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"Looks like it's good. Let's remove it," Dawn concluded, setting the scanner aside.

I stared at my hands, encased in plaster, took a deep breath, and extended my consciousness. With a dull cracking sound, I tossed the uneven white fragments into the waste disposal chute on the wall.

"It's... strange," I admitted, stretching my arms and repeatedly clenching and unclenching my fists.

"After six months of disuse, your muscles must have atrophied," Dawn commented, pressing lightly on my arms. "At least there's no adhesion. You'll recover with some rehab."

"Hmm..." I murmured, realizing that my control over Domination was now sharper than the use of my hands—a disconcerting thought. "Thank you."

"You handled most of it yourself. I didn’t really help much," the gray wolf replied with a casual wave. "Where did we leave off last time?"

"Awakening of the Singularity Generation?" I ventured, glancing at the teacup on the table, attempting to recall how to properly pick it up. Muscle memory, how does that even work?

"Oh, right." Dawn rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed by the term. "Tartarus was the eldest among us, and his talent became evident at nine years old, causing quite a stir. A psychic stronger than most dragons—the established norms were challenged. The Senate decided to test the potential of the rest of us prototypes as well." She sat beside me, watching intently, possibly amused by my clumsy movements.

"So the Senate thawed more prototypes?" After several attempts with different angles and hand placements, I managed to lift the cup and sip some tea.

"Essentially, yes. Typically, prototypes finish their training at the Academy and then return to fulfill their 'duties' to the Senate, staying out of politics. But our capabilities far exceeded expectations, and the Senate, keen to expand its influence, happily 'compromised.'" Dawn chuckled, making air quotes with her fingers. "The newly-thawed prototypes, however, didn’t exhibit the same exceptional abilities as us, so some people started calling us the Singularity Generation."

"That’s... an inventive term," I said, placing the empty cup back on its saucer.

"Breeze and I both chose to stay at the Academy and continue our research. That same year, that idiot showed up." Dawn’s tone darkened whenever she mentioned Dad. I focused on listening rather than risking any reaction that might provoke her. "To put it simply, he did what brainless young people do. At first, everyone thought it was just a passing fling. But before anyone realized, Breeze was pregnant with you." Her narrative jumped abruptly. Since her expression showed no intent to delve into emotions, and I wasn’t one to fantasize about romance, I simply continued listening. "The shocking part is this happened after that idiot returned to the Senate, supposedly accepting his obligations. And yet, he fantasized about them escaping to some undetectable place. The most absurd part? Breeze believed him!" Dawn spat out a string of curses, rubbing her temple in frustration. "Leaving the Academy stripped Breeze of the council’s protection! I can’t understand what that idiot was thinking..."

Feeling awkward as Dawn vented her anger about Dad, I scratched my ear, fascinated by how my muscle memory prioritized this action.

"And then it got worse. Molten was conducting some highly confidential research. No one knows what went wrong, but all that was left were thoroughly carbonized remains—standard Academy mishap #8 million." Dawn seemed calmer now as she continued. "The Singularity Generation was thawed due to the genetic degradation of the pedigrees' family, and Molten, along with that idiot, was supposed to provide genetic material for the Golden and German House. All these incidents tangled together, escalating the complexity to unmanageable levels."

The largest pimp in the sol... Wait, genetic material for the Golden and German House?

"That idiot eventually forced the Senate to exile him," Dawn said, holding her forehead as if recalling a migraine-inducing memory. "The Senate would never allow uncontrollable prototype genes to run amok, let alone the potential for creating an army of psychics. They were bound to act."

I had started recalling the bounty hunter wolfhound I encountered at Hadrian's Wall, but the critical terms in her story quickly led me to deduce what had actually happened.

Senate, never, allow, uncontrollable, act.

The Senate’s... will.

"I heard Qana almost wiped out all smugglers in the Americas just to bring you back to the Senate. Unsurprisingly, every faction fought tooth and nail, almost choking on the fur they tore from each other—thank Rationalism I was far away from that circus." Dawn gestured reverently for Rationalism’s blessing. "You know the rest."

"I suppose..." My thoughts were muddled.

Dawn had clearly skipped many details, and her personal emotions heavily colored the narrative. Yet, for the first time, I had a broad understanding of the story’s outline.

"And... my mother?" The word felt strange as it escaped my lips.

"There’s not much we can confirm, but we know she lived with the Golden House for a time. No one knows exactly how long, but long enough to bear the Archduke a son. All of this happened before she committed suicide." Dawn looked down at her boots, lowering her muzzle. "Qana confirmed her death and found no evidence of the Golden House hiding anything."

So... Mother just filled the role of Golden House's genetic material.

What... logic was behind this?

"Anyway, that’s the gist of it." Dawn sighed and approached me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I’m... fine." I tilted my head, searching inward. "After all, my parents are practically strangers to me. Even though everything that’s happened to me stems from their choices, knowing or not knowing changes nothing." An unexpected sting crept into my nose. "Besides, how can I even be sure my feelings are truly mine?" I held my tail in my hand, stroking the gray tuft of fur gently. "They're just carefully orchestrated chemical reactions and neural impulses..."

My fragmented sentences sounded choked, even to myself. Why? I didn’t even feel emotional. And even if I were to be sad, what for? For a tragedy that played out over a decade ago with no chance of redemption?

"It’s okay," Dawn stepped closer and embraced me. "You’re no longer a pawn the Senate can control." I could feel her lightly patting my head. "You will become something beyond what ordinary minds can imagine—a pioneer of unparalleled greatness."

So... comforting. A familiar, safe scent...

Dawn continued speaking, but I found myself unable to focus.

I still couldn’t stop the relentless tears from falling. The uneven rhythm of the droplets landing on my fur seemed to fragment reality into disjointed moments. Unable to comprehend my own emotions, I allowed myself to let go amidst the rift in reality—to let go of everything, collapse, and stop thinking—nestling into the only warmth I could find.