This was a workshop—an automaton workshop. The space was filled with the sounds of unknown machinery in motion, and massive gears interlocked and turned slowly on the ceiling. The air carried the scent of lubricating oil, and scattered across the floor were heaps of incomprehensible metal fragments. Dorothy curiously wandered through the workshop, observing everything around her. On the tables, she saw various strange mechanical devices—tiny metal figurines that danced automatically and mechanical birds that flapped their wings. "An automaton workshop… This must be another Stone Beyonder. Compared to Aldrich, who carves stone statues, and Deer Skull, who crafts skeletal creatures, is this one more adept at metal mechanisms?" As she took in her surroundings, Dorothy pondered to herself. Just then, a female voice with a strange, unnatural tone suddenly spoke from a corner of the room. "Excuse me, could you lend a hand?" Startled, Dorothy flinched slightly and turned toward the source of the voice, but she saw no one. "Who’s there? Where are you?" She asked cautiously, and the voice promptly responded. "I’m right here. Lower your gaze a little. I’m on the floor." Following the instruction, Dorothy looked down—and indeed, she saw something bizarre on the ground. A head. A young woman’s head with short gray hair and delicate features. One of her eyes was covered by a circular lens, and her skin was visibly damaged in several places, exposing the yellow metal beneath. At the severed base of the neck, intricate mechanical structures were visible. "A… a robot head!?" Dorothy blurted out in shock. The head, however, responded with a slightly displeased tone. "That’s rather rude, guest from Igwynt. My name is Beverly, and I am not just some robot head." Dorothy froze for a moment. After steadying herself, she carefully adjusted her tone before speaking again. "Ah… Well then, Miss Beverly, how can I help you?" "Please pick up my head and take it to the bookshelf on the right side of the workshop. There’s a lever beside it—pull it open." That was Beverly’s request. After hesitating briefly, Dorothy decided to comply. She approached, picked up the head with both hands, and immediately felt a strange sense of unease. Carrying the head, Dorothy began searching for the mechanism Beverly had mentioned, while the disembodied voice continued guiding her. "Yes, that’s right… Over there, next to the bookshelf. The lever—just pull it open." Following Beverly’s directions, Dorothy found the lever beside the bookshelf on the right side of the workshop. She pulled it, and with the sound of clicking gears, the wall next to the bookshelf slowly opened, revealing what lay behind it. Lined up neatly behind the wall was a row of female bodies dressed in simple clothing. None of them had heads. Dorothy froze once again at the sight before her. "Just pick one for me and attach my head to it." "Uh… How do I attach it?" Dorothy asked, confused. She had no knowledge of mechanical assembly. "You just need to place my head onto the connection point." Beverly’s instructions were simple. Though still uncertain, Dorothy followed them. She selected a body at random and set Beverly’s head onto the vacant neck joint before releasing her grip. At that moment, the exposed mechanical components at the neck began to connect automatically. Beverly’s head rotated slightly from side to side, adjusting itself into a natural position. Then, from a slot on the back of her new body, a massive wind-up key sprang out and slotted into place. With the assistance of the workshop’s machinery, the key started turning—click, click, click—tightening with each rotation. Finally, as the sound of mechanical operation settled, Beverly’s new body began to move. At first, her limbs twitched with a stiff, mechanical motion, but soon her movements became increasingly fluid. She stepped forward from among the headless bodies and stood before Dorothy. Aside from the visible seams where her facial skin was damaged and the copper-colored connection ring around her neck, she now appeared to be a well-proportioned young woman of around seventeen or eighteen years old. "Phew… Thanks a lot, Miss Myschoss. If not for you, I would’ve been stuck there for another two hours, waiting for someone to come back and help me." Beverly exhaled deeply before seating herself at a nearby table. Dorothy, tilting her head in curiosity, responded. "You know my name?" "Of course. That old man wrote me a letter mentioning you’d be coming, so I’ve been waiting for you." Beverly spoke casually as she picked up a glass filled with a pale yellow liquid from the table and started chugging it down. The scent it emitted was unmistakable—Dorothy could tell immediately that it was machine oil. "Are you a robot?" Dorothy asked again. This time, after finishing her drink, Beverly wiped her mouth before answering. "To be precise, I’m a fully autonomous automaton. You’ve just witnessed something rare—beings like me are exceedingly scarce in this world. You could probably count us on one hand." "An automaton?" "Yes, a construct created by a Puppeteer. The Stone Pathway, with Stone as the primary and Revelation as the auxiliary, leads to the Puppeteer Subpath. The hallmark of this craft is the ability to create various forms of semi-autonomous or fully autonomous automatons—like me. I was built by that old man at the peak of his ability." Beverly explained while sitting in front of a mirror, applying a special gel to the damaged parts of her face as if she were "touching up her makeup." Her words left Dorothy stunned. "What? You mean Aldrich created you? But… doesn’t he carve stone?" "Yes, and when I was first made, I was stone—lifeless and ugly as hell." "You didn’t like it?" "Of course not. That old man has a ridiculously rigid sense of aesthetics. He always sculpted knights, beasts, and heroes… but I prefer youthful, beautiful girls. I was really dissatisfied with the appearance he gave me at first." As Beverly spoke, Dorothy recalled that Aldrich’s artistic taste was indeed quite traditional. He mostly sculpted dignified and imposing figures—kings, generals, knights—or fierce, feral beasts. It was rare for him to sculpt anything feminine. "Aldrich’s sense of aesthetics does seem like that. So he created you, but you didn’t like the way he shaped you? You weren’t satisfied with the form he gave you?" "Exactly. So, I tried to carve myself into a form I liked. I wanted to reshape myself into a beautiful girl… but my sculpting skills weren’t as good as that old man’s, and I butchered myself in the process." Beverly spoke nonchalantly as she continued her self-repair, now incorporating regular human cosmetics into the process. Meanwhile, Dorothy simply stood there, mouth agape. Right now, Dorothy was picturing a once-imposing stone knight or prince standing in front of a mirror, earnestly carving at itself in an attempt to transform into a beautiful girl—only to fail miserably, ending up as some grotesque, unrecognizable figure.