Story Reader / Affection / Liv: Limpidity / Story
Leaving the windmill tower, you are met by a maelstrom—thunderous roars, a pitch-black sky, and torrential rain.
Sensing the storm within Liv's M.I.N.D., you decisively initiate a Deep M.I.N.D. connection, but she remains silent, lost in overwhelming grief.
...
The rain falls harder, heavier, until it completely floods your sight.
Everything turns hazy: light, shadow, and form blur into a watery dream.
The gale tosses you like a toy in a giant's hand—your vision dims, your steps falter—yet you push forward against the storm.
And then, you step into a vision: the abandoned town is now aglow with countless lights; silent streets pulse with sudden life.
But Liv is gone.
The wind has truly carried the girl away... A thorough search of the area yields nothing but rain and dread. With no other leads, your only choice is to head for Liv's home.
You brave the downpour and step into her courtyard. The streetlights cast a pallid, indifferent glow, starkly contrasting the clamor of raised voices spilling from within the house.
Coming—
Oh, sorry to keep you waiting. You're just in time for the party...
...Who are you?
This is my house. So I'll ask again: who are you and what do you want?
She bursts into laughter as if she'd just heard the funniest joke in the world.
Hahaha! I suppose you could call me Liv's mother. How... unusual. You, looking for Liv? What's your business with her?
"Commandant," what a fancy title. Since when did Liv join the military?
That's humorous of you. I've never heard of her having any friends.
You barge up to my door, won't give a straight answer, and still expect me to just fetch her for you?
You know what? I don't have time for this. I'll call her out to see you.
Liv! Liv—
The clamor from inside the room continues. She frowns and calls out twice more, but no one responds to her.
Hmph. She must be asleep. Or maybe she's not even home.
And what's it to you? She's not your daughter.
Someone's here for Liv? It's pouring out there. Please, come in.
Darling, you're just letting a stranger into the house?
Liv has always been a shy child. It's good to know she has a friend. Come in, get out of the weather.
A middle-aged man in a suit rushes past you toward the door, briefcase in hand.
I'm afraid I have to head out to a meeting. You all enjoy the party.
He takes a few quick steps, then pauses as if remembering something. He turns back to look at you.
Please, look after Liv for me.
He gives you a meaningful look, offers a slight bow, then turns and slips into a black car waiting for him.
Aren't my ten balloons ready yet?
Didn't Liv finish everything already? Why are we still short ten balloons?
Ugh, don't you remember? We both got into State School, but I crushed you by ten whole points. So I deserve ten more balloons than you.
Hey, go drag Liv out of her room. Tell her we need help.
Who... who are you?
Liv has a friend? Seriously? Now that's a first.
If you must know, she's our sister.
She... she's just our sister, that's all. She's the type who likes helping out. Our mom just asked if she'd pitch in for our acceptance party, and she said yes.
Yeah, we got into State School. You know it, right? Some of the senior students are even members of the Science Council. It's kind of a big deal.
I think today's the anniversary of her mom's passing. She was pretty upset. She just took off... We don't know where she went...
Hey, wait. It's really nasty out. Why don't you just hang here? She'll probably be back soon.
You're blowing off the future leaders of the known world to go look for little Liv?
...I didn't mean it like that.
Look, all I'm saying is, Liv's... Liv. She's not going to change the world. You'd be better off hanging with us.
Yeah? And how can you be so sure about that?
Leaving Liv's home, the wind hits you with a deafening howl, threatening to burst your eardrums.
You press forward, leaning into the gale with a lowered center of gravity, when suddenly your feet lose all traction. Your body is flung sideways, slamming hard against the trunk of a massive tree.
The impact rings through your bones. Dizziness swims in your skull as you cling to the rough bark—a mere human at the absolute mercy of nature.
Suddenly, a glimmer of light cuts through the gloom. Something luminous wobbles violently against the wind's current, fighting its way toward you.
A paper airplane.
Then another. And another. One, two, three... until a small fleet of glimmering paper planes emerges from the turbulent air.
And hovers around you.
"Come with us?" they whisper in unison, their voices childlike and tender.
Forming a protective escort, they guide you to a clearing in the forest. There, a solitary wooden cabin stands, a bastion against the storm.
Through the rain-streaked window, you see her. Her young face is illuminated by the flickering light of a kerosene lamp.
...
Still no one...
She is too far away to hear. You push on, driven by a desperate need to reach her.
She sits at a table, meticulously folding sheet after sheet of paper into airplanes, whispering to them as if they were her only friends.
You're the only ones still by my side.
Mommy used to say that paper planes are little wind fairies... that they will keep me company.
Your footsteps quicken into a reckless sprint. You ignore the danger, the wind that claws at your clothes, threatening to throw you to the ground. Yet the closer you get to Liv, the more ferocious the storm becomes.
You know... even though I've been by myself since Mommy left, I really believe someone will come. Someone who'll protect me, just like she did.
And I want to protect that person, too.
Because... I might have to wait a long, long time for them. And until we meet, maybe they're feeling just as lonely as I am right now.
The driving rain soaks the paper airplanes around you. Their lights flicker and die; they fall to the mud, one by one. And then you feel it—an immense, unnatural force pulling from behind. It is a gravitational anchor, growing stronger and stronger, trying to wrench your body away from this place, out of this time.
The force becomes absolute. You cannot move forward even an inch. It is a final, immutable warning: You were not part of her childhood. You do not belong here.
Little fairies, can you help me find that person?
Please watch over that person, wherever they may be. May happiness find that person, even before we find each other...
She cups the paper airplanes in her palms, ready to open the window and launch them into the sky, but freezes. Amid the storm, she sees a blur of light.
That light is torn apart by the wind, desperately rushing toward her only to be savagely whipped backward.
Darkness devours the edges of your vision until Liv's tiny figure is visible only through a small, shrinking hole.
A voice calls out, but the words are stolen by the downpour, and to her ears, they sound like helpless crying.
Don't cry... don't cry...
Little Liv wrenches the door open and stumbles into the rain.
The light is fading, guttering like a candle in the deluge.
She runs, arms outstretched for a desperate embrace—
Her fingers touch it. With a soft poof, the light shatters into a flock of white paper airplanes.
...Huh?
They tumble down around her like silent, falling snow, one after another.
She remains kneeling in the mud, arms empty, her embrace holding nothing but the memory of light.
Don't cry... don't cry...
She murmurs to herself.
She was alone in her secret base that day, folding paper airplanes.
Her mother was gone, and no one noticed when the girl slipped away.
As the storm chilled her small body, she might have dreamed of someone coming to find her.
But the reality was that no one ever came.
On that day, she never met someone who would cherish her for a lifetime.
The fierce winds brought only a shattered illusion, scattering the fragile hopes she had sent into the sky.
She would have to wait much, much longer...
In her hazy consciousness, her mother's voice echoed in her ear.
A memory resurfaced: she and her mother, aboard the aircraft, safe and together.
...Our town is watched over by the God of Wind. If you soar through the winds with someone you love, the God of Wind will bless you to be together for a lifetime.
Liv, I have to go now.
Antonia rose and stepped off the aircraft.
But you'll meet someone you'll love, and when that time comes, that person will stay by your side just as I have.
May the God of Wind watch over you both.
But the silhouettes of her mother and [player name] gradually vanish into the storm.
She gazes up at the towering windmill, where legend claims the God of Wind dwells within the church at its peak. It sways perilously in the roar of the hurricane.
If it collapses in the storm, countless buildings will be crushed beneath it. The people of Vennquis will face utter devastation...
Unwilling to let the storm take everything she cherishes, she wonders... if she can stabilize the tower, perhaps she can summon the God of Wind's blessing for this town, for herself and [player name].
Silently, she makes her decision.
