My name: For some people, this question is difficult to answer simply.


    "...Five people are working on the trolley car tracks, the noise of the construction is so loud they don''t notice the trolley car in the distance..." Luther raised his hand to ask a question, and I nodded, giving permission.


    "What is a trolley car ?" he asked, looking puzzled in a somewhat cute way.


    "Let''s change to a more appropriate scenario for the times," I said, pacing back and forth as I thought of a simpler, more understandable description. "On a magnetic levitation track, a transport ship is moving straight ahead. Its obstacle detection system is clearly malfunctioning because five people are somehow standing in its path, completely unaware of the ten-ton metal block speeding towards them without any sign of slowing down."


    I checked to see if he was following my explanation, but the lack of difference between his blank and focused expressions didn''t reveal much.


    "Conveniently, the control panel is right in front of you. With the push of a button, you can divert the transport ship onto another track." I expected him to be curious why the control panel was conveniently placed there, but he didn''t interrupt. "But unfortunately, on the other track, there''s also someone standing there for some reason."


    He tilted his right ear, perhaps wondering why so many people would be on the magnetic levitation track. Oh, trust me, you''ll understand in the future.


    "So, if you redirect the transport ship, the five people who would have been hit will be saved, but the person on the other track will be doomed." I walked back in front of him, looking into his eyes, which made the mutt uncomfortable as he shifted in his seat. Perhaps it wasn''t necessary, but I wanted to emphasize the gravity of the situation. "So, the remaining question is--will you press the button and divert the transport ship?"


    I could see the turmoil in his eyes. Was he weighing the value of five lives against one, or was he considering whether his hand pressing the button would be stained with blood?


    "I would stop the transport ship," he finally said.


    "That''s not one of the options," I said curiously. Avoiding the pressure of making a choice is a common tactic, but it ultimately circles back to the same point. Let''s see where this path leads us and what we find along the way.


    "Captain Arthur said you once ignited the fusion reactor of the Empire''s Heart with sheer willpower," he said, meeting my gaze with a determined look. "And you said I would become stronger than you. If a psychic is someone who creates miracles and breaks rules, stopping a transport ship shouldn''t be difficult."


    He raised his chin defiantly, his sharp features forming a slightly challenging expression.


    "I don''t dislike that answer," I said positively, trying not to let too much resignation seep into my tone. "Remember how you feel now; in the future, I''m sure this courage to defy the rules will come in handy."


    He immediately smiled and even wagged his tail. Interesting...


    "But what if there are ten billion transport ships?" I think ten billion might still be manageable for him, but that''s not the point. "You must understand that one day, you ''will'' face a difficult choice with no way to avoid it." I placed a hand on his shoulder, emphasizing my words. "You need to know very clearly whether or not you''ll press the button and why you choose that way."


    His ears drooped slightly, and his brown eyes were filled with distress.


    Yes, if you truly care, it''s never an easy matter.


    "I don''t think I can answer that question now..." he murmured, looking uncertain.


    "Deep thought is a sign of wisdom," I said, stepping back. "We can discuss your decision later."


    If it were any other time, I might have told him that time waits for no one, and while you''re hesitating, the trolley car... no, the transport ship is still moving. But today, I''ve had enough philosophical discussion, and perhaps contemplation isn''t a bad thing--sometimes, genuine feelings are more important than logical understanding.


    "It''s time to continue practicing your abilities." I checked the time and made a decision. Even though he is always on the receiving end of the beatings, I could see the excitement in the mutt''s brown eyes. Like most teenagers, exciting activities always lift his spirits.


    I extended my consciousness, pulling out two pieces of adamant from a hidden compartment in the storage box, shaping them into spheres that orbited around us in an elliptical trajectory. He extended his consciousness as trained, neutralizing my conscious circle, so our conscious circles formed two semi-circles connected by their diameters. As the spheres entered each of our fields, we needed to take control of the adamant, maintaining a stable trajectory until they entered the other''s field, repeatedly.


    This is basic practice, sensing and judging the motion of objects, how to interfere with them using consciousness, and how much force to apply to achieve the goal. He wasn''t very skilled yet; two pieces were his limit, but I believe practice is the path to perfection.


    "Even though we have much to learn, we have at least determined that the core of psychic abilities revolves around the concept of ''self.''" I suddenly shaped one of the adamant pieces into an icosahedron, watching to see if he could maintain its trajectory. "How would you describe yourself to others?" He caught the metal piece and managed to keep a perfect elliptical trajectory. "In other words, what does ''I'' mean to you?"


    "I..." he hesitated, perhaps because I suddenly changed the shape of the other adamant piece to a cube, distracting him. "I am a mutt, Luther."


    "Species and name, a very Imperial answer," I thought with a smile, knowing I would have likely given the same answer when I was young. "So, what is your understanding of ''Luther''?" I changed the speed and added extra vectors to the metal pieces, complicating the trajectory, but he managed to keep it stable.


    "Just... me." He answered even more hesitantly, a drop of sweat trickling down his forehead. Introspection, concise but beautiful.


    "Names often carry meanings, whether expectations or cultural heritage." I split the adamant pieces into four, changing their shapes and having them orbit us at high speed on different elliptical trajectories. "Sometimes, these things imposed on us help us understand ourselves better."


    "We..." His eyes darted back and forth but found a way to stabilize the metal pieces. "We lower-class people don''t have such things," he said sharply.


    "That''s why I said ''sometimes,''" I replied softly, lowering my ears a bit. He lowered his gaze to apologize for his outburst.


    This kid is still sensitive about noble and commoner issues, but perhaps--let''s say--pampered as I am, I have little right to complain.


    "Understanding others is also crucial. Knowing ''I'' naturally leads to the question--what is not ''I''." I expanded my consciousness, starting to erode his field.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    The mutt looked panicked, clearly unaware that consciousness fields could be used this way.


    "How do you distinguish self from others?" He expanded and strengthened his field boundaries to resist my erosion--but this wasn''t the way to stop it. "Not knowing yourself makes it impossible to know others. Likewise, not knowing others means you can''t know yourself."


    I applied some pressure, speeding up the erosion. He changed tactics, expanding his consciousness to envelop mine completely, only allowing me to continue eroding his field from all directions.


    "Of course, you could use a complete rejection strategy, ''you are you, and I am me''." He apparently understood my hint, successfully stopping the erosion. "But ''rejection'' alone is not enough for someone with skills or strength above yours..." I tilted my head, realizing this guy probably wouldn''t encounter anyone stronger than him, but the point was made. "...for a psychic. It''s not enough." I casually raised my right hand to emphasize.


    Erosion resumed, and he looked up at me, deep in thought. This mutt might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but with the right encouragement, he often surprised those who underestimated him.


    "Most of our preconceptions are wrong." I increased the adamant''s speed, making him pull his consciousness back to focus on control. "For example, are ''nobles'' always a certain way?"


    With enough deep erosion of his consciousness field, I could subtly correct the trajectory without the metal pieces flying out.


    "Let''s use Arthur as an example," the serious German Shepherd''s image flashed through my mind, making me chuckle. "Arthur Deutsch, a purebred German Shepherd, naturally inherited the family name."


    I merged the adamant back into two spheres, realizing he couldn''t handle such detailed psychic operations yet. The mutt wiped his sweaty forehead, panting lightly, focusing again on resisting my erosion.


    "But as a low-ranking noble, Baron Arthur had no land or wealth to inherit, just the family name. Without the means to navigate complex social circles, Arthur joined the Navy at sixteen." The mutt raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You didn''t know, right? He couldn''t even afford the Imperial Naval Academy; he worked his way up from the rank of a soldier." I said lightly. "Not to downplay your experiences or compare hardships, but sometimes being born a low-ranking noble isn''t luckier than being a commoner."


    Erosion slowed as he found a way to resist. Yes, understanding--understanding is most important; even trying can bring unimaginable changes. I nodded at him, seeing his smug expression, finding it amusing. Are you mistaken? Erosion hasn''t stopped yet.


    "By the time we met, he had already served in the Empire''s Heart Fleet for nearly a decade. Every member of the fleet, be they soldiers or officers, deeply respected his leadership abilities." I reminisced about Arthur''s deeds and the scene when we first met. Maybe I would share more details with this mongrel dog another day; who knows, offering a good role model might help... inspire him? "Arthur--honorable, noble--he lived up to the meaning of his name through his actions."


    "So... do all nobles have cool names?" He was clearly struggling to multitask, but the white shirt drenched in sweat showed he was giving it his all.


    "Well..." I pondered how to answer his question. "Yes and no."


    He rolled his eyes at my response, prompting me to flick the ear of this impudent mongrel dog, making him yelp. He put up a defensive barrier, but it was evidently fragile and blurry, as if it could shatter at any moment.


    "I''m not attacking you physically," I explained, pressing further and dispersing his barrier, causing him to shiver violently. "My mental erosion on your consciousness is too deep; you can''t stop me from directly touching your mind. So, find a way to stop the erosion."


    I flicked his ear again. He let out a weak whimper of complaint but didn''t let his guard down.


    "Back to our topic, yes, nobles often have cool names." I thought it might be better to delve into historical culture without delay, as knowledge is literally power for the psychics. "And no, people outside the nobility can have cool names too."


    He tilted his head, squinting slightly and folding his right ear.


    "Luther means warrior," I said calmly. He tilted his head to the other side, seeming doubtful but not displeased. Lost in thought, the mongrel dog''s large brown eyes blinked before he looked down at the floor.


    "And... what does Richter mean?" he asked after a long silence, meeting my gaze again.


    Ah, I hadn''t expected him to ask this. I had probably subconsciously tossed this question into some dark corner to forget about it. My heartbeat skipped a bit, making me feel uncomfortable.


    "It has no meaning," I said calmly. "Richter has no meaning."


    "But you''re a Wolf." A wave of energy rippled from the edge of his domain, clearly not buying my explanation. "Wolves are all royal members, with names corresponding to their respective factions," he said challengingly. "Like the current emperor--Piqsirpoq, which means ''snow.''" He crossed his arms and looked at me askance.


    "How do you know this so well?" I suppressed the bitterness in my mouth and asked.


    "After you asked which branch I belonged to, I talked with Ian about it," he shrugged. "People of the lower classes love discussing the royal family; fantasies help endure reality."


    His tone, calm but with a hint of sharpness, rendered me speechless, and I felt a sudden impulse to vent my long-suppressed emotions. But I held back.


    "Piqsirpoq doesn''t just mean ''snow''--it''s ''accumulated snow''--the Snow faction wolves are named after snow-related terms. Like ''Qana''--''falling snow,'' ''Klein''--''remembered snow,'' and so on." I let some images flash through my mind, feeling the sting as I uttered their names. "Other factions use similar rules. For instance, the Ash faction''s emperor, Dust Ash--''dust''--while the faction name means ''ash.''"


    I noticed the erosion had stopped, but he seemed too focused on the conversation to realize.


    "But... why does ''Richter'' have no meaning?" He was still dissatisfied with my explanation, probably thinking I was deliberately hiding something. "Aren''t you also a Wolf of the Snow faction?"


    "I''m not a Snow," I answered faster than I intended, revealing that even after all these years, I hadn''t truly let go. "Only those wolves who are expected to achieve something get names from their faction." My gaze drifted towards the viewport, where I saw a white wolf with blue-eyed looking back. "The rest are named according to a letter sequence chart, basically at random."


    "Oh." He responded simply, tapping the floor lightly with his boot, eyes downcast, lost in thought.


    At that moment, I noticed a change in the consciousness domain. He... had let down his boundaries and was instead eroding mine, causing our consciousness circle to intertwine and mix.


    "That''s the correct response." I nodded in approval. "It''s almost impossible to prevent a skilled and understanding adept psychic eroding your domain. Because the premise of erosion is understanding, which is the highest principle in psychic rules." I extracted the sweat from his clothes and threw it into the sink. "But if you respond with the same strategy, our domains will merge and interlock."


    I tried to flick his ear again but was blocked this time. I thought I saw a glint of triumph in the mongrel dog''s eyes.


    "You should notice that in this state, our domains make us both the center, allowing us to control the domain." I released my control over the aurum, letting him take over entirely. He explored this unfamiliar merged state of consciousness, somewhat confused. It was like an abstract painting, with distorted edges intermingling yet still distinct. "Since we can''t fully explain the principles of abilities, no one knows why this happens," I said, adjusting my clothes and noticing my own sweat. "But this is a common trait of consciousness circle used in cooperation or combat among psychics."


    I pointed to a locker, signaling him to return the aurum. He complied, then turned back, looking at me with those big, watery brown eyes. There was an emotion in them that made me uneasy. Before I could speak, he did.


    "I think ''Richter'' has a clear meaning," the mongrel dog said slowly. I unconsciously watched his white fangs as he spoke. Realizing what I was doing, I quickly looked away. "Richter is you." He scratched his ear and looked down at the floor. "Richter is your name."


    The blurred vision and the sting at the bridge of my nose made me so distracted that I almost missed the special vibration in the consciousness circle. It was a sign of the boundary dissolving and consciousness merging! Reflexively, I released the consciousness circle, letting our merged domains disappear, leaving only his.


    The mutt gave me a puzzled look, probably not yet understanding the significance of this vibration.


    "Arthur is on the bridge; he might need your help." I feigned calmness, picking up the terminal on my arm, pretending to press random buttons, fabricating a poor lie. "We''ll continue the lesson next time."


    "Uh... okay..." He released the consciousness circle too, gesturing toward the door, then awkwardly attempting some unrecognizable actions before giving up, scratching his head, and leaving the quarters.


    Once the door closed again, I exhaled a long breath, letting my body slump. I wasn''t even sure what game we were playing, but this mutt always managed to leave me in disarray.


    I took off the red commander''s coat, hanging it on the wall hook, then walked to the metal table by the viewport, picking up the glass pot and pouring myself a cup of black coffee.


    I took a few sips of the dark liquid, feeling the caffeine start to take effect.


    The vast deep space, the sparse stars, and the reflection of that white wolf with blue-eyed .


    "Richter," I whispered, feeling a sharp pang in my chest. "Richter is me." Even with my jaw trembling, I finished the sentence. The warm, wet sensation slid from the corner of my eyes as I finally let down my guard, embracing the buried emotions. "Richter is my name." It was like it was a part of me.


    Then, like a helpless pup, I cried uncontrollably.