Chapter 63

Eliza watched Anji through the one-way mirror of the room. The boy had no idea he was being closely observed and simply worked on his tests.

The current education system assumed that a citizen would independently study subjects of interest before choosing a specialty and acquiring specialized knowledge in that field. General education provided only a superficial understanding of society and culture—a minimal knowledge base for any citizen of a colony or station. The program lasted six years, meaning children received basic education by age twelve, followed by another six years of specialized training. This division was implemented to prevent information overload in adolescents.

Anji had managed to complete the general education course early at the age of five—an event dismissed at the time as a fortunate coincidence. Right after his last test, he took another course, then proceeded to pass three annual exams within a single year. By now, the boy had moved beyond the standard curriculum and begun gathering knowledge across various disciplines. The orphanage’s educational center logs showed Anji researching shipbuilding, engineering, electrification, hydroponics, force fields, and many other fields. At just seven and a half years old, he had nearly mastered the entire foundational program.

He stored vast amounts of information, later processing it in virtual space to avoid drawing unwanted attention at the orphanage’s learning center. By six, he had grown indifferent to his own learning speed, considering it normal—even mocking the struggles of other children during tests. Two years ago, he had gotten into a fight with a boy at the next desk right in the middle of an exam. After that incident, he stopped speaking to the other children altogether. Since the fight happened outside the orphanage, Eliza only learned of it a few weeks ago, when she began pondering the boy’s remark: "You created a situation harmful to me—was it deliberate or not?" The phrasing was awkward, but the depth of thought behind it was impossible to ignore. Children didn’t think that way. He had struggled to articulate it properly, but the implication was clear. Such reasoning couldn’t go unnoticed—which was why she had insisted on a deeper study of his cognitive abilities and secured him a private room in the center. Vaalsi approved the idea, as he too was intrigued by the research.

Anji paused and looked straight at the one-way mirror where Eliza stood. His sharp, angry glare locked onto her exact position. Then he spoke:

"Miss Donovan, children don’t understand how stationary force-field generators work—but they can feel the electromagnetic waves emitted by any living being. The more tense it is, the stronger those waves become."

The boy tossed his test aside and walked out.