บท 122: Volume 2 - Epilogue

Rainier flexed the fingers of his new hand.

Despite what he'd been assured, there was a strange gap between the actions he'd wanted to perform and how the arm moved.

It was concerning. As was the pale flesh, the golden bands and angled lines that decorated the flesh were not what he imagined when they said there would be "aesthetic differences."

It was not, in other words, his arm.

A slight hiss was all the warning he received when the door to the room slid open, and an angel entered.

"Good morning, Rainier," she greeted.

"Good morning, Anzelika," he greeted back, putting on a slight smile.

"How is your arm feeling this morning?" She asked the same question every day, raising the strange rectangle of metal that she tapped notes into.

"It feels better than yesterday, but..." he explained the gap between his thoughts and the arm's movements, "... and there's also a gap between touching and feeling."