After hurrying through the streets, Kano and Ren went through the citadel’s hidden entrance. While they were riding the elevator, Kano took the opportunity to examine the blob’s body. She was still maintaining her color, but it was only a matter of time before she ran out of energy again.

Trying to figure out how to fix Ren, Kano thought back to what had happened with Fifty-Seven. Why had her body, absent her conscious mind, tried to absorb him, anyway? Was that just what it always did? Or could it have been trying to use him as a source of energy?

Even while unconscious, Ren did seem to possess some sense of self-preservation. At least, if their first meeting, when her body had shown Kano how to revive her, was anything to go by. Though given that Ren wasn’t able to think under those conditions, Kano wasn’t sure how that was possible. Was that how the slime functioned? It was possible they were more similar than she would have thought.

Stepping out of the elevator, Kano realized something was wrong. There was something missing here, something she’d never noticed before it was gone. The energy that had once permeated the citadel was gone. Kano opened the way for Ren back to her tank, but she had low expectations of what she’d find, and her fears were confirmed when they reached Ren’s room and Kano couldn’t sense any energy within.

“Never mind,” Kano said, standing in the doorway. “There’s nothing here for us.”

“What do you mean?” Ren asked, cocking her head. “I thought this was where the energy was?”

“It was, but it’s all gone now. An or Werisah must’ve done something with it.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Who else would have done it? Or could have? There’s no point being here. We’re going to their lab.”

A short jaunt later, blessedly free of stairs, and they were outside the lab. The door was closed and there was not a speck of slime in sight. Eomonsa seemed to have kept his word.

Kano considered knocking for an instant, but decided she’d rather barge in unannounced. The necromancers were always so obsessed with control, they could really use more chaos in their lives. Grasping the door’s handle, she threw it wide with a flourish and gestured for Ren to follow as she stepped into the lab.

“Oh, it’s you again,” An said, looking up from her work. “What do you want now?”

“It’s about Ren. Turns out she needs the energy here to survive. She nearly died out there without it.”

“Ren?”

“The blob.”

“Strange, but I suppose I can see the logic in that. Though I’m surprised I didn’t notice when I examined it.”

Kano narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, that surprised me too. Anyway, does that mean Ren can use the energy again?”

“They’re welcome to some portion of it, though I have none to offer right now.”

“What? Why not?”

“I’m not entirely sure. Something appears to have gone wrong with the generator.” Focused on the instruments before her, An shrugged like it was someone else’s problem. “Werisah is down there trying to fix things right now.”

“Why aren’t you with him?” If this was so important, surely it’d be better for both of them to be working on it.

“I’ve got more than enough work to do keeping my latest specimen from falling apart. Particularly after Eomonsa’s foolishness got all my assistants killed.”

“What specimen?” From what Kano had seen, An had been trying to create ghoul-sized creatures, and she couldn’t see anything like that here.

“This one,” An said, pointing to a little strip of some organic matter inside a glass container.

“Uh-huh.” That was what she was so concerned with? Had An lost her mind completely since the last time Kano had seen her? “Well, Ren is going to die soon if the generator doesn’t get fixed soon, so how about you work on that instead?”

An scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve spent more than enough time on your blob’s problems.”

“So you’re okay with her dying?”

“When it’s not even slightly my responsibility and I have much more important things to do? Yes, I’m fine with that.”

“It doesn’t bother you at all?” Had An finally dropped all pretense of compassion?

“Oh, likely it will to some extent, but I’ll get over it. Besides, if you want the generator fixed so badly, you’re free to help Werisah yourself.”

Shaking her head, Kano turned to leave the necromancer to stoke the fires of her obsession. It was unlikely she or Ren would be much help to Werisah, but it was better than standing around arguing with An. “Where’s the generator?”

An rattled off directions to a room a floor above the citadel’s prison. Not wasting time on any further conversation, Kano and Ren hurried off on the long walk.

“I never thought I’d spend so much of my time right after being free walking around the citadel,” Ren said, sounding wistful.

“Welcome to my life. I feel like all I’ve done lately is trudge through this stupid place. Also, you realize you’re on the brink of death, right? You should probably take it a little more seriously.”

Ren laughed. “Will that make the situation any better?”

“Well, no. But it is a serious situation.” It felt strange to point out, but Kano couldn’t help herself. Ren’s behavior just felt too inexplicable.

“I know. I just want to cling to the shreds of optimism I have remaining. And it’s not like I have that much to lose in the first place.”

Kano stopped in her tracks. Did Ren even understand what she was saying? “What’re you talking about? Did the fact that you’ll die not sink in?”

“It did. It’s just that I’ve barely spent any time living as it is. I barely existed, therefore my death has barely any meaning.”

Kano struggled to wrap her head around the concept as she started walking again. Didn’t all living things want to live? Even the ghouls she’d known wanted to live, even though they tended to get themselves killed for one reason or another. She particularly would’ve expected it of Ren, whose head seemed so full of fantasies about seeing the world. “How can you say that? Don’t you still want to experience the outside world?”

“I do. But…” Ren’s fluid form wobbled in the corridor. “It’s not like it really matters.”

“Matters to what?”

“To anything beyond myself. It’s not like my presence would have any real impact on the wider world.”

What a strange way to look at things. Kano had never even considered that point of view. Did people really think that way? Or was it just because Ren had never really done anything in her life? “You shouldn’t be so negative. It doesn’t accomplish anything. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of impact on the world. You just need to give it a chance.”

“I’m not being negative,” Ren said as if she were stating the obvious. “It’s just how things are.”

“But you’re completely wrong.”

“Really? How am I supposed to change the world, then?”

Kano took a few moments to think it over. How did one accomplish that, exactly? She’d probably changed the world a few times, though never really on purpose.

And though she must have accomplished a few things, she wasn’t entirely sure what they were. She’d removed a couple of necromancers from the world. That probably wasn’t the best example to give Ren, though. She didn’t seem like she wanted to destroy things or people.

“I think you need to figure that out for yourself by learning more about the world firsthand.” It was kind of a lame answer, but it was the best Kano could come up with. And it was more or less right, even if it was extremely vague.

“Like finding out I almost killed someone without even realizing it? I suppose that did teach me a lot about the world. Like maybe I shouldn’t be part of it at all.”

“What happened to you?” The change that had come over Ren seemed unbelievable, and yet there was something oddly familiar about the way she was acting. “I thought you wanted to see the world more than anything.”

“I did, but that was honestly pretty ridiculous.” Kano’s colorful clone smiled sadly. “It was a nice dream and all, but I can’t even survive outside the citadel.”

“It’s too early to say for sure. There might still be a way for you to live out there. Maybe one of the necromancers can come up with something.”

Ren snorted. “So we’re going to rely on the goodwill of necromancers again? That worked out real well last time. I wonder what kind of disaster they’ll cause this time.”

Hearing her talk about necromancers, Kano realized what about Ren was so familiar—she was acting like Kano. What Ren was saying wasn’t completely wrong. Kano had probably said more or less the same thing herself before, but the pessimism at its core rung false to her.

For some reason, she had slightly more hope for the world than that, and Ren in particular. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why that was, though she was certain it had nothing to do with the necromancers—she still distrusted them as much as ever. With the possible exception of An. And though Kano still had plenty of misgivings about her, she didn’t feel entirely negatively about her either.

“I’m not saying we should necessarily trust them or that they won’t mess things up, but they’re still our best option for figuring things out.” Much as she disliked the similarities between what she was saying and Miusvon’s views on the necromancers, it was their only real option. “You didn’t seem to have any problem with their help when An freed you in the first place, so what changed?” Why did Ren sound so much like Kano now?

“I guess I came to my senses. Getting a dose of the real world must’ve taught me a lot more than I would have thought.” Ren put her hand to her forehead. “It’s funny, but the old me just seems like a distant memory, which is probably a good thing. I can’t imagine being like that was helping anyone.”

Kano could see how Ren’s first experience with the outside world might have altered her way of thinking to some extent, but the change that had come over her was too dramatic. There had to be something else at work here. The only other things that had happened to her were slipping back into her unconscious state and Kano giving her energy.

Could the energy have carried some aspect of Kano’s thoughts or personality along with it? Kano had no idea if that was possible or not, but it would explain Ren’s current state.

Alternatively, maybe her near death had brought about some sort of switch or reversion in her personality. Was this closer to what Karen was like? Or what she’d wanted her copies to be? Kano didn’t have any firsthand experience with Karen, so it was hard for her to guess at her intentions, but there was someone who knew more about their creator.

“What do you think Karen would have said? What would she think you should do?”

Ren blinked. “I doubt she’d give it much thought at all, since it doesn’t involve her.”

“Well, what would she do if she were in your position, then?”

“Probably try to save herself, like she spent so much of her time doing.”

“What if she couldn’t do it on her own and had to rely on others? People like An, for example?”

“Mm, it’s kind of hard to imagine Karen relying on someone else, but I guess she’d do whatever it takes.”

Ren had finally reached what Kano had been pushing her toward. “Don’t you think you should do the same?”

“So you’re saying I should act like Karen would?” Ren asked, snickering. “I don’t think her example is one anyone should follow.”

“That may be the case for most things, but I think you could learn from her in this situation at least.”

“Really? Because it seems like this is exactly the sort of thinking that led her to commit her atrocities.”

“You’re exaggerating. It’s not like she really did anything that bad.” Creating Ren, Kano, and even the failed copies could hardly be described as an “atrocity.”

Ren shook her head. “What would you know?”

“I don’t remember anything about her, but I’ve seen a lot of what she’s made, and it doesn’t seem so bad. Is there something wrong with the citadel?”

“Not so much with the citadel itself, but more what it took to build it.”

“And what would that be? Ghouls?” What else could have been consumed in its creation other than the raw materials it was built from? Surely Ren didn’t care about those?

“Plenty of ghouls died in her pursuit of survival, but no, that’s not what I meant. I’m talking about all the humans who were sacrificed.”

“Sacrificed? For what?” This was the first Kano had heard of humans having anything to do with the citadel. Though it made sense that there would be some relation, given the citadel’s connection with the research centers.

“I think it was to make some sort of reactor. She didn’t tell me much about the specifics. Or about anything, really.”

“How did she use humans to make a reactor?” The two things didn’t seem at all related.

“I think she was using their souls.”

“Uh-huh.” Strange as it was, it didn’t have much to do with her main point. “Either way, you’re still better off trying to keep yourself alive.”

“If you say so.”

Kano wasn’t at all satisfied with leaving the conversation there, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say that would change Ren’s mind. For now, Kano would just try to keep Ren alive, regardless of what Ren thought.

Once Ren was safe, then Kano could demonstrate the value she had to the world with actions and concrete examples. If she really was anything like Kano, that ought to be a lot more effective than the circular discussion they’d been having.