Butler hesitated, but finally said, "…Although I don't know if I should say this, I still feel I must, Miss. Everyone goes through some terrible things, but those terrible things should ultimately become the driving force for growth, not shadows. I hope you can soon walk out of these shadows—this is just a necessary stage."

The girl looked out the sunlit window, her beautiful face faintly reflected in the glass. "…They all died."

"…"

"We are the same type of mecha. But we are not the same. My Red 9, how many generations old is it—thirteen, or fourteen? If the one I was piloting at the time had the same performance as theirs, maybe now, I would be dead too."

Mr. Bolton found himself unable to meet the girl's clear eyes, and lowered his head. "It's not the same. We must always prioritize your safety, Miss. No matter when."

"Because of my status?"

"Because my status is superior, everything I was born with, the protection and resources I receive, are as vast as the sea compared to others. So, in the same situation, they all died, but I survived. Does that mean my life is more precious than theirs?"

Mr. Bolton shook his head. "The deaths of those pilots do not mean your life is more precious than theirs, Miss. We did not abandon them, and this is not your fault. It was the disaster that caused this outcome. They died because of the disaster, and the reason you survived, Miss, is because someone saved your life at that moment. Otherwise, no matter how advanced your mecha was, in that situation, the crash rate was still very high. So, please don't overthink it. In the eyes of your family, and even in ours, your life, Miss, truly is more precious than anyone else's."

"…In the past month's investigation, we still haven't found any trace of that mecha and its pilot. So today, the intelligence department sent someone—they know you don't want to see them, Miss, so they asked me to inquire on their behalf: do you remember any more clues, such as the pilot's gender, age, even appearance, or any other features… Otherwise, the investigation department will really lose this lead."

Mr. Bolton clearly saw that as he finished speaking, the color in the girl's eyes brightened considerably.

"When you say no trace was found, what do you mean?"

"It means that he and his mecha, on that garbage planet, seemed to have never appeared at all—just vanished into thin air."

"In this month, apart from finding a few traces from that night, we have no other leads."

The woman suddenly fell silent.

Mr. Bolton, sensing her slight disappointment, nodded gently and left, closing the door behind him.

The door closed.

She gazed out the floor-to-ceiling window at the clear sky of the capital star and the duke's mansion lawn. The reflection in the glass showed her eyes, as if replaying the scene of passing through the storm.

Under the starry night, that ugly mecha was already half-destroyed, sparking with electricity, standing in front of her own equally damaged mecha. Yet it was this ugly, battered, and broken mecha that had just dragged her through the storm, surviving the impossible.

But immediately, she became deeply wary. She understood her own status, and also realized that this mecha was clearly not of imperial origin. With such agility, its ragged appearance was likely a disguise. What was the real purpose of snatching her from the storm?

She didn't believe that such a mecha would just happen to be nearby and act heroically. So, this was likely a sophisticated operation targeting the kidnapping of someone from the Norman family, with some ulterior motive.

So, in the cockpit, she bit her lip, her graceful figure pressed tightly against the perfectly fitting seat, arms crossed protectively over her chest outlined by the skintight suit. As she braced herself, thinking that if this lecherous mecha forced open the cockpit and its pilot had evil intentions, she would rather bite her tongue and die than let a villain defile her or threaten her family—her mind raced with such thoughts.

But the battered mecha moved again, making no attempt to detain her or act inhumanely. Instead, just as it had arrived, it turned and strode into the endless darkness.

The silhouette of the mecha leaving in the night was reflected in her deep brown eyes, like a sculpture.

For the past month, she had often been lost in thought because of this, unable to sleep.

Chapter One: The Illegitimate Child of the Slums

This was the second time in just a month that people in the Empire's Riverside Star District had heard the name of the planet "Haizhou No. 12."

For this remote, almost forgotten garbage planet on the Empire's border, it was as rare as two meteorites falling into the same crater.

The first time, of course, was a month ago—the sensational Haizhou No. 12 incident, where twelve mechas of the Empire's Norman family crashed, and it was said that only one survived.