Story Reader / Affection / Selena: Tempest / Story
Your letters have not been especially frequent. Sometimes you get one a week, sometimes one the entire month. There have even been times when you receive a letter and forget to reply until much later. In any case, the letters between Iris and you have never stopped.
Like an hourglass, the grains of time kept slipping by, and recently, the innocent little girl has been showing greater maturity.
You have begun to grow ever closer.
Despite this, Iris has never overstepped the boundaries.
One could argue that you were close, but then again, you have never met.
One could also argue that you were not close, but then again, being pen pals, you know each other's deepest secrets.
One day, Iris started sending gifts along with her letters.
They were generally trinkets.
Our teacher at the Center of Basic Public Education took us to the greenhouse today for an observation.
In a sense, it was to provide hands-on education in understanding the makeup of plants.
It was my first time seeing such vibrant flowers in bloom and in that moment, all that I could think of was how true that line was—
God expects answers for the flowers he sends us, not for the sun and the earth.
Oh yes, and among those flowers was a purple one that was exceedingly beautiful.
It might have been an Iris, a flower you previously mentioned.
It was my first time seeing something so beautiful.
But my teacher plucked that flower and deconstructed it so that we could understand what was inside.
Its remnants were scattered within the petri dish for us to observe, and looking at it, I lost my desire to learn more. I just felt lost and miserable.
Although from a logical perspective, the flower had fulfilled its purpose.
We had maximized the benefits gained from its existence and I suppose something good came out of it.
But I feel it shouldn't have been that way. Perhaps there could have been a more fitting ending for it.
Let it silently bloom and be held in appreciation by those who view it, before withering with no regrets...
The life cycle of a flower is nothing short of a miracle.
But we can't spare the time to admire this miracle.
We've been educated to use the most efficient method to achieve our goal and get the results.
We've lost the ability to admire beauty in our pursuit of maximum efficiency.
This disheartens me.
And then I started relating that to myself.
My music, my opera, my art, and everything about me... doesn't seem to hold any value in this world.
They won't be of help to anyone, nor will anyone take notice of them... Should I even continue doing these? I'm at a loss.
What do you think? [player name].
Oh yes, I begged the teacher to leave me the remnants of the flower. I took them home, dried them and put them back together to make a bookmark.
I can't be sure whether I'll ever see such a beautiful flower again,
so I wedged it between the folds of the letter and I hope you'll be able to smell its lingering fragrance.
There is a dried flower contained within the letter.
Even though the color has faded, the beautiful purple still remains ever vivid within its grooves.
You place it on your desk, then pick up your pen to continue writing.
Iris:
I wonder if you have ever heard such a saying:
Keep moving forward,
Do not linger to gather and preserve the petals.
Paved is your path—
With flowers blooming as nature intends.
After a brief while, you receive a reply.
Thank you for your letter, [player name]. You don't know how much those words mean to me.
You're absolutely right.
Just simply "wanting" will never result in anything, so I have chosen to take action.
You can't make excuses for yourself to escape by simply not having a stage, an actor, or the fear of being misunderstood.
I can't keep burying myself in my creative work and forget that it's more important to use them to reach out to others.
Therefore, I plan to use robots to perform the opera that I wrote and reproduced.
I contacted the manager of the Virtual Exhibition Hall and they agreed to provide me with an area to hold my performance.
Tomorrow will be the premiere, and truth to be told, I'm feeling very nervous.
I'm confident in my project, but I'm also terrified of the criticism and lack of understanding I'll get.
The contradiction within my heart is tormenting me.
By the time you read this, I'll probably already have performed the first show at the Exhibition Hall.
[player name], do you think it will be a success?
No matter whether it'll be successful, I just hope that as you read this letter, you'll pray for my success.
Even though we've never met, I feel that right now, you're the person that understands me the most.
Phew, the letter is sent.
She then looks at the robot beside her.
Time to fight my "battle".
She closes her eyes and looks resolutely at the Exhibition Hall.
My dearest [player name]:
I don't know how to express my inner joy with you. Only at this moment, I think these words lack in tenor.
I keep imagining that if you were to be standing in front of me at this moment, I would hug you and share my happiness with you.
Such elegant writing, like a soaring dragon and dancing phoenix, etched within the paper, so warmly proclaims the happiness and enthusiasm of the writer.
I can't help but be thankful that I wasn't about to do it. Otherwise, others would consider my actions inappropriate.
Not long ago, I mentioned my decision to perform my opera at the Virtual Exhibition Hall.
To be honest, it got off to a terrible start. No one wanted to stop and spend time watching something like that.
I was despondent, and then a girl showed up.
She gave me affirmation. She said my opera was fascinating and she wanted to see what would happen next.
She was an artist and even said she wanted to help provide illustrations for the scenes.
My work inspired another creator to produce a new artwork.
There is no greater honor than this! I feel so happy! It's the most precious thing in the world!
From that moment on, my feelings of despondency vanished, I still felt that it's all been worth it.
So what if I only have an audience of one? I'll continue creating new works and writing operas.
Oh right, her name is...
This line is scratched out, forcefully.
No, I shouldn't give you her name without her permission.
In any case, we've become very close friends, so let me just call her A.
I wish I could introduce A to you! You'd like her, I'm sure and she'd definitely like you too!
Perhaps there's no need for introductions. After all, Babylonia's pretty small and who knows, we might already have met somewhere.
Perhaps when we actually meet someday, we'll stare at each other's face and simultaneously exclaim:
Oh, so that was you back then.
