The busker and the robot walked together in the forest. Unlike what James had expected, Chorong weaved through branches and tree roots majestically, never scraping or scratching herself once. On the other hand, James bashed into branches multiple times and nearly tripped a few times. The guitar case, the gun, and the backpack clattered behind his back nonstop.


    “Would you like me to hold your guitar case?” Chorong asked, reaching her hand out toward the guitar.


    “No thanks!” James said, moving away from her hand almost like he was dodging it.


    “…”


    Chorong remembered breaking the guitar’s strings. Master had told her to apologize. She had, but without really understanding why. However, now, she did understand.


    She was about to say something, but James said, “Ah, here it is!”


    A stack of branches with burn marks lay in front of them as if someone made a campfire there before.


    “This is where I camped a night when I was going to Hyun-Jae. This is almost exactly the middle of the city and Tomorrow. Let’s sleep here tonight and then move again tomorrow morning,” James said.


    Chorong looked at the sun. It was near evening, but the sun was still up. She thought about saying they could go a bit further; however, she saw the amount of sweat on the back of James’s neck. He wiped away the sweat on his forehead with his sleeves.


    James carefully put down his guitar case and the gun. He then threw the backpack to the ground. Together, they gathered some dry sticks from trees nearby, made another stack, and then started a fire with a lighter. The sun started falling fast, and the sky changed from orange to dark blue with white dots scattered across. James quickly built the tent next to the fire and then sat down on the floor with a sigh. It was big enough for two people. They kept the tent open so they could see outside.


    Chorong looked up at the sky. The white stars greeted her. She remembered how, just a few days ago, she was in her room, with the glow-in-the-dark stars watching over her.


    James must’ve noticed her gaze on the stars. “I like the stars, too. Have you ever watched the Knights of the Stars?”


    Chorong scanned through her memory inside her processor and said, “A story about a mysterious hero who used a star as his symbol, who dies in the ending under the stars. Yes, I’ve watched it on the TV.”


    “…You know, you don’t have to remind a fan that their hero dies in the end…” James sniffled.


    “Is that why you like the stars?” Chorong asked.


    James breathed out. “Yes, it is one of my reasons.” He suddenly pulled out his guitar from the guitar case and strummed it without turning on its internal amp. He started singing a fast-paced rock song:


    “Feel the burn,


    Feel the burn of my heart!


    May the stars guide you,


    May you kill the devils.


    I used to live in darkness, ignoring the calls.


    The pouring rain and the guiding lights awaken me,


    Make my heart burn like the stars!


    I am the knight, the Knight of the Stars!”


    After letting a moment of silence pass, James turned to Chorong, smiling. “Not bad, huh?”


    Chorong nodded, grinning. “The opening theme of the series.”


    The moonlight lit the guitar, making it reflect light into Chorong’s eyes. It made her look at it, and she remembered what she was going to say. “James, I want to apologize formally. I am sorry for damaging the guitar.”


    “Apology accepted. I think I also overreacted when it came to the guitar, so I think I should apologize, too. Sorry about that. This guitar is special to me.”


    Chorong stared at the guitar and then asked, “May I ask why?”


    “Well, it’s the reason why I exist. It’s what made Dad and my mother meet.”


    James put the guitar strap from his shoulders, about to put it away. When he turned, he realized Chorong’s head was right beside his, staring into his face.


    “I’d like to hear the story.”


    James let out a short laugh. “It’s a bit of a long story.”This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Chorong fixed her posture to a more comfortable sitting position, expressing that she’s ready to listen.


    James let out a breath and then started talking.


    “My dad used to live in a house really close to the one beside it. One day, he started hearing a guitar. He was okay with it for the first few days, but the guitarist kept playing and playing over weeks. And, according to his words, it was like the sound of the devil: the guitarist was so bad that it irritated Dad. Eventually, Dad realized the guitarist lived next door, so he knocked on the door. A lady came out and greeted him. Dad told her he didn’t want to hear her playing. She asked when he was outside to work, and they negotiated that she would play the guitar during only those hours. She kept the promise, and Dad didn’t hear the guitar when he came back from work.


    “But, one day, he came back home earlier than usual, and he could hear the guitar again. He prepared himself to hear the devil’s music again, but then, this time, it didn’t sound that bad. A few weeks later, he came back home early again, and this time, the guitar sounded nice. A few months later, the guitar sounded great. A year later, the guitar sounded majestic.


    “Then he soon got a mail notifying him that his mother—my grandma—passed away. I’ve never met her, but Dad told me she was a good mother to him. Dad got sad, and Dad was going through hard times. Then, he found himself listening to the guitar more and more, and started finding it…soothing. When he came back from work a few times early, the songs would always be playing, as if they were greeting him. He soon found himself shifting his work schedule to an earlier time so he could listen to the guitar more often. The guitarist kept getting better and better.


    “Then the lady next door and Dad met in front of their houses by coincidence. Dad was a straightforward man: he told her he liked her guitar now. He told her everything. He then asked if he could buy her a cup of coffee.”


    James smirked. “And as you probably guessed, that lady became Dad’s wife and my mother. And this,” he tapped on the guitar with his finger, “this is the guitar my mother practiced with.”


    “It’s a good story,” Chorong commented. She was smiling in a relaxed, warm sort of way, just like an ordinary human audience listening to a heartwarming story.


    “How’s your mother and father right now?” Chorong asked.


    She caught James’s facial muscles flinching as if something shifted the state of his mind.


    “…I unfortunately do not remember much about Mother. She passed away when I was really young because of an illness.”


    “…Oh.”


    James looked at Chorong. Her eyes were darting around. She was making an expression as if she didn’t know what to do.


    He smirked. He remembered the old Chorong: the robot with always the neutral poker face. But now, she was acting much more natural, much more like a human.


    No, not a ‘human,’ he thought again. The word didn’t really carry what was inside in his head. More like a…‘person,’ he corrected himself.


    “It’s okay, I don’t remember her well, anyway. And, I truly believe she’s looking over me,” James said, pointing at the sky: more specifically, at the stars.


    Chorong looked up at the sky again.


    “Also, I sometimes feel that she’s around me. I can sometimes feel her warmth from this,” he added, tapping on the guitar with his finger.


    Chorong found herself reaching her finger toward the guitar. She quickly retracted her hand away from it. Fortunately, James was still looking at the stars, so he hadn’t seen what she had done.


    “…Chorong, I told you my story. I’m wondering if I can hear yours. All I know is that you want to change your voice.” James turned his head to Chorong. “Why?”


    “It’s a bit of a long story,” Chorong said with a light smile.


    James laughed. He fixed his posture to match Chorong’s.


    The smile on Chorong’s face faded as she told him everything. From her birth to spending time with her master and to her master yelling at her. She stayed neutral throughout the entire telling as if she was reading a history book. However, she couldn’t stop her lips from trembling and stuttering a few times when she was on the part about her master yelling at her. James stayed quiet throughout the entire story and only made nods.


    “…What do you think I’ve done wrong, James?” she asked. “What made Master be angry at me?”


    “Well, it’s hard to say one particular reason. The human mind is a complex thing,” the busker said. “But, if I give an honest opinion…I think it was because of the how: how you handled a few things.”


    “How?”


    “I made a few mistakes in my life. Quite many, so I thought about them a lot. And I soon realized my actions weren’t really wrong. I always had valid, reasonable reasons behind them. But, how I did them was wrong. I lost friends because of not what I communicated but how I communicated. You could’ve simply scared away the assaulter, but you beat him near to his death.”


    “…”


    “Okay, I will give you an example. There used to be a king who just became one after a series of power struggles. The first thing he did as the monarch? He executed every single person who had opposed him during the power struggles. He became more powerful than ever. Do you think this is right, Chorong?”


    “No.”


    “I’d agree. But then, he used the power to rule his kingdom with integrity and fixed internal corruption, allowing the kingdom to reign strong, even decades after his death. Still, he’s remembered as a tyrant for most people.”


    “…What I do is important, but how I do it is important, too,” Chorong said.


    “Human minds are not calculators. Results by themselves aren’t enough: you need the proper way of getting those results.”


    “…How do I know that? The how?”


    James shrugged. “That, I think only one can answer for themself. All you can do is think and make a decision for yourself.”


    After a short silence, the busker added, “Chorong, perhaps consider deciding the how for yourself for this journey: how you are going to go on this journey and how you are going to make use of it throughout it.”


    “The how…” Chorong muttered. “What’s your how, James?”


    “To be like the Knight of the Stars!” he said proudly, chest puffed.


    Chorong couldn’t hide her smirk.


    “What? He’s cool! It’s not childish. He’s a good role model for anyone to have!”


    Ignoring the busker’s self-defence, Chorong looked up at the stars once more as if to ask them a question. They showed no signs of answering.


    The sun rose. The busker and the robot quickly cleared up the campsite and disassembled the tent. Chorong insisted on carrying James’s backpack with the tent: unlike him, its weight seemed not to bother her at all. It was as if she was wearing nothing on the back, surprising James with her strength.


    They left the campsite and walked through the forest, using the map and the compass to guide themselves. When the sunset painted the sky orange, they were greeted by a gate in the middle of a tall stone wall with a sign on top reading:


    Tomorrow.