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I’m pondering in the Third World.

Now I have to tell people to reconcile, but I have no idea how to break the ice.

It would make things easier when making the harvesting machine. It’s all about preparation.

Is there really no other way than to run in when a fight breaks out and tell them not to fight?

No. With just a slight twist of perspective, people can easily end up fighting, but if I do it, someone might catch on.

Someone even called me clumsy once. I need to be cautious.

“What’s got you thinking so hard?”

It was lunchtime after morning classes, and while waiting for people to finish eating, Victoria asked me.

“I’m trying to figure out how to tell people not to fight.”

Victoria looked at me with a frown after hearing my answer.

“Weren’t you the one encouraging the fights?”

Yeah.

What do I say to that? It’s true I did stir things up yesterday, but if I just admit it, they’ll probably ask me what my intentions were.

Can I come up with an excuse?

Ugh. There are a lot of people who think fighting leads to friendship afterward.

“Wouldn’t it be better to just let them fight it out and then they’ll calm down?”

Victoria shook her head after a moment of consideration.

“Do you really think that will happen?”

That’s right.

It’s not like kids’ fights where they make up after venting; rather, they’ll use it as a reason to escalate things.

Knowing that, what way is there to keep this conversation honest?

If I suddenly start talking about peace, that feels like a lie…

“Ah, I see. So that’s why you said what you did yesterday. You figured if it gets out of hand, you can mediate, right?”

At that moment, Victoria misinterpreted me. From her tone, it sounded like she thought I was saying to go ahead and fight because I could patch things up anytime.

If I just lay out the facts without considering feelings, it might seem that way.

Oh, this is great.

Even if I can’t make a harvesting machine right now, by having this kind of conversation, I’m broadcasting that I want peace. The direction is shaping up.

Now that I think about it, I might be able to use yesterday’s excuse well. Just like Victoria thought, my encouragement for fighting was more about thinking they’ll fight and make up afterwards.

Making the harvesting machine while leaving no grudges behind.

This is fantastic.

“But it’s not as simple as you think.”

I know.

But I won’t show that I understand. Instead, I keep quiet and just look at Victoria.

Silence is good.

Because it’s like a mirror reflecting the other person’s thoughts. It would be great if I could read Victoria’s mind…

But that’s wishful thinking.

For now, let’s hold onto what we have and contemplate what to do.

I watch Victoria as she finishes her thoughts in silence. And when she thinks for herself, it’s easier for her to believe it’s the truth.

It’s like how an elder speaks from their past experiences, reflecting on their own history. Since they’ve lived it, they believe their thoughts.

Now, even if there’s a gap between reality and perception, they confuse their thoughts as correct. And that’s a normal reaction.

Those who can pull this off are considered geniuses.

Why, you ask?

Because no one is strong enough to bear the thought that their self-acquired knowledge could be wrong.

Can you live doubting that all your childhood memories were fake? People can’t live day-to-day doubting their entire life has been a lie.

So when they learn that what they thought was right is wrong, instead of verifying that rightness, they strive to justify it somehow.

That’s where a monster like me finds a way in.

“To you, it might seem like a simple fight.”

Victoria sank deep into her chair. She had thought it out and come to her conclusion. Unless something major happens, Victoria will likely reinforce this conclusion herself.

“So what’s a good way to tell them not to fight?”

“How about staging a protest in front of them, ugh.”

Ugh? Why does she suddenly wince?

Her pupils shift, her body trembles, and an expression of fear and despair suddenly crosses her face. Is she having a seizure?

Right before that, I mentioned a protest, so is she thinking of the protest where the Mechanical Knight School students were slaughtered?

Maybe a bad memory just flashed back.

If we’re talking about a protest, then it fits the bill.

Stealing and killing people is basically a regular protest anyway.

“Getting pricked by your own words, aren’t you silly?”

I walk over and pat her back. It’s a situation where getting PTSD wouldn’t be surprising.

The teacher and her friend were murdered. It wasn’t some accident or villainous act; they were killed in the name of justice, at least from the rioters’ perspective.

The air around us feels unpleasantly sticky.

The humidity in the air shifts with emotion. No, this doesn’t feel like simply using power; it feels more like moving.

Ah.

Well, considering we’re floating the ocean above the sky and simulating the depths, it might be a bit late to question things.

Anyway.

It’s true she’s wounded and bleeding, so at least I’ll comfort her to not be in pain.

When the time comes for the harvesting machine, such moments will be rare.

After all, these moments only existed within faded memories.

“I’m dying.”

Victoria muttered briefly.

At least the pale expression she wore returned to normal, and the sticky humidity disappeared.

She seems to be feeling a bit better now.

Most students are gone because they went to lunch, so that’s a relief.

Partisan loyalty has intensified to the point they outright drag people.

It would be nice to create a space and gather there.

“But, Victoria.”

“What?”

“Aren’t you going with Polaris?”

Even though they aren’t that close, I recall a few who came to bring Victoria to our faction. Wasn’t that similar this time too?

Since then, Victoria hasn’t talked separately with other students.

“Yeah.”

No, if you say yes there, I can’t understand you!

Excuse me?

Just checking if I missed something, but all I recall is that I went straight to the dorm to rest after class yesterday?

The only odd thing I can think of is that I walked out through the window this morning, different from the usual way?

But that’s been the case for a while.

I really don’t get it.

Victoria can take care of most things by herself in the dorm. She bathes by floating droplets in the air and does laundry from washing to drying all in one go.

Not long ago, she started vibrating the water to get rid of stains.

If she doesn’t use the laundry room or lounge in the dorm, she really can resolve everything without going out.

But that doesn’t really explain why she’s not heading into the local combat faction, does it?

I’m completely lost here.

“I see. Then let’s get lunch. The lines should have shortened by now.”

“Let’s go!”

Speaking of food, Victoria’s smiling brightly. I pretend not to notice the hint of escape mixed in.

Lunchtime is certainly delicious. It’s not like coming late means we’ll miss out on food. They just start the next class right after lunch.

Victoria and I left the classroom. We headed to the central staircase and made our way downstairs.

We exited into the backyard and headed towards the cafeteria.

Once outside, I noticed a light drizzle coming from the sky. It’s spring rain.

The cafeteria is quite a distance away, so we need to raise umbrellas when it rains.

But it’s not necessary when I’m with Victoria. The rain doesn’t touch us, and any droplets that land on us fall off as we step into the building.

We reached the cafeteria while passing students with umbrellas returning from lunch.

There’s a slight line.

There are quite a few late-arriving students, just like us.

Most of them are either nobles with little influence or commoners with weak standings even if they’ve joined factions.

It’s so obvious that it’s amusing that they don’t feel dissatisfied with this meal.

Once inside, taking trays and serving myself is like a buffet. High-ranking students can order separately, or have special desserts.

Anyway.

We just grab what we want when we go in.

“Bell, didn’t you lessen your portion?”

Victoria looked at my tray, puzzled.

I do eat less than normal people.

“Is that so?”

“No, will this even fill you up?”

“Yep. I’ll eat dinner at home anyway.”

Hearing that, Victoria scrutinized my tray with a frown.

Her tray is piled high with food, while mine is nearly empty.

Though Victoria eats a considerable amount compared to others, it’s also true my servings aren’t typically normal.

That was evident in Jeber’s research as well.

My body’s cells — no, including those of the harvesting machine — are so powerful that the intake has to be substantial. Hence, all harvesting machines require more food.

Except for me.

That’s why Jeber once questioned where I draw my necessary energy from.

But after the war erupted, that line of research was tossed aside.

I have no idea why. But I eat less.

“Doesn’t your family feed you? Oh, you mentioned you cook for yourself, right?”

“Yeah. I do my own cooking. Want to come for dinner?”

At my question, Victoria glanced at me with a look of deep contemplation.

It’s amusing to see her think while still chewing the meal in front of her.

Halfway through my tray, Victoria finally spoke up.

“Maybe I’ll come over once. You live alone, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

Nodding to my answer, Victoria began focusing intently on her food again.

Considering the time taken to chew, we don’t have many chances to chat while eating lunch.

And thus, lunch hour passed.