Story Reader / Affection / Selena: Pianissimo / Story
Time continues to flow quietly.
As Selena is still in the adaptation period for her new frame, she cannot take surface missions as dictated by the Control Court for now. During her free time, she often invites you to explore Babylonia together, as if trying to make up for lost time.
[player name], over here!
Today's goal is the opera house that once staged "The Acadia Evacuation".
Times have changed. The opera house has long since removed the special decorations from that original production. The luxurious yet classic stage no longer displays those expensive sets.
Since no operas are currently in rehearsal, the WGAA set up a holograph simulator to make use of the space. It has a vast collection of operas from the Golden Age and Babylonia, available for residents to enjoy.
It's been so long. This place brings back memories...
The girl carefully walks onto the stage.
This stage has witnessed her glory and listened to her when she was lost.
Kind of.
Sounds fun, but that's not why I asked you here today.
Sitting at the edge of the stage, Selena takes out an old journal from her bag.
These are stories I recorded while I was "wandering."
As she opens it, a tattered letter falls out.
Oh... I'm sorry.
A blush spreads across her cheeks as Selena picks it up from the floor, but you still manage to read the first line.
It's a letter you once wrote to her, but the handwriting on this "letter" is more delicate.
I wandered across the surface, my M.I.N.D. in shambles, my memories lost.
I searched day and night... An "agent" who once helped me said that only I could find my own story.
Now and then, words surfaced from my fragmented M.I.N.D... I copied them down when I was lucid.
Whenever my M.I.N.D. burned with pain, reading those words brought some relief...
The girl's cheeks grow redder.
But... this isn't what I wanted to show you this time.
She awkwardly tries to change the subject.
It's these... stories I've recorded myself.
She gently opens the yellowed journal, as if soothing the souls recorded within its pages.
With the power of the Transcendant and the Red Tide, I've read so many stories... ones that have vanished from the world.
Illusion and reality intertwine. She has witnessed countless joys and sorrows from within the Red Tide.
Her thoughts take root in the soil. She has heard cries of agony and Auguries of Innocence.
Lately, I've been compiling and preserving every story I could find.
If no one else remembers them, then I will. I'll be the one to carry them forward.
As she turns the pages, the briefly narrated stories echo from the depths of the earth.
From the destruction of tiny villages to the decimation of cities. The ruins flooded by the Red Tide hold countless stories. The sorrows can only be conveyed through simple narratives.
...This is the last one, City 82.
Selena sighs softly as she turns over the page about a little girl chasing apples.
They waited for the evacuation for so long, and made impossible choices just to survive. But in the end... all that came for them was the Red Tide.
I once spoke of war with careless admiration, romanticizing humanity's brilliance while arrogantly claiming to "depict the real world" through what I called "hellish trials."
But the real world was never meant to be depicted—it keeps composing its own song, moment by moment.
Casting aside her confusion, she seems to have glimpsed a corner of the world's true meaning.
I want to... be someone who listens, someone who writes those songs down.
If no one remembers, then she will record it. If no one knows, then she will pass it on.
They lived on this Earth. I'll make sure it remembers their voices.
...
Beyond the book is a blank canvas waiting to be filled. She opens the first page, where several lines of musical staff float around the Prologue.
The holographic projector unrolls slowly on stage, showing the hall of a famous Golden Age opera house. Selena walks gracefully toward the piano and sits down with perfect posture.
So please, listen. This song is for them.
It's called "Requiem for the Nameless".
Notes trickle like stars from the girl's dancing fingers.
