From the moment Ravenna cast a curious and fervent gaze upon this world, she forfeited all other possibilities.
She lost every choice in life.
And it was only after she pursued her passion for over a decade without a hint of fatigue or weariness, savoring it as if it were the sweetest of treats, that she saw the heaviest of truths upon that fluttering scroll.
Her life had been sculpted. Just as Ansel had said... The fifteen years of Ravenna Ziegler's life were Eileen's highest masterpiece.
An idealist that even Hendrik and his fellows feared.
The puppet gazed vacantly at the elders before her, able to name each one, their areas of expertise, their research directions. She had sought their counsel countless times over fifteen years, drawing from each a conviction and strength as steadfast as steel.
Now, recalling Hendrik, Ronger, and these elders' anger, shock, bewilderment, and sorrow when she made those sacrificial decisions and choices... Ravenna realized she should have understood then.
Those emotions were not because "Ravenna, why have you become such a person," but rather... "Ravenna, why haven't you become the person we hoped for."
—Because their mentor Eileen, unlike her, would never sacrifice others; he would only sacrifice himself.
And... his own kin.
The petite scholar slumped against the door, her mouth twitching, the absurd reality urging her to laugh, yet her collapsing self-desire to rage, her exquisite features contorted by such contradiction.
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She had thought Eileen's failure lay in his excessive kindness, his unwillingness to sacrifice others for his goals, but it turned out... she was the one being sacrificed.
"Ravenna... you first, calm...calm down a bit."
With trembling lips and a chill down his spine, Hendrik attempted to soothe Ravenna, who seemed on the verge of complete collapse: "Listen, this isn't true, the truth isn't like this... we never thought to deceive you, the teacher—he couldn't possibly—"
"You... indeed never deceived me."
The puppet's purple eyes reflected everyone's faces without focus, not bestowing what's called a gaze upon anyone, like a lusterless jewel set into a cavity.
"Because all you needed to do was to be true to yourselves."
Eileen's fifteen-year-long creation, lauded by Ansel, was exquisite in its essence... a lie not founded upon lies.
Ronger closed her eyes in agony, while the others watched Ravenna murmur such words, instinctively averting their gaze from her lifeless eyes.
"Do you, all, truly believe this?"
Her voice, devoid of emotion, merely articulated syllables, akin to the most rigid automaton.
"Ravenna! How could we possibly—"
"To empower the common folk, to grant those untouched by extraordinary the might to wield it."
Ravenna's words echoed in the conference room, her tone mechanical and detached, yet thunderous.
"Do you still harbor such thoughts?"
Thud—
Ronger collapsed, powerless. The ever-proud and vibrant lady now trembled, covering her face with her hands.
And when the topic, unspoken within the Tower of Babel's echelons but acknowledged by all, was voiced by Ravenna, a hush fell over the room.
Indeed... this was the truth.
Why is it said to be a lie not founded on falsehood?
For the faith and fervor of all the elders of the Tower of Babel were genuine, yet with time, their direction had shifted.
Fifteen years of arduous progress laid bare the reality—not of an ideal, but a delusion.
To create alchemical devices for convenience, rather than to endow every ordinary person with transcendence... This was the pragmatic approach, the true realization of Eileen's vision, as each one believed.
And these words were spoken by Ronger herself, under Ansel's persuasion.
Within the Tower of Babel, no one remained who truly yearned for the future Eileen desired.
—Except for Ravenna.
Except for her, the cobbled-together puppet chasing phantoms.
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