Mi-Reu felt the familiar pull of the system, but this time, the sensation was different. Instead of a violent jerk, her mind glided through layers of memory. She heard echoes of conversations she had long forgotten: the innocent, bright laughter of her high school classroom and the hum of the air conditioner. Then, a single image crystallized with jarring clarity: a specific page from her biology textbook.
In a small, colorful sidebar labeled “Fun Fact” in the corner of the chapter on immunology, the text appeared as if she were looking at it through a magnifying glass:
The Milkmaid’s Secret: In the late 18th century, English physician Edward Jenner noticed that milkmaids seemed uniquely immune to smallpox. He discovered that they had previously contracted Cowpox, a much milder disease caught from cattle. Jenner theorized that the cowpox blister fluid provided protection against the lethal smallpox. In 1796, he tested this by inoculating a young boy with cowpox matter, creating the world’s first successful vaccine (from the Latin vacca, meaning cow).
As her vision returned to normal, Mi-Reu gasped, but she wasn't as breathless as she had been during previous recalls.
[Quick Recall: Successful. Data Snippet Retrieved.]
She immediately reached for her secret journal, her brush moving with frantic energy as she recorded the information in her messy, jagged English script. “The system really is powerful,” she murmured, the ink staining her sleeve as she rushed to capture every detail. “It was just a random snippet I only ever glanced at, yet it made me remember the exact phrasing.”
She paused, leaning back on her heels. “I feel like the recall was easier to navigate this time... it wasn't just the data. I could actually feel the grain of my high school desk and hear my friends teasing me in the background.” She finished her notes and crawled into bed, her mind buzzing with the weight of her discovery. She had a mountain of information to discuss with Gi-Reu.
“Maybe it’s because of your Cognitive Bandwidth?” Gi-Reu’s voice startled Mi-Reu. He was already sitting on a cushion in her room, the early rays of the sun piercing through the paper doors in sharp, golden needles. It was rare for him to be awake at such an hour, but it was clear he hadn't slept a wink.
“We’ve been wondering what that number meant, right?” Gi-Reu continued, leaning forward. “Maybe it indicates how well you can handle the mental load of the store’s abilities? The higher it goes, the more vivid and painless the memories become.”
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
“That could be the case,” Mi-Reu replied, her mind already analyzing the theory. The increase to 2.3 must have stabilized her mental link to the archive. “But enough about the mechanics for now. I found the link.”
Gi-Reu’s eyes lit up with an eager, desperate hunger for answers. “Well? Don't keep me in suspense! What did the future know about the Red Death?”
After several minutes of Mi-Reu’s careful, whispered explanation, Gi-Reu let out a long, low hum of contemplation. “So this... Ed-...” He struggled, his tongue tripping over the harsh, foreign syllables.
“Edward Jenner,” Mi-Reu finished for him, her voice steady.
“Right, him. Centuries from now, he finds a link between a cow disease called ‘cowpox’ and our Red Death, which you call ‘smallpox’? He created this thing called a... vacca... vaccine? To give people a milder sickness on purpose so they never catch the deadly one?”
“Vaccine. Yes... that is the gist of it,” Mi-Reu confirmed, nodding slowly.
Gi-Reu fell into deep thought, his fingers drumming against his knee. “It is a well-known fact that those who manage to survive the Red Death never fall ill to it a second time. So, if your theory is correct, this is why the butchers aren't getting sick?”
“Exactly,” Mi-Reu noted, her eyes sharpening. “By working with livestock every day, they must have come into contact with the less dangerous cowpox. Their bodies fought it off and built a shield making them invincible to the actual plague.”
“If that’s the case... how on earth are we going to prove it? And even if we do, how does it help us right now?” Gi-Reu asked, the weight of their reality finally dawning on him. They were children in a world of rigid tradition. There was no way they could simply walk into the Royal Court, speak of "future science" and "cow diseases," and expect the ministers to stop the executions.
“That’s exactly what is bothering me,” Mi-Reu groaned, letting out a frustrated grunt as she leaned back against the wall. “We need a plan to make them look past their prejudice and see the data, but the court is blinded by fear.”
“Your Highnesses... I am terribly sorry to disturb your morning.”
A eunuch appeared at the door, bowing so low his forehead nearly touched the wood. His voice was slightly worried as he conveyed a sudden, unexpected request. “The Inspector General seeks an audience with the two of you.”
“Huh...?” Gi-Reu blinked, his confusion momentarily overriding his exhaustion.
Mi-Reu sat bolt upright, her heart skipping a beat. “Did you say the Inspector General?” She looked at Gi-Reu, a flicker of disbelief crossing her face. Why would the most rigid man in the kingdom want to talk to two "grounded" children whom he had opposed at every chance he got?
