A carousel of images appeared before the blonde girl's eyes. Her life unfolded like a painting, flashing past her in an instant.
Then, she realized something terribly serious.
Looking back on her past, her life had practically been a tragedy.
Ever since she had gained awareness, she had lived alone in a strange room, where people taught her all kinds of mechanical modification knowledge.
Then came brainwashing-style education.
Finally, when she had reached the appropriate age, she had been sent into an operating room for one mechanical modification after another.
Poor thing—she had been brainwashed so thoroughly that she had naively believed mechanical modification was a very interesting thing.
But in reality, mechanical modification came with many inconveniences.
Her height, for example, was a major problem.
After the modifications, she had not grown any taller for several years. Now, whenever she wanted to reach a high table, she had to stand on tiptoe... and if nothing unexpected happened, she would have to spend the rest of her life standing on tiptoe to reach high tables.
Later, after finally escaping, she had to worry about being hunted down by the invisible warriors from the Science Division.
At last, she had reached a restaurant and met a seemingly reliable, mature, and explosively powerful uncle of a shopkeeper.
Just when she had finally worked up the courage to choose to trust that uncle... he had killed her.
He had stabbed a huge hole in the lower part of her chest, and blood had poured all over the floor!
If she still had even a little strength left, she really wanted to climb up and angrily flip the table.
I quit. I don't want this tragic life anymore.
Her life could not even be described as a "tragedy."
Tragedies often carried an artistic flavor.