"They were consumed by the Origin."
Emma felt her heart pinch at the mention of that word. It was a strange, visceral, almost inexplicable sensation.
"The Origin?" she repeated in a whisper.
Agatha, whose sweet grandmother mask had completely disintegrated, suddenly looked feverish and impatient.
"No one knows anything more about it. Do not ask questions on this subject, it is our greatest taboo. Well, now that I have answered, it's your turn! Who is the other Relic?"
Emma was stunned by the old woman's metamorphosis. Her honeyed tone had given way to brutal authority. She had clearly just made a colossal blunder by revealing Atlas's existence. How could she have guessed that these people would be so desperate to get their hands on them? What is so special about us? she wondered.
Her mind began to race. The immediate panic suddenly gave way to a cold clarity. If Agatha was losing her composure like this, it meant one thing. Emma, as an Anomaly and a Relic, possessed an incalculable value in their eyes. She was an important card.
Instead of cowering before this fanatical woman, Emma made a radical decision. She was going to use this value. She was firmly resolved to squeeze maximum profit out of it to ensure her own survival. She was going to seize this opportunity, this second chance she had been given. No more being a victim. No more living for others. From now on, she would live for herself.
Emma thought about her answer. Even though she practically didn't know Atlas, they had barely interacted, she felt a newfound connection with him given the unique status they seemed to share. She couldn't reveal too much, but it might be strategic to drop a few snippets of information to observe Agatha's reactions.
Finally, after a long moment of hesitation and under the impatient gaze of Agatha, who seemed to be holding her breath as if this information were of vital importance, Emma let out a sigh at the end of her internal deliberation.
"Alright, I'll tell you. But you will have to answer two of my questions in exchange! That's my condition."
Agatha's impatience had become palpable. With irritated eyes, she made a sharp wave of her hand and brought her face, which had decidedly lost all trace of benevolence, closer to Emma's.
"Fine, fine. Tell me, now."
A pout of disgust washed over Emma as she reassessed the old woman. And to think I compared her to my own grandmother... She disgusts me, this greedy old hag.
"His name is Atlas. I don't know anything more, we found each other by chance. At first, I thought it was normal, but I was too panicked. I don't remember the details."
Of course, Emma was lying. True, she had been terrified, but the entire scene remained vividly etched with absolute clarity in her mind. In fact, her cognitive abilities seemed to have significantly improved: she was now noticing details imperceptible to ordinary people.
"That's it? Nothing more? A physical description, anything?" she grew even more impatient.
"Azure blue eyes, that's all I remember. You see, my mind is a bit scrambled by all this information. If I remember anything else, I will come and tell you directly."
Emma took advantage of the ready-made excuse Agatha herself had provided to justify her "amnesia." She never would have believed herself capable of such deceit, but strangely, she liked it.
"Tch..."
Agatha wasn't fooled. She wasn't born yesterday and knew perfectly well that Emma was hiding things from her. But her hands were tied: the Relics were extremely precious to them.
Putting her sweet grandmother mask back on, a transition so smooth and jarring that it chilled the blood, Agatha replied with a wide smile:
"Of course, my little Emma. You will come see Grandma Agatha when your memory is clearer. Let's do it this way: I will answer your first question as a token of my good faith, and the next one when I have all the details. Alright?"
Even though Emma had congratulated herself on her newfound deviousness, she was no match for Agatha's years of experience. This time, the trap had turned back on her, but she had still earned one answer.
Emma flashed an equally fake smile in return, as if the conversation had turned into a diplomatic joust where neither side was willing to yield a single inch.
"Of course, Grandma Agatha. Well then, what could my question possibly be?"
Naturally, she already knew the demand that had been burning on her lips this whole time.
"You mentioned that the Emptum are zones cut off from reality. In that case... how long was I cut off from the world, and what is the state of it today?"
Agatha didn't seem bothered by her question at all, much to the surprise of Emma, who thought she had somewhat figured her out. It was as if this information was common knowledge and she had fully expected the inquiry.
In an extremely cordial tone, she replied hesitantly:
"Hmm... how should I phrase this?"
She thought for a moment, then stated:
"The world you knew disappeared a little over a century ago. The Great Elevation, that's what the survivors who lived through it, the very people who once shared your own era, came to call it. Since then, the world has risen again and rebuilt civilization. Well, so to speak... there are still some primates out there. Tch."
At the end of her sentence, a flash of anger passed through her eyes, though this time, it clearly wasn't directed at Emma.
"In short, it's as if you've taken a leap through time. For better, or for worse..."
She deliberately left her sentence hanging.
"But..." Emma began, completely shocked.
Agatha cut her off sharply as she stood up.
"No more questions until I get my information. I've already told you far too much. Now, you must rest, your body hasn't fully recovered from the Emptum yet. Here, take this watch. It guarantees your identity within Odyssey. I will return tomorrow at the exact same time."
She handed her a metallic wristband that Emma recognized immediately. It was the exact same model of watch that Atlas had found on the corpse. So it's for identification, she thought, inspecting the object with cautious curiosity.
The metal was cold against her palm, colder than it had any right to be in a room this warm, and for a moment Emma simply turned it over in her hands, studying the faint engravings circling its face, symbols she didn't recognize, arranged with a precision that felt less like decoration and more like a warning written in a language she hadn't yet learned to read. She thought, briefly, of slipping it on right then, just to see how it would feel to carry her own identity strapped to her wrist like a leash with a pleasant name. She set it down on the nightstand instead, unwilling to give Agatha the satisfaction of watching her comply so easily.
Emma looked up just in time to see Agatha leave the room. The old woman crossed the threshold, and the heavy click of a lock immediately echoed.
Agatha had just locked her in.
Emma stared at the closed door for a long time, still incredulous about the shocking information she'd let slip. The silence that followed was absolute, broken only by the faint hum of the building itself, somewhere deep within its walls, indifferent to everything that had just been said in this room. Luxurious room or not, reality had just brutally caught up with her.
She was absolutely not free.