Eidolon

Warning (PG16)

This episode contains adult themes. Reader discretion recommended.

The penthouse windows framed the afterglow of morning dissolving into the endless hum of traffic far below. Rei sat on the sofa, her bare legs curled beneath the oversized black trousers she’d stolen from the closet, her white shirt hanging loose at her collar. The jewelry: necklace, bracelet, earrings, lay in a neat line on the dining table across the room, gleaming like restraints waiting to be clasped.

Rei cradled her coffee mug in both hands, inhaling the bitter warmth. The jewels seemed to watch her and she walked to the table, neatly placing the jewelry in their black velvet case, then sat back down in the armchair in front of the sofa.

The soft hiss of the door opening broke the quiet. Takumi entered with his data slate in hand, his posture precise, eyes already hard. He didn’t greet her. Instead he went directly to the holographic console near the dining table and with a flick of his wrist pulled the data into the air.

“Rei,” his voice was unsettlingly devoid of any emotion. Luminous graphs in cool shades of blue flickered, projecting above the table. A line, representing a composite of biometric data, began at a steady baseline. Then, a distinct pristine spike, sharp and undeniable, the kiss. It was a perfect, isolated mountain of intensity followed by nearly nothing. The line plummeted and became a lazy river of calm through the rest of the night, punctuated by only a few ripples and one taller one, her loss in mint poker no doubt. “This,” he said, his voice dangerously quiet as he tapped a finger to highlight the agonizing flatness, “is not what I asked for.”

Takumi hadn’t even glanced at her. Only once he’d let the accusation hang in the air did his grey glare find her. He stopped short when he saw her outfit seized from the closet; the oversized white shirt and too-big black suit pants cinched with a belt. She looked almost boyish, her hair tousled, no make-up, her sleeves rolled. The corner of his mouth twitched; displeasure, surprise, maybe a flicker of amusement at her nerve. But he didn’t comment, he had sharper blades to wield.

“You were told to provide crucial data”, he turned the projection with a swipe of his hand, breaking the composite into individual streams, “Elevated heart rate, shared laughter, the neurological signature of strategic card games”, he said the last words with undiluted disdain, “Next a significant caloric intake of fast-food, followed by a sustained, steady rhythm indicative of… sleep.”, he looked at her again, his eyes like chips of flint, “I did not ask you a favor of recording a slumber party.”

Rei rose slowly, graceful despite the heavy clothes, and crossed to the kitchen counter where the coffee machine hissed, “You want one?” she asked softly, already preparing it before he could answer. She filled a coffee pot and brought it to the dining table, walking past him unbothered. Takumi didn’t answer, didn’t interrupt, just glared. She poured his cup adding one sugar and a splash of milk; just the way he liked it. He didn’t take it as she held it towards him. Unaffected she simply placed it near him, the scent of roasted bitterness curling into the intense ambiance. After a polite bow, she retreated with her own cup, getting settled on the couch as if they were about to watch a movie.

Rei leaned back against the armrest, seemingly utterly unbothered in her clownish outfit. If anything, she savored the crack of surprise she’d seen in his mask. She tilted her head, her voice soft but edged, “Maybe I intentionally made the graph just so, because what Eidolon is missing isn’t another glossy scene of sex. You already have that, Takumi. What you don’t have is emotion.”

He said nothing, but his expression tightened, threatening. She went on, as though presenting a pitch, “Tenderness, intimacy, vulnerability – the quiet comfort of falling asleep in someone’s arms. You can fake moans, fake arching bodies, fake submission. But the Eidolon construct, the digital mask you wrap in my likeness, cannot simulate the subtlety of a real connection. The risk, the warmth, the unpredictability of a joke, or the trust it takes to simply… sleep.”

His jaw shifted as he picked up the coffee, drinking while looking at her like she irritated him but her arguments still deserved his attention. His composure never cracked, but his dignified stillness was that of a snake about to strike, “You presume to lecture me about the development of my product?”

“You want state-of-the-art, don’t you?” Rei shot back smoothly, straightening her legs a little, her bare toes curling into the rug, “Something to captivate even the most jaded execs. You know as well as I do – they’ll grow bored of perfect bodies and scripted sensuality. What will keep them buying, is the illusion that it feels like they’re touching someone real.”

Takumi studied her, his data slate lowering fractionally, though the graph still hovered between them like a clinical witness to her defiance. Rei’s smile softened, bold in its serenity, “Tell me, Takumi… is there a construct in your entire arsenal that could’ve given you that?”, she gestured to the flat, calm line of the graph, “The data of two people talking, sharing a meal, holding one another without following the exact script they’re ordered to.”

The silence stretched brittle as glass. He hadn’t expected her disobedience clothed as an ambitious development strategy, and she knew it. Takumi had come for a confrontation, armed with cold data. She had disarmed him with a vision he couldn’t immediately refute. The flatline wasn’t a failure; in her hands, it had become a revolutionary proposal. And the cold fury in his eyes warred with the ruthless businessman who recognized a compelling, if infuriating, point. Takumi didn’t flare in anger the way she half-expected. Instead, he set the data slate down on the steel table meticulously, then adjusted his cufflinks as if her statements were nothing more than a weather report.

“You’re right”, he admitted, his voice calm, measured, too calm, “Authentic human connection is one of the hardest things to replicate. The rarest resource in this city.” His eyes lingered on her, sharp as scalpels, “It currently can’t be coded convincingly and that… is why you are here.”

Rei blinked. His agreement unsettled her more than fury would have. “But,” he continued, pacing a slow, deliberate line toward the window, “it is not what I asked of you. And you know that.” He turned back, hands clasped behind him like a general before his troops, “What Eidolon needs is not philosophy. It needs data. Real attraction, during real intimacy. The construct can simulate warmth, tenderness, even rebellion in carefully coded doses. What it cannot do yet, is mirror the fundamental you, your body betraying genuine desire.”

He let the silence hang, “Did you think it’s a coincidence I lined up your driver?”, his tone sharpened just slightly, “I had the entire process under surveillance. Your choice was more scripted than you care to recognize. Familiarity, safety, a schoolgirl’s logic masquerading as strategy.” His smile was cutting, but not without admiration, “I will grant you this much – you have nerve to dress your insubordination in business logic. That is… refreshing.”

Rei’s throat tightened, but she held his gaze. Takumi stepped closer, lowering his voice, “But listen carefully. I am not designing a therapeutic experience. I am not selling romance or healing to lonely executives. I am selling power, control, obedience and release. And to refine that product, I need everything – every facet of human desire, tenderness included. That means you will provide me data not only on your theoretical musings, but of your body. Not just conversation, real physical intimacy.” The Helix Apex jewelry stored in the black case on the dining table, drew both of their attention. He reached out and opened it with a quiet snap. The necklace, earrings, and bracelet gleamed under the penthouse lights.

“From this moment forward,” he said, his posture flawlessly commanding, “you will wear these permanently. They will log everything – your heart rate, your chemistry, your spikes of fear and longing”, he closed the case again, snapping it shut like a gavel and handing it to her, “You will remain in this penthouse, where you can be monitored properly. You want freedom, Rei? Earn it. Give me what I require and the data of intimacy that follows.” His grey eyes bored into her, not cruel so much as implacable, “That is your role. Until you prove otherwise, this is your world now.”

Rei shivered almost imperceptibly under his intimidating commands and surging aura. Biting into her bottom lip, benching her rage and fear, she straightened in the oversized shirt, pulling the fabric tighter around her waist. When she spoke, her tone was measured, not pleading or emotional, merely thoughtful, “You say you want authenticity,” she began, her voice steady, “Data from real attraction, real intimacy and then you confine me here? If I’m just performing in your penthouse, monitored every second, I’m no better than the specter you coded for Eidolon.”

Takumi’s brows furrowed, but he didn’t interrupt. She walked to the dining table and the coffee pot there, pouring herself fresh coffee and turned to face him, “If you want me to provide you what you say you need, the unfiltered data of me as I am, then I need my own space. My freedom to breathe. I can be authentic in Sakura Avenues, not locked up here.” 

She blew gently into her steaming cup before sipping, letting the weight of her words settle. Her bare feet soundless on the polished marble tiles as she moved closer, “And sure, you’re right, I chose comfort, familiarity, safety. But that is not schoolgirl-logic, they are prerequisites. Without them, there is no authenticity, no intimacy, no data worth collecting. If I’m reduced to enduring living here entirely directed by you, you’ll get nothing but survival instincts. No authentic peaks.”

Her black eyes locked with his steel-grey ones, anger flaring, “You want me to be a subject, not a performer? Then let me live as myself. Let me interact with people as I naturally do. If you want my truth, Takumi, then maybe admit your own… you’re no better than Komorebi, your enslavement of me is just another flavor of brutal, but equally as oppressive.” The room grew smaller with the echo of her statement. Rei had laid her reasoning like evidence on the table.

Takumi watched her, a flicker of something unreadable in his cold eyes. He despised loosening control. The very idea of her in that grimy apartment in Sakura Avenues was distasteful, a step down from the pristine environment he demanded. It was also an unpleasant reminder of her ties with Komorebi, who initially prepared it; even if Kuroda’s security team thoroughly replaced all the surveillance equipment with their own. Furthermore, her old place was less convenient, less accessible to him.

Be that as it may, he couldn’t deny the ruthless logic of her argument. Confinement bred performance, not authenticity. And her defiance, this calm, sharp-edged negotiation in the face of his absolute power, was the very quality that made her invaluable and endlessly frustrating. A long, measured silence stretched between them, a battle of wills fought in the quiet hum of the penthouse.

“You negotiate like a woman who believes she has leverage,” he murmured. “I have myself,” Rei replied evenly, never breaking eye-contact, “And that’s what you’re trying to capture – right?”

Takumi put his coffee down, pausing with his hand on the table. He looked like he might snap, but then said squarely, “Authenticity cannot be coaxed out of a cage… not entirely”. It was an acknowledgement, but it tasted like exasperation, “A compromise. If you improve and provide valuable data… then on weekends, you may reside in Sakura Avenues. But during the week, you are here in the penthouse, where I can ensure the project’s needs are met”, he placed a finger on the velvet case in her hand and tapped it, “And you will wear the jewelry every day. Without exception. Your claimed authenticitywill be logged, wherever you are. Consider it a trial. If you pass, I’ll allow you two environments, two data sets. We will see which produces the peaks Eidolon requires “, he stated, his tone leaving no room for debate.

He had reasserted the boundaries, conceding a small, calculated amount of ground to secure the larger prize: her genuine, unfiltered data. His posture was as rigid and controlled as ever as he glanced at her, “Don’t mistake this concession for kindness. It is an investment. See that it pays dividends.” Takumi didn’t wait for her agreement. The holograms dissolved into the sterile air, after he closed the display with a flick of his hand. “Dress properly,” he said, his voice precise and dismissive, “The lilac. Investors are coming in shortly and I expect you beside me.”

She bowed and shuffled to the bathroom behind the bedroom. By the time she joined him again, Rei was transformed. The lilac dress hugged her frame with an elegance that bordered on armaments, the high slit whispering promises her enigmatic expression refused to confirm. The biometric jewelry gleamed discreetly at her wrist and throat, glimmering every time she shifted in the light. Her heels clicked a rhythm of sway across the marble as they exited.