Within the ancient elven tree, Flamme noticed that Serie, who had been eloquently recounting events, suddenly fell silent.
Unlike Ivan, who had entirely lost consciousness, Serie, with her formidable mental strength, was like an enterprise-grade multicore server capable of multitasking across different bodies.
She effortlessly managed the discrepancies in time flow between different individuals, seamlessly recounting their battle even though only half an hour had passed in the ancient elven tree while ten years had elapsed elsewhere.
But just as she described Ivan fishing, Serie's expression grew oddly complicated. Soon after, she abruptly stopped speaking. Agitated, she shifted positions frequently, her toes curled nervously, and a blush slowly spread across her exquisite face.
Her lips pressed tightly together, as if restraining herself from something.
Finally, her body relaxed, but her expression was... oddly complex.
Flamme began to doubt his own imagination. Serie's current expression looked disturbingly similar to Ivan's expression after Flamme once accidentally witnessed him… self-pleasuring. A mix of wistfulness and regret.
No, no, no! Even as a fantasy, this was far too absurd. How could his teacher possibly…
--
Time in the illusion continued to flow, and soon, Serie's belly swelled with life. Ten months later, she smoothly gave birth to a baby girl.
"Isanze. That shall be your name," Serie murmured, extending a finger toward the tiny hand of the infant in her arms, which grasped her finger tightly. The baby seemed satisfied with the name.
"Isanze… It means 'scythe' in German?" Ivan commented. "Well, I suppose it carries a certain symbolism."
Ivan, who had been debating between dozens of names, decided to accept Serie's quick decision and stopped overthinking.
"So, how does it feel to be a mother?" Ivan asked, gently holding Serie in his arms and inhaling the fragrant scent of her hair.
"Don't bother me while I'm nursing."
Serie unceremoniously pushed him away and returned her attention to Isanze, her face shifting from irritation to a faint smile in an instant. Yet, her words remained as stubborn as ever.
"Mammalian females secrete a hormone after giving birth that allows them to quickly assume the role of a mother, activating the instinct to care for their offspring. That's all there is to it. If this hormone isn't secreted, or if it's insufficient, it can lead to postpartum depression. So, my feelings toward her aren't anything special."
"That's not necessarily true," Ivan countered. "If motherly love can be explained by hormones, how would you explain fatherly love? After all, I'm not secreting any strange hormones."
Serie nodded in agreement. "That's why I say maternal love is emotional, while paternal love is rational."
Ivan persisted. "Emotions and rationality don't exist in isolation. It's more about proportions. Maternal love leans emotional, and paternal love leans rational. Setting aside biological factors, shouldn't there still be unique feelings in your heart?"
Serie: "…"
She didn't argue further. Lowering her head, she fell silent, transforming into an emotionless nursing machine.
♡
Little Isanze grew up healthy and cheerful, quickly reaching the age to attend kindergarten. Her personality was naive and lively.
But one day, she came home in low spirits. Serie was sitting on the sofa, reading a book. Without looking up, she casually asked, "What happened?"
"Mom!"
Isanze ran straight into Serie's arms, her face filled with grievance. "The kids at kindergarten are ignoring me, even the teacher doesn't talk to me. Am I being bullied?"
"As expected, it's starting to break down."
The illusion spell, after all, wasn't perfect. The tightly constructed world had begun showing cracks ever since Ivan realized it was an illusion. Now, with the birth of a new life not originally part of the illusion's ecosystem, the system controlling the world had become riddled with bugs. It had deteriorated to the point where the NPCs couldn't respond to Isanze anymore.
"You don't need to worry about those people. They're all fake. Apart from you, me, and Ivan, everything else in this world is an illusion."
"Fake... Mom, what are you talking about?"
"Hard to accept, is it? But it's the truth. Let me give you a few examples: Aunt May from the shop downstairs, April who always plays with you, Wednesday who loves snacks, even your kindergarten teacher... all of them are illusions. They have no emotions, no sense of self; they're merely tools for this world's operation."
"I... I still don't understand... Why would you say they're fake? They've always been here. I can see them, touch them, play games with them. How can they possibly be fake!?"
For a child in kindergarten, being told that all her friends and everyone she's ever met are virtual characters was an incredibly cruel revelation.
But Serie had to tell her the truth. If not, Isanze might begin doubting and denying herself amidst the constant neglect from others, leading to a collapse of her personality.
Better to redirect her doubts outward—towards her friends, her teachers, even her parents. As long as she didn't doubt herself, her mental state could remain intact.
"If you don't believe me, then do an experiment. It's not time for dinner yet. Go out and try talking to or touching everyone you see. See if anyone responds to you. But remember, you must be back before dinner."
Isanze hesitated for a long time but eventually ran out of the house. She didn't return until six in the evening.
By then, she was utterly dejected, her small shoulders hunched as if she were a drenched chick.
Serie felt as if something had taken a bite out of her heart—a sharp, unfamiliar pain.
◇
From that day on, although Isanze stubbornly continued going to school every day, she became increasingly silent. At school, she was like a ghost—seen by none, heard by none, acknowledged by none—yet still undeniably present.
--
Time passed day by day. As little Isanze grew older, Serie and Ivan began to age.
For Serie, this was an unprecedented experience. As an elf with an almost infinite lifespan, natural death was something that existed only in theory.
Feeling her body gradually weakening, tasks that were once effortless now became difficult. Even walking a few extra steps left her breathless. Serie finally understood why humans always wanted to seize their youth, rushing to do and experience as much as possible. Their busy lives, though hurried, were also fulfilling.