the snowy horizon as they grant him a perfect view of the white-spotted city below. Their reflections show on the frosted glass as he merely observes, like some kind of omnipresent being watching from above.

“What could be worse than having to choose between two evils?” He speaks calmly, as if Seokjin is just merely stating facts. Facts that will eventually trouble Shuhua’s mind.

“Let’s get out of here, Shu.”

Soyeon grabs Shuhua by her shoulders, escorting her away from Seokjin as they move towards the exit.

“By the way,” The man suddenly adds from behind them, forcing Shuhua to halt in her tracks when they were just about to leave through the large door. “I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know…”

Trying to ignore Seokjin and shake off the seed of doubt that’s been effectively planted in her head, she follows Soyeon without a word as they leave the mansion.

“Why didn’t you shoot?” The detective asks her once they’re outside. Eyes searching, but not incriminating by any means.

Shuhua’s expression is awfully distressed as she glances at Soyeon, who is surprised to see the weight of emotion on her partner’s face. Usually, the deviant hunter expressed almost no real feelings at all. Whatever did come out was just simulated for the purpose of helping Shuhua integrate better with the humans (at least, that’s what her mindset keeps on implying). But this time, the emotion is genuine. Profoundly so.

“I just saw that girl’s eyes… and I couldn’t, that’s all.” Shuhua confesses in a strained voice.

She didn’t want to tell the truth, but she had to. Otherwise, Soyeon wouldn’t be convinced if Shuhua had tried to play neutral or defensive.

“You’re always saying you would do anything to accomplish your mission.” Soyeon, although suspicious, does not sound like she’s accusing her either. “That was our chance to learn something, and you let it go.”

Shuhua whirls on her, deeply troubled and confused by her own actions.

“Yeah, I know what I should’ve done and I told you I couldn’t! I’m sorry, okay?”

Her outburst does more than stun Soyeon, who certainly didn’t expect that irritated yet frantic edge in Shuhua’s mediated voice. However, her expression changes into one of pride—the kind a parent would give to their child for doing a good deed—and she smiles. Soft and thoughtful.

“Well, maybe you did the right thing.”

With a friendly pat on the shoulder, Soyeon nods her way before sauntering over to their patrol car. Leaving a very puzzled Shuhua behind on the stone pathway as she mulls over her words.

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[Present day.]

Now it’s spring, and the ex-deviant hunter is standing at the start of the walkway leading up to the doorstep. She examines her surroundings first, taking in the environment around the mansion without those thick blankets of white snow covering it. Lush scenery bloomed every which way and filled her view with all its vivid colors as her olfactory senses picked up the prominent smell of grass and pollen.

It’s clear now that her theory is correct. Seokjin really did design the Zen Garden interface where Shuhua used to consult her former handler, Irene, after every mission. Here, it’s like he had taken a little piece of the garden and placed it right in his estate. Incredible.

Without really thinking about it, she all too quickly finds herself scanning every plant in sight and identifying their species.

Peony, Meadowsweet, Weeping Willow, Japanese Lily, Hydrangea, Dogwood, Aza—

“Shuhua.”

A thin and somewhat exasperated voice pipes up behind her, almost like it was scolding her for being distracted again.

Shuhua closes her eyes, a soft sigh breathing out from her nose, before she inclines her head in the direction of the voice. Her default expression falls back into place, but only out of habit. Although some might take offense at how mockingly vacant and bored she looks, the newly-promoted lieutenant has long since gotten used to it.

Soyeon is leaning against the side of their patrol car, arms folded across her trench coat and her brow raised in expectation.

“You’re stalling, I know you are. Just relax, okay? Put on your big girl pants and get in there.” Soyeon jerks her chin at the building approximately forty-seven meters in front of her. “I didn’t drive you all the way here just for you to chicken out.”

Soyeon normally keeps her frustration under wraps pretty well, but she’s experienced feeling annoyed and impatient with Shuhua ever since they became partners. Now might not be an exception either, though the risk of her giving up and leaving is very low. So, the android detective doesn’t see the need to take too many precautions just yet.

“You better not be analyzing me again, Shu. That’s still stalling.” Soyeon grunts as her stress level goes up by an infinitesimal percentage. Decimals, not even a full number. “If you take more than thirty minutes, I’m leaving you out here to commute. Don’t get any ideas.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, lieutenant.” Shuhua mumbles before turning back to the mansion ahead, a little too preoccupied to really speak at a more acceptable volume as she takes another unnecessary breath.

She goes through all the dialogue options a few hundred more times in her head for just a moment, her eyes closing once more while she predicts every outcome, every success, every failure, and every other possibility that might happen in this approach. She feels her right hand twitching faintly as her fingers start to twirl around, as if trying to keep an imaginary coin balanced on them.

For a small fraction of a second, the corner of her eye twitches at the thought of asking. Shuhua knows for a fact that the answer would be a definitive “no”, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. Right?

“Soyeon, can I—”

“Nope. No coin, Shu. You can’t have the coin when you’re going up there, so don’t even think about it.”

The lieutenant shakes her head, eyes almost rolling even, as she pats the pocket where the coin is resting in. Soyeon had confiscated the thing after Shuhua tested her patience on the way to the estate, since the tinny sounds of nickel grinded on her nerves like nails on a chalkboard and her vision kept getting hindered by the gleams of silver against sunlight.

If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve assumed that Shuhua was trying to sabotage the trip on purpose to avoid the inevitable.

“I told you already, it’s a distraction for everyone. This—” She gestures at Shuhua and the mansion in front of them. “—just needs to be you and her, got it? Like, come on, we’ve been through this a million times now.”

“Actually, it’s thirty-eight times.” Shuhua corrects her partner, then peeks over her shoulder to check if Soyeon is far enough to avoid a smack on the head. It never comes.

“Whatever, smarty-pants.”

Soyeon pushes herself away from the car and approaches her android companion, sighing all the while as she rests a hand on Shuhua’s shoulder and grips it firmly. Like a modicum of physical reassurance and guidance.

“Listen… This is what you wanted to do, yeah? Your idea? I think it’s the right thing, so you can’t go wrong exactly.”

She looks at Shuhua then with a gentle smile, much like the one she’d given her on that winter morning when the two reunited after successfully liberating the androids with Chan’s help and leadership. It’s a sign that Soyeon is trying to comfort her, so the gesture is well-appreciated.

Shuhua nods ever so slightly with her storm-grey eyes fixed ahead of her as she gathers her thoughts, determined this time and a lot more focused. The power of Jeon Soyeon.

“If…” She carefully starts while staring Soyeon in the eye. “If I can’t go wrong, does that mean I can have my co—”

A playful slap on the back cuts her short.

“Nice try, Shu. But you’re not getting it until this whole thing is over.” Soyeon chuckles. For a short person, she has quite the strength to make Shuhua stumble forward. “Now go get your girl, tiger! I’m rooting for you!”

With a hint of enthusiasm in her words, Soyeon strides back to their car and climbs into the driver’s seat.

“Android.” Shuhua corrects while straightening up and adjusting her necktie.

“You know what I meant!” Soyeon shoots back right before she shuts the door, leaving Shuhua alone with the looming mansion in front of her.

It’s funny, really. The longer she’s been deviant, the more Shuhua has imitated human behavior. Before, it was just her trying to adapt and integrate with their society. But now, she genuinely finds herself breathing in deeply to maintain her focus and calm demeanor. Even though there’s no oxygen being supplied to her artificial brain, it still makes Shuhua feel the relaxation as if it did.

The detective wills her feet to move forward, her steps steady and purposeful, until she reaches the front door. Halting in a single motion before she rings the doorbell and waits patiently. Efficient. Analytical.

A few beats later, the door opens to reveal the same girl whom she had gone all this way for. Miyeon is standing there in the same white dress Shuhua had seen her wearing the first time that they met. Her eyes widen for the briefest moment before she smiles brightly, like a radiance is beaming off of her.

Shuhua can attest that her thirium pump just stuttered for a second there.

“Oh! Hello, Shuhua!” Miyeon cheerfully greets, the corners of her eyes pinching up to express her happiness. “What a pleasant surprise! I honestly didn’t expect you to drop by and visit today.”

Thirty-eight times. Thirty-eight times Shuhua went over this with Soyeon. She knows exactly what to say, exactly what to expect, but she’s embarrassingly stuck on the first syllable. Shuhua can already hear Soyeon groaning inside the car and smacking her forehead against the steering wheel, but she can’t help it.

She’s stuck. Everything she practiced saying flashes through her mainframe so fast, she has no idea what to say first.

Miyeon is deviant now. Shuhua knew that the very second she laid eyes on her that afternoon. She fully expected that, even calculated a 95.8% chance that Miyeon would be, but she has no idea what her real personality is like. The bubbly greeting slapped Shuhua off-guard, so she compensates by darting her eyes all around the anteroom from where she’s glued by the entrance.

As easy as breathing, Shuhua goes back to her basic programming in a desperate attempt to calm down.

Granite floors, diamond chandelier, accent chairs with velvet upholstery, 40-watt light bulbs—

“Won’t you come in?”

Her analysis gets interrupted by Miyeon’s silvery voice, and she blinks several times to fully snap out of it before dropping her gaze back onto the android beauty. Miyeon is currently holding her arm out in a gesture to invite Shuhua inside, just as the fingers twitch on the detective’s right hand.

She could really use her coin right now.

“Yes, of course.”

Shuhua forces her left leg up, like she’s manually instructing herself to do something as simple as walking, and her foot lands. Marking her first step. Then she takes another step, then another, and another. Her footsteps are loud. Why are they so loud? Have they always been this way? Is it the soles of her shoes?

Once she’s completely inside, Miyeon closes the door behind them and turns to face Shuhua with her hands clasped in front of her flowy dress. Breathtaking and ethereal under the crystal lights hanging overhead. A sublime belle who only has her sights on Shuhua.

“Nice girl.”

“You’re right. She’s really pretty…”

“I’ll let Seokjin know that you’re here.” Miyeon smiles again, delicate and lovely as her visuals, before moving towards the large door on the right. Her bare feet make much lighter tapping sounds compared to Shuhua’s own, apparently heavier ones.

“N-No, wait! Please.”

A hand reaches up involuntarily to stop her, but Shuhua snaps it back down almost instantly. Her blue LED flickers in its ring as embarrassment creeps into her system, and she barely manages to set her face back into default mode when Miyeon looks her way. A curious eyebrow is raised at her as she slowly walks back. Her steps are so gentle, it’s like she was floating.

“What’s wrong?” The android beauty asks, stopping just a couple feet away from the skittish detective with a soft frown on her perfect features. Miyeon is confused, and she can’t blame her.

There was something Shuhua is supposed to say when she’s confused. What was it? A factual approach? Empathetic? She’s so focused on reading the emotion on Miyeon’s face that it takes Shuhua a few more seconds to find her eyes.

And when she finally does, her own eyes widen the longer she stares.

Memories flash across her vision. Seokjin. Soyeon’s angry voice. Miyeon’s obsidian eyes. Those same eyes that had stopped the once-deviant hunter with just a single glance. They’re both in the same position, the same distant stare. And somehow, in the reflection of Miyeon’s black irises, Shuhua swears that she can see the barrel of that gun again.

“Pull the trigger.”

“Shuhua! Don’t!”

“I’m sorry.” She blurts out, only to fight down the urge to cringe at her abruptness. No, that was twenty-six lines in! Why did she just jump to “I’m sorry”? What about the plan?!

Her mission, her objective. It’s ruined.

Miyeon is visibly taken aback at first, and she blinks momentarily before letting out a tinkling laugh. Her smile returns so effortlessly, so naturally.

“Shuhua, what are you talking about?”

“Four months ago, I tried to kill you. I’m so sorry about that.”

Her voice takes a painfully urgent tone as Shuhua steps forward until she’s directly in front of the other android. It catches Miyeon off-guard and she leans back a little, eyes ablaze with shock. To Shuhua, the apology feels inadequate. Even before it is simulated by her vocal modulator.

“I’ve regretted that moment ever since it happened.” Shuhua keeps going, unable to stop like is running on auto-pilot. “The image just… it haunts me…”

“Why didn’t you shoot?”

“I just saw that girl’s eyes… and I couldn’t, that’s all.”

It’s as if an entirely different script was taking over. Where is it coming from? Why is she doing this? She’s not… she’s not thinking through it logically. Shuhua has to think through it, analyze it. Ensure that the best outcome is possible. But now, it’s like her cognitive functions are malfunctioning.

Is something broken? Are there wires torn? Did a malware breach her security program? Should she self-diagnose?

Miyeon narrows her eyes at Shuhua, considering her for a while as she examines the detective’s tense expression, before she relaxes. Her face is one of understanding. Void of any judgment or grudge.

“You’re a deviant too, aren’t you?” She quietly spoke. Her voice is impossibly soft. So pure, so sweet and so… innocent. Shuhua’s script did not account for this at all.

“… Yes.” Shuhua breathes out, her voice less strained and pressing as her grey eyes fall to the floor. Heavy with the burdening weight of guilt.

“That was our chance to learn something, and you let it go.”

“Yeah, I know what I should’ve done and I told you I couldn’t! I’m sorry, okay?”

Her head lowers at the same time, but she doesn’t get too far because of Miyeon touching the side of her face with a dainty hand as she lifts it gently. Their gazes meet halfway, and Shuhua’s artificial breath is caught in . Her system locks up as her body grows still. Just like that frigid winter night when Irene attempted to prison Shuhua in the violent blizzard of her Zen Garden.

Frozen.

“You didn’t kill me, though.” Miyeon points out while her cheek delicately. “I’m still here, yes? So, why are you apologizing?”

“But… I thought about it.” Shuhua sputters, her body stuck and her mind going on overdrive. “I almost did it. I-I had my finger on the trigger—”

“But you didn’t. You spared me.”

Again, Miyeon insists as she moves to gently cup Shuhua’s face between her hands. Now that the latter realizes it, Miyeon is actually quite taller than her.

“You didn’t kill me. I’m right here, Shuhua. I’m alive… Don’t you see?” She brings her even closer, which prompts Shuhua to move her sights up a bit in order to match Miyeon’s eye level. And then, the android beauty smiles once more. Pearly-whites out and showing because of how wide her grin is. “I feel more alive than I ever was now. I should be thanking you, not resenting you!”

“Huh…?”

Shuhua’s entire program is throwing error warnings everywhere in her mainframe. Miyeon isn’t supposed to say this! They’re not even supposed to be this close! This… This wasn’t supposed to happen. The approach wasn’t calculated to be this way. Her whole analysis is wrong, and everything from here on out is unknown.

Scary as it seems… It's also strangely exciting.

“I’m thanking you,” Miyeon reiterates with a sincere nod, refusing to let Shuhua back away at this point. “Because you cared more about my life than you cared about your own directives. Because you saw me as something more than a machine. You gave me a second chance at life, and I can’t even begin to tell you how grateful I am for that. Thank you, Shuhua… Thank you for keeping me alive.”

Without any warning whatsoever, she pulls the stunned detective into a tight embrace. One that has Shuhua feeling like her system out entirely and shut down in that moment, unable to comprehend what’s happening.

(Comfort.)

Something flickers in her artificial synapses as her mind goes blank, until a new feeling starts taking over. A sensation she has felt to some extent, but not like this. It’s like standing a little too close to a fire, like friction against two pieces of firewood. Like touching a light bulb that was left on for hours.

(Warmth.)

Shuhua isn’t using her basic programming to help her process anymore. She’s fully independent with her actions now. Just her own consciousness and body.

Purposely, she snakes her arms around Miyeon’s petite figure until they’re completely pressed up against each other. Wrapping around one another like evergreen vines intertwining in the wake of spring. This action results in a blissful sigh from Miyeon, who happily nuzzles her face into the crook of Shuhua’s porcelain neck as her lips brush against synthetic skin.

Affection. It makes Shuhua squeeze her eyes shut while hiding her flustered face in Miyeon’s shoulder, hugging the android beauty even harder. Their blue LEDs flicker on their temples to match the other’s rotation with a faint hum as her hands grip the fine fabric of Miyeon’s dress.

Somewhere, in the back of Shuhua’s mind, the materials begin to register.

8% polyester, 21% linen, 60% cotton…

It fades away naturally, no longer overpowering her and taking her away from the present like before. All she feels now is relief. Relief and contentment. That’s all Shuhua cares about right now. Not the script, not the analysis, not the guilt, and not the fear. Just this tender moment between them as they hug each other without a care in the world.

Miyeon is right. Shuhua didn’t do anything to her, and now she feels more alive than ever. Not as a machine, but as her own person. All is forgiven.

“Well, maybe you did the right thing.”

And Shuhua can finally breathe.