The girl in armor worked fast, her tiny hands prying apart a bulky machine piece by piece. The shield she lugged around was way too big for her — it looked almost comical — but her calm, practiced movements said otherwise.
Watching her, I couldn't help but murmur, "…Kind of adorable, isn't she?"
I scratched my chin thoughtfully as another tired sigh drifted up from the lab staff.
"Another failure?" one of the researchers groaned. "Why won't that so-called hero cooperate?"
All around me, researchers were shaking their heads, muttering complaints like it was just another Tuesday. None of them even glanced at the girl — like her life didn't matter in the slightest.
Roman leaned on the railing beside me with a heavy sigh. "Possession was successful. Cooperation? Not so much."
"Well, what did you expect?" I said, glancing around at the cold, sterile lab. "You people still don't understand what a 'hero' really is."
They treated her like a disposable tool, a cheap experiment. Just another datapoint. Honestly, the fact that the hero only smashed a few machines was showing some serious restraint.
But that was just how it worked here. To magi, a "familiar" wasn't a person. It was just a thing.
"Call it," I said, waving them off.
One by one, the researchers left, barely sparing the girl a second glance. They got their data — that was all they cared about. In minutes, it was just me, Roman, and the girl, left alone under the cold, buzzing lights.
I clapped Roman on the back and hopped down into the testing floor.
"If you don't start treating her like a real person," I said over my shoulder, "that 'hero' will never fight for you."
Roman didn't argue. He just looked down at his clipboard and sighed.
I picked my way through the wreckage until I reached the girl. She was still lying there, dusty and bruised, trying to push herself up.
"…Um. Excuse me…" she said, her voice small and shaky. "Who… are you?"
Instead of answering, I knelt down and brushed her messy hair out of her eyes.
"Does it hurt?" I asked gently.
She tilted her head, like she didn't quite get why I was asking, but she nodded honestly. "It… does."
"Yeah. I bet it does." I let out a breath and scooped her up into my arms.
She squirmed a little, embarrassed. "I… I can walk, sir. Really."
"Nah, don't worry about it," I said with a smile. "Just doing my job."
Right, Roman?
Roman gave an awkward little wave with his clipboard. "Yeah. That's his… job, Mash. Your room's this way."
"Okay… Thank you very much," the girl — Mash, apparently — said politely, bowing her head against my chest.
Good grief. What a good kid.
I shot Roman a look that said, Shame on you.
He pretended he didn't notice.
On the way out, Mash looked up at me, curious.
"Um… what should I call you?"
I chuckled. "You can call me… Cyd."
Her eyes widened in awe. "Wait… the Cyd? The White Hero of Greece?!"
I laughed. "Nah. Just a guy with the same name. The real White Hero? He's the one who'd actually save you."
I ruffled her hair again. "Me? I'm just a humble janitor."
Mash blinked up at me like I'd just told her I was king of the moon.
"But… a janitor is a very important job, too! You're… you're amazing!"
Gods, she was precious.
Later, I gently laid Mash down on a bed in what they called her "room," though "observation cell" would've been more honest.
One bed. Two chairs. A table bolted to the floor. Four glass walls, clear as day, with researchers peeking in from behind their clipboards like she was a zoo exhibit.
Not a single pair of eyes looking at her like she was human.
I glanced at Mash.
She was still smiling.
Still trusting.
Still… pure.
How did she do it? How did she keep that light alive in a place like this?
Maybe in her eyes, this world didn't even have malice.
Maybe she just… refused to see it.
If everyone in the world had a heart like hers, the place would be so beautiful it would feel like a dream.
But reality wasn't that kind.
I ran a hand through her hair again, almost without thinking. Even I couldn't help smiling a little around her.
The scientists behind the glass didn't even blink.
They didn't care about her smile, her kindness, her light.
They only cared about numbers.
And yet, somehow, she kept smiling.
Kept being Mash.
"Guess you're not totally useless after all," I muttered sideways to Roman.
He shrugged. "I'm just… talking to her. That's all I can do."
Mash, ever earnest, chimed in, "The doctor's stories are very fun!"
Just a few kind words, and she was grateful.
Was that really enough for her?
Locked away. Monitored 24/7. Treated like a lab rat.
No privacy. No freedom. No escape.
Was she really okay with that?
I almost asked her.
But I knew her answer already.
[I'm happy just being here.]
I bit the inside of my cheek.
"What's Chaldea even trying to pull?" I said, crossing my arms and staring out at the blizzard raging outside the glass.
Roman followed my gaze. "Saving the world."
"Saving the world, huh?" I leaned back against the glass, arms folded. "What a tragedy. The only way to save the world is to sacrifice girls like her."
Roman flinched. Tightened his grip on the clipboard until the papers crinkled.
"That's… the reality," he said, voice low. "Everyone's got their reasons."
"And that's what makes it so damn sad," I said quietly. "Does she even know what's gonna happen to her?"
Roman swallowed. "Mash… she's known from the start."
I closed my eyes.
This sweet, brave little girl… she'd known the whole time.
"If I could," I said, smiling sadly, "I'd lift her right up onto my shoulders and show her the world."
Roman gave a weak chuckle. "Yeah… she deserves that."
Then he blinked like he'd missed a few steps.
"Wait. Did I just skip time or something?"
"Just saying," I said casually, "if even kids like her are fighting to save the world, maybe lazy guys like us should pitch in, too."
Roman gave me a side-eye. "…You're planning something, aren't you?"
I stretched lazily, cracking my neck. "Maybe. I asked around a little before coming here. Chaldea's whole 'save the world' plan… even if it works, nobody'll ever know. That's the point."
Roman nodded slowly. "It was never about the glory."
"Still," I said, sighing, "it'd be nice if we could at least cut down on the sacrifices. Let her suffer a little less. Even if we're not heroes… we can still do something."
Roman looked wary now. "…What are you thinking?"
"You guys love experiments, right?" I said, grinning. "That teleportation tech — you haven't tested it on a real person yet, have you?"
Roman's mouth dropped open.
"You can't be serious. You might die."
"I'll live," I said easily. "I've survived worse. Besides…"
I gave him a lopsided smile.
"I've got my own reasons."
Roman groaned, scrubbing his face with his hands
.
"This is why I don't make friends with reckless people…"
"C'mon, Doc. We promised we'd have cake together after this." I winked. "I'm holding you to that."
Roman managed a shaky smile. "You better come back, you hear me."
I raised my finger. "One last thing — you've got that artifact, right? The slab?"
Roman blinked. "…We do, but the experiments have all failed so far."
"That's fine," I said. "After I leave, swap Mash's relic out for the slab. Even a projection of it should help. You can manage that, can't you?"
Roman scratched his head sheepishly. "Maybe… if I, uh, pull a few strings…"
"Good." I clapped him on the back. "Trust me. It'll work.
After all, the White Hero's always there when you need him most."
Because ready or not, it was time for me to step onto the battlefield again.