Story Reader / Event Story / Stellar Narratives / Story
After checking several times to make sure no one is following, you grip the warning letter in your hand and step into the elevator to the windmill tower's top.
It's a letter foretelling a crime, and as you look at it, you can almost hear a woman's soft humming in your ear.
?Windmill tower's falling down, falling down, falling down. Windmill tower's falling down, falling down, falling down.?{226|153|170}
My dear Commandant...
She hums as she writes.
I imagine you're currently indulging in Constellia's cloyingly sweet, peaceful, and dreadfully dull festival games.
Ha! How unbearably dull. Why don't I add a little excitement...
I've planted a bomb at the top of Constellia's windmill tower, one that's powerful enough to bring the whole thing down.
Picture it. All those carefree laughs replaced by screams and wails in the wake of one deafening blast.
I can hardly contain my excitement...
Heh... there's no way you'd just stand by and let it happen.
You know where to find me. That's right, as close to the bomb as possible.
Don't worry. When the windmill tower falls, at least we'll fall together.
After all...
"If a person never falls in their lifetime, they'll only know what falling feels like when they die."
Your lips move silently as you mouth the name of the sender.
The elevator rises quickly, and you stand alone inside, running through the situation in your mind.
The moment you learned of the bomb, you alerted Babylonia, and Constellia offered to send a team to assist in its removal.
But you refused their offer.
You can't be sure whether this Ascendant, Eleanor, really planted a bomb, but given her unpredictable nature, it's safer to follow her so?called rules.
Ding. The elevator reaches the top.
Your standard?issue pistol is already in hand as you step out, fully alert, only to catch a whiff of a dangerous sweet scent.
You've imagined countless ways you might meet her again, but what greets you now is nothing like you pictured.
The somewhat familiar Ascendant is tied to a chair, hands and feet bound, with the promised bomb sitting right on her lap.
If you hadn't dealt with her many times before, you might think she's just an unfortunate victim.
Seeing you arrive on schedule, she shifts slightly against her restraints, looking even more pitiful.
My dear Commandant, it delights me to see you take my message so seriously.
But... as you can see, my hands and feet are tied, so I can't stand to greet you. How rude of me.
Her politeness earns no courtesy in return. Before she says another word, you already have your gun aimed at her.
Even the sturdiest restraints would be as easy for her to break as a strand of hair.
Maybe, out of respect for the role of a "helpless damsel," she is letting herself be bound, submitting to these thin ropes for the moment.
Look at me like this, Commandant. Do you really think I could still pull any tricks?
Don't overthink it. Do I look like the kind who gets along with other Ascendants?
I can't even move, and you're still pointing a gun at me. That's a bit crude, don't you think?
Ah... I didn't think I'd left you with such an unladylike impression of me.
Why don't you guess? Either way, you'll end up checking it yourself, won't you?
Just as she says, you ignore her words and focus on the box in her lap, inspecting it closely.
It's simple. The countdown is tied to my life. Pull the trigger, kill me, and the timer stops...
Still bound, she can't hide her smile any longer. A faint flush creeps across her cheeks, as if savoring the moment.
Believe me or don't, Commandant. Either way, you'll have to choose.
So, will you save me, or kill me?
You say nothing, and her smile only widens, as if she's relishing the performance.
Let me guess what's going through your head, "Should I save her? But this damned bomb is still threatening innocent lives in Constellia. Killing her would be the smarter choice."
No? Then maybe something harsher, "Kill her! She's an Ascendant, humanity's enemy. One shot and this bomb threat disappears instantly."
Well? Did I get it right?
But you seem done with her little mind games. You lower your gun, crouch in front of her, and focus back on the bomb's timer.
...Such a simple device, and the Gray Raven Commandant still feels the need to check it twice?
On the contrary, Commandant. I value my life, and that's exactly why I've placed it in your hands.
I'm just sitting here, playing the part of a poor, clueless woman under threat from a bomb, waiting for the righteous Commandant to "save" me.
I believe the Gray Raven Commandant can weigh the value of a life with precision, even if... it belongs to an enemy.
You seem to have made up your mind. You lower your gun at last and start to undo her restraints.
...
Commandant, you've certainly surprised me. So, this is your choice in the end?
The moment her legs are freed, she kicks upward without warning, her sharp heel coming dangerously close to your chin.
"Save everyone you can," is it? I think I'm starting to like you more. Maybe we don't have to be enemies after all.
You glance again at the numbers racing toward zero, then start working to disarm it.
...Still so earnest. I wonder how many more surprises you have in you. I'm almost starting to feel bad watching you struggle all alone.
And what if I give you a fake code?
You lift your gaze from the maze of wires to meet her eyes.
"Gray Raven Commandant and Ascendant Plunge to Their Death at Constellia's Double Seventh Festival"? I have to admire your sense of humor in a crisis. But don't worry, I also want to see just how far you can go.
Time doesn't slow for this uneasy alliance between two rivals. The countdown keeps outpacing your progress.
Ahh... Looks like this is as far as we go.
Thirty seconds left. Nowhere near enough to finish.
You already know the answer, don't you?
The enigmatic curve of her smile confirms the answer in your heart.
Ten seconds left... 9, 8, 7, 6, 5...
The bomb spins through the air, and instead of exploding, it bursts into a cascade of vivid purple fireworks, mocking your fears.
Hahaha! Hahahahaha...
Her laughter rings out behind you, wild and triumphant.
But when you turn, ready to share the spectacle with your "enemy," the mysterious Ascendant is gone.
The ropes lie scattered on the ground, applauding her escape. The air still holds the scent of gunpowder laced with her dangerous perfume.
On the chair, still carrying her fragrance, rests her final gift, a note in the same style as the warning letter.
My dear Commandant, I simply adore that fire in you, that will to burn with everything you have.
Shame I dislike the tired old twist of bombs turning into fireworks.
And worse, the smoke masks that scent that belongs only to you. Such a pity...
But this will not be the last time we meet. Promise me you'll guard that little flame in you. Don't let it burn out too soon.
Next time, let me savor your essence properly.
In the bottom left corner of the note, a purple lipstick mark remains, still carrying her scent.
