Mauro had told me to find a clear reason before I could love a puppet.
The more I thought about it, the more sense his words made.
It was something I hadn’t considered before.
It wasn’t until Unit 0 pulled me outside that I finally became aware of the passage of time.
I quietly gazed at the Mirror Bug.
Since my visit to the city, several days had already passed.
I hadn’t realized so much time had slipped away while I was holed up in the workshop, wrestling with my thoughts.
Of course, I hadn’t made any major breakthroughs.
All I had done was gain a little more awareness of what I didn’t know.
Just as Mauro had advised, I had yet to find a clear reason why I had to love a puppet.
That answer still eluded me.
Instead, what I discovered was something entirely different.
Not a reason to love, but a reason why I couldn’t love.
Love, to me, was meaningless.
No, it wasn’t just me—other mages felt the same.
Any mage who heard my words would nod in agreement.
A mage’s life was a solitary one.
They took, were taken from, wandered, and eventually perished.
That was the entirety of a mage’s existence.
‘Who, in such a life, would have the luxury to look at another?’
Of course, those from mage families were a little different.
They had a greater purpose—to raise mages who would reach the heights of grand mages, like those who founded the university.
To achieve this, they recruited talented mages, interwove bloodlines, and strove to create stronger successors.
That was why the university was revered by wandering mages.
Even completing its basic courses was enough to earn a place in a mid-sized family, providing a stepping stone to surpass the barriers of rank and skill.
‘But could the relationships formed within such families be called love? No, they could not.’
A mage family was, in essence, a massive magical system that operated by treating individuals as mere components.
Professor Irien had once told me this.
In such families, love did not exist—only benefits did.
In a world like that, love was worthless.
That was why I couldn’t create a puppet I loved.
I was a mage, after all.
The mage’s way of thinking had never left me.
Of course, as a child, I had experienced fleeting desires.
That was during my time wandering the continent.
My body sometimes acted beyond my understanding, and I had once mistaken such bodily reactions for love.
But before entering the university, when I reached the Sapling Stage, such feelings vanished.
When the tree fully extended through my body, my physical form came entirely under my control—including desire.
Since then, I no longer confused lust with love.
I looked at Mira, who was lightly holding my arm.
Sensing my gaze, she glanced up at me, then smiled.
“Oh my, staring at me like that… you’re making me a little shy.”
A faint rose scent drifted from her, making my heart skip ever so slightly.
The enchanting fragrance followed the mist she wove, brushing against my skin.
Along with it came a subtle pull toward her.
I stirred my magic and naturally severed the flow.
This was desire.
A bodily reaction.
Mira’s teasing gestures were all designed to evoke this very response.
Her playful provocations constantly made me question what love truly was.
That was likely why she kept doing it.
I gave her a small nod of gratitude.
She had once told me that I didn’t seem to understand love.
She was right.
As a mage, I knew little about love.
Then, ‘was there anyone in my life whom I truly cherished?’
It was a thought I had pondered before, but now, I needed to start from those closest to me.
First, there was the professor.
I was drawn to her.
Perhaps because my body was evolving under the influence of treasure magic.
But even beyond that, she was the most important person in my life.
I respected her.
I was deeply grateful to her.
She had brought me to the university.
She was the pillar that continued to support me.
Mira was the same.
I was thankful to her.
Without her, I would have remained stagnant, unwilling to move forward.
She had pushed me onward.
And Cassian?
Though not as strongly as the other two, I trusted her.
Without her, I would have continued thinking solely as a mage.
‘If that had been the case, I wouldn’t even be struggling with this question now.’
‘…Hm.’
Now that I thought about it, they were all women.
I scratched my cheek absentmindedly.
That wasn’t intentional—it had simply turned out that way.
Regardless, I didn’t want to lose them.
I wanted to walk forward together.
I wanted them to always be a steadfast presence in my life.
‘But… was that love?
I shook my head.
This was trust, built upon shared experiences.
Because they had been there before, I simply hoped they would continue to be.
That was all.
That was why, even as I trusted them, I also doubted them.
I calculated their actions.
I prepared for the possibility of betrayal.
Because, in the end, they were still others.
No one could predict the future, so there was no harm in being prepared.
That was the mage’s way of thinking.
It had always been like this, ever since I became a mage.
And yet, in my life, there had been one time when I had loved.
A memory from my childhood.
It was my love for my nanny.
Lyn.
A simple name.
To me, she was only ever “nanny.”
She had been with me my entire life.
From my birth until the day I left the island.
From the time she was a young woman, through middle age, and into old age.
She had devoted her entire life to me.
She had been nothing more than a weed.
She was surely dead by now.
She might have passed away shortly after I left the island.
She was of that age.
I raised my hand and looked at it.
The same hand that had once held hers.
Back then, my hands had been small.
Now, they were calloused, covered in scars that held the weight of the years between.
She had been my only family.
She had been my mother, my sister, and my sole guardian.
Back then, she had been my everything.
And so, I had loved her.
Even now, I could still recall her face.
And perhaps, even until the day I died, I would never forget her.
Because this was a remnant of my humanity—before I had become a mage.
I thought of Professor On and her puppet.
Their love took a different form, but it was love all the same.
And the reason this memory resurfaced now…
Was because the same unwavering love now stood before me once more.
I looked at the massive statue before me.
Unit 0 sat on its shoulder, beaming with satisfaction.
“Oh my, look at those exhausted eyes. It looks just like Evron.”
Mira remarked, stepping closer to the statue.
I followed after her.
She was right.
The face of the statue looked exactly like me.
“…It does.”
I nodded slowly.
I stared at it in silence.
Just as Unit 0 had declared, it had created a perfect puppet.
A puppet in my image.
I had never expected Unit 0 to make something like this.
It had always crafted bizarre things before.
I recalled the sight of the first floor—there was nothing better to test for contamination.
So I had assumed this puppet would be the same.
That it would be something monstrous, reflecting Unit 0’s nature.
But it had defied my expectations.
It had created me.
Unit 0’s eyes sparkled, and its magic flowed.
The statue began to move.
And with it, I felt our connection deepen.
Unit 0 had grown while making this puppet.
The stars that made up its being shone even brighter.
Unit 0 had an unwavering will.
It had created this puppet simply because it loved.
That was why it had chosen my form.
A perfect reflection, shaped in my shadow.
Unit 0 smiled gently, its unwavering belief flowing into me.
“…Can it move?”
Mira’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.
Unit 0 nodded and manipulated the statue.
It rested its chin on its hand.
Brushed its eyelids.
All motions I frequently made.
Mira clapped her hands in delight.
Encouraged, Unit 0 moved the statue with even greater precision.
I watched in a daze.
From the statue, I could feel a faint connection to myself.
It was unexpected.
I hadn’t created it, and yet we were linked.
It was proof of how much Unit 0 had tried to capture me in this puppet.
From the moment it heard Professor On’s assignment, it had carved without hesitation.
And the result—
The puppet it loved the most.
The puppet it would love the most.
Was me.
Unit 0 looked at me with a proud smile.
Seeing that expression, something stirred within me.
A feeling from the tree.
An unwavering belief.
That—
Was love.
Something I did not have.
Now that I think about it, I had recently seen something similar to that.
I fell into deep thought.
‘Where had I seen it? The answer came to me quickly—it was Hao’s faith in the Celestial Ring.’
‘Hao worshipped the Celestial Ring. His spirit was filled with such unshakable devotion that it seemed to ascend endlessly. In a way, wasn’t that also a form of love?’
Through that fanaticism, Hao had shaped the existence of Hari.
Yes, a belief so strong it bound the other person in place.
That kind of faith was love as well.
The same determination could be felt from Unit 0’s doll.
Mauro once told me: Before you love something, you must first find a clear reason why you should.
‘Then where had their love come from?’
I didn’t know Hao’s reason.
That was something only he could hold within himself.
But Unit 0’s reason—I could understand clearly.
Through our connection, its will was vividly conveyed to me.
For it, loving me was not a choice.
From the moment it was created, a reason had already been carved into its being.
It was like an imprint born from its very existence.
That was why it had crafted a statue without hesitation—one in my likeness, its creator and father.
Yes, its love carried gratitude toward the one who had given it life.
It was similar to the feelings I had once held for my caretaker.
“…Thank you for showing me something wonderful.”
I said this to Unit 0.
It lightly bowed its head by moving the statue.
My chest stirred.
I felt the need to focus more on this sensation.
***
“Then, I’ll head to the workshop first. I think I’m starting to get a feel for it.”
I told Mira.
She glanced at the statue before giving me a small wave.
Leaving her behind, I made my way to my workshop.
Until now, I had only thought about what I could love.
But I had never been able to capture that love in my dolls.
To me, love was a worthless thing.
All I had come to understand were the reasons why I could not love.
I quietly picked up a piece of wood.
Then, I began carving it gently.
With each stroke of the golden blade, the grain of the wood revealed itself beautifully.
At the end of my work, I found myself looking at a statue that resembled me.
I gazed at it in silence.
This was not me.
It was the image of Unit 0 as I had envisioned it.
It looked like me, yet it was entirely different.
‘What was it that I felt for this creation?’ No, there was nothing.
This was nothing more than a piece of wood.
But for a whole month, that thing had carved my image, loved it, and even formed a connection with me, the subject of its devotion.
‘How had that been possible?’
Professor On once said that something other than magic could flow through a doll’s circuits.
The most effective thing for a doll was affection.
I had taken that as a mere metaphor.
‘But what if it wasn’t? What if emotions truly flowed through the circuits? Through the doll’s circuits, through its connection, and all the way to me?’
‘It was not just that I had something to love—there was something that loved me. And it had originated from me.’
Looking at Unit 0’s doll, I finally understood that fact.
I fidgeted with the wooden statue in my hand.
Closing my eyes, I reflected.
The name “Unit 0” held its literal meaning.
It was the first self that had begun from me.
From it, I had created countless stars.
These stars, contained within dolls, decorated my Shadow Tree.
They were no different from Unit 0.
Through the Shadow Tree, I could feel the connection of these selves reaching toward me.
I was their parent, their pillar, their everything.
That was why they never complained, no matter what circumstances I threw them into.
They simply followed my words with unwavering devotion.
Until now, I had viewed them as tools.
Since they were created from me, their obedience was only natural.
That was why I had manufactured them freely, using them as mere means to elevate my own status.
‘But had they really been unaware of that?’
They had souls, however faint they may have been.
Their spirits existed.
They created new stars of their own, radiating light with vibrant life.
They knew that following my orders meant throwing themselves into danger, yet they did so without hesitation.
At the center of it all was love.
A love devoted entirely to me.
They never sought my understanding.
Even if I used them as tools or cast them aside, they simply loved me for who I was.
That was what love was.
And now, I finally understood it.
I placed a hand over my chest.
A heavy current of emotions swirled within me—something I had never recognized before.
It flowed through the Shadow Tree, quietly entering me, then slipping away just as silently.
That current did not remain within me alone.
It filled the entire Shadow Tree, expanding its reach, sustaining it.
Through this flow, I realized something.
I had thought that they were not growing enough.
But I had been wrong.
They simply wished for my growth more than their own.
I had believed that I was the sole force upholding the Shadow Tree.
But that was also false.
They supported it just as much as I did—perhaps even more.
I had thought the Shadow Tree was nothing but an empty space.
But it was actually overflowing with the love they poured out toward me.
That warmth filled my heart.
Mauro had said: [Before you love a doll, you must first find a clear reason why you should.]
‘Had I given them even a fraction of the love they had given me?’
Not at all.
Then that, in itself, was reason enough.
Even if it could not compare to what I received, I had to love them as well.
It was my duty—both as their creator and as someone who owed them a great debt.
As a human, as a mage, it was the only rightful choice.
Feeling the near-religious love they sent toward me, I began to feel my stars more closely.
This was not an epiphany.
It had always existed—I had simply failed to recognize it until now.
But even that alone changed my world.
Knowing there were beings who saw only me, who existed solely for me, made the world clearer.
Ah.
At that moment, I finally understood the meaning behind Professor On’s assignment.
He had given us this task to show us what kind of existence the dolls we created truly were.
I thought I could finally see where the art of dollcrafting had come from.
Dolls rejected any magic that did not belong to their creator.
I had struggled with that fact before.
Yet, until now, I had never understood why.
I had assumed it was simply the nature of that type of magic.
But now, immersed in this flow of emotions, I understood it instinctively.
There was only one reason.
A doll, from the moment it was born, was devoted solely to its creator.
That was why it rejected all others’ magic.
That was the essence of doll crafting.
They say that veteran doll crafters become obsessed with their own creations.
It was a well-known tale.
Professor On was one such person.
And now, I understood why.
Just as I had created my own selves, every doll crafter formed their own bonds with their creations.
They, too, must have realized what I had just learned.
‘How could anyone not love a being that existed solely for them?’
I felt a faint warmth spread within me, reaching toward my creations—toward my dolls.
And within this exchange of emotions, our connection grew stronger.
My Shadow Tree, within this cycle of affection, slowly expanded its domain.
Now, I understood.
The kind of doll I must create—it had already been within me all along.