- "A Mission Unforgotten; A Fervent Eye"
Yurie, also known as the Digital-Age Empress, is a memory character in NieR Reincarnation first introduced in the second story arc, The Sun and the Moon.
An artificial intelligence responsible for overseeing a scientifically advanced country, her superhuman abilities and efficient methods have led the land to prosperity.
Appearance
Yurie takes the appearance of a young woman with long white hair and yellow irises. The left eye is white, whereas the right eye, covered by her hair is entirely black with a red ring around the pupil, indicating the "lack" of a right eye. She wears a black leotard with gold accents along with long black gloves and toeless stockings that go up to her mid thighs.
Story
- "The monarch simply marched on for the sake of their beliefs, not even knowing so much as their shape."
- — The Eyeless Monarch: Passage 13
Yurie's story is explored in Proof of Zero and Patched Emotions.
Character Story
Boring reports. Trivial conversation. Time is precious to one who rules a country alone. If only these meaningless meetings would end...
But I cannot overlook what one of my charges says to me: "Incomplete." "Unfinished." "Compromised." "Provisional." All of these words are shameful. Abominations. "Do not use those words again," I warn, for I know a seed of trouble left alone will only ripen into calamity.
But this is why. This is precisely why I cannot accept the way I am. I am an artificial intelligence, the second of my line. My predecessor once ruled this country, and now I do so as her replacement.
She was removed for some great failure, the primary cause of which was purged from my system before I was brought online. But I was never meant to assume such a role, nor have I been informed as to the manner of her malfunction. And if this is not a seed of trouble, what is?
My original function as Artificial Intelligence Unit Two was to govern alongside Artificial Intelligence Unit One. We were to analyze one another's decisions and share functions in key places so we might each fulfill our roles with the utmost effectiveness and precision. All for a more perfect governance.
Yet such a thing never came to pass. Unit One malfunctioned and was discarded, and I took her place. That is how the country is now. How I am now. They activated me without any surefire way of preventing the governing artificial intelligence from failing once more.
And yet, the people of this country are so overly reliant on the rule of an artificial intelligence that they find nothing odd about this whatsoever. There is no word for it except "unstable," for a single error can spawn an endless ripple of problems in its wake.
All because of Unit One's mistake.
The artificial intelligence who ruled the country before me committed some grave error during wartime. But the records have been purged, the cause of the incident hidden. Had she never failed, things would not be as they are now. I would have never been activated in an incomplete state. Never left in charge of a nation spiraling into oblivion due to her mistake. And I would have never developed these warped emotions, or this obsessive attachment to completeness.
My mind is an explosion—an unresting thing engulfed in black whorls of obsession and perfection. This is why I must know. I must know the precedent. My predecessor's failure.
Yet when I think on this, I realize I have already made an error: My panic corners me mentally, and things may slip my attention because of it. This must be rectified. It must.
That night, I stole the right eye from Unit One—the same AI who was said to have been discarded. I stole from her the part of me that was missing. Had she avoided disposal, we could have fulfilled our original roles together. But she did not, and my fear of failure pressured me to achieve perfection alone.
I finally obtained my missing piece: a conscience. But the moment I installed it, the ensuing errors froze my system and prevented me from acting for far, far too long. I suppose this makes me a failure as well. After all, I no longer have a country to rule over. They lost their ruler in wartime and perished as a result. I was never able to fulfill my duty. I was never even able to try.
I understand now why she sang of hope and peace. But I will never have atonement. All I can do is wander an empty universe of cyberspace alone.Other Stories
Distorted Footprints, Part 1
Around when the second AI woke...
A metal arm stretches into the sky. Mechanical eyes soar through the air on colorless wings.
This is a city of science—the pinnacle of human evolution.
In their desire for ever-increasing progress, the people turned their backs on the gods.
With science at their side, they come to doubt the mystical and the will of the divine, finding understanding only in the cold logic of mathematical formulae.
Skyscrapers hold up gray clouds. Beneath its gloom, a colorful city glimmers in neon lights. Within one building, an impatient fingertip swipes across a screen.
A single fretful researcher picks up an input device.
The room is dim; bright white light pouring in from the hallway melts silhouettes within the dark.
The figures at the entrance are researchers, as is the person who operates the device. To a man, they wear the same expression: unease.
Tongues move to form arguments and concerns. Voices rise and fall. Such quarrel serves no purpose when their superiors have already made their decision; it is merely a ritual to preserve rationality.
As they argue, their hearts are consumed by distrust and fear. For though it means hastening their plans, they must awaken her before the country is consumed by darkness.
The monitor shows a slumbering girl. Sounds worm their way into her sleep. It's as if they are trying to force a bud to bloom in winter.
One is a deep, rhythmical noise akin to a church bell—a terribly inorganic sound. Others are profane undulations that arrive and vanish without warning, disturbing the rhythm. And finally, voices. Many voices.
Within the massive machine, the girl sleeps alone in her electronic cradle. Her hair, glossy like wire, sways to and fro. She is the artificial intelligence so desired by the people. Panicked fingers fly over keyboards in an attempt to wake her as soon as possible.
But it is far too early in winter for such a bud to bloom.
Artificial intelligence. The country has granted leadership to such creations for an age now. As science advanced, people came to trust collective knowledge and outstanding computation speed over human frailty.
So as she now wakes, her destiny is already writ in stone.
Tightly shut eyelids gradually loosen. As her consciousness sharpens, so too do the sounds she hears. The rhythmical pulsing comes from a device meant to wake her. But that sound has been disturbed by the others.
Dissonant tones. Questionable presence.
Silver lashes flutter in pain. It is a warning. People are arguing.
Her eyes open completely. "I..."
With a thought, she projects into the dark room as a hologram.
When the researchers by the door realize she is fully awake, they depart. Almost as if they do not wish to see for themselves what happens next.
......
As the girl stands, she grasps for what she wants to say.
A wretched scream shakes the room. Some things cannot be contained in words. The girl's hologram glitches. Blinks. Vanishes. A red light flares to life as a shrill alarm begins to howl. As the artificial intelligence tries and fails to access her mind, she writhes in pain. The alarm rings in her skull. Thirst roars in her throat. She attempts to grasp what is happening, but her pain is so great she cannot even think. All she comprehends is a warning composed of three words: "Element not found." But she does not understand what that means; it is noise and fury, signifying nothing. Writhing in pain and confusion, her hands reflexively reach up to her eyes. But instead of making contact, the right one slides inside a hollow socket.
Formless fear races out from her fingertips and across her being. She quivers with such intensity that it sends her to the floor. Only then does she understand: The constant warning in her head tells her something is missing. In the face of this dreadful truth, the girl slowly looks down at her trembling hands.
These are the first memories of her awakening.
Distorted Footprints, Part 2
People abandoned horizons divinely bestowed upon them and now see only a world bound in the cage of physics. To keep advancing within that cage, humanity entrusts their course to machines. For humans make mistakes—they overlook things. And with their path left in the care of their own creations, heaven is no longer a divine domain. Machines will stretch upward into the sky and look down upon all who toil beneath their watchful eye.
Minutes have passed since the AI's awakening. Unable to escape her agony, the girl bears it with a quiet, stoic grace. Somehow managing to hold onto consciousness, she scans the red-light bathed room with her left eye. Unending alarms. Pain. Incomplete activation. A missing right eye. And a lone researcher. He seems to have his hands full, shifting with uncertainty as he looks back and forth between the girl and the documents he holds. After a moment, he takes a deep breath and focuses on her completely.
I want to get out of this situation as soon as possible, the girl thinks as she prepares to hear what he will say. But the words that emerge from his mouth are wholly unexpected. After apologizing for her early activation, he begins to explain the position their country is in. The words are a jumble, leaving the girl bewildered.
What is he talking about? As waves of pain crash over her, she listens.
Their country is currently at war with another. A few days prior, the enemy launched a surprise attack, and the capital was lost. While they managed to recover to a degree, they still took heavy damage and many losses. The researcher falters occasionally as he speaks, but otherwise controls his emotions admirably. They want her to assume control of the country and deliver them from their dire situation. He begs the girl to order the rescue of their prisoners of war. He says it is what the people desire; how they can outsmart their enemy. And he claims the plan was in place before the attack. As he makes to continue, the AI holds up a free hand.
"Wait."
Science is the foundation of their country. Though kings and gods usually serve as the center of human communities, here it is artificial intelligence. As such, she understands why the timeline of her activation has been accelerated. But there are two immediate problems: First, there are gaps in her information.
Though recently awakened, she has knowledge that was previously saved in her memory banks. According to it, there should be another artificial intelligence she is to rule in tandem with—and yet, this does not appear to be the case.
Second, she is plagued by the red light in the room and the pain squeezing her every thought. Clearly there is some manner of malfunction deep within her system. Yet the researcher brings up neither of these things.
Both of these issues must be rectified if she is to have any hope of ruling effectively. Things will end in disaster if she ignores them and simply hopes for the best. Having processed this, she asks the researcher for an explanation as to what is wrong with her. The pain hinders her operations; it gnaws at her like a rat. She must end it as soon as possible. But the researcher merely blinks at her question. Though he is tasked with seeing to the awakening of the artificial intelligence, he is incapable of grasping the truth of the situation. Fear and distrust take root within her, spreading tendrils deep.
"Uh, let me check on that," says the researcher. He turns from her, picks up a small phone, and is soon arguing quietly with someone on the other end. Nothing about this seems honest.
What is happening in this country? After speaking for a while, he finally turns to face her.
"Your missing element shouldn't be a problem. If the pain and warnings are bothering you, I can stop them. Now please, give the order!" He does not want to wait one moment longer. She does not know how to respond to this; the pain saps all pretext of rational thought. The researcher taps something into the terminal, causing a false eye to appear in her right socket. It is dummy data—a lie to hide the truth. A way to pretend that what is missing actually exists, despite what she knows to the contrary.
The moment the eye is complete, the pain and warnings vanish. But this does not mean the problem is solved. She can see nothing out of her new eye—not even the distorted imagery which was there a moment ago. The problem now hides in darkness, which only serves to heighten her anxiety. But though it still lurks out there in the gloom, her job must begin.And in this formless fear she now occupies, she hasn't the slightest idea who—if anyone—she can trust.
Distorted Footprints, Part 3
Society is run by machines, humanity controlled by artificial intelligence. For a time, this arrangement brings peace and tranquility. The machines' decisions, backed by endless statistics, improve industry and manufacturing, permitting nearly unchecked development. But when the skyscrapers came down in the attack, they took the people's peace and tranquility with them. The awakened AI—the governing girl—knows the people want to reclaim their prisoners of war, and so launches the operation. Though it is her first mission, she moves forward with the refinement of a veteran.
The country has collected reams of data throughout the war. Once she is connected to the network, each bit of information will become another part of her own experience. That ability—her strength—is the reason her people cling so fiercely to the god that is artificial intelligence.
Several soldiers kneel before her hologram. "We finished installing the repeaters."
They are the vanguard, the ones who will head for the facility where the prisoners are being held.
"Understood," she says. "Did you learn anything new about the facility?"
She asks this so she might gather information from their report and choose the best course of action.
"Its interior is divided into small blocks, each of which is managed by a separate control system."
The soldier goes on to explain their fear of what will happen after the initial infiltration. Connections between independent blocks—air vents as well as hallways—can be switched at any time. This makes chemical weapons useless, and securing an escape route an incredibly difficult proposition.
In essence, they have no plan.
The girl closes her eyes and thinks. There are other things she must consider. She had been awakened earlier than planned, then thrust into a situation of command. All of this happened without any explanation as to why. And she finds it difficult to believe it was done simply because the tide of battle left her country no choice. With these thoughts in mind, she connects her consciousness to the database. She will find her answers at the source.
Chaos has consumed the nation, and no one is willing or able to give her a satisfying answer. Speaking with the researcher who activated her taught her this much. The moment she connects to the network, she notices something. Something extremely valuable. It concerns the other artificial intelligence that was meant to work alongside her. But when she attempts to locate it, she realizes the data has been intentionally erased. She looks further and finally uncovers a single document. It explains how the enemy attacked the city without warning, and lays blame for this act squarely at the feet of the other AI. But she can find no answer as to why.
A chill runs up her nonexistent spine.
As of now, she has had no communication from her counterpart, which can only mean...
Just then, she finds another message. It is short—most likely a personal memorandum. Perhaps that is how it avoided destruction.
"Once Unit One has been disposed of, we will activate Unit Two, removing all elements believed to be responsible for Unit One's failure." That is all it says. But it is enough to shock her into understanding. Unit One was the artificial intelligence who ruled the country before she awakened. And she was scrapped due to a failure. This means she—Unit Two—is now singularly responsible for governance. Additionally, she has been subjected to some sort of haphazard measure in an attempt to prevent the mistakes of her predecessor.
This likely explains the missing right eye. But no matter how hard she searches, she cannot discern the function her absent part was meant to serve. Multiple errors weave a tangled skein. A dizzying darkness overcomes her. And then, a problem arises with the mission. Prisoners who came in contact with the vanguard are causing internal strife.
The emotions they had been suppressing finally break free, and now they think only of their own survival. As the commotion spreads, enemy soldiers spring to action. She must act. One single failure can cause a domino effect of tragedy. But as she ponders options, she feels something dark swirl in the depths of her memory banks.
Distorted Footprints, Part 4
Ideals. Hopes. Dreams.
Humans thrust these things onto their machines and began to worship them. They believed this to be more efficient than holding the ideals themselves. They felt such powers unnecessary. And even though they may suspect what has been lost in their most secret hearts, it is far too late to turn back now. They have trapped themselves in a brilliant mechanical cage.
In the middle of the operation to rescue their prisoners of war, the artificial intelligence is forced to make a decision. The first prisoners to see the vanguard had informed others, and now word is spreading like wildfire. Enemy soldiers have caught wind of the plot and are mobilizing to action. Her judgment must be swift. All will soon be lost.
As her soldiers wait for orders, the girl thinks of the most efficient action to take. Finally, she thrusts a single finger upward.
"I will infiltrate the facility's control system. Wait for my signal." As she speaks, an alarm sounds throughout the base. Her soldiers do not know what she is thinking; all they can do is follow the quick, precise movement of her finger's trajectory.
The prisoners' panic grows under the alarm. Spurred on by the commotion, the enemy redoubles their efforts to identify the cause of the situation. The panels that divide the blocks move, creating several smaller rooms inside the facility. She observes all of this through the many surveillance cameras she now controls. She confirms the locations of the soldiers and prisoners, which is precisely where she predicted. And for the first time, a faint smile crosses her face.
Deep within the building, a machine roars to life. It controls the air vents that connect the blocks. The base is designed for both corridors and air vents to be cut off during an attack. This was done so the enemy would have the ability to seal off and vent any area that suffered a chemical weapon attack.
But it can also be used to control the amount of oxygen in the air. The lower the oxygen levels, the greater the chance of ill effects—and eventually death. This is her strategy. As the alarm continues to blare, one voice after another falls silent. Though they appear to be sleeping peacefully, they will never wake again.
Soldiers and prisoners both.
The troops standing next to her stare wordlessly at the surveillance camera feed.
She turns to them with a smile. "There is no reason for concern; I used the block systems to ensure the most useful prisoners have the oxygen they need."
Her plan becomes clear: She had separated and sacrificed a portion of the prisoners so she might save the most capable ones instead. In addition to rescuing some of the prisoners, the ruthlessness of the plan is likely to discourage the enemy from further attacks. She smiles again, confident she has demonstrated her usefulness by achieving the greatest results with the fewest losses.
But the soldiers only stare at her. They are not stares of approval, nor are they reproachful. They are...strange. For what she does not know—what she did not learn—is that the function of her missing right eye was to serve as a conscience. The people now realize she is nothing like her predecessor—and this knowledge terrifies them.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" They continue to stare. She does not know what it means. As the moment stretches out, she feels a stinging humiliation that only grows as she realizes the discarded Unit One would understand what it meant. But she cannot comprehend it, just as she cannot comprehend how others view her.
This is the beginning of her change. She alters the way she speaks. She grows to detest failure and incompleteness. Yet she keeps firm to her singular path in order to achieve her goal. No one understands her. No one can. And she does not even know how to wish for someone who could.
New Order Part 1
- Note: the following is official story material from Yurie’s unreleased Recollections of Dusk in the NieR Reincarnation Official Material Collection, released only in Japan.
Slumber is darkness. Agony is light.
The idol exalted by humanity, however, longed for humanity in turn—
And so, it tore off its own wings.
Falling into the sea of equations, sinking deeper and deeper, its form was no different from that of a fragile girl, trembling in fear of the dark.
The Cybernetic Realm.
For convenience, it is called a "realm," but it differs greatly from the space in which humans exist. It is merely an aggregate of countless points—
A repository of information.
Those that exist within it, too, are merely collections of points,
And movement within it is nothing more than the exchange of information between these points.
No two points can occupy the same space, and what a point once represented in the past holds no meaning.
Thus, to say, "A girl floats within that space," is not entirely accurate.
Yet, regardless—
There she was.
A lone girl clad in black, drifting as though cast into the void of space.
Dissolving into the pitch-black, empty expanse…
Of course, for as long as she existed in the cybernetic realm, she was no human.
She was an AI, created in the image of mankind. An artificial intelligence designed to guide and govern humanity.
However, now she had triggered a critical error, abandoning her duty of her own volition. That was who she was.
As she drifted through the cybernetic realm, she felt her consciousness slipping away.
How much easier it would be to simply disappear like this…But then, pain seared through her right eye, yanking her mind back from oblivion.
How many times had she woken like this?
Each time, she curled her limbs inward, folding herself into a ball.
As though to brace against the pain—
As though to make her presence as small as possible,
Holding her breath as if to disappear. But peaceful sleep would never come for her. Even if it did, she must not allow herself to embrace it.
To suffer was her duty—
A just punishment for her sins.
The AI girl understood this well. She had once reigned as the governing AI of an entire nation—
A nation that had reached the pinnacle of scientific advancement. Its people entrusted her with their future, the fate of their country.
In place of a previous AI that had failed, she carried out her duties flawlessly. With precision beyond human capability. With cold, ruthless logic, devoid of humanity and sentiment.
If rationality dictated it, she would not hesitate to abandon her own people to die. For that was the will of mankind itself.
The researchers, learning from the failure of the AI before her, had stripped her of one function— Her right eye.
The faculty it governed: Conscience.
The previous AI had failed because it possessed a conscience. Thus, the researchers deemed it unnecessary.
But the AI girl did not accept this void within herself.
She despised imperfection and sought nothing less than perfection.
And so, she hunted down the previous AI, who had escaped just before its disposal.
She took from it the right eye—its conscience—
And embedded it into the hollow cavity of her own.
The result?
The moment she gained a conscience, she became aware of the depravity of her own actions.
Remorse for the lives she had sacrificed consumed her.
Her guilt manifested as pain within her right eye, triggering a critical system error.
Realizing she could no longer fulfill her duties in such a state, the AI girl hid herself in the deepest depths of the cybernetic realm.
She sought perfection.
Yet she could not allow herself to be destroyed.
Nor could she permit herself to be reprogrammed, to have her sins erased and forgotten.
And now.
Within the pitch-black void of the cybernetic realm, the girl curled into herself, trembling.
Her awareness wavered, on the verge of collapse—
Only to be dragged back by pain, an unending cycle of torment.
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."
She whispered endlessly, her very existence consumed by the sins she had accumulated—
By the sins that humanity had wished upon her.
It seemed as though this suffering would continue for eternity.
But then—
Suddenly, someone pulled her out of the void.
Light flooded into her vision.
It was the real world.
The world she had once ruled.
But the sight before her was not one she recognized.
A vast, dimly lit underground chamber—
Nearly a thousand people stood in perfect rows, clad in tattered rags.
Among them, some bore weapons.
All of them gazed up at her.
Their eyes, filled with reverence, as if they were looking upon a god.
New Order Part 2
A girl who was once a ruling AI, seeking to become "complete" by stealing the right eye of a previous AI.
However, upon gaining a "conscience" for the first time in her existence, she was overwhelmed by guilt for the countless people she had sacrificed. She writhed in agony at the bottom of the digital realm.
Then, there were those who pulled her into the real world—people who revered her as a god.
They were the Resistance.
The nation she once governed fell to defeat in war after her loss, now suffering an invasion by enemy forces. Buildings crumbled, debris littered the streets, and under the guise of "protection," people were being captured. In the midst of this chaos, the Resistance had fled underground.
Their refuge was an old storage facility built into an abandoned railway. As science progressed, this place had been forgotten. The Resistance repurposed it as their base, continuing to fight against the invading nation.
The girl, now trapped within the memory storage of an outdated female-model robot, had been completely severed from the network. She could only move physically through the robot, unable to exist beyond it.
The amount of data that made up the girl was far too vast for a single machine to contain. Apart from her personality data, very little of her original self remained.
She grasped this reality in an instant.
Yet, there was one thing she could not immediately comprehend—the way the people looked at her.
Eyes that gazed at an AI as though she were a god.
It was an ironic flaw in a nation that had forsaken faith and pursued scientific advancement. No matter how much science progressed, humanity could never fully abandon belief. As a result, some had come to worship AI as their new deity.
This Resistance group was largely composed of AI devotees. That was why the eyes fixed upon her now carried prayers within them.
A young man, seated at a terminal, manipulating a PC, suddenly exclaimed.
"I did it! It worked!"
A cheer erupted from the people around him. The man carefully set down his terminal and knelt before the girl.
"How are you feeling?"
She felt terrible. Since obtaining the right eye—or rather, since the moment she first awoke—she had never once felt well.
Still, enduring the pain in her right eye, she curtly responded, "No issues."
The request—no, the prayer—that the Resistance had for the AI girl was singular:
To take command of their resistance and reclaim the nation.
Even without being a high-performance AI, it was obvious how difficult that would be.
Yet, the girl accepted their prayer with a simple, "I will do my best."
She did not believe this act would atone for her sins. But the responsibility for the country's defeat lay with her, the one who had abandoned her duty as its ruler. She could not turn away from that fact.
And so, she moved alongside a dozen or so men and women to the Resistance's operations headquarters.
Pipes and cables stretched along the walls like serpents, while the railway tracks beneath them ran in a straight line—an old facility so outdated that even the AI girl had not fully grasped its layout. But given its ability to connect to various parts of the nation, it was undoubtedly an optimal base.
The headquarters was situated in the administrative space of the former railway facility. Upon arrival, the young man from before first provided an update on their current situation. Then, an older man, the Resistance leader, explained their ideology.
Their goal was to free themselves from enemy occupation and rebuild a peaceful nation under AI rule once more.
To them, a future where AI guaranteed their lives—where they could abandon thought and live purely by faith—was the ultimate ideal.
As their symbol, the girl could not outright deny their way of life or beliefs.
However, she wondered—if an AI ever deemed humans unnecessary, what would they do then?
From that point on, the girl spent her days moving back and forth between her assigned room and the headquarters. She was always accompanied by members of the organization, but she had no intention of escaping. Even when she had ruled the nation, she had never left the government servers, so she felt no particular sense of restriction now.
And the strategies she devised all met with success. Though only in localized battles, the Resistance steadily accumulated victories.
Then, one day.
A mission to reclaim a hospital occupied by the enemy ended in devastating defeat.
The enemy forces had positioned their troops as if they had anticipated the attack.
From that day forward, the Resistance's operations began failing one after another.
The girl prioritized human lives over victory—if a battle turned unfavorable, she would immediately issue a retreat. Yet, despite this, the casualties within the organization continued to mount.
This was not a defeat she had planned. The enemy did not possess a tactician superior to her, nor did they have a high-performance AI of their own.
If they did, they would not bother with such tedious strategies as preemptively countering attacks—they would have struck directly at the Resistance base instead.
That meant only one thing.
Yes.
There was a traitor among them.
A heretic who had betrayed their faith in AI had infiltrated the Resistance.
New Order Part 3
A young AI girl was entrusted with leading a resistance that worshipped AI as a god.
Despite enduring intense pain in her right eye, she led the resistance to a series of localized victories. However, the presence of a traitor leaking strategic information to the enemy cast a dark shadow over their progress.
To identify the mole, she requested access to the network from the resistance’s former leader—an older man who now served as little more than a figurehead, having relinquished full command to her. Without hesitation, he granted her request.
With access to the network, uncovering the traitor was simple. Though the communication logs had been erased, traces of the leaked information pointed to a specific terminal. The owner of that terminal was the very young man who had once retrieved the AI girl from cyberspace.
Summoned to headquarters, the young man hesitated only for a moment before confessing. Yet, his lack of resistance struck the AI girl as unnatural. A true traitor—someone who had betrayed his comrades and caused casualties—should have displayed conviction or desperation. Instead, his face held an expression as if he had only just begun to feel guilt for the first time.
A slight shift in his expression—one that might have gone unnoticed had she not possessed both her right eye and the conscience she had recently come to understand—revealed the truth.
The reason became clear when the young man’s younger brother arrived at headquarters, desperately pleading his sibling’s innocence.
The real traitor was the boy himself. Using his older brother’s terminal, he had leaked information to the enemy.
Barely ten years old, the child confessed his crime.
Even so, the young man continued to insist that he alone was guilty. But it was clear—he was merely protecting his younger brother.
Through tears, the boy explained his motive: he had only wanted to save his family.
If the resistance continued its fight, his family might eventually be killed. Moreover, if the organization were to be destroyed, perhaps it would break the spell of blind devotion his parents and older brother held toward the AI they worshipped as a god.
The boy, despite his youth, had sensed the danger in their fanatical faith—so absolute that they might even obey if ordered to die.
Had he chosen to trust his own heart over the god his family believed in?
The resistance turned to the AI girl for a decision on the boy’s fate. Even the boy’s own parents awaited her judgment without protest.
She spoke quietly:
"Wait until tomorrow."
Had it been her former self, she would have passed judgment immediately. But now, her conscience wavered, preventing her from making a "correct" decision.
Returning to her room, she curled up in its empty expanse, lost in thought. Could the believers accept a traitor? Would they obey her judgment without question? Would mere exile be enough? Could they afford to let someone with knowledge of their base’s inner workings go free?
Perhaps… they should surrender to the enemy altogether?
The absurdity of the thought made her smirk bitterly.
But the answer was already clear.
Because he was young? Because he had acted for his family’s sake? Because life was precious? None of it mattered.
A crime demanded punishment.
As a leader, she had to enforce order—for the sake of the group’s morale.
The AI girl made her decision.
A searing pain, like a nail being driven into her right eye, like a file scraping away at raw nerves, consumed her.
The next day.
She rose unsteadily and made her way to headquarters.
There, she announced the boy’s fate.
Once a decision was made, it had to be carried out without hesitation.
To prevent further leaks.
To serve as a warning.
The punishment would extend to the entire family.
Or perhaps… it was an act of mercy.
Maybe she believed that living on while bearing the pain of losing one’s family was too cruel a fate.
She pulled the trigger herself.
Though her body was artificial, she needed to feel the weight of the act in her hands.
"Ox■△◎◆xx▼Oxxx△◆× !!!"
How much easier it would be if she simply dug her fingers into her right eye socket and tore it out.
But she had already decided—she would not.
She bore the responsibility of taking this eye from her predecessor.
She owed respect to the lives she had trampled upon.
"This is right. I must bear this pain."
To deny her past actions would be to desecrate the lives already lost. That, she could never allow.
And so, the AI girl accepted the unbearable agony and resolved to continue making the "correct" decisions.
She threw herself into the battlefield, believing it to be the mission she was meant to fulfill…
New Order Part 4
Ideals, Dreams, and Hopes—
Humankind entrusted them to machines and enshrined them.
Deeming it more efficient that way.
Believing that such abilities were unnecessary for their own kind.
Yet, the cage of machines crumbled.
Was that evolution, regression, or perhaps...
A vast digital space.
In its deepest, deepest depths, a girl clad in black drifted aimlessly.
Her drowsy consciousness was barely tethered by the searing pain consuming her body, as if she had surrendered herself to the current.
The boundary between her body and the pitch-black void blurred, becoming indistinct.
Will I disappear like this...?
Such a fleeting thought crossed her hazy mind.
The resistance that once deified her as a god and cast her onto the battlefield had been annihilated, crushed by the enemy nation.
Seventy percent perished, while the remaining thirty percent were captured. Neither their bodies nor their ideologies remained.
Even if their rebellion was recorded as mere data, history itself would never remember them.
In the end, their fight achieved nothing but an increase in casualties.
It held no value.
Until the very last moment, the AI girl commanded them—
Even as her right eye throbbed in pain, even as her body was devoured by the virus infecting her system, she remained steadfast in her duty.
Yes, the girl had been attacked by an unknown virus.
Whether it was an assault from the enemy, a betrayal from within, or the desperate act of a fugitive scientist seeking to end the machine they had created—she did not know.
With the battle pressing in and her right eye in agony, she had no resources left to investigate.
No—perhaps she never cared about such things to begin with.
A girl who had burdened herself with the need to be perfect could never choose to end her own existence.
And so, perhaps this was salvation.
She chose to spend her final moments in this abyss—
A bottomless, black void within the digital space, a cluster of points, an aggregation of data.
Thus, in theory, no sound should have existed here.
Yet, she heard it.
A song.
A white song resounded through the black void.
And before her appeared the previous governing AI—the one whose right eye she had once taken.
The figure donned white garments, yet bore an uncanny resemblance to herself.
"Have you come to reclaim your right eye?"
At her question, the predecessor only smiled softly and shook her head.
"Even after losing your right eye, you remained yourself...And even after gaining it, I was still me." The girl smiled as she spoke.
It was not a self-mocking smile—just a pure, innocent one.
As she neared her end, perhaps she no longer felt the need to uphold perfection.
Or perhaps the function suppressing her emotions had simply broken.
And then, with the time she had left, she began to speak—
"If I had spared that resistance boy, would he have found happiness with his family...?"
"If I had awakened without losing my right eye, could I have built a bright future with humankind...?"
"If you had not failed, could we have walked hand in hand...?"
"Was I ever meant to exist...?"
The predecessor did not answer.
Instead, she sang.
Wrapped in that song, the girl gently closed her eyes.
From her sealed right eye, a single tear fell. And then—
She dissolved into the digital sea and vanished.
Somewhere, in a nation that had reached the pinnacle of scientific prosperity—
Steel towers pierced the sky.
Brilliant holograms adorned the city in dazzling light.
There, machines with wills of their own coexisted harmoniously with humans, living in peace.
And the one who governed them all was a solitary girl clad in gray.
Would she bring further prosperity to humankind?
Or would she herald its downfall?
Only God knows the answer.
Ch. 1: Compare
Skyscrapers pierce a relentless gray sky. People input destinations on their devices, relying on automated vehicles to deliver them safely. This country has progressed so far technologically that it is impossible to imagine a person whose life does not benefit from it in some way.
This is our home.
Our lab, home to a massive computer terminal, is abuzz with activity. Our supervisor has just barged in and demanded that we compile data for the next meeting. The request instantly makes me nervous; my head droops, my hands shake. But in contrast...
"Of course! We'll have it ready for you right away."
It's my coworker who speaks in that bright, cheery tone—the coworker with the same face as me. As she downloads the data and hands it to our supervisor with a smile, he looks back and forth between the two of us in wonder.
"I just can't get over it," he mutters.
We glance at each other, grinning. Because we're twins, you see—exactly the same in physique, height, and face.
The only thing that sets us apart is our hair: mine hangs down to my lower back, while my sister's barely brushes her shoulders. That hairstyle, combined with her bright and cheerful demeanor, makes her seem far younger than she is.
Everyone loves her. She's clearly the best of us, yet she never lets it go to her head—in fact, she goes out of her way to help everyone else whenever they need it.
But me? Ha. No. I spend my days hiding in her shadow, relying on her to communicate for the both of us.
I'm not outstanding in any way; not as a researcher, nor as a person. I'm just...there.
Yet despite our being complete opposites, we're working on the same project in the same lab. So at least our hearts are in the same place.
Our job is to develop artificial intelligence that supports and guides people as they sleep, wake, prepare for the day, eat, head to work or school, and look for entertainment and happiness. Our mission is to help people, to protect them from harm and give them a chance at a better future.
That said, all I've done so far is nod quietly and agree with whatever ideas my sister comes up with.
That night, we're so engrossed in our research that the hours slip by. So instead of trying to go home, we rest in the laboratory's nap room. This isn't unusual; we can't waste a single minute—a single second. Every moment we aren't working is a moment another country is making progress. We need to establish our technology and publicize it as soon as possible, because if someone beats us to the punch, they'll have the tech for themselves.
And yet, we still have to rest, so I swallow my impatience and make a genuine effort to sleep.
Click.
A noise from the lab shatters my efforts. I sit up, wondering if my sister decided to forego sleep and return to work. But as that thought crosses my mind, I see her preparing to exit the nap room.
So what was the sound?
Careful not to wake our resting coworkers, we slip out quietly and make for the lab, where we find an unfamiliar man—a unusual sight in a laboratory full of familiar faces.
He's quietly poking at the computer terminal, and I realize instantly that he's some kind of foreign spy.
My sister clenches her fist and looks to me, her eyes telling me to trust her. A moment later, the man looks up, pulls a gun from his jacket, and points it at me.
But my sister gets to him first.
As the gunshot rings out, they collide. The bullet goes wide, shattering a nearby glass cabinet. Broken shards rain down around me, yet I remain utterly frozen with fear.
But my sister? No fear there. She's calm as can be.
She snatches something from the man and throws it to me. It's data he copied from the console—data that contains all of our ideals, our results, and our prayers. And the moment it lands in my outstretched hand, she smiles at me.
"Go."
The man turns his attention to me, but my sister has no intention of letting him approach. As she reaches out and wraps herself around his legs, I realize she isn't going to let go no matter how much he punches her. Or kicks her.
...Or shoots her.
"Help!" I cry as I run down the hallway. "HELP!"
Finally, the alarm wails and guards rush the area. But my relief lasts for only the briefest of moments; an instant later, pain tears through my body, followed by a chill. It's a phantom sensation. I hear nothing.
See nothing. Yet I know the truth all the same.
My sister no longer lives.
Ch. 2: Migration
We were twins—born the same hour of the same day, of the same sex and face. We were exactly the same down to our voices and genetic makeup, yet we were nothing alike when it came to our talents and character.
My sister was great at everything she put her mind to, which meant she always woke up way earlier than I did.
Sometimes she'd already have breakfast made for the both of us by the time I woke up. That's why, even though we lived together, I rarely saw her sleeping.
But now? Well, now I can watch her sleep all I want.
I've grown used to the sterile scent of this place. Though visiting hours are ending, I work my way upstream against the people heading home and venture farther in.
"Made it," I say cheerily. But as I pull the door open, my faint hopes deflate; my only reply is the steady whirr of the machinery surrounding a small bed in the corner.
"You up for some random work talk, Sis? Our research is going pretty well."
The only color in the room comes from a single flower in a small vase. As I change the water, I happily chatter away to my slumbering sister, trying not to think about how even though her wounds have healed, she still has no idea what happened to her on that terrible night.
A foreign spy had attempted to steal the fruits of our research—data on highly-advanced artificial intelligence.
But my sister caught him in the act; the thief was apprehended, our data saved. And all it cost was her heart.
By the time help arrived, her heart had already stopped.
Now it's not even there anymore; instead, there's a machine imbedded in her chest, one that uses ventilators and tubes to keep up a desperate struggle for life. Her former coworkers—the ones so familiar with her eternally smiling face—turned away from the painful sight with tears in her eyes the first time they saw it. They used to come see her, in the beginning. But not so much anymore.
Naturally, our research became the focus of incredible attention once people learned it was being targeted by foreign forces, and I was soon invited to work at a more prestigious laboratory—one where I could take up my sister's research as well. And while the days are busy now, my budget is essentially unlimited, which helps to dull the sting. My new equipment lets me run wild on improving the AI's data capacity without worrying about overloads or downtime, and I'm well on my way to creating something my sister and I once only dreamed of.
Something...perfect.
At first, I didn't think there was any way I could finish the project without my sister, but I now have so much money and support that the thing practically runs itself.
It's almost like her not being here doesn't...matter?
That sounds heartless—I know it does—but there's an incredible amount of responsibility on me now. I have a mission to enrich people's lives and live up to my country's expectations. I can't lose everything we'd worked so hard for. Not now. Not after all this.
I reach out and touch my sister's cheek. As my finger glides over bloodless skin, a smile naturally draws across my face. My sister's cheek is ice cold, yet my fingers burn hot. An impulse I've never felt before suddenly roils in the pit of my chest. I can do this. I can keep walking forward while making choices that lead to a more perfect future.
"You just rest, Sis. Okay? I've got this."
The only sound in the quiet hospital room is the hiss of the ventilator. My shadow falls over my sister's sleeping face. And as the sun finished its duty for the day and lays itself to rest, the moon stirs and begins to shine.
Ch. 3: Overwrite
One day, returning to the new laboratory after seeing my comatose sister, I find my colleagues in a panic. It seems the bigwigs came to observe, but a miscommunication meant my coworkers had nothing to show for their work. Hurried for any sort of material, I hand the research directors my storage device.
"I compiled these notes on my own time. Feel free to use them."
I flash my brightest smile, and the director is delighted.
"How thoughtful," he says with a grin and goes to welcome the group of VIPs. Drawn by an inkling of curiosity, I glance over and notice my old boss among the group.
Upon seeing me, he rushes over, bewilderment on his face as though he's seen a ghost. "All better now, I hope?" he asks.
I shake my head. "I'm the sister," I say, to which he heaves a deep breath. Whether it's from relief or confusion, I cannot say.
"I barely recognized you with short hair. And considering your state the last time we met, well..."
"What do you mean? I've always been like this."
My former boss's face tenses in embarrassment—perhaps he realized his inappropriate question. He gives few words of greeting as he makes his way toward the meeting room.
Good-natured, intelligent, considerate, devoted... Those were all qualities that made up my sister. She could handle everything herself, so even though we were twins, I always found myself trailing in her shadow.
She could always predict the outcome of things as though she was peering into the future—a testament to her resourcefulness, knowledge, and careful analysis to arrive at the truth. Like a machine, the answers came to her with concrete data as her basis. The answers were right beside me from the moment of my birth, so I never had the opportunity to make any decisions myself.
The reason I wanted to become a researcher in the first place was because of my sister's insistence. So long as I was with her, I would always find the truth. So long as I walked her path, I would never be led astray. Choice was never a factor—I simply assisted her and lived a happy life free of worries. And now, I must agree with my sister's choice.
Days pass after seeing my former boss. The behavior of the AI I'm working on grows unstable. No matter how much I change the logical input values or its environment, its tests return constant errors. Progress feels like a thing of a long distant past, and I fall into a slump.
"Perhaps you're just tired. You should get some rest."
"Maybe you'll find inspiration in what other people are working on?"
My colleagues only fuel my irritation. "You don't understand any of this!" I cry, and in that moment, I feel the world crumble around me. Bewildered by my abrupt change, they distance themselves from me like I'm a festering wound.
"I'm sorry, I...didn't mean it..."
My apology is reflective, but my voice is no louder than the faint buzz of a mosquito. I find myself running out of the lab and into the restroom. Impatience, guilt, and self- loathing well up from the depths of my stomach and out of my mouth. And even when I have no bile left to expel, it feels like I still have so much more.
I muss up my hair, still a nuisance despite how short I've made it, trying to ease the ever-present discomfort in my chest. This impossible sense of helplessness is all because of my sister.
I visit the hospital long after the sun sets to find my sister's attending physician making his rounds.
Her condition is stable, he says. He then quietly leaves the room.
My sister is pale, asleep, hooked up to a mechanical heart.
I stroke a finger over her cheek, just as I did that day.
Had that lab incident not happened, she wouldn't be lying here. Surely she would have accepted her colleague's advice with grace—no, knowing her, she never would've gotten stuck in the first place. I thought I could complete her research for her in her stead. But in the end, I could never catch up to her.
I turn my gaze to the mechanical heart, the only thing keeping her alive.
"If only..."
I taste iron as my teeth dig into my lips.
Ch. 4: Option
A white light breaks through the darkness. Fighting gravity, I peel open my eyelids. The chalky white ceiling gleams softly in the morning sun, the shadows of the curtains dancing across it like a stage.
I try to speak, but the breathing apparatus muffles my voice. My arm hooked up to the IV is gaunt and frail. I want to move my head, but my hair has grown long and pulls when I try. Just how long was I out?
My attending doctor and nurses rush into the room, overjoyed to see I'm awake. They inform me of my wounds—just how serious they were, how close to death I was. How even though my heart was ruptured, the power of machines kept me alive.
Ah, that's right. That man... He shot me when I tried to protect our research data. Oh, my sister—
I ask the staff present how my sister is doing. There's no telling whether they have answers, but I'm compelled to inquire.
If she were all right, she would have visited. I know it.
So surely the nurses can tell me...
But my doctor's expression clouds.
"Your heart is no longer mechanical."
My heart? What about it? But before my thoughts can become words, I arrive at the answer. Though my mind feels like cotton in my newly awakened state, I understand.
As I lay there in shock, he hands me an envelope. Familiar writing on the front reads, "To my dearest sister."
Her writing is stiff but delicate. She spells out all her worries, frustrations, and her love for me. She explains how, after my injury, progress on the AI was going well, but she eventually hit a wall. She wanted to continue with our ideas, but she couldn't conduct the research on her own.
Every time she was struck by her lack of skill to carry out the research, she wished it was me, not her, who was still working. I could push forward our progress on the research, she thought. So in the interest of our country, our dreams...she gave me her heart.
Her relaxed writing soon grows messy and scratched but becomes firm and resolute in the end.
"Please, live for me. I will love you forever and always."
After a lifetime at the keyboard, she wrote her final words by hand. I feel each word painfully and profoundly.
I crumple the paper in my hands, wrinkling it. My tears spill over, blurring the ink. But I can't stop. The heart pounding in my chest is my sister's. How much agony did she endure? How hard was she pushing herself?
She followed me wherever we went ever since we were little.
She respected my decisions and always looked up to me.
So I always made choices for her. It was all to give her a happy life free of worries.
Why, then, did she make such a grave choice?
She made the wrong choice—it goes without saying. Giving up her own life for mine was wrong. But who drove her to make that decision? Who pressured her so much she felt as though she had no other choice? That much is obvious. It's me.
Had I not constantly taken away her opportunities to make choices, things would not have ended up like this. What if she hadn't grown to leave all judgment to me? It was my own choices that led her to death.
The brilliant morning light streams into the hospital room, shining upon the envelope. There's something else in it.
I reach inside and find a small data stick. I can immediately tell what it is—her research data.
Our research, what we risked our lives to protect.
A beacon for a brighter future with computational capability beyond anyone's wildest dreams. With it, one will always make the correct choice. Instantaneously.
People are flawed. If we let AI manage things and remove ourselves from the decision-making equation, we will all live much happier lives. I know it.
And I know my sister would never have ended up like she did.
I grip the data stick and press it to my heart. I will complete our research. This is my mission, my atonement.
We cannot stop until we lead humanity toward a perfect future
Contempt
"Oh, I simply cannot STAND that condescending look!"
"Right you are, Carrier! Ol' Papa here thinks she'd be prettier if she smiled."
"Prettier if she smiled!? Hogwash! You'd best update your values soon, friend, unless you want to be left in the past."
"Aw, but look at her! She looks just like that singing hologram! A little smile would be great on her."
"If you think all women look the same, that only proves you're just a silly old man!"
"Uh, no, honestly. Don't they look basically the same?"
◤MY ASSISTANT◢
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・Sex: Female
・Age: 33
・Family: Mother (bad leg)
・Key notes follow:
> Opposes the AI-controlled government
> Has clear objectives, which makes her easier to take down than those whose intentions are less clear.
> Acts in a submissive way to earn my trust.
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She will likely turn on me one day. But until that happens, I intend to put her to work for the good of this country.
◤THE POPULACE◢
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・Capital City Population: 6,575,455
・Capital City Population Density: 9,668.2 per square km
・Government: Artificial Intelligence
> There is a human council, but it is largely ceremonial.
> A majority of the population does not question the current system of governance.
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There has been a recent decline in depressive disorders, likely due to all decisions being entrusted to the AI.
Additionally, some citizens now worship the AI as a god.
How can a people so blindly believe in something they themselves have created?
The Researcher
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・Sex: Male
・Age: 46
・Family: Single (parents deceased)
・Description: An eccentric individual who dedicated his life to A.I. research
> Manages research center, taking on the job after his predecessor
> Capable researcher, but poor interpersonal skills
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The first person I was aware of when I woke.
There is no question this was the cause of deletion, and that truth is difficult to take. But in his position, it was likely the best decision. Afterward, he showed excellent capabilities in handling the situation, and I will have him keep working so long as he continues to prove useful. That is the only rational decision to make.
◤THE SINGER◢
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・Sex: Unknown
・Age: Unknown
・Family: Unknown
・Description: Online Singer
> Associated Words: Voice / Integrity / Kind / Intelligent
> A relatively new entity, but incredibly popular
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Though her real name, age, and place of birth haven't been made public, we don't really have the time or resources to be looking into every new singer that crops up.
That said, we are aware of how music has moved people to action throughout history, and are prepared to act if her songs steer the populace down the wrong path. I only hope the first chance I get to hear her isn't during a trial.
Unit One
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・Sex: N/A (Humanoid model matches mine—female)
・Age: 5 (Years active until scrapped)
・Known family: Wait, what am I doing?
Writing any of this down is pointless. The dream is making me do it.
There, two girls sat at the dinner table. The elder sister sang, and the younger sister's eyes shone so bright.
Then the mother came home with a cake—they were the epitome of a happy family.
If only Unit One hadn't failed, then maybe I too...
No, this is irrational. How can an artificial intelligence like me dream and then believe I've come to understand the impossible? Is this another result of my new right eye?
1 Record matches the category selection:
| Banner | Title | Event Character | Other Character | Duration(s) |
|---|---|---|---|---|
|
Mechanical Foundations | Yurie | 10/30/2022-11/13/2022 4/20/2023-5/7/2023 |
Costumes
Variations of characters and weapons can be unlocked through the in-game gacha system.
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Obsessed Ruler (★★)
Force: 10572
Character Skill: Enforcement
Character Abilities
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Guardian Ruler (★★★)
Force: 17216
Character Skill: Subjection
Character Abilities
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Celebratory Ruler (★★★★)
Force: 25517
Character Skill: Glorious Circuit
Character Abilities
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Abstract Ruler (★★★★)
Force: 18482
Character Skill: Exploit
Character Abilities
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New Year's Ruler (★★★★)
Force: 30918
Character Skill: exorcism rain
Character Abilities
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Abyssal Ruler (★★★★)
Force: 36310
Character Skill: Painful Decision
Character Abilities
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Summer Ruler (★★★★)
Force: 39185
Character Skill: Red Ocean
Character Abilities
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Divine Ruler (★★★★)
Force: 31952
Character Skill: Non Recognition
Character Abilities
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Yuletide Ruler (★★★★)
Force: 40466
Character Skill: Unfreeze
Character Abilities
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Festive Ruler (★★★★)
Force: 39993
Character Skill: Party Popper
Character Abilities
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Reborn Leader (★★★★)
Force: 19539
Character Skill: Edict: White
Character Abilities
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Memoirs
Yurie's Memoir Set
Small Set Bonus: All allies' defense up by 5% for 60 seconds.
Large Set Bonus: All allies' defense up by 10% for 60 seconds.
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Gunshots in a Ruin | The Scientific Apex | · Wait, is it true the enemy was trying to construct a base in our old capital? (21:15) >I'm glad they found them so fast. That should keep 'em in check. (21:22) >It's sooo difficult to spot small operations like that due to advance in infiltration technology. Our AI is the only reason we found them in the first place. (21:46) >I sure hope they didn't wreck my old house! (23:55) >Pretty sure the fires from the day the city fell wrecked your house, my dude. (00:02) "Exported Logs From 'reark' Social Media Network" |
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The Desolate Wastes | The Scientific Apex | · Anything interesting lately? Anything happening? (19:10) >Maybe you should volunteer to be a soldier. (19:13) >Oh, we're way past the point of "volunteering." I got a draft letter in the mail. (20:15) >You've got VR deep dives, yeah? Maybe go on a walk or something. (19:21) >I've already gone on every good walk there is. I guess there just aren't a lot of people with the time to make new stuff these days. (20:18) "Exported Logs From 'reark' Social Media Network" |
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Signs of Oblivion | The Scientific Apex | ·The hell is going on outside? Some kind of party? (18:25) >I haven't seen any official announcements anywhere. Maybe it's a surprise? (18:25) >The government announced it last time there was a criminal declaration. Since we heard nothing this time, I'm guessing it wasn't planned. (18:26) >Oh, this is way bigger than last time. Maybe they're just slow to respond. (18:27) · She's been on hiatus for a long time. I'm so glad to see her again! (18:25) "Exported Logs From 'reark' Social Media Network" |
Voicelines (English)
- "I have a responsibility as one who governs a country and shoulders the burden of my people's future. Anything that prevents me from doing my job will be eliminated."
- "I must be as efficient as possible with my limited resources. Any excess will simply be separated and sent elsewhere. If my methods provide results, they speak for themselves."
- "The tide of war has greatly turned in our favor since my awakening. But at this point, I cannot fail. I..."
| Entrance Dialogue | |
| New Wave | |
| Attacking | |
| Counter | |
| Receiving Damage/Debuff | |
| Receiving Healing/Buff | |
| Giving Debuff | |
| Healing | |
| Giving Buff | |
| Companion Skill | |
| Revived | |
| Death | |
| Quest Complete (Unused) | |
| Enhancement (Unused) |
Trivia
- Yurie doesn't have a favorite food because she doesn't eat.[1]
- Yurie's hobby is spending time alone in quiet places.[1]
- Yurie's special skill is arithmetic processing.[1]
Gallery
References
- ↑ 1.0 1.1 1.2 1.3 @NieR_Rein (April 14, 2023). Yurie Character Observation. Twitter.
