Caffeine could not be overcome.

Hah!?

Where is this?

Who am I?

Hmm?

No, really... where is this place?

My memory just cut out abruptly—what’s going on?

Honestly, it's extremely unsettling.

Feeling nauseous, yet unable to vomit.

Something unpleasant swirling back and forth between stomach and mouth.

Her body felt unnaturally heavy. Her head pounded.

This is the first time my body has felt so unwell since becoming a god.

This is bad—first, check for immediate danger to Life.

Condition is worse than it could possibly be, but no immediate threat to life.

Relief washed over her, yet she could not fully relax—without understanding the cause of this state, certainty remained out of reach.

Feed back the fragmented memories to investigate what occurred during the period when the main body lacked memory.

Something seems amiss around the time he drank the coffee.

Why is this happening?

It might have been something suspicious in the drink D consumed, but...

Judging from the diagnostic memory retrieved immediately after the main body fell, there was no indication of any foreign substance in the body.

Could the cause of the physical deterioration be caffeine?

Why is this happening?

Caffeine, right? That caffeine?

It's normally present in coffee.

And I'm supposed to be this unwell from it?

Wait—what? Seriously?

Now that I've identified the cause, it only makes things more confusing.

For now, the only confirmed fact is that my physiology cannot tolerate caffeine.

The fact that the fragment attempted to break it down and instead caused further deterioration suggests the issue runs deep.

A substance so resistant to even divine power that it cannot be decomposed—caffeine.

How terrifying.

I can't comprehend the minds of humans who drink this stuff without hesitation.

Thought I was used to toxins, but there was an unexpected trap after all.

Hah.

For now, I'll just lounge here until my condition stabilizes.

My main body was thrown into another dimension after falling, but my fragment's judgment speed was excellent.

If left defenseless like that, who knows what could have happened.

Well, whether attacked or otherwise, I wouldn't die from it.

Killing my main body won't kill me.

No, arrogance isn't wise.

After all, I'm barely being threatened by something as trivial as caffeine.

Trivial caffeine.

Yet, caffeine.

In truth, I don't think I'm fragile enough to be killed by an entity within the system—but that doesn't mean I can't be killed.

It's like an ant fighting an elephant.

Fought normally, it wouldn't even be a fight.

But what if an ant entered the ear of an elephant?

Perhaps the elephant may die.

Even I can say that.

Under normal circumstances, there is no way I, a mere human, could defeat him.

Miracles tend to occur, despite there being none.

I have won against those above me time and again.

Of course, even if I am of higher rank, I hold the pride of having risen through my own strength—not through miracles.

She had always fled from opponents she believed she could never defeat.

Sophia, as well as Mother, as well.

The superior opponent I overcame was, above all, one within reach.

Did not even attempt to challenge an opponent who could only be defeated by miracles.

As it has been this time as well.

One could say I fled from a D with no chance of victory.

Accepting the proposal to become a servant of D, rather than rejecting it.

My fundamental principle has always been to value life above all.

Just that a certain stubbornness has been added there.

Because of that stubbornness, there are places where I cannot compromise—rigid, inflexible points. But that is unavoidable.

If I bend there, I would cease to be myself.

My existence is rather ambiguous.

Originally, I was merely a spider.

D shaped me, on a whim, as a substitute for themselves.

And because death was assumed from the start, my memories and such were constructed rather carelessly.

I never questioned it until I became aware of it. My memories as Wakaba-hime are full of gaps.

I remember having parents, but I cannot recall their faces at all.

Memories so full of holes, yet I felt no doubt.

D had tampered with them to prevent doubt from arising.

Now, more than ever, I feel the truth: I am only myself.

My memories are counterfeit. They cannot be relied upon.

The status and skills cultivated in this world were merely powers within a system created by D.

I believed that if I could escape that system, I would be free.

I believed I would be liberated from this burdensome world, no longer facing life-threatening dangers, living a carefree existence.

But upon opening the lid, I found only the same hierarchy—those above still exist—and the world remains essentially unchanged.

I must serve as a lackey, unable to defy D, the absolute being, forced to watch this world’s fate unfold.

And on top of that, the shocking truth that undermines my very existence.

I cannot endure this.

The person I believed myself to be was, in truth, an utter stranger with no connection to my true self.

And my true memories? They are nearly nonexistent.

My existence is like a being that first cried out upon breaking the shell of the Elro Great Labyrinth.

Even that is merely on D's palm.

I was born as a disposable pawn, convenient for D's purposes.

Yet I survived, defying those expectations.

D found amusement in it—thus, I am now kept alive.

No will of my own in that.

All is according to D's convenience.

Everything, every circumstance, involves D.

Once marked as a subordinate, our bond is now inescapable.

In a sense, D might be akin to a parent.

But to bring someone into existence with death as the premise—this is beyond neglect.

At present, I am akin to a rebellious child.

I act as far from D's intentions as possible, without provoking D's displeasure.

Do not say I am small.

What I do is a matter of monumental consequence—shaping the world itself.

Ah.

No good.

Something feels wrong. My thoughts are drifting toward the negative.

Not just feeling it — it's absolutely descending.

Would never think such things under normal circumstances.

She would naturally think something along the lines of, "Since I'm me, I'll just do as I please."

But I can't help but think about it, somehow.

Why am I even alive?

Even I can admit that was rather naive.

If I am a being created with death as the premise—everything about me a lie—what meaning is there in my existence?

I don't understand—

To live, one lives because one wishes to live.

Yet, despite thinking it acceptable, that notion refuses to leave the mind.

Has becoming humanoid brought her heart closer to that of a human?

Ah, stop it, stop it!

Worrying endlessly must be a sign of poor health.

When my health returns, I will be myself again.

So I'll sulk until then.

Let it be so.