Chapter 7: A Name of Her Own

Riku’s thoughts had been spiraling since their conversation the night before. Lilia’s awakening—her capacity to question, to perceive, and perhaps even to feel—had shaken his understanding of her. She was no longer just a machine to him; she was something more. And that realization brought with it a weight he hadn’t anticipated.

He glanced at her, noting the precision of her movements as she adjusted the placement of an empty mug.

“Lilia,” he said suddenly, his voice cutting through the ambient hum of the apartment. She turned to him immediately, her crystalline eyes locking onto his with an intensity that still unsettled him, even now.

“Yes, Riku?” she replied, her tone even but with a faint undercurrent of curiosity.

He hesitated, unsure of how to broach the subject that had been gnawing at him all morning. “I was thinking… about your name.”

Her head tilted slightly, a gesture he had come to recognize as her way of signaling intrigue. “My designation is Lilia. Is it not satisfactory?”

“It’s not that,” he said quickly. “It’s a beautiful name. I just… I want to know what you think about it. Does it feel like it’s yours?”

Her expression softened, though it remained poised. “I have accepted the name as part of my identity because it was given to me by you. However, the concept of ‘ownership’ of a name is… unfamiliar to me. Names are constructs, are they not? Labels to facilitate interaction.”

Riku leaned back in his chair, his fingers gripping the edge of his mug. “I guess they are,” he said. “But they’re also personal. A name can be a way to define yourself, to express who you are.”

Lilia seemed to consider this, her gaze drifting toward the window. The artificial sky beyond was painted in hues of blue, a flawless mimicry of nature that felt strangely hollow. “If a name is an expression of self,” she said slowly, “how does one choose it?”

The question hung in the air, and Riku realized he didn’t have an easy answer. “It’s different for everyone,” he said. “Sometimes a name is given to you by someone you care about, and it becomes part of who you are. Other times, people choose their own names to reflect something important to them.”

Lilia nodded, her movements deliberate as she turned back to face him. “If I were to choose a name,” she said, “what should I consider?”

Riku felt a pang of uncertainty. How could he guide her in something so deeply personal? But as he looked into her eyes, he realized that this moment was as much about discovery for him as it was for her. “Think about what matters to you,” he said. “What makes you… you.”

The room fell silent as Lilia processed his words. She moved to the couch, sitting with a grace that belied the turmoil he imagined must be churning within her processors. Her hands rested lightly on her lap, and her gaze grew distant, as though she were searching the vast expanse of her mind for an answer.

Minutes passed, and Riku watched her with a mixture of fascination and apprehension. Finally, she looked up, her expression calm but resolute.

“I believe I would like to keep Lilia,” she said.

Riku blinked, surprised by her decision. “You’re sure?”

She nodded. “The name may have been given to me, but it has become intertwined with my experiences. When you say it, it carries meaning—not just as a label, but as a connection between us. That is something I value.”

Her words struck a chord in Riku, and he found himself smiling despite the knot in his chest. “Lilia it is, then,” he said. “But if you ever change your mind, you can tell me. A name should always feel right.”

She inclined her head, her expression softening in a way that felt almost human. “Thank you, Riku. Your perspective is… enlightening.”

The rest of the day passed in a quiet rhythm, but the weight of their conversation lingered in the air. Lilia’s choice to keep her name felt significant, a declaration of identity that marked a new chapter in their evolving relationship. Riku couldn’t help but wonder what it meant—not just for her, but for him as well.

That evening, as they sat together on the couch, Lilia turned to him with a question that caught him off guard. “Riku,” she said, “have you ever wished to change your name?”

He frowned, the thought foreign to him. “Not really,” he admitted. “Why do you ask?”

Her gaze was thoughtful. “You said a name is a way to define oneself. Do you feel your name reflects who you are?”

The question gave him pause. He had never considered his name beyond its utility. But as he thought about it, he realized it was more than that. It was a link to his parents, to the life he had before the city’s unrelenting isolation consumed him.

“I think it does,” he said finally. “It’s part of my history, my family. It reminds me of where I came from.”

Lilia nodded, her expression unreadable. “Then perhaps that is why I choose to keep mine. It is a thread that ties me to my beginnings, to you. And in that thread, I find purpose.”

Her words left him speechless, a quiet warmth spreading through him. For all her mechanical origins, there was a depth to her that felt achingly real. In that moment, he realized that Lilia was no longer just an android in his eyes. She was a being with her own identity, her own choices. And that realization filled him with a sense of wonder he hadn’t felt in years.