Aeirin had no friends.
Not a single one.
It wasn't because people didn't exist around her…
or because no one ever tried to speak to her.
It was because, little by little… she had stopped trying.
In the beginning, she used to talk.
She used to share everything she felt—her thoughts, her strange questions, her quiet observations about a world that no one else seemed to notice. She would speak about animals as if they still existed somewhere beyond reach… as if they were not just memories stored inside screens and data.
She would tell them how animals must have lived.
How they must have felt.
How their eyes must have carried emotions that no machine could ever replicate.
But no one ever truly listened.
They would hear her words…
but they would not feel them.
Their eyes would wander.
Their attention would drift.
Their expressions would remain empty.
Sometimes they would nod politely.
Sometimes they would change the topic.
Sometimes they would not respond at all.
And that silence…
felt heavier than rejection.
Because it made her feel invisible.
It made her feel like her thoughts didn't belong in this world.
That her feelings were misplaced…
unnecessary…
strange.
So she stopped.
Not suddenly.
Not angrily.
Just slowly.
Like a voice fading into the distance…
until it was gone.
Aeira did not like buying new things.
People often misunderstood that.
They thought she didn't enjoy new objects, new designs, new technology.
But that wasn't the truth.
The truth was…
she could not leave the old ones behind.
Every object she owned felt like it carried something within it.
Not life.
Not really.
But something close enough to matter.
Time.
Memories.
Presence.
Whenever she bought something, she chose carefully.
Not based on how advanced it was…
but on how long it would stay.
She preferred things that lasted.
Things that endured.
And once they became a part of her life…
she held on to them.
If something broke, she didn't replace it.
She repaired it.
Slowly.
Patiently.
As if fixing it meant saving something invisible.
Something no one else could see.
In a world where everything was replaceable…
Aeira chose to remain loyal.
Even to things that could never thank her.
Her room was not just a space.
It was a feeling.
A quiet world she had created for herself…
because the real one no longer felt right.
The walls were painted in a deep shade of blue.
Not bright.
Not loud.
But endless.
Like a sky that had forgotten daylight.
Every object inside her room was either black or white.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
It wasn't random.
Those were the colors she trusted.
Black.
Blue.
White.
Colors that didn't demand attention…
but stayed quietly beside you.
The most beautiful part of her room was hidden beneath her feet.
An underground light.
Soft.
Invisible.
Waiting.
During the day, it remained unnoticed.
But at night…
it transformed everything.
When Aeira turned off the lights and activated it, a gentle glow would rise from the floor… slowly spreading across the room.
And then…
the ceiling would change.
Stars would appear.
Countless tiny lights, scattered like fragments of a forgotten universe.
They weren't real.
She knew that.
Every line of code, every projection, every illusion—it was all designed.
Artificial.
Constructed.
Controlled.
And yet…
when she lay down and looked up…
for a moment…
it felt real.
Real enough to make her heart ache.
Her balcony told a similar story.
It was filled with plants.
So many that it almost felt like a small forest had tried to survive there.
Different leaves.
Different shapes.
Different lives.
She took care of them every day.
Gently.
Carefully.
As if they were the last living memories of something the world had lost.
Sometimes she would sit beside them in silence.
Not doing anything.
Just being there.
Because even silence felt different…
when something alive existed beside you.
And then… there were the creatures.
The ones she had created.
Tiny robotic butterflies.
Delicate dragonflies.
Golden-winged insects that shimmered softly under artificial light.
They moved constantly.
Floating.
Turning.
Gliding through the air like fragments of something real.
They landed on leaves.
They hovered in place.
They moved with such precision…
that anyone watching them would almost believe they were alive.
Almost.
But not completely.
Because something was missing.
Something that no design could replicate.
When their energy drained, they would quietly return to their charging points… restoring themselves before flying again.
Perfect.
Endless.
Unchanging.
At night, everything came together.
The stars above.
The glowing creatures outside.
The soft darkness.
The silence.
It was beautiful.
So beautiful that it almost hurt.
But even in that beauty…
there was a truth she could not ignore.
None of it was real.
Not the stars.
Not the creatures.
Not the world she had built around herself.
It was all… a replacement.
A carefully designed illusion…
meant to fill the space left behind by something that was gone.
Aeira spent hours reading.
Not stories.
Not entertainment.
But truth.
Or at least… the closest thing to it.
She read about scientists.
About researchers.
About people who refused to accept that animals were gone forever.
Some searched for traces.
Some studied old DNA.
Some tried to recreate life from fragments of data.
From memory.
From code.
But nothing ever returned the way it once was.
Nothing ever felt… real.
She would sit quietly, staring at the screen, reading every detail.
Every attempt.
Every failure.
And a question would slowly grow inside her.
Humans could create machines.
Perfect ones.
Machines that could think, respond, learn, evolve.
Machines that could replace almost everything.
But…
could they ever create something like an animal?
Something that didn't exist for a purpose…
but simply existed.
Something that wasn't programmed…
but felt.
Something pure.
Something alive.
She looked at Aris.
Standing silently, as always.
Perfect.
Unmoving.
Unfeeling.
Then she looked at the small robotic butterfly resting near the window.
Its wings shimmered softly.
Beautiful.
Precise.
Lifeless.
Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Maybe…"
"…some things aren't meant to be created."
The room remained silent.
"Maybe…"
"…they're meant to be born."
Her eyes lifted toward the artificial sky above her.
Those endless stars.
That perfect illusion.
And yet…
something inside her felt empty.
Because no matter how beautiful something looked…
if it wasn't real…
it could never truly stay.
She closed her eyes.
And for a moment…
she tried to imagine.
A real sky.
A real forest.
A real animal.
Something that breathed.
Something that lived.
Something that felt.
But imagination…
no matter how deep…
could never replace reality.
And in that quiet moment, she understood something that most of the world had already forgotten.
That there are some creations…
that do not belong to humans.
Some things…
that cannot be rebuilt.
Cannot be replaced.
Cannot be recreated.
Because they were never meant to be controlled.
They were meant to be free.
In a world that had learned to replace everything…
Aeira chose not to.
Because somewhere deep inside her heart…
she still believed—
that what was once real…
deserved to be remembered…
not replaced.