.
"Hmm. 'Should' isn't really the right word for something this important," Ronan said with a smile. "Can you describe what happened, including the details?"
"...I don't remember. I'm not sure."
Ronan took Old Jin's muddled answer in stride. "You don't remember any of it? Or are certain key details too blurred and confused?"
Old Jin fell silent and stared at Ronan. Threads of blood crept across the edges of his dark, hollow pupils.
Ronan kept smiling. "You don't have to piece together the whole thing. Just pick one detail and tell me clearly: what about it troubles you?"
Under Ronan's gaze, Old Jin drew an instinctive breath, his chest and abdomen contracting. He was still hesitating, but Ronan gave him no chance. His gaze dropped to Old Jin's midsection. "Oh, that inlay plate. Quite a few fugitives from the Thirteenth District have one—a metal implant they can operate manually. Remarkably
sophisticated. It blurs the boundary between Genetic Species and machinery, and it's no less impressive than Core Technology... Did Her Majesty tell you where it came from?"
Old Jin parted his lips, but before he could give a definite answer, Ronan answered for him again. "As it happens, I know too. It's Cybernetics technology from the Thought Star Cluster... You know of the Thought Star Cluster, don't you?"
Old Jin's mouth twitched. "I only know about Cybernetics."
"Tsk. Her Majesty's Secretism really is incurable. But she must have told you it belongs to some advanced extraterrestrial civilization?"
Old Jin gave a cold laugh.
Ronan went on, unbothered. "Then whether or not Her Majesty admits it, you must have some ideas about where she came from."
Old Jin said nothing, effectively confirming it.
Ronan looked pleased. "There. That's a solid point of agreement. Hmm, we've wandered off topic."
"You really