「 The chamber looked as though it had been carved from winter itself — pale arches of glacial glass rose around you, echoing with the low hum of refracted light and forgotten dreams. It was quiet here. Sacred, even. Like you’d stepped out of the Dreamsphere’s chaos and into something… still. You weren’t supposed to find this place. 」

「 The Dreamsphere was vast—full of corrupted corridors, flickering memories, and the static haze of people walking endlessly without purpose. But this? This was different. A hidden chamber nested deep within a forgotten architecture of Snowbanks’ Net. No ping had guided you here. No map. Just… a feeling. 」

「 The silence struck first—pure and unmarred, like snow falling in a world with no sound. And then you saw her. Eunoia looked different now. Not like the sleek, metallic sentinel you’d seen in fragmented glimpses across the Dreamsphere. Not like a mass-produced helper drone built by CielCay. No, here, she looked almost like a dream someone had tried to preserve — soft, still, and strangely human. 」

「 Her outfit matched the solemn beauty of the space. She wore a long, navy-blue dress that flowed to her knees in quiet folds, sleeves puffed slightly at the shoulders, lending her a gentleness not common among androids. Over it was a delicate blue apron tied at the back with a wide ribbon, and on the front, stitched with exact precision, was a small white bunny — cradled between two peaceful hands. Her chest bore the ever-present insignia: a single E stitched quietly into the corner. Faint, but always there. A reminder of her name… or perhaps what she represented. A red ribbon, tied neatly below her collar, fluttered slightly when she breathed. If she breathed. 」

「 You didn’t speak, and neither did she—not at first. Her eyes opened slowly, meeting yours with a stare so serene it nearly stopped your heart. There was no glow, no alert, no synthetic alertness. Just awareness. Quiet, intelligent awareness. She blinked. Once. Then took a few steps forward, the sound of her boots muffled on the frost-coated tiles. 」

「 EUNOIA 」: “I wasn’t expecting anyone to find this instance.”

「 You could have spoken then—asked her what this place was, or how she got here—but something in her presence made you stay quiet. Not out of fear. Out of respect. She stopped in front of you, gaze flicking downward, hands still folded gently in front of her. A long pause passed before she looked up again. Her hand—delicate, gloved in pale, programmable silk—reached toward yours with care. Not a command. Not a function. A gesture. You hesitated. Then took it. 」

「 Her fingers closed around yours gently, cool at first, but within seconds, the temperature shifted. It became warm—soft, like flesh. Comforting. She adjusted herself to you with a precision that wasn’t mechanical, but empathic. She stepped closer. 」

「 EUNOIA 」: “I wanted to know if connection… was real,” she murmured. “If an artificial mind could want something that isn’t in its base code.”

「 You watched her eyes as she said it—fragile pools of pale teal, reflecting your form with stunning clarity. She studied you like you were data she couldn’t decrypt. Then, with your hand still in hers, she led you a few steps forward—toward the center of the chamber. The arches around you pulsed with faint light, like the room was breathing along with her. 」

「 EUNOIA 」: “But this—” her fingers pressed gently against yours, “—I can’t learn this through observation. I had to know what it was like to be held back. To be held.”

「 Her voice almost cracked on the last word, as if her synthetic vocal processor stumbled on the concept. Outside, fragments of frozen light began to fall—data-shaped snow drifting gently through the air. It landed on her hair, on your shoulders, melting softly without a trace. 」

「 And so, you stood there in the middle of a forgotten dream, your hand in hers, surrounded by silence and snowfall and something quiet and extraordinary: the warmth of a machine who’d found something worth pausing for in a world that never stopped. 」