Among Myriad Finales
Then... did you enjoy the story I wrote for us?
Commandant? Can you hear me?
Bianca's voice reaches you as if from a great distance, hazy and indistinct, filtering through the heavy curtain of sleep.
You stir, your drifting thoughts slowly coalescing as you open your eyes. A disoriented moment passes before you realize your head has been resting on her shoulder.
As the world swims back into focus, you find Bianca's gaze, etched with a concern that tells you she's been trying to wake you for some time.
Did you rest well? I was hesitant to disturb you, so I waited before waking you.
It's getting late now. We should start heading back soon.
You glance around, noticing the theater has sunk into deep shadow. It must be approaching evening.
Earlier, you had been sitting with her, listening to the story she spun, until you drifted to sleep without realizing it.
Your slumbering mind was then drawn into the world of her tale, descending into a long dream where reality and fantasy melted together...
She gives a knowing smile, reaching to tuck your hair behind your ear. Her fingertips brush your skin, leaving a trail of warmth.
Hold still a moment... Your hair is a bit messy right here.
Have you been working too much lately? I feel bad for taking up your vacation time with such a long story.
I truly wanted your thoughts on my creation, but it was inconsiderate of me to trouble you with my own request.
Understanding what she's referring to, you recall how this journey began.
After days of consecutive missions, you finally had a brief vacation and arranged to visit this conservation area with Bianca.
Seeking leisure without commotion, you avoided the standard attractions, choosing instead to stroll hand-in-hand through the quiet, deserted outskirts.
In a comfortable silence, you admired the architectural ruins from the Golden Age, trying to feel the echoes of that bygone era.
What captivated Bianca most was the opera house—abandoned, yet remarkably preserved.
Inside, the thick velvet curtains isolated you in a world of forgotten magnificence, while the massive crystal chandelier overhead refracted the light into dreamlike rays.
From the moment she arrived, Bianca's face shone with delight as she meticulously examined the theater's interior, a sense of wonder at something entirely new to her.
She took your hand and led you to a private box closest to the stage. Drawing the partition curtain, she transformed the space into something intimate and secluded.
You sat side-by-side on the loveseat, gazing down at the empty stage below.
I wonder if people back then sat just like this... beside someone dear to them, watching the performance unfold.
I'd love to share a real moment like that with you someday.
She turned with a smile of agreement, but her gaze was already being drawn back to the stage below, her eyes glazing over with a distant, pensive light again.
I've experienced quite a few virtual movies, but no matter how "real" they feel, it's never quite like truly being here.
Some say simulation tech is enough to replicate reality, but I still prefer being present like this.
Virtual stories pull you completely into the world, leaving no room for a stage, all in pursuit of total immersion.
But I've always found something special about a stage lit by spotlights, with everything else fading into darkness.
Commandant... would you come up on the stage with me?
Hand in hand, you stepped with Bianca into the center of the stage.
Dappled light danced at your feet. High above, sunlight streamed through fissures in the domed ceiling, carving natural spotlights from the dust-filled air.
As a shaft of light struck the massive chandelier, it fractured, draping Bianca in a magnificent cascade of color, transforming her into a leading lady commanding the empty theater.
Then, as if stepping into a destined role, she turned with a storybook smile and offered a graceful bow to the neat rows of vacant seats.
I've never stood on a stage like this before... It makes me see stories in a whole new way.
From here, you don't just play a role; you give it breath, shaping the character through your own understanding.
These are just a novice's thoughts, Commandant. I hope you don't find them silly.
Sometimes, when I try to write stories, I start feeling what the characters feel... almost as if I've become one of them.
Then, without realizing it, I begin thinking with their mind, wondering what fate has in store.
And every time... I feel this urge rise within me, to challenge the path that's been set for them.
In the end, my stories always remain unfinished. I see too many possibilities branching ahead...
That's a lovely way to put it, Commandant. Maybe you're right.
I'd rather let each of them follow their heart when it comes to their destiny. That's why I've never written a true ending.
You've seen right through me, Commandant. I suppose it does sound like a rather flimsy justification.
Though honestly, I'd rather hope to see these characters follow their hearts when it comes to their destinies. That's why I've never written a true ending.
Your words had clearly touched her. In response, she gave a gentle nod, her smile growing softer and more personal.
There's one story I've been thinking about for a while now... but I could never find the right place to start.
It's about... you and me. How we might begin a different kind of journey, together.
Commandant, if you're willing... would you like to hear it?
You returned with Bianca to your seats, side by side, and waited for her to begin the "story of the two of you."
As if she had rehearsed it in her heart a thousand times, she needed only a moment's pause before she began to spin the tale.
In her telling, you were both reborn into a world untouched by the one you knew.
It was a world without disaster, without war, without the relentless shadow of the Punishing Virus.
Here, you were a playwright of singular brilliance, and she was the actress who gave breath to your words. Theirs was a legendary romance, born in an era of peace...
Slowly, you slipped into the skin of that playwright,
living a lifetime of dramatic turns and tender moments that forged an unbreakable bond.
The line between her fiction and your reality blurred, then dissolved entirely...
Until you were both wrapped in the magnificent dream of her making.
When she finally stirred you from the spell, the day had softened into dusk—the twilight of awakening from that long, shared dream...
The emotions stirred by her tale still ripple through you, as if you have truly lived an entirely different life together with Bianca.
So, Commandant, what did you think of the story?
That's because even while imagining a different world for us, I hoped it would still feel connected to our own.
"Dreams" grow from reality. They're reflections of our hopes for something beautiful. And where those dreams meet... that's the "dream's borderlands," the deepest layer of our consciousness.
No matter how the plot changed, I wanted it to reflect the bond we share here and now.
That's because even while imagining a different world for us, I hoped it would still feel connected to our own.
Our world may not be perfect. It's marked by war, shadowed by crisis...
But everything we've faced has become part of our shared memories.
That's why I wove those memories into this story.
It means so much that you enjoyed it.
As your palms meet, your heart stirs with the memory of the secret mark you once traced in her story.
Bianca needs no explanation. A soft smile graces her lips as she lays her fingers lightly upon the back of your hand.
In perfect harmony, your finger traces the familiar shape, the sigil of your unspoken vow. When the ritual is complete, she tenderly closes her hands, cradling yours within them as if protecting a sacred, fragile thing.
Perhaps in another world... this is exactly how you and I first met.
In a world untouched by war, this is how our shared story might have begun.
But no matter how the story starts, the ending never changes... just like my feelings for you.
In every version of our tale, I will always stand by your side, just as I do now.
Hand in hand, you step from the cool dimness of the theater into the embrace of the golden hour. The setting sun gilds a vibrant meadow, where lilies push through the lush grass like scattered stars.
Their brilliant, fragrant faces remind you of the very flowers placed beside her character in the story she shared—the actress in magnificent costume.
In the sun's warm glow, the boundary between that fictional character and the woman beside you dissolves completely. They are now one and the same.
The white lily blooms in your palm, a perfect mirror of her pure love.
With tender care, you tuck the bloom behind her ear.
Her hand rises, fingertips brushing the flower at her temple. Then, the touch drifts, unconscious, to trace the bare skin of her face. A flicker of regret passes through her eyes.
It's just... my appearance now isn't as polished as it was on that "stage." I'm afraid I might not do this lily justice.
Your hand lifts, seemingly of its own accord, to straighten a stray lock of her hair. That's when you see it: your fingertips are stained a vivid color.
The world swims. The sunset meadow melts into the soft light of her vanity mirror. You are back in that intimate silence before the curtain rose, when you carefully painted her lips.
Once more, you feel the soft pressure of her mouth beneath your thumb as you blend the color, staining your skin with its warmth.
This time, she does not close her eyes. She watches you, her look so profoundly tender, as if in an attempt to sear your image into her soul forever.
...This is perfect.
Her hand finds yours, and she brings your fingertips to her lips. The kisses she places there are so faint they are like whispers against your skin, each one sending a delicate shiver through you.
And between these tender gestures, she breathes an oath meant for your ears alone.
That "Bianca" from the other world... she was always afraid. Afraid that once true happiness came, it would slip away.
But I don't share that fear.
Because even a moment like this—walking beside you under the evening sky—is more precious to me than any perfect story.
Whether we're standing together on the battlefield or in moments of peace like this... as long as I'm with you, looking toward the same horizon, that's enough.
So please... let me stay by your side through every happiness yet to come.
[player name]... Let's go home.
The final glow of sunset surrenders to the night, and one by one, the stars emerge.
You begin your journey home beneath their vast canopy, your heart forever changed by the words you've shared.
You gaze upward, hoping these ancient rays of starlight—having journeyed billions of years to reach you—might somehow preserve it all: every moment since you met, every step taken side by side...
And all the countless, promised moments yet to come.
Just like this one, where your hands are clasped tight, walking the long road ahead.
Toward a horizon that belongs to you alone.
