…Did I say something like that?
The Jelly Girl, feeling her jelly bubbling with embarrassment, looked up at the Sphere who had placed her on his thigh (?).
To begin with, the Jelly Girl’s eyes were more for decoration, so no one noticed that she was looking at the Sphere with confusion.
The Sphere that the Jelly Girl was looking at wore an unperturbed expression.
It wasn’t an expression asking what the problem was.
Instead, it seemed like he thought there was nothing wrong with what he had said, maintaining a calm, expressionless demeanor as he met her gaze.
What is this?
Did my common sense change without me knowing?
Because of the Sphere’s unusually calm demeanor, the Jelly Girl even forgot that he was from the Singularity, and glanced around at the others to confirm if something was wrong with her.
The first face that caught the Jelly Girl’s eyes, naturally, was Han Seori.
She thought that Han Seori was the most crucial person in this negotiation (?) and the one who decided everything in her life.
And there was a hint of unease on Han Seori’s face.
She didn’t usually bother to hide her feelings, so her discomfort was quite apparent.
Perhaps… I struck a nerve?
Like throwing out a ridiculous condition before asking for what you really want, to make the original request seem reasonable… something like that strategy.
…Maybe it’s okay?
The Jelly Girl, feeling unsure, moved on to check the next face. It was Kim Cheon-soo – or rather, the Man.
Looking at Kim Cheon-soo’s face, the Jelly Girl was struck by a strange feeling.
The reason was that Kim Cheon-soo, while sighing, seemed like he understood something.
If his emotions had to be summarized, it was something like this:
“Sigh.”
“That’s him (?), it’s not strange for him to have said something like that.”
Realizing this, the Jelly Girl felt her jelly curdle.
As a former adult man, the Jelly Girl did not appreciate the look on Kim Cheon-soo’s face, which was how one might look at a troublesome child.
Hmm.
Maybe this wasn’t quite right?
There was an ambiguity about it.
Since it was one-on-one thus far, the Jelly Girl moved on to the next face.
The next person the Jelly Girl noticed was Hwang Bo-yul.
?
Her reaction, though, was a bit strange – strange enough to make it feel slightly terrifying.
The reason was…
Hwang Bo-yul had turned her head and was suppressing laughter.
For someone who didn’t usually even try to be funny, always wearing a face stiff like the Sphere, shedding tears while trying to keep her laughter in check was terrifying enough.
What’s more, the Jelly Girl had no idea why Hwang Bo-yul was laughing.
No one had said anything that would make her laugh.
So, she must have found the initial question – “Where did you investigate this?” – amusing.
Feeling fear, the Jelly Girl now felt sorry for Hwang Bo-yul.
What kind of life did she have to live to laugh at something like this?
Her laughter seemed like it could have set off an alarm bell.
However, since neither Kim Cheon-soo nor Han Seori were laughing, the Jelly Girl thought it might just be part of Hwang Bo-yul’s nature.
Right, how could anyone be perfect?
A cold beauty like ice laughing at a corny joke – it could happen.
That… is possible.
Anyway.
The Jelly Girl pondered for a moment.
She wasn’t sure how to judge this situation.
Deciding that laughing at least counted as a positive signal, the score was now 2-1.
Now, the only one left was our youngest, Yang Ha-na.
The Jelly Girl looked at Yang Ha-na.
?
Observing Yang Ha-na, the Jelly Girl narrowed her gaze. Despite this, nothing visibly changed about her appearance, so no one noticed the intensifying intensity of her gaze.
Her narrowed focus made the Jelly Girl’s eyes sharp and angular, like a detective rabbit, catching Yang Ha-na struggling with where to place her gaze.
Without any logical context, the Jelly Girl instinctively perceived something.
That Yang Ha-na was the culprit who had planted strange ideas into the Sphere.
She knew because Yang Ha-na couldn’t look directly at herself and the Sphere, showing discomfort in her lost gaze.
The fingers fidgeting restlessly on her thighs betrayed unease.
The swallow of her saliva indicated her nervousness.
Recalling a novel she had read long ago, the Jelly Girl made a triangular shape with her fingers and stared intently at Yang Ha-na.
She was nothing short of Sherlock Jelly.
The first significant detection had been made that Yang Ha-na had planted the strange ideas into the Sphere.
However, that was all.
Yang Ha-na’s reaction to this meant that she, who had planted the idea, now thought the Sphere’s comments were unusual.
Thus, for unclear reasons, why she had given him those ideas remained a mystery, and the score returned to 2-2, setting the situation back to square one.
The detection of Detective Jelly was entirely useless in the current situation.
Putting the detective badge aside, the Jelly Girl rewound the timeline.
She reflected on the day she had asked the Sphere to pass on her words.
First of all, the Jelly Girl had a very good communication tool – drawing.
But realizing that it wasn’t understood properly, the Jelly Girl involuntarily became disheartened.
As a result, she started being a bit reluctant to draw, despite having been so passionate about practicing it earlier.
Anyway, the Sphere could convey her thoughts, couldn’t it?
It seemed like he disliked talking to people, but seeing him close to Yang Ha-na, could it be possible someday?
No practice.
Decisively, as the Sphere began conversing with people influenced by Yang Ha-na, the brilliant option of using the Sphere as a translator emerged again.
The sprout of Artist Jelly, neglected without caresses, was thus mercilessly trampled and vanished.
This was the importance of infinite positivity and affection.
In any case…
The Jelly Girl couldn’t tell if this would bring benefits or harm.
Because, unlike communicating with drawings, if using ‘speak’, she believed her dazzling intellect might shine excessively.
It could make her seem more tiresome than now.
Also, she now had reasons she did not wish to be discovered, which made her feel a bit anxious.
Ultimately, overwhelming convenience drove the Jelly Girl to use the Sphere as a translator.
The disadvantage of unclear intent also seemed like it might play a part.
She even remembered her past efforts to clear her own name.
Absolutely! Absolutely! It wasn’t because of indirect teasing for not being able to draw or anything!
Though the Sphere’s words often didn’t match her thoughts at first…
The Jelly Girl snapped out of her thoughts upon hearing the frozen voices of the humans.
It was 2-2 just moments ago, but based on the current reactions, it didn’t seem too bad.
She may have thought that the problem might be in the translation process.
Translation, after all, isn’t always something straightforward.
Noticing that the Sphere wasn’t responding, Han Seori, after clearing her throat, quietly asked:
“Even without investigation… what would you like then?”
It seemed partly due to the fact they weren’t gathered for anything particularly serious.
This gathering was for the Jelly Girl to receive a reward for her work.
From Han Seori’s perspective, this might feel like her active young cousin asking for presents.
Gazing at the benevolent-looking Han Seori, the Jelly Girl moved her fingers and quietly answered.
Of course, the words spoken were the Sphere’s.
That… um, if you could forget about the surveillance room thing, I’d like a computer… or maybe a gaming console?
“The individual appears to desire a terminal device or a leisure terminal.”
Uh… it’s right, but somehow it feels different. Are you intentionally saying it like this?
But Han Seori seemed to fully understand and muttered while stroking her chin.
“A terminal… like a computer? Given how often we use it here, it’s not strange that you’re interested.”
Kim Cheon-soo responded to her muttering.
“Anyway, since the usage is limited, wouldn’t it be fine? Even if a standard computer was brought here, you can only do basic games like Minesweeper. It’s bound to end up being a gaming device, so both options could be satisfied.”
“Is that what you really wanted?”
Kim Cheon-soo shrugged his shoulders, and seeing him, Han Seori also fell into thought.
The Jelly Girl observed these two with an odd feeling.
It seemed like they still hadn’t noticed the brilliant intellect inside her.
But she didn’t add anything more.
She already had everything she needed from the words flowing around her.
Sherlock Jelly didn’t need many hints.
…Anyway, if the computer was only capable of playing Minesweeper, what good was it?
The Jelly Girl had momentarily considered asking for an additional TV.
But the chance to experience omnipotence with just one remote control didn’t come often, so it seemed better to keep just one television.
…Honestly, the Jelly Girl was already satisfied with her current life. She didn’t have anything specific she wanted.
She had plenty of excursions, and she didn’t enjoy socializing with people.
Even the places she used to visit regularly when she was human… she had become one of those existences herself and was now able to see them regularly, so even that need was fulfilled.
The reason the Jelly Girl wanted a computer or a gaming console was… well, it didn’t really have much meaning.
It was just that she thought having one would be nice, as she used to own such things when she was human.
Watching the humans continue discussing, the Jelly Girl tapped gently on the Sphere’s thigh to relay her thoughts.
Seeing them deliberate over something as trivial as a Minesweeper-capable computer, she thought it was probably better to ask for something else.
The thought of the Jelly Girl was soon conveyed to the humans.
“Rather than that, the individual requests a designation… or a name. The current numerical designation does not seem satisfactory.”
…I didn’t say it exactly like that.
But it wasn’t entirely wrong.
She hadn’t cared too much when things were busy and she was being called by words and numbers, but now that she had some leisure time, it felt lacking.
Originally, if she had been an entity that was born without a name, she wouldn’t have cared at all.
But the Jelly Girl had once had a name.
…Um, what was my name, again?
She forgot.
No, it’s because you don’t call it enough, so you forget!
Anyway, whether it was 6974 or something else, it was now distasteful. A name would be good.
A name would be better than something that can only play Minesweeper.
Gazing into the unexpectedly solemn faces of the humans, the Jelly Girl blinked in confusion.
The atmosphere had clearly dropped this time, causing the Jelly Girl to wonder.
Why are they like that?
She couldn’t understand it at all.
