Cradle-2

There was a time when I had this thought.

If I could win a huge lottery prize, or if some suspicious benefactor who admired my character donated an enormous sum to me,

I thought it would be great if I could reach a point where I didn’t have to work anymore.

But thinking about it again, that kind of life doesn’t seem so great after all.

“Master, it’s time to wake up.”

Isis wakes me up.

“It’s time to wake up.”

A regular, monotonous voice.

Unlike the previous days, when it was heard from the bedside, it was heard from a closer location.

I slowly open my eyes. Sharp sunlight illuminated the room without filtering.

Even with my blurry vision, I could make out the shape of something nearby.

“……..”

As the image gradually became clearer, I saw a pair of large gray eyes.

Gray lenses without a single blink, and the reflection of my disheveled face in those lenses made me feel terrible.

“What are you doing?”

I ask, looking at Isis, who is lying next to me.

“It’s a wake-up call.”

Isis replies in a monotonous voice.

“How long have you been here?”

“7 hours and 12 minutes ago.”

I move my eyes to the clock.

And I recall the last time I saw before falling asleep.

“…It feels like right after I fell asleep?”

“The expression ‘right after’ is quite inaccurate. After the Master fell asleep, I maintained this state from 32 minutes and 27 seconds later.”

“That’s what ‘right after’ means.”

My head started to throb from the morning.

I examined Isis’s body. The usual priest-like gown was gone, and she was wearing a flimsy outfit that looked like pajamas.

“So for 7 hours…”

“7 hours and 12 minutes.”

“What did you do for 7 hours and 12 minutes? Did you even sleep?”

“Master, I am not an existence that needs sleep.”

Isis stared at me emotionlessly, answering as if she were telling me common sense.

“I know.”

My head hurt even more.

“If the situation of sleeping together is comforting to the Master’s psychological state, I will do so.”

Soon, Isis narrowed her eyes, making them look sleepy.

“Haa… no. I’m just curious about what you did.”

“I observed the Master’s sleep pattern changes and vital rhythms. Except for 2 instances of teeth grinding and about 5 minutes of snoring, you slept soundly.”

Wee-ing, a driving sound was heard from within Isis.

“In that outfit?”

I pointed to the thin, see-through clothes, and Isis scanned her body with a blank face.

“Yes, if I had been wearing the same clothes as usual, there is a possibility that the Master would have felt uncomfortable and not been able to sleep soundly.”

Isis flapped her arms with a calm face, and the loose pajamas fluttered around.

Then, she nonchalantly put her index finger to her forehead and said.

“According to big data, I tried on pajamas that the Master would like.”

“That’s so useless. Big data.”

As I let out a long sigh at the anticlimactic conversation, the door to the room opened.

“Breakfast is ready, Master.”

Another Isis came in with breakfast.

Unlike Isis, who was sitting next to me flapping her pajamas, Isis, who brought the meal, was in a neat uniform.

“It’s cream soup to warm your stomach, soft bread, and fruit.”

A simple breakfast was placed on the bed table, and I started eating familiarly.

Cradle. The name of this room where I am located, which is classified as small, and the name that refers to this entire building.

It is where the main body of the Ark System that manages Aaru is located, and it is the most perfect space where humanity will reside.

I wondered if it was okay to use the vague word “most perfect,” but after spending a few days here, I couldn’t find any reason to find fault with that word.

I wonder if the utopia or paradise that I once read about in a humanities book refers to this place.

A paradise without any lack or conflict. That makes me uncomfortable.

“It’s not good to eat too fast.”

Isis in pajamas, who had already taken over my back and was massaging my shoulders, whispered in my ear.

“Next time, you should eat the stew first.”

Isis, who brought the meal, said calmly.

“What kind of clothes would you like to wear today?”

The 2nd Isis who opened the door and came in was pulling a hanger.

“Anything… Ah, but breakfast doesn’t taste very good.”

I deliberately put the bread in my mouth first and replied.

“It is nutritionally perfect. I will derive a method to maintain this state and satisfy individual preferences.”

Isis, who brought the meal, bent her back.

In fact, the food that Isis brought was nothing short of excellent.

I had been living as a homeless person for over a year in the Murim world, putting anything in my mouth. I think my taste threshold is low.

This was just a kind of protest.

To this perfect life that is boring every day,

where everything is controlled,

where there is 24-hour surveillance,

it was a very small complaint.