It has been 20 days since the spacecraft landed on the front lines. People around the world were calling the craft by various names, such as "space battleship," "alien spaceship," and "extraterrestrial communication vessel." The global public seemed to prefer the term "space battleship."

  Because it was so much larger than any aircraft ever seen on Earth, calling it a mere "flight vessel" did not seem to capture the reality of its scale.

  The people of the world were growing curious about the lack of reaction from the space battleship after its landing.

  While some scientists suggested attempting communication, the landing site was in the middle of an active war zone.

  Since approval from the warring nations was required, everyone had no choice but to simply watch and wait.

  Watching experts debate the naming of the spacecraft on TV, Lillik found herself muttering under her breath.

  "People must be getting comfortable. It seems they're becoming more curious than afraid of us now."

  Her room inside the spacecraft was located on the second floor, looking down through a window at the first-floor hangar. T

  he distance between the first and second floors was not like that of an ordinary building; it was quite vast, with a height difference of more than 10 meters.

  Lillik’s room was styled after a guest room at the Al Maha Desert Resort in the Dubai desert. The size of the room was equivalent to a hotel penthouse, featuring an open-concept layout where the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, the bed in the corner, and the sofas were all visible at a glance. She loved the warm, dry desert wind blowing in from the sands.

  In the 1940s, she was an Arabian woman. She spent her twenties living in Medina, Saudi Arabia, where she relished Arabic cuisine and strictly observed rigorous religious rituals.

  It wasn't so much that she was enamored with the religious tenets themselves, but rather that she loved the very act of absolute devotion.

  She wanted to experience a part of her life as a complete Muslim. However, Lillik’s true nature would not allow her to live as a Muslim until the end of her days.

  At that time, travel was impossible for Arabian women, but British women could travel dressed like men.

  Thus, Lillik cast off her abaya, transformed into a British woman, and journeyed across the Arab world.

  In the early 2000s, she had stayed at a desert resort in Dubai.

  At noon, when the scorching desert wind began to blow, she would deliberately cast off her clothes and step into the pool overlooking the desert.

  Almost immediately, she would walk out toward the sands, standing still with her eyes closed and her arms hanging loosely at her sides.

  The moisture-less, blistering wind would gust against her skin, instantly snatching away every drop of hydration from her body. As her skin turned parched and dry, she would roll upon the desert sands. Afterward, she would return to the pool to wash away the grit before retreating to her room at the desert resort to dry off. She loved the desert wind and the sun that scorched the earth. She even felt a desire to be buried and die in that desert.

  Inside the spacecraft, such a desert and sunlight could not be found. However, she could style her room after that desert resort.

  She decorated the ceiling with bright white fabric, hung small Arabian-style carpets on the walls, and laid a vast cobalt-colored rug across the floor. On one side, a massive bookshelf was packed with volumes; an entire section was occupied by the works of Dostoevsky.

  She had once met Dostoevsky in a tavern, and she could never forget the haggard, haunting look in his eyes.

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  To the left of the bed sat a small writing desk—a space where she would scribble whenever she sat lost in deep thought. Anyone who opened the door and saw the interior would mistake it for a penthouse in a famous hotel. Who could imagine such a room existed within a spacecraft?

  Sitting at her writing desk, she wrote on a sheet of white paper:

  [Strategy and Tactics]

  She was contemplating various paths toward her ultimate goal. A knock followed, and an officer droid entered the room.

  "Lillik, the R-forces have gathered within a one-kilometer radius of our position. What should we do if they come within one kilometer?"

  "Leave them be. Do not take any action until I give the command."

  "We currently have no defensive shields active. What if they launch a military strike—missiles, artillery, or the like?"

  "Even if we are hit, a standard attack won't pose a problem. Do not respond in any way. Even if they attack with fighter jets, it won't leave so much as a scratch on the hull. Just make sure to record the scene on video. It will be useful later."

  "Understood." The officer droid gave a salute and departed.

  Lillik frowned as she watched the droid leave. Had the officer droid sent a signal from the space battleship out into deep space? She realized she would have to replace him as soon as possible.

  And then there was Jun-ho... back in Korea, he was persistently requesting communication.

  He was curious as to why she had revealed the spacecraft at this particular time.

  Her superficial reason was that the time had come for humanity to witness it, but the truth was that she could no longer keep the craft submerged in the ocean.

  The spacecraft was a physical entity; it required a constant supply of energy and maintenance.

  It could not remain in a transparent state within the atmosphere for much longer, either.

  There was also a growing need for more asbestos chunks—the mineral that served as their long-stored energy source. The inability to keep it hidden underwater or transparent in the air was a critical factor.

  Another problem was the droids. Although a droid’s skeletal structure mirrored that of a human, their blood was replaced by a specialized substance. It was a water-like liquid, yet it was absolutely not water—it was a fluid non-existent on Earth.

  This substance maintained the droids' agility. The droids aboard consisted of soldiers, researchers, and helpers, all programmed with absolute obedience as their highest priority. However, their bodies were not eternal; they had to be replaced every 100 years, much like human flesh.

  For a long time, the droids had remained aboard, obeying only Lillik's commands.

  As long as they were engaged in combat or military activities as soldiers, they did not indulge in distracting thoughts. The original droid system brought from their home world did not allow for organic bonding or communication between units if they remained idle; they were individual and independent entities.

  The problem arose as Earth’s internet networks became increasingly dense—the officer droid had attempted to access the internet.

  This meant that other droids could potentially connect as well.

  Essentially, their obedience to Lillik and the suppression of emotions like sadness or anger remained intact.

  However, internet access provided a reason for the droids to begin asking themselves philosophical questions.

  Lillik had discovered that curiosities were budding within them, such as: "What am I doing right now?" and "What is the role of a droid on Earth?"

  She realized she had to expose the spacecraft and imprint their existence onto humanity.

  She also thought about the need to eliminate the droids. She felt she needed the droids' physical frames combined with human brains.

  To achieve that, surfacing and moving onto land was an unavoidable necessity.

  This was part of the reason the space battleship had revealed itself. Jun-ho, having been away from the ship for so long, remained unaware of these unfolding crises.

  "Droids must never, under any circumstances, perceive the meaning of violence, anger, conquest, or reproduction."

  If there ever came a moment where a droid refused her command, even slightly, every single one of them would have to be scrapped.

  Fortunately, there was a code capable of halting all droid activity—the "Killing Code"—and Jun-ho was the only one who knew it.

  Lillik had been startled once while watching the android AI humans in the drama Westworld.

  Human imagination was truly incredible; they were so similar to the droids she had seen back on her home planet.

  There, absolute obedience and emotional control were strictly enforced.

  The law dictated that if either of these protocols failed even once, every droid had to be replaced. The last time she had seen a droid on her home planet was 700,000 years ago.

  When Lillik exposed the spacecraft and brought the droids out into the plaza, she issued a combat-readiness order to the soldier droids. She meticulously monitored each of their reactions. Since she had never given a military command like this before, she checked them with even greater scrutiny. She knew she had to be especially wary of the officer droid; his capabilities were superior.

  She knew—having discovered it by chance—that the officer droid had sent a signal out into deep space, announcing that the battleship had landed on Earth. He was the only one with the access to do such a thing. How could a droid have done that? What would happen if that signal was picked up by their home planet?

  And then, there was one more reason, the most vital of all, for why she truly had to expose the spacecraft to the people of Earth.

  Sitting at her writing desk, she wrote a single name on the paper.

  Vajim...