"Wow! It fixed itself!" the father exclaimed, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and fear.
"That's amazing!" the little girl cried, bouncing up and down with excitement as she hugged the teddy bear tightly.
Lira smiled sweetly, her expression calm but hiding a deeper knowledge. "It's not perfect," she explained, her voice smooth and soothing. "It can only repair itself with what remains. If a piece is completely destroyed—burned or lost, for example—it won't be able to replace it."
The father nodded slowly, still shaken by the sight of the bear regenerating right in front of him. It felt almost surreal, like reality had bent for just a moment to let in a bit of magic.
But Lira wasn't finished. "It has another function too," she continued, kneeling to the little girl's level and gently brushing her hair out of her face.
"This teddy bear is special. No matter how dirty it gets, it will always clean itself. You just need to leave it alone for a little while, and it'll be good as new." She pointed to the star embroidered on the bear's belly.
"And if you press the star in the center, you can record your voice and make it talk."
The little girl's eyes lit up, and without a moment's hesitation, she pressed the star as hard as her small fingers could manage.
Then, with a joyful and innocent voice, she declared, "My daddy is the best in the world!"
The teddy bear echoed her words back in the same sweet voice: "My daddy is the best in the world!"
The father paused, deeply touched by his daughter's words. Tears welled up in his eyes, and his heart softened, overwhelmed by emotion.
He bent down to her level, and with a trembling smile, he said, "And you, my little one, are the best thing that's ever happened to me."
He pulled her into a tight embrace, filled with love.
The little girl, though smiling, squirmed slightly in her father's arms, protesting playfully, "Daddy, you're hugging me too tight!"
They both laughed, and as they stood up, still holding hands, they began walking away together, the little girl still clutching the magical teddy bear.
Other families approached the capsule machine, with children tugging eagerly at their parents' hands, their eyes shining with excitement.
Soon enough, the parents gave in, allowing their children to pull the lever and watch as their own surprises were revealed.
Lira stood slightly apart, watching the scene unfold with a growing smile on her face.
Children ran back and forth, laughing, their joy echoing through the air. Families huddled close together, and the pure happiness of the moment filled the atmosphere.
Lira's smile was warm, a mix of satisfaction and affection as she witnessed the simple, beautiful joy of childhood.
However, as she continued to observe, something shifted in her gaze. Her eyes landed on a boy standing away from the crowd, alone.
He was still, almost as if he didn't belong to the lively scene unfolding around him. There was something about him that struck her deeply.
His eyes, unlike those of the other children, weren't filled with joy. Instead, they carried a weight, a silent sorrow that only someone who had experienced it could recognize.
"I can feel it in his eyes… so much pain," Lira thought, her mind drifting back to her own past.
"Just like mine when I was young." A shadow crossed her face, and for a brief moment, her smile faltered.
But she quickly regained her composure, her resolve hardening.
With a movement so fast it was invisible to normal eyes, Lira was suddenly behind him. Her presence was subtle, undetectable, but it was there—felt rather than seen.
The boy didn't notice her, lost in his thoughts, but the atmosphere around him seemed to shift.
Lira stood silently, observing him closely, her eyes softening as she prepared to approach him in a way only she knew how.