Story Reader / Affection / Luna: / Story
Luna: Oblivion
Luna sits by the window, cradling an orchid in her hands.
She gazes silently at the orchid in her hand, carefully choosing her words.
When did you figure it out?
Is that so?
For you, this place might as well be some sort of future.
It started as an accident. My past self was in the Ascension-Network running simulations, while my present self made an attempt.
As a result, your consciousness found its way to me, and the instability of this connection is to blame for all these blackouts you've been experiencing.
That's true. I still don't know whether anything that has happened here is real.
I used the Ascension-Network to connect to my past self. As for you... I think your consciousness was able to follow me here because our fates became intertwined when we first connected.
At least, that's how <color=#ff4e4eff>I</color> see it.
My memories tell me this is true, but... can memories really be trusted?
Battle after battle, I'm the only one left on this planet. And now you've traveled through time to reach me. Don't you think this seems a bit too fantastical?
If somebody wrote this story, they must be both incompetent and have a twisted sense of humor.
Luna waves her hand gently. The crimson mist following her hand swirls around her. The red veil slowly overtakes the white parts and reveals a scarlet frame beneath—a stark reminder that even she herself might be nothing more than an illusion.
Her gaze returns to the orchid in her hand as she whispers softly.
I'm not even sure... if this wish to watch orchids bloom with you... really came from myself...
Still, seeing you again brings me joy.
The girl trapped in her prison of memories finds happiness even in this fleeting moment.
Do you remember what I told you before? About how my sister and I found the snow orchid seedlings?
I cared for that orchid for so long, but it died all the same.
You were the one who gave it to me.
A warm smile softens Luna's features—a rare sight in your memory.
You gave me another orchid after that. That's why the garden now has so many of them.
Yes... those snow orchids would have been long gone, and they are indebted to you.
We'll experience many more things together in your future—joy, bitterness, and anger...
Many... many more...
But that is your future. They're all just memories to me, every one of them.
All the brilliance of her life must now be repaid with solitude.
I have told you that I would always stand by your side, if only you would ask.
And I have kept my promise.
I have never regretted standing by your side.
The white-haired girl quietly voices her inner thoughts.
But... this is where it all leads... A world of deathly silence, devoid of any form of future...
Even you... are gone. All that was left there was this flower.
She clutches the flower tightly in her hand—the one she brought back from the grave.
...
...Thought you'd say so.
She reflects on their brief time together—every bit as ethereal as a dream. Having already had a wish answered, she dares not ask for more.
I believe in you.
The lightheadedness returns, and you both understand—that the moment of parting has come, for miracles are but fleeting.
Light gradually engulfs the world around you. As sounds begin to fade into the distance, the curtains, the balcony, and even her figure all dissolve into the brilliant white.
Tears stream down the girl's smiling face as her lips move, but her words are lost to silence.
You reach your hand out to wipe away her tears...
Yet your hand never manage to reach her.
Right when your consciousness slips away, it hits you—that this is exactly what she said to you at the very beginning.
Goodbye
...
As the miracle fades and the human returns to the present, all that's left is what counts as a keepsake, a pieced-together picture of the human and the girl.
Red specks of light and mist emerge from the girl's body and start taking the shape of a human—another Luna, the real Luna.
The effort leaves her drained. She staggers a few steps before sitting weakly on the edge of the bed.
Is this... truly the future?
These past few days, Luna has experienced everything through this body—seeing what she sees, hearing what she hears, and feeling what she touches. At times, Luna even felt as though she herself was the one controlling this body.
When she speaks, she can no longer tell if she's the one speaking or if this "future" Luna is the one doing the talking.
Maybe this really is one possible future. Maybe I am just one of your M.I.N.D. shards. Maybe this is all simulated by the Ascension-Network to deceive you. Maybe I am simply the materialization of your fears...
Who knows? It doesn't matter anymore.
I care not whether I am the butterfly having this dream.
To you, perhaps this is nothing but an illusion...
I refuse to believe this is how our story ends.
At these words, the "future" Luna breaks into a smile, seemingly pleased.
Of course... of course...
Thank you for lending me your power.
Take it back with you.
She points at the snow orchid on the balcony.
...Goodbye, Luna/myself.
The two silhouettes merge once more as the world falls into silence.
You open your eyes to see the familiar ceiling above. The cardiac monitor is beeping, and the air is thick with the scent of disinfectant. This is no doubt a hospital room in the Star of Life.
It all feels like a dream, one where you can barely remember what happened.
Artificial light from the synthetic sky dome streams through the window onto the hospital bed, while environmental simulation and circulation systems maintain Babylonia's comfortable temperature and humidity.
As you watch the light beams scatter through the Tyndall effect, a sense of unreality begins to take hold.
Is everything here even real?
Isn't the moon's reflection in the water just as enchanting?
In the haze, it hits you—that a girl with white hair seems to have said these very same words.
Beep beep—
The ringing of your terminal breaks your reverie. It's an incoming call with nothing but a garbled code as the caller ID.
A strong feeling takes hold. You know you have to take this call.
...
Through the terminal comes only the sound of quick, sharp breaths—which quickly dies down.
The signal is erratic. The sound is a little distorted, but you have no trouble recognizing the voice.
Right then...
Windswept sands, the wasteland, the amusement park, the fading photographs, the blooming orchids, and the girl by the window...
Countless memories surge over you like a tidal wave.
Mm.
You cannot see her face, but her voice clearly carries a trace of her smile.
How is the orchid doing?
You turn to look at the bedside. A pure white snow orchid sits on the table, blooming in serene solitude.
