It was disturbing how easy it was to vivisect Jianmo’s avatar. Following his instructions, Yoshika reached out with her divine spark and pulled at his essence, unraveling the construct like a fraying piece of cloth. There was no resistance—not that she expected Jianmo to try to stop her, but she had a sense that there couldn’t be any resistance. It was like when Forge had disrupted her simulacrum—there was simply nothing there to keep her from pulling Jianmo apart.

Yoshika shuddered, trying not to think of it as ‘Jianmo.’ Just a construct—an extension of her tutor’s will, and not a different person. She needed to believe that was true to live with what she was doing.

The inner machinations of the construct really were enlightening. Jianmo’s avatar was layered atop a framework of divine essence—a sort of skeleton soul without anything to define itself. As she dug through the layers and connections, Yoshika could see how the rest of the soul had developed around it.

It had a kind of beauty to it—an elegance and refinement to its creation that made Yoshika second guess whether it had really been Jianmo that had created it. Despite their attitude, the demon’s age and experience shined through in their work.

Almost immediately, Yoshika understood where she’d gone wrong. Because her previous work on simulacra had been focused on the idea of transferring a soul into a body, Yoshika had been trying to create perfect snapshots of her own mind that could be housed in an artificial body. Jianmo’s construct wasn’t an empty vessel waiting to be filled, it was an embryo that needed instructions on how to grow.

Presumably, Jianmo had provided those instructions by simply growing it into a perfect copy of their own memories, though there were parts of the construct that Yoshika struggled to understand. Jianmo had clearly tipped the scales and made some direct adjustments—certain instructions and triggers that Yoshika couldn’t make any sense of. The basics of providing the framework with a reference and growing a copy onto it were simple enough to understand, though.

The whole thing reminded her of how spirits would split off fragments of themselves—as Heian’s progenitor had done. Maybe Jianmo had come up with such a method intuitively, since they had started life as an object spirit. Thinking of the shadow spirit reminded Yoshika that she still had the spirit plant lying dormant within her dimensional ring—she resolved to get some answers out of it when she had the chance.

Satisfied with what she had learned, Yoshika took a mental snapshot of the flayed construct and sighed ruefully. As she had feared, Yoshika was not going to be putting Jianmo back together any time soon. Unraveling the construct had been easy, but weaving it back together would take significant time and precision—neither of which she had at that moment.

Once more Yoshika found herself with more problems than solutions. She could make an avatar, she was certain of it, but she was missing a few things. Things that were—thankfully—actually obtainable, in theory.

Foremost, she needed a source of divine essence. The framework from which the rest of the construct would be grown couldn’t be made from regular mana unless it was perfectly balanced, and even then it would be the equivalent of an unawakened mortal at best. It just didn’t have the capacity to create what Yoshika needed.

The next thing she needed was a better understanding of the mind. She absolutely could not allow herself to risk creating an entirely new individual that was enslaved to her will. Yoshika would need to work with Eunae and Ja Yun to make sure that the avatar was a carefully crafted extension of her will. She wished that Hyeong Daesung was here to help—his expertise would have been invaluable.

Finally, she needed more time. There was no way around it—she needed to convince Master Ienaga and Seong Misun to give her another day at least, and probably much more than that. She sighed with resignation—it was a long shot, but it was the best she had. For the first time since she’d started the plan to infiltrate Lushan, it felt like a solution was within reach.

Ja Yun clutched Muddy to her chest, sweating nervously. Yoshika had called her and Eunae aside to discuss something away from the rest of the group while they traveled. Ja Yun was keenly aware of the rapidly diminishing time limit on Yoshika’s goal, as well as their lack of progress. It was very much in her character to do something insane and dangerous as her desperation mounted, and Ja Yun didn’t want to get swept up in it again.

“Yoshika, I don’t think I need to point out that last time you gathered us together like this, things went really poorly.”

Both of Yoshika’s faces reacted at the same time—a sure sign that the two of them were linked together. Ja Yun had always thought it was interesting how her bodies would react differently, though. Jia’s face had an embarrassed frown, while Eui’s was an irritated grimace. Jia’s body was the one to speak up—which usually meant that Yoshika was trying to be diplomatic.

“We’re really sorry about that—we never imagined things would end up the way they did. How have you guys been doing since that incident? I know it’s been pretty hectic, and we never got the chance to catch up.”

Ja Yun sighed. What Yoshika probably didn’t realize was that things were always hectic around her, and her failure to follow up was not a unique occurrence, but rather exactly what she’d come to expect from the scatterbrained pair of geniuses.

“I’m okay. Muddy’s doing pretty well too—starting to learn how to actually hold a conversation without just exchanging information directly. It’s been taking this clay doll shape a lot—I think it’s trying to learn how humans behave.”

Yoshika nodded.

“We’re glad to hear it. If you ever need any help with anything, we’re here for you. We’d like to resume our training at some point, if the three of you are up for it—more cautiously, next time.”

Ja Yun pursed her lips. She was relieved that they wouldn’t be jumping into that training again so soon, but wasn’t sure how to express her hesitation to try it again at all. Eunae ended up responding before Yun got the chance to gather her thoughts.

“I’d love to, Yoshika. Though I think Yun and Muddy may need more time to grow comfortable with the idea. In the meantime, perhaps our soul magic studies should proceed without them for the time being?”

Yoshika blinked, and Ja Yun could have kissed Eunae on the spot.

“Um, sure. That’s not why we called you here anyway—or, not exactly. We need your expertise in magic that influences the mind. Like mental techniques and stuff—you two are the most experienced mages around other than Misun, and we’re not about to ask her.”

Ja Yun felt strange being asked for help with mental techniques from someone who regularly used one of the most powerful mental practices she knew of a full realm before it should have been possible. Still, she was intrigued.

“What’s the problem?”

Yoshika went on to explain an insane plan that involved creating a fully autonomous construct that could act on her behalf, as well as the practical and ethical concerns she had with the idea. Ja Yun stroked Muddy’s surface idly while she thought.

“It’s a pretty interesting conundrum. Setting aside the practical parts for a moment, I’m surprised you even thought about the ethical problems.”

Ja Yun realized she’d said something wrong when Jia’s brows furrowed slightly, and that feeling was only reinforced when it was Eui’s voice that responded.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“W-well, it’s just that—y-you know, you’ve got a history of...stuff...”

Yoshika’s glares grew more intense as Ja Yun went on, and she shrank back, realizing she was just digging herself even deeper. Once again, Eunae stepped in to save her.

“I don’t think Yun means any offense, Yoshika. Remember that she comes from a background of law enforcement and you do have a rather checkered past in that regard.”

Yoshika relaxed a bit, shaking her heads and sighing before speaking in Jia’s voice again.

“Sorry—we’re a bit on edge. Ja Yun, it feels like there’s something else you wanted to say.”

Yun jerked in surprise. It was eerie how well Yoshika could sense emotions like that—sometimes it felt like she was reading Yun’s mind.

“Um, yeah. I think the ethical dilemma isn’t as big as you’re making it out to be, actually. That was the other reason I was surprised.”

Yoshika’s expressions were both curious, and though Eunae’s face was still covered by her veil, Yun recognized the slight tilt of her head and the set of her ears indicating a curious expression of her own. She took a deep breath and pushed on.

“Let’s assume that once the avatar is created, it becomes a unique individual with agency of its own—her existence can’t be said to have started at that point if her mind is based on yours. Technically, she inherits any decisions you made before her creation and the consequences thereof. So anything you agree to before creating her is something that she has already agreed to by default.

“Now, that’s not to say that gives you free rein to just do whatever you want to her. She’s still free to change her mind, and anything you do to prevent her from changing her mind is still problematic. You can’t, for example, just have Eunae plant a geas in you that makes you permanently docile and obedient as long as you’re a qi clone.”

Eunae crossed her arms, and her ears flattened against her head.

“Excuse me?!”

Ja Yun wilted a bit, but she grasped at the momentum she’d already built up to keep going.

“That was just a hypothetical! I know you wouldn’t do that. Anyway, if you’re worried that the avatar will gain her own agency then all you have to do is make a promise to yourself that you’ll fulfill whatever purpose the avatar was created for, and that if you decide you’d rather not reintegrate afterwards, you won’t force yourself to.”

Yoshika looked confused at first, then thoughtful, then she did that thing where she just checks out of the conversation for a bit and starts talking to herself. Ja Yun was happy to leave her to it, especially since she could feel Eunae’s eyes boring through her even from behind the veil.

“Yun, that doesn’t sound like something you just thought of. It sounds more like something you’ve thought about a lot, which just so happens to fit the dilemma at hand.”

Ja Yun’s face felt like it was on fire. She tried desperately not to panic as she dug for a reasonable answer that was close enough to the truth not to be immediately sussed out by the group of empaths.

“Ahaha, y-yeah, well. You know, with Iseul and all, I-I’ve had to do a lot of thinking. Plus, one doesn’t practice mental techniques without considering the permutations of the mind!”

Though she couldn’t see them, Ja Yun imagined Eunae’s eyes narrowing.

“Was that a quote from one of Dae’s essays?”

“Yes! I’ve read most of them. Hyeong Daesung graduated from the same college I did—did you know that?”

“...I see.”

Thankfully, the princess was willing to drop it at that. Something about their conversation had drawn Yoshika’s attention, though.

“That’s it! We’ve got it. Ja Yun thank you—you’re a genius!”

Yun blushed under the unexpected praise.

“Uh, th-thanks? What did I do?”

“Nothing yet—though we appreciate the advice about the ethical problems, that really does help. We need you to teach us Dae’s compartmentalization technique.”

“Oh! Sure, I guess. I don’t think it’ll be that useful for you, but I don’t mind sharing what I know about it.”

Yoshika stepped forward with Jia’s body and threw her arms around Ja Yun in a tight hug.

“Perfect! Thank you so much. Let’s get started.”

Ja Yun blinked.

“Wait—right now?”