Story: Euphemification

 

The graphite tip of the pencil snapped. Nina didn't flinch, or budge even a muscle. She stared at the jagged break, then at the notebook page smeared with frantic, overlapping sketches of an iris. She had drawn the same eye forty-two times in the last hour-a shimmering, iridescent pink that seemed to vibrate against the cream-colored paper. 

She had retreated to the furthest corner of the Ashford library, a place where the dust motes danced in shafts of dying sunlight and the smell of decaying vellum acted as a shroud. Here, hidden behind a row of outdated geopolitical texts, she had constructed a sanctuary of obsession.

'The pulse,' she wrote, the lead digging deep into the page. 'A rhythmic oscillation. Not chemical. Not a known hypnotic trigger. It was a transmission of some manner. A rewrite of the fundamental self.'

Nina leaned back, her chair creaking in the silence. Her breath came in shallow, ragged hitches. The image of Shirley-the way her voice had dissolved, the way her very essence had shifted to mirror the Princess-played on a loop behind her eyelids. It wasn't just a disguise. It was a colonization of the soul.

She closed her eyes and let the fantasy bloom and flourish. She imagined the school courtyard. She saw Rivalz, his loud mouth silenced, his posture straightening into a regal, effortless grace. She saw Milly, the chaotic energy of the student council president smoothed over by a serene, pink-hued tranquility. One by one, the jagged edges of her peers would be sanded down. The noise, the judgment, the terrifying unpredictability of other people-all of it would vanish. 

A world of Euphemias. 

The thought sent a jolt of electricity down Nina's spine. If everyone was the same, there would be no more loneliness. No more feeling like a flawed gear in a machine that didn't want her. They would all share the same kindness, the same soft voice, the same blindingly perfect beauty. A symphony of a single note.

"I need it," she whispered, her voice a dry rasp. "I need to know the mechanism. If I can isolate the frequency, if I can understand the catalyst..."

"You're doing that thing again."

Nina leaped nearly a foot out of her chair. The notebook slammed shut with a sound like a gunshot. Milly Ashford leaned against the mahogany bookshelf, one hip cocked, a playful yet piercing look in her eyes. She looked like a predator who had just found a particularly interesting bug to poke. Her arms were crossed, and a small, knowing smile played on her lips.

"The 'Nina-Void,'" Milly said, stepping closer. "You've been spacing out for three days, Nina. Even by your standards, this is a record. I thought maybe you'd finally ascended to a higher plane of existence, or perhaps you've just discovered a very boring book on thermodynamics."

Nina scrambled to hide the notebook behind a stack of journals, her face flushing a deep, mottled red. 

"I-I was just studying!" Nina stammered, her fingers trembling. "The... the historical implications of the Area's infrastructure!"

Milly arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow. She didn't believe a word of it. She drifted closer, her presence filling the small alcove, smelling of expensive floral perfume and old money. 

"Infrastructure, huh? Is that why you're staring at me like I'm a specimen under a microscope?"

Nina froze. As she looked at Milly, the image from her daydream flickered back into view. She imagined Milly's sharp, mischievous features softening. She saw the blonde hair shifting into that luminous, strawberry pink. She imagined the commanding presence of the student council president merged with the ethereal, nurturing aura of the Princess. 

A 'Euphiefied' Milly. 

The thought hit Nina with the force of a physical blow. The idea of a woman who possessed both Milly's dominance and Euphemia's divine grace was... intoxicating. Nina felt a sudden, dizzying heat rise in her chest. It wasn't just a desire for sameness anymore; it was a craving for a specific kind of perfection. She imagined that version of Milly leaning in, whispering instructions in a voice that sounded like honey and silk, guiding Nina with a gentle, absolute authority.

Nina's breath hitched. She didn't realize she was staring until Milly's smile shifted from playful to genuinely curious.

"Earth to Nina," Milly said, waving a hand in front of her face. "You're doing it again. Seriously, are you feeling okay? You look like you're having a fever dream while standing up."

"I'm fine!" Nina squeaked, clutching the edge of the table so hard her knuckles turned white. "I'm perfectly fine!"

Milly sighed, her expression softening into something resembling actual concern. She leaned against the table, glancing toward the library exit.

"Listen, I've been meaning to ask you something. You're observant, Nina. More than most of us. Have you noticed anything... off... about the others lately?"

Nina's heart hammered against her ribs. "Off? I-I don't know what you mean."

"Kallen. Shirley," Milly said, her voice dropping an octave. "They're acting... different. Not 'bad' different. Actually, they're almost too good. Shirley is suddenly the most attentive friend I've ever had, and Kallen... well, Kallen is practically glowing. She's still herself, I suppose, but there's this softness to her. A certain... poise."

Milly tapped her chin, her eyes narrowing. 

"It's like they've both had a personality transplant. Or they've discovered a very effective brand of meditation. They're mirroring each other, too. I caught them talking in the hall yesterday, and for a second, I could have sworn they were speaking in unison. It was almost eerie."

Nina felt a thrill of terror and excitement. Milly had noticed. The social architect of Ashford had detected the shift in the atmosphere. 

"Do you think it's just a phase?" Nina asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Maybe," Milly replied. "But it's timing. They both spent time with Princess Euphemia. The Princess has a way of... inspiring people, doesn't she? Though I wonder what Lelouch thinks of it all."

The mention of Lelouch sent Nina's mind spiraling again. She pictured him. The lazy genius. The boy who hid his brilliance behind a mask of apathy. She imagined the transformation taking hold of him. She saw the sharp, violet eyes softening into that shimmering pink. She saw the lean, angular lines of his face relaxing into a more serene, idealized version of himself. 

A male Euphemia. The concept was a paradox that fascinated her. Lelouch's intellect, his strategic mind, his hidden depths - all wrapped in the radiating kindness and irresistible charm of the Princess. He would be the ultimate being. A leader who didn't need to manipulate or deceive because everyone would simply *want* to follow him. He would be a beacon of peace, a soft-spoken god.

Nina's pupils dilated. The vision was so vivid she could almost see him standing there in the library, the pink light of the Geass swirling in his eyes, offering her a hand and a smile that promised total, effortless understanding.

"Nina!"

Milly's voice snapped the thread. Nina blinked, realizing she had been staring blankly at a spot three inches to the left of Milly's head for several seconds.

"Good grief," Milly laughed, though there was a hint of suspicion in the sound. "You're really gone, aren't you? I'm starting to think you've found a secret stash of something in these archives. Or maybe you're just hopelessly in love with someone and your brain has finally short-circuited."

"I'm not in love!" Nina protested, her voice cracking.

"Sure, sure," Milly said, straightening up. "Anyway, keep your eyes open. If Shirley or Kallen start reciting poetry in unison or suddenly develop a taste for royal tea, let me know. I have a feeling the Princess left something behind at this school, and it wasn't just a few forgotten textbooks."

Milly turned to leave, but stopped at the edge of the aisle. She looked back over her shoulder, her eyes glinting.

"By the way, Nina? If you're planning a coup or a secret society in the library, just remember that I'm the one who controls the student council budget. I can make your life very difficult, or very easy."

With a cheeky wink, Milly disappeared around the corner, her footsteps echoing rhythmically until they faded into the distance.

Nina collapsed back into her chair. The silence of the library rushed back in, heavier than before. She slowly opened the notebook, staring at the forty-second drawing of the pink eye.

She wasn't scared anymore. The fear had been replaced by a cold, crystalline determination. Milly was right. The Princess had left something behind. A seed of perfection. A way to rewrite the chaotic, painful noise of human existence into a single, beautiful harmony. 

Nina looked at the empty space on her page and began to draw. She didn't draw an eye this time. She drew a map of the school. She marked the places where Shirley and Kallen had been. She marked the path Euphemia had taken.

'I will find the trigger,' Nina wrote, her handwriting now precise and steady. 'I will understand the frequency. And then...'

She paused, her pencil hovering over the paper. She thought of Milly's commanding presence. She thought of Lelouch's hidden fire. She thought of the world as a canvas, waiting for a single, vibrant shade of pink to cover every flaw.

'...And then, I will make everyone perfect.'

She leaned forward, her face inches from the page, her own eyes wide and hungry. The obsession had moved beyond research. It was no longer about science or curiosity. It was about a vision. 

Nina imagined herself standing at the center of a circle. Around her stood Milly, Kallen, Shirley, and Lelouch. They all looked at her with the same serene, loving expression. They all spoke with the same melodic voice. They were no longer the people who judged her, the people who ignored her, or the people who made her feel small.

They were Euphemia. And in their eyes, Nina saw a reflection of herself - not as the stuttering, anxious girl in the library, but as something more.

She began to sketch a portrait of herself. But as the pencil moved, she didn't draw her own choppy hair tied up into these dorky pigtails. She drew long, flowing locks. She didn't draw her nervous, pinched expression. She drew a smile of absolute, radiating peace.

She colored the eyes pink.

The sun finally dipped below the horizon, plunging the library into shadow. Nina sat in the dark, clutching her notebook to her chest, listening to the distant sound of students laughing in the halls. To anyone else, it was the sound of a school afternoon ending. To Nina, it was the sound of a world that was simply too loud, too messy, and far too imperfect.

'Just wait,' she thought, a small, haunting smile touching her lips. 'Just wait until the world turns pink.'