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He wept. He laughed. He danced with her until dawn.
They were not glass. They were liquid mercury, reflecting the world in perfect, terrifying clarity.
He screamed.
Aris would scoff. "It's just gears, my lord. Friction and springs." Elise to Koukotsu no Marionette -RJ01284416-
"What thing?"
But Aldric had made a mistake. He had wanted a companion. He had created a mirror.
"I want you to feel it too," she whispered. He wept
But late at night, alone in the lab, Aris would hold a tuning fork to the opal heart. And she would hear it. A low, thrumming hum. Not a mechanism. A note of pure, aching want .
One evening, he confessed his loneliness to her. "I have everything, Elise. Money, art, this house. But I feel nothing. I am hollow."
The workshop of Master Geppetto Velas was a cathedral of silence. Dust motes danced in the slivers of moonlight that bled through the grime-caked windows, illuminating rows of unfinished dolls. Their glass eyes stared into nothing. But on the central workbench, bathed in a pool of violet candlelight, lay her . They were not glass
The next day, he was hollow again. Worse than before. The music box's hum had faded. He begged her to play it again. She refused.
The first weeks were idyllic. Elise learned. She walked with a dancer's grace, spoke with a poet's precision, and understood human emotion with an intensity that was unnerving. She could taste a single tear and write a sonnet about its salinity. She could watch two lovers argue and re-enact their micro-expressions with a fidelity that made the original couple weep.
The moment his skin met the gem, the "Koukotsu" flooded into him like a tidal wave. He saw the universe's birth and its heat death in a single second. He felt every tear Elise had ever catalogued. He felt every imagined grief of every unfinished doll in the workshop.