“Go ahead. Have some, ███,” Dr. Bright urged, watching me with keen interest.
They looked so excited, I was struck with a strange sense of resistance, but I braced myself for whatever might happen and pulled the bowl closer. With a spoon in one hand, I began to sip.
“H-How is it? If it tastes bad or makes you feel weird, spit it out, okay?” Iris said worriedly, but for better or worse, there was nothing strange about the taste of the soup filling my mouth. It wasn’t as if it was amazingly wonderful, but it was nowhere near bad enough to spit out, either. It was normal soup.
A familiar flavor that tasted just right spread throughout my mouth. I was certain I recognized this seasoning. I’d had this soup somewhere before.
“Well, according to SCP-348’s test results, young subjects generally enjoy the soup produced, stating it reminds them of their parents’ cooking,” Dr. Bright offered. That would certainly explain it.
Sure enough, this tasted exactly like the food my parents made every day. It was home cooking… That would explain why it felt so nostalgic.
My parents… My family… Suddenly overwhelmed by sadness, tears welled up in my eyes. Family. They were part of my former life. It all felt very distant from me now. I was currently living somewhere awfully far from them. I was unable to bear that new reality; it weighed down on me relentlessly.
The soup was definitely good. It healed the soul, filling me with happiness by simply putting a spoonful in my mouth. But that wasn’t enough. I couldn’t take this any longer. Suffering a severe case of homesickness, I desperately wanted to see my parents—my family. Mom, Dad, my familiar old home…
I wanted to go home. At the very least, I wanted to talk to my family, if only to say a few words. I broke down against the flood of emotions; unable to hold them back, they turned into tears that streamed down my cheeks. Damn, this was embarrassing! I couldn’t believe I was crying… But I was bursting with such nostalgia and sorrow, I honestly thought I was going to lose my mind.
“███? A-Are you okay?” Iris asked, looking at me worriedly. She gently dabbed at my cheeks with one of the paper napkins placed on the table. I let her wipe my cheeks as I drowned in my tears.
What was I doing in this place? I’d given up on going back, telling myself this was simply how things were, accepted my fate, and even grew comfortable with my new environment. But as it clicked that the life I always took for granted had slipped far out of my reach without my even realizing it, I began to tremble in apprehension and fear.
“Uh-huh, I see. I thought that might be the case,” Dr. Bright said with a knowing expression on their face, as if they’d read my mind.
With a wry smile, they pointed at A Gift from Dad, their flashy red fingernail standing out a mile. “Look, ███. Now that you’ve consumed the soup, isn’t a message materializing on the inside of the bowl?”
I didn’t notice until Dr. Bright pointed it out, but on the inside of the simple bowl—A Gift from Dad—Japanese characters had at some point begun to reveal themselves. Hmmm, I wondered what the message said…
“Heh heh! This is one of the fascinating features regarding SCP-348… Upon finishing the soup, the message that appears will be in the language most familiar to the drinker of the soup. It isn’t guaranteed, but can be observed with high frequency,” Dr. Bright said.
Leaning in, Dr. Bright peered into the bowl. “What does it say? The messages it displays are typically warm words of comfort… Or rather, they are the most important message or warning the drinker of the soup’s parents wanted to pass on to their child.”
Embarrassed over having a woman’s face so close (Dr. Bright outwardly looked like an absolutely gorgeous bombshell), I felt oddly flustered as I listened to their explanation. “Previous cases have included ‘Don’t forget to brush,’ ‘I’m glad you’re happy,’ and ‘Thank you.’ In tune with SCP-348’s plain appearance, the messages are often simple… What type of message did you parents have for you?”
Hm, I tried to imagine what my parents wanted to say to me most right now… Since I was probably being treated as a missing person, I bet it would be along the lines of “We’re worried about you” or “Where are you now?” Expecting to find a message along those lines, I casually looked into the bowl.
As the line of characters entered my eyes, I was shocked. The message written on the inside of A Gift from Dad said, “I’m so proud of you for never skipping school.”
……
…What?
What was that supposed to mean? I haven’t gone to school in ages. But it was true that before I wound up in this eerie SCP Foundation research facility, I had perfect attendance and no tardies. Overall on the healthy side, I wasn’t undisciplined enough to play hooky. In reality, I was only attending school out of habit. Nevertheless, my parents often dropped words of praise for maintaining such a pristine track record. They’ve outright told me in person the exact same thing that was written in A Gift from Dad. I could still remember the hint of pride in their smiles…
Er, so what did this mean? Was this message what my parents in the past, not the present, wanted to convey to me…? It wasn’t horribly appropriate for me at the moment. In fact, it outright didn’t apply.
“No, the message displayed in SCP-348 is supposed to be a message that your parents currently want to pass on to you. Hm, this is most fascinating. Yes, I believe it will support my theory,” Dr. Bright said.
With a broad grin, they offhandedly claimed, “It’s just as I suspected. ███, apparently, you aren’t a resident of our world.”
Uh, what…?