Hong Min rushed into the dark building, leaving the echo of the battle behind him. The moment he crossed the threshold, the sounds of clashing metal and muffled screams faded, replaced by a heavy, dusty silence. The air inside was stagnant, carrying the scent of time, cold stones, and earth.

  For a moment, he leaned against the wall, panting, his body trembling. Outside, a fight that would decide his fate was raging, and here he was, hiding in the dark.

  When his breathing calmed slightly, his eyes began to adjust to the gloom. The first thing he saw was a pile of bones at the entrance. At first, he felt nothing. He had grown up in the alleys of Chang'an, where corpses were part of the daily refuse. But these bones were different. They weren't just abandoned remains; they were in a defensive posture, the skull facing the door, and beside it were the remnants of what looked like a shattered stone axe. This person had died defending this place.

  Hong Min moved cautiously deeper into the house. The furniture was short and strange, designed for bodies smaller than his own. On the floor, amidst a thick layer of dust, he spotted a faint metallic gleam. He bent down and picked it up. It was a square metal plaque, heavier than it looked and cold to the touch. Soot and dust covered nearly its entire surface. He wiped it with the back of his trembling hand, revealing an image etched with stunning precision underneath: a picture of a dwarf with a long beard, a woman smiling beside him, and a little girl standing proudly between them. Despite the coldness of the metal and the age of the artifact, an undeniable warmth emanated from the scene. They looked... happy.

  He felt a strange pang in his chest. This place wasn't just a building; it had been a home. A home where a family had lived. He remembered his own hovel in Chang'an, with its cold walls and empty floor, a shack that held nothing but the smell of despair. But this place, even in its ruin, still carried the echoes of a life. Near the plaque, he found a small wooden toy carved in the shape of a bird. He ran his thumb over its smooth surface.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  His feet led him to a deeper room in the house, which seemed to be a bedroom. And there, he saw the scene that shattered his last defenses.

  On an old stone bed lay two skeletons. A larger skeleton and that of a small child. They weren't just bones thrown about; they were in a position that told a complete story. The larger skeleton, the mother's, was bent over the child's, her slender bone-arms still wrapped around her in an eternal embrace, a desperate attempt to protect her from an inescapable fate.

  Hong Min collapsed to his knees. The image was more than he could bear. He, who had only ever known a look of hatred from his own mother, was now seeing the embodiment of absolute sacrifice. A love so strong it was carved into bone and defied time itself.

  He whispered to himself in a broken voice, "Is... is this love? To protect someone until the end? Even after the end?"

  But the word seemed too simple, too small to describe what he was seeing.

  No, not just love... he thought to himself. It's something more complex... something... called... family.

  He felt his own utter ignorance before this word. He knew its meaning from books, but he had never felt it. He was as ignorant of this concept as 404 was when asking about feelings.

  And here, in the desolate silence of the room, the idea struck his mind like a lightning bolt. Protection... Sacrifice... 404... He protects me too... He puts his body in front of me again and again... He took a deep wound for me just minutes ago...

  "Does that mean..." He didn't dare complete the thought. Could a machine that doesn't feel be...?

  The weight of this question, combined with a sudden, crushing shame for his cowardice, was too much to bear. He crawled to a corner of the room, away from the sight of the bones, and sat on the cold floor, hugging his knees.

  He listened to the muffled sounds of the battle still raging outside. But he was no longer thinking about the monster. All he could think about was that impossible question, and the overwhelming feeling that he was a coward, weak, and useless, waiting in the dark for the outcome of a battle he wasn't fighting.