Story Reader / Affection / Selena: Tempest / Story

Through those letters, you can feel Iris's joy at finding a best friend.

The days go by and through the descriptions in the letters, the other girl starts to take shape.

From time to time, she and Iris would have a huge fight over some minute differences in ideas. Yet, the next moment, they would spend all day and night deep in discussion because they found new common ground.

To think that in a world like this, there are people who are bothered by things like this.

While thinking about how inconceivable this is, you also feel a subtle sense of gratification.

It's like seeing flowers blooming in a briar of thorns. It's heartwarming.

It does not know what a tempest is, nor does it need to know.

Knowing that they're both doing well is enough for you.

Both Iris and A have been getting busier.

They are pursuing their own ideals, working to forge their own path in these unforgiving times.

It's been awhile since my last letter to you, [player name].

Please forgive my recent lack of correspondence. It's just that after things starting falling in place, I haven't had much time to myself.

The World Government Association of Art contacted me recently, telling me they really love my operas.

They're giving me an opportunity to have my play performed in the Grand Opera House of Babylonia.

As such, I've been spending my days and nights making preparations.

Writing the libretto, composing the music... I've decided to base it on the Acadia Evacuation.

A is helping me as well, of course. Every day, we discuss how to set up the scenery so that everything's perfect.

I've gained enough experience and I've never doubted my own talent. I have absolute confidence in myself.

But for some reason that I can't explain, I'm panicking.

My audience is growing larger, cheering for me and supporting my operas.

But this panic feels like quicksand, pulling me deeper and deeper in.

I don't know why I'm panicking. I've pondered over it for a long time, but I don't know what it is that I'm missing.

I don't dare to unload this on A. She's busy concentrating on her own art and I can't disturb her at this time.

In the past, when I gazed up at the stars in the sky, all I saw was unparalleled beauty.

But now, when I gaze up at those same stars, all I feel is an unbearable emptiness.

My opera will be performed the day after tomorrow, and yet here I am, cowering.

I feel so lost, and so I write to you for help.

This is incredibly selfish of me. How could I be so mean as to heap my problems on you?

But I trust you, unconditionally. You've always been so strong. You've always managed to get me back on track.

Please tell me, [player name]，what is it that I'm missing?

There is an opera ticket attached to the letter. If you can make it, please come and see my show.

I had hoped that our first meeting wouldn't be under such dire circumstances, but alas, it's unavoidable.

I want to—

Written down, then erased; written down, then erased again; written down, then erased once more.

Her hesitation and urgency are only veiled with a sheet of paper.

All of the contradiction eventually boiled down to a desperate plea for help.

I want to see you, [player name].

Follow-up missions and lengthy combat exercises have kept you busy every day. You do not even have the time and opportunity to check your mail, let alone attend a date.

Another month passes in the blink of an eye.

You open your mailbox to find it stuffed full of letters.

They are all from Iris.

You open each one, carefully reading through them.

You weren't in my audience. I'm pretty sure of that.

Because even though we've never met, I'm sure I can recognize your face at a glance.

I had been waiting for you, but I didn't see you even when the performance ended. I guess you didn't have time. I believe you didn't have time.

You're a soldier, so it must have been something that you had no say in—That's what I tell myself.

Although I must admit I was dismayed, I'm really glad you didn't come to see the opera.

It was such a novice attempt, so much so that I wouldn't feel comfortable showing it to you. Had you seen it, you would have been disappointed in me.

After the performance ended, I found the reason for my panic.

Using the libretto and music to convey your inner world to others... I feel that it's an especially meaningful endeavor.

I seem to have written this in one of my previous letters, didn't I?

I've been in such a hurry that I ended up becoming the type of person I used to dislike.

Along the way, I'd somehow lost sight of my ideals and my dreams.

I'd stopped examining every libretto I wrote and my arrogance hurt others. This pains me.

A long time ago, I felt that Babylonia was such a small place.

So much so that sending letters never took more than a day.

Now more than ever, I realize why it's so small.

It comes across as comfortable and cozy because I've been a frog in a well.

From my limited perspective, I depicted a ridiculous representation of the world and actually thought it was the real thing.

If I want to capture the real world on canvas and create real art, I shouldn't stay here.

Only the experience of hell can exercise the power to create heaven, only through the blood of the fingers can the world pop into existence.

Someone once said that.

I strongly believe this, and so I've made the biggest decision of my life.

I wish you could be physically here with me and listen to me telling you this. And then, just as always, tell me what I should do.

But this time, I can't wait any longer. This is my decision and my responsibility to bear. I can't push them to you.

Waiting is no longer a pleasant experience, but a torture.

Do not linger to gather flowers to keep them, but walk on, for flowers will keep themselves blooming all your way.

You once told me that.

I'm moving forward, [player name].

Perhaps this will be the last letter.

If this isn't, well, the next time I send you a letter, I'll be a brand new me.

I believe there will be a day when we will meet. That I'm sure.

I've attached a pen with this letter. That's the pen I've been using all this while.

I've clutched it all day and night, contemplating how best to write you this letter.

When you use it, it'll be as if I was holding your hand close to my heart.

Yours faithfully,

Iris

Almost immediately, you pick up her pen and begin to write a reply.

Iris:

Art is the gentlest way of safeguarding the human soul.

You might doubt yourself now,

but don't turn your back to everything.

Being able to enduring this hardship,

has made you all the more radiant.

We will meet someday.