Morimens story · Special Ops
Rose's Abode
10 scenes, 918 lines
1. Home, before the fight
110 linesAlright, Horla, the passengers next to us are gone.
Really? You're not deceiving me?
...Really.
Horla peeked out from under the large parchment, cautiously looking around.
After confirming there were no strangers around, she let out a long breath and crawled out from under the parchment.
You know they can't see you, right?
Not necessarily. Among the travelers could be Awakeners, researchers with special equipment, or gifted individuals...
Perhaps the old man who was smoking just now is a secret member of the Committee.
I always felt there was something very mysterious about him... Who knows?
Sunlight bathed the deck. Horla closed her eyes, arms slightly open.
Noticing your gaze, she shyly pulled her hands back and hid them behind her back.
Not bad, much better than I expected.
I thought you'd want to turn back after seeing so many people on the cruise.
I thought about it at the time, but I didn't have the courage to tell you...
Ah! {Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper, look! It's the Szenyér river!
The boundlessness of the sea only lasted a short while. Soon, a lighthouse rose slowly from beneath the horizon.
Behind it, a wide estuary and the blurred cities on both banks came into view.
Miss Nymphaea! Miss Nymphaea!
Hello, may I ask what I can assist you with?
Have you seen Horla? It's urgent!
Don't you have a poetry club or something? According to my informant, Horla seems to frequently attend your events.
You're so close to her, you must know where she is, right?!
Sorry, I last saw Horla two months ago... She dislikes crowded places.
Do you have her poems? Your poetry club must have collected many of her works, right?!
Unfortunately, I don't have any... I would pay a lot to acquire a copy, though.
Hannah, do you have something to ask her about?
The school newspaper hasn't had much attention lately. Horla has never liked being interviewed, not even to publish her own poems.
If we can publish her poems or even conduct an exclusive interview with her, this month's school magazine sales will definitely double!
I've already thought of the title: "Garden and Spring, The Untold Stories of Young Poet Horla"...
...According to statistics, the current number of sightings has reached double digits.
According to eyewitnesses, the changes in Cité don't seem to be caused by ordinary dissolution.
The current Cité is very...
Very...?
In the words of an eyewitness, "It was beautiful."
Dissolution... beautiful?
The lack of logic is a common characteristic of eyewitness testimony.
From their chaotic words, it can be concluded that the uniqueness and impact of this event are extremely rare, yet the exhibited risk is minimal, creating a stark contrast.
We have not encountered a similar event. Whether it is the result of dissolution remains unknown.
What did the contact in Cité say?
The contact reported that everything was normal, so the level of this event isn't high. But we still need to send someone to Cité to check...
Bang...
Before Doll finished speaking, a white figure slipped into the office like a ghost and hid behind the curtain.
...
...
Horla, if you're hiding from someone... you forgot to close the door.
Ah! I'm so sorry! I've caused you trouble... {Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper! Miss Doll!
She hurriedly closed the office door, and quickly hid behind the curtains.
Horla! Where are you? Horla!
Come out, dear Horla! We just need a short interview~ It won't hurt, I promise!
Hannah's voice drifts away from outside the door.
Finally started bullying Horla? It seems the pressure from the school paper's sales has indeed become quite significant.
It's fine if you don't want to do the interview. Just hand over a few of the many poems you've written to Hannah, and she'll leave you alone.
I... don't really want to...
Those poems only bring misfortune... I don't want that to happen again.
Recalling what Horla had experienced, you understood her meaning and nodded.
I should be outside, not in a crowded place like the school...
{Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper, can I ask for your help with a solution?
To be honest, I don't have any good solutions for dealing with that ferret's agility and sense of smell.
However, if you'd prefer to be outdoors, there is a way I can help you.
You pick up the photo on the table and wave it in front of her.
Cité, your home.
The cruise silently drifts, houses and flowers on both sides slowly fading behind, vanishing at the bend of the Szenyér River.
Horla closed her eyes. A smile blossomed on her face.
It's the wind of Cité! Cité is the city of flowers, and even the wind carries the scent of flowers.
Even after all these years, the moment I smell it, I remember.
Do you miss the sights of Cité?
Of course! But I've always lived in the greenhouse. I haven't really been to most of the places in Cité.
I've written many poems about Cité's scenery, but those are fiction... If there's a chance this time, I'd like to see those places.
Where do you want to go the most?
The place I want to visit the most... hmm, it would be the garden where I used to live.
Every rose season, the garden is in full bloom with roses, as if living in a dream!
Just not sure if the roses and the poem book are still there after that fire...
When the fire broke out, I couldn't escape, so I buried my poetry collection in the garden. This time, I intend to find it.
After all you've experienced in Cité, I didn't think you'd like this place or want to see that poem again.
Those things have nothing to do with this land or its people... Cité is a beautiful place.
As for the poem... I can't say, {Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper.
It brings much pain to those around me, which I dislike, but... it is also my most precious possession.
Whether to preserve or destroy it, I still want to find it.
Don't worry, I will definitely take you to see it. I'm just not sure if we can still find it after all these years.
A black butterfly flutters gracefully and lands on Horla's outstretched fingertip.
Look, {Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper, a butterfly!
If a butterfly lands on someone, it means that, in the butterfly's eyes, this person's life is like a flower.
To the Cité people, a life like a flower always brings good fortune~
Exactly, Miss. You smell like roses.
Cité has many beautiful rose gardens; you will feel right at home here~
!!!
Horla, be careful!
You've never witnessed a butterfly speak. You gently pulled Horla back.
No aggression, not like a Dissolution Mutant... nor a Phantasm...
The pitch-black humanoid butterfly flapped its wings and swayed to and fro as it left the cruise ship. You looked around cautiously. The Szenyér River still flowed quietly.
Humans becoming butterflies... a beautiful image, isn't it?
A well-dressed noblewoman appears beside you without your notice. She turns her face toward the Szenyér River and gives Horla a slight smile.
However, miss. The rose on your eye is far more beautiful than a butterfly.
Y-Yes... Madam...
Horla, did you disable your shroud?
I haven't... Madam, can you see me?
In the new Cité, all things of beauty should be seen.
The new Cité...
Ah, we've arrived.
You turn around.
A painting like you have never seen before unfolds before your eyes.
The cruise ship collides with the shore buffer, producing a dull thud.
You and Horla stare in bewilderment, seemingly forgetting how to walk.
My car won't arrive for a while, so let me show you around.
She raises her hand, her arm tracing an elegant arc.
Welcome to Cité, distant guests.
2. City of Blossoms, before the fight
130 linesThis... This is too...
Cité, the city of flowers and poetry.
Today's Cité truly lives up to its name.
Led by the noblewoman, you walk forward, overwhelmed by everything that catches your eye.
You walk down the misty streets, touching the stained bricks on the buildings, plucking sycamore leaves like color ink.
This city seems to be shrouded by a peculiar filter, with all buildings and plants standing in an extremely surreal, watercolor-like appearance.
{Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper, look at this house, does it seem like there are some lines floating on it?
Like poetry inscribed on buildings... so beautiful!
These beautiful scenes seem to make Horla forget those painful memories, as well as the strangers around.
Her eyes shimmered as she followed you through this picturesque city.
...It's impressive that you still have the heart to think about this now.
Horla, don't you think the city of Cité has become strange?
No, although I've forgotten what Cité looks like, I think it should look like this.
This lady is correct. Cité, a city of flowers and poetry, should indeed look like this.
The noblewoman smiled and patted Horla's back.
Heh heh...
Only now seeming to realize there was a stranger beside her, she smiled awkwardly, blushing as she hid herself slightly behind the parchment.
A clear bell rings, and a carriage appears before you.
Ah, my ride is almost here... I'm afraid I can't stay with you any longer.
I didn't expect you to come, so I didn't prepare a gift... Here, this is for you. I hope you won't dislike it.
She extends her hand, presenting something to Horla.
This is...
A rose stained with watercolor trembles slightly in the wind from an unknown direction.
Horla looks up joyfully to express gratitude, but the old woman has already boarded the carriage.
Farewell, Horla.
The carriage moves forward, soon blending into the distant ink painting.
This elderly lady is truly kind. But there's something a bit strange about her...
Indeed... Oh dear, I forgot to ask her for directions.
Never mind, let's look for someone nearby.
Such a big city, yet there are so few people on the streets... It's truly strange.
Changes in visual features, discrepancies in numbers... The witnesses' accounts were not wrong.
...Indeed. That's roughly the situation in Cité.
Things are strange here, but no danger or signs of Dissolution have been found yet.
Horla and I are preparing to move forward, find the contact as soon as possible, and verify the situation here.
The school is preparing to assign reinforcements, but it will take some time.
Understood. Until then, leave the investigation in Cité to us.
Turning off the Silver communicator, you vigilantly scan your surroundings.
This city seems to be enveloped by a peculiar filter, with all the buildings standing bizarrely like haphazardly smeared oil paintings.
You've been walking down this street for ten minutes without seeing anyone. The only things here are the strange buildings by the roadside, surrounded by clusters of blooming flowers.
In broad daylight, I've walked for so long without seeing a single person... Do people in Cité not go out?
Ah!
Why did you hide inside the parchment again...?
La, laa, la-aah~
A resident hums an unfamiliar tune, passing by the intersection ahead, showing only their back.
He wears a suit that looks overly tight, and the shape of his head appears somewhat odd.
Ah... Thank goodness, finally I see someone.
You quickly step forward.
Hello, sir.
Ah, hello, dear {Male=Sir,Female=Madam}! May I ask how I can be of assistance to you?
!!!
He turned around. Above the suit was the enormous head of a bee.
What's wrong, {Male=Sir,Female=Madam}? Did I say something inappropriate that made you uncomfortable?
No... cough, No.
Excuse me, could you tell me how to get to Medici Avenue?
Ah, {Male=Sir,Female=Madam}, you're new to Cité, right?
Yes.
No wonder, you don't even know the most famous street...
Rest assured, the citizens of Cité are very hospitable. Medici Avenue is just...
Hmm...
This Mr. Bee didn't finish his sentence and suddenly started convulsing all over.
A pair of large membranous wings tore through his coat, melting and dripping like butter under the scorching sun.
Honey, Mr. Bee! ...
Snap...
The humanoid bee's body fell to the ground, turned black, then crumbled into powder and dispersed into the air.
These aren't the typical symptoms of Dissolution...
You examine the surroundings carefully once again.
Surrounded by buildings resembling abstract paintings. Observing the occasional distant residents, you can see their bodies resemble various plants and animals.
The Cité before me appears as if it were taken straight out of some bizarre dream.
Ding...
The badge on your chest gleamed silver. You established the communication.
Professor Doll, I just encountered an atypical dissolution mutant...
Call from Cité. A citizen turned into D-Dust on a busy street.
!!!
Exactly the same as what I encountered here...
But I'm in Cité, and it's nothing like a bustling city.
Indeed, there's no interface between the real world and the Domain here. But if it's not a Domain, why would this place and these people become like this... It doesn't make sense.
It seems that this Domain is different from ordinary ones, a completely independent space.
But its impact on Cité is real and tangible.
No matter what, we need to find the cause before things escalate further.
Understood.
Communication ends. The atmosphere becomes heavy.
{Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper... Mr. Bee, has he passed away?
You look at Horla and pat her on the back.
This is not the real Cité. Perhaps, it's just some kind of illusion...
I hope so...
Horla picks a sycamore leaf and places it on the remaining D-dust.
Let's go to Medici Avenue and find the contact for investigation.
...
Look, {Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper! A tram!
You walked forward for a while, and a dark mass came towards you.
There are trams, but we didn't see the stop, so we're not sure if they go where we want to go.
Have I told you? From the fence of the old garden, you could see the tram passing by, but I've never actually rode one.
I believe I recall it can go anywhere. Regardless, I still would like to board it, at least just once.
Every time I see that tram, it feels like a giant...
Hello, may I offer you a ride?
!!!
On the winding tracks, a giant caterpillar stops in front of you.
Ah! Just as I remember! It's the Caterpillar Train!
Hello, if you're not getting in, I'll be leaving. Other passengers are waiting.
You watch it warily. The Caterpillar Train seems friendly enough...
Excuse me, does this train go to Medici Avenue?
Of course, of course... This tram can take you anywhere.
A railcar that can go anywhere, huh... Sure, that makes sense.
Anyway, at least this vehicle is indeed for carrying passengers.
The caterpillar's body opens, revealing a tidy seat inside.
Seeing Horla's expectant eyes, you sit down.
Excuse me, how do I pay for the ticket?
Free of charge.
Looks like today isn't all that bad, at least there's a free ride...
Not free. To obtain a ticket for this car, you need to pay with a poem.
???
Ah, that's right... This young lady must be a local.
Horla, how do you even know these rules...
I'm not quite sure... That's just how I remember it.
It's not costly; each rider just needs to write a simple sentence.
I'll go first...
She approaches the front of the bus and whispers something into the fare box by the driver's seat.
Ah... What a beautiful poem! Please take a seat, miss.
Can I take a look as well?
I... I'm a bit embarrassed... I'll write it in secret to you after returning, {Male=Keeper Sir,Female=Madam Keeper}.
It's your turn, {Male=Sir,Female=Madam}.
Hmm, let me think...
The trolley car inched along the tracks like a caterpillar.
My analogy is quite ingenious, akin to something else.
Hurry up, let's head to Medici Avenue!
...
...
Generally, you need to rewrite a sentence, but that lady's poem could purchase season tickets for all seats, and I don't wish to endure any more torment. Please, take a seat.
The caterpillar opens its eyes, and a bright light shone from them.
It moves steadily forward.
3. The Poet, before the fight
99 linesTwo cups of coffee... thank you.
Soon, a raccoon dressed in a waiter's uniform brought you two cups of coffee.
Speaking to strangers? You've made great progress already, Horla!
Only one person, and they look like an animal, but I suppose it's not nothing...
Although I'm not sure whether it's a good thing, there are finally more people around.
Didn't Mr. Caterpillar say that most people won't harm us as long as we don't act strangely?
Hope no more bees come to "sing" for me...
On the spacious street, citizens with various animal heads come and go, showing no signs of aggression.
Bright light from an unknown source illuminates the roof and tables of the roadside café.
Horla bathes in the light, her feet swinging in the air to an unknown beat.
I remember reading in the newspaper that March Street was originally an ordinary street, but it gained fame because a painter created a piece for this café.
I really love this story and once wrote a poem about it. In the poem, the artist eventually settled at No. 99, End of March Street.
I think it's not that March Street encountered the painter, but rather that the painter encountered March Street.
Cité has become so strange, yet you seem not at all afraid, even quite enjoying it?
Here, you don't have to interact with people, yet you can encounter many new and fascinating things.
I can't quite put it into words, but I always feel more at home here than when looking at the newspapers and photos of Cité...
Ah, look, {Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper! It's the stars!
Stars? But there seems to be neither day nor night here...
You look up. Next to the shimmering golden stars, white petals unfold.
Huge daisy-like stars transform the sky into a garden.
Cité is a city of poetry and flowers... Without those urgent matters, it would indeed be quite enjoyable.
After thirty minutes, we encountered about a hundred citizens without any attacks... That tram must not have lied to us.
Ah, so {Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper has been observing all along?
I have no choice. Some gaze at the stars, while others must watch the ground beneath their feet.
Though not gifted in poetry, as the Keeper of Mythag, I can still handle this task.
The contact is at 101 March Street. Get ready, let's go.
...
Boom...
Who?!
Unsure of the dangers here, you cautiously observe your surroundings.
Ah, greetings to both of you!
Phew... We meet again...
Hello! Madame Butterfly, Mr. Caterpillar!
What are you doing?
My husband and I had dinner and were preparing to take a stroll down the street.
What a coincidence! I heard the poem written by that young lady, it's absolutely beautiful!
Thank you...
Are the two of you lost?
The roads here don't match the markings on the map, and the house numbers are all messed up...
Excuse me, do you know where No. 101 March Street is located?
101... I don't remember if there is a No. 101 on March Street.
Is that so...
This place isn't very large. Let's continue searching slowly.
Sorry for not being of much help.
Take your time with the search. Enjoy your stay in Cité~
After bidding farewell to the Butterfly Lady and Mr. Caterpillar, you continue to make your way through the streets of March Street, checking the numbers on the doorplates one by one.
Hmm, I don't recall March Street being this long...
We've checked the whole street twice already.
Huh? But I don't see where No. 101 is...
The first time I didn't notice, but the second time I carefully observed all the door numbers.
March Street... There is no No. 101.
The highest house number here is this one.
You stand by the wall at the end of the street. The metal nameplate on the small building ahead has been replaced with a painting.
March Street... No. 99.
Who's there?
The door bursts open, revealing a thin figure before you.
On the paint-stained, tattered clothes is the face of an insect.
Are you thieves?!
Uh... no, we're tourists here to visit a friend. He's at 101 March Street...
What's the number?!
1... Uh, No. 88.
You said 101. There's no 101 here...
You liars... You stole my painting! It was you who stole my painting!!
With the painter's movements, the surrounding scene suddenly changes.
A few dazzling and bizarre colors suddenly appeared on nearby buildings, resembling a complete painting torn apart into chaotic hues by some unknown force.
Is this... Dissolution?!
Uncertain of the principle behind this phenomenon, you quickly retreated with Horla.
Give me back my painting!!
His hand reaches for you. Before it touches you, strange colors surge around him like a flood, engulfing and devouring him...
Soon, the eerie colors stop writhing. You silently observe the scene before you.
The school badge on your chest emitted a silver glow.
Cité... Did something happen again?
A building has disappeared.
The location is on March Street...
No. 99.
You look at the remaining doorplate numbered 99, taking a deep breath.
We can't let things continue like this... Without a contact, we need to think of another way.
...Horla, what are you saying?
I mean, this isn't the real Cité.
This isn't the real Cité...?
The Caterpillar Train that requires a poem for a ticket, Madame Butterfly, only No. 99 March Street, the Painter, Daisy Stars...
These things we've seen, I've always felt they were extremely familiar. It was only just now that I finally remembered why.
These things have all appeared in my poetry collection. Everything here is just as I imagined in my poems...
{Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper, this is not the real Cité.
This is the Cité of my imagination...
Under the chaotic colors of March Street, Horla slowly spun around, gazing at everything that belonged to her poems.
The light falls like a veil, illuminating her face, which is filled with curiosity, sorrow, and confusion.
I see... No wonder there are so many bizarre things here.
But how did Cité end up like this...
I don't know either... Some things here aren't exactly the same as in my poems.
Everything in the poem should have been beautiful and eternal... I don't know why it turned out this way...
But I think, if we want to resolve the issue here, we might need to find that poem first.
Do you still remember the way?
In my poetry, March Street is close to home. I always remember the way back.
She faces the residential area, sorrow like a tangible mist enveloping you.
Let's go, {Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper, we're heading to the rose garden... to where I died.
4. Belated Funeral, before the fight
82 linesWe're here!
Walking northeast through the bustling Medici Avenue in Cité, you soon arrive at a beautiful apartment area.
A palace-like mansion stands before you, conspicuous and magnificent.
But... why has this place changed like this?
In the vast garden at its foot, gray withered grass grew everywhere. You walk into the garden.
The closer you get, the dimmer the colors around you become... Are these also part of the imagination of your poetry?
I can't quite remember... But it shouldn't be, right...?
Perhaps it's because you've written death into some of your poems.
Perhaps it's been affected by that great fire.
No matter what, this should be the place we are looking for.
Horla, where did you place the poem?
When the fire broke out, I dug a small pit to protect the poetry collection, placed it in a box, and buried it.
We lived in a greenhouse where roses are grown. You can find it by crossing the flower bed.
Ah!
Is there danger?!
Ah, no... {Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper, look there.
Horla excitedly points to a wall. A rough sketch is drawn on it with colored chalk.
Two little girls in dresses are playing at being a lady and a maid.
When we lived here, Colette and I would often play this game together. Sometimes I would play the noble, sometimes she would.
This painting was done by her, though it doesn't look very good. However, we didn't have more chalk at the time.
She dyed this dress red with juice from the roses... It's barely visible now, what a pity.
Horla's fingers gently brush over the simple line drawing, a faint smile lifting the corners of her lips.
Colette... the gardener who burned you to death, right?
She was also my best friend.
Growing up in the flower house was nice, but a bit cramped. We dreamed of having a home in the manor someday.
However, in the end, I never got to live there...
Horla gazed regretfully at the magnificent villa ahead and continued walking forward.
{Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper, through this rose garden, we're almost there.
Rose garden? Where is the rose garden...
The backyard of this mansion used to be filled with roses.
Were they Colette's?
Hmm! At that time, we had just been driven out of our old manor and had nowhere to go...
Wait! Colette... I just saw the sign. Is this the Countess's garden?
Didn't you say you hadn't seen a garden for a long time? Well, this is the most beautiful garden in this area.
Colette, let's hurry... If we get caught, it will be a lot of trouble!
No, it won't. Look...
She picked a rose and placed it in Horla's hand.
Ahhh! Colette, we're going to end up in prison...
No one's going to jail. Horla, look over there!
Following Colette's direction, Horla saw a greenhouse cultivating valuable roses.
The flower room contained two beds and their few belongings.
Colette... What is this?
I've rented this place.
But... how did you...
She just noticed that the necklace Colette's mother had left her was no longer around her neck.
Colette! You...
Shh~ None of that matters, Horla. What matters is, this isn't some count's garden, this is our garden.
We'll eat and sleep in the greenhouse... I'll sell the flowers that grow on this land to buy us clothes and food.
One day, I'll even buy us a home in that building!
To be honest, I don't understand your poems either... But it doesn't matter. Just write whatever you want to write.
Everyone has something they are born to do. I was born to strive for this garden and that house.
And you, you were born to write poetry.
Since then, she supported the two of us with the flowers from this garden.
Although it was extremely tough and we were far from buying a house, we were actually quite happy during that time.
Until one day, the publisher sent me my first payment for my poems...
Although she later locked you in the greenhouse and set the fire, you don't seem to hate her.
Hard to say... Maybe. I don't really know what to think.
I only know that, if it weren't for those poems, none of this would have happened...
Horla...
Horla's visions unfold before you. Her sorrow seems tangible, spreading and permeating everything around.
I'm sorry! {Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper... I've made you sad again...
It's all right, don't restrain your emotions.
Let's continue searching for the poetry collection.
The poem is buried over there! {Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper, please follow me!
You walked through the winding paths in the garden, circled around the burnt wooden frames, and arrived at an open space behind the yard.
We're here!
She points to a small spot in the middle of the backyard. The surrounding roses had turned to ash and fertilizer, now overgrown with black weeds.
The report from Mythag says they found Horla's Silver on a scorched clearing.
That is where the poem is buried. That is her final resting place.
Strange... There's a hole here...
The poem collection... the poem collection should have been buried here!
It hasn't been there for many years.
!!!
Who?!...
A familiar voice sounds. You abruptly turn around.
The back door of the villa opens, and the noblewoman you met on the ship stands at the entrance, looking down at you.
After the great fire, I held a grand funeral for you. It's a pity that you couldn't see it yourself.
Seeing you on the ship made me happy. I haven't felt this happy in a long time.
Decades... Decades, and we finally meet again...
Welcome home, Horla.
5. Garden of Forking Paths, before the fight
79 linesYou are... Colette...
Horla slightly parts her lips, staring straight at the old woman across a burned garden.
!!!
She is... the florist...
It's wonderful to see that you're still so young.
How did you spot Horla?
I've already told you the answer.
In the new Cité, all things of beauty should be seen.
It would be a pity if even my best friend couldn't see it.
Across the garden, the old woman smiles at you.
My sculptor friend told me that only those with a certain Gift can become Awakeners.
So envious, Horla.
You notice the traces of Dissolution on her and the person standing behind her.
The Sculptors' Association... It seems the situation here was caused by the gardener and the members of the Sculptors' Association.
Do you have that poem with you?
The relics of an old friend must be preserved well, of course.
Also, just a reminder, this isn't your collection of poems, it has always been mine.
Cité turned out like this... Was it your doing?
This place should be called "My Cité."
Do you remember? Our greatest dream used to be simply buying a house.
What about now? The poetry, the people, the land... and the building we've always dreamed of.
Look, dear Horla. Now, all of Cité is mine.
Colette, this question has puzzled me for many, many years...
Horla's fingers nervously twist together. She looks up, her bright eyes fixed on Colette.
Why are you doing these things... Why have you changed into what you are now...
Colette smiled and shook her head.
You are so clever that you can write beautiful poems without ever leaving your house. But when it comes to people, you truly understand nothing about them...
I have never changed, Horla.
No... impossible... you once clearly...
Sometimes, I really envy you. I envy your talent, your gifts, and even your innocence.
But why... why do you get to live so innocently?
Horla, people like us don't have the luxury of innocence.
It's not like that, Colette...
I don't care about those things from the past at all. Please return our Poem and restore Cité to normal...
Don't you care?
Hearing a funny joke, Colette laughed loudly, nearly unable to straighten her back.
You don't care... What gives you the right to be indifferent?
Save your pity, Horla. You never understood me. You understand nothing.
She stood up, regained her graceful composure, and nodded to the person beside her.
The ritual begins tonight. I'll leave things here in your hands.
Ritual? What are you trying to do?!
Colette ignores you, adjusts her clothing, and walks into the building.
Wait!
You try to chase after her, but the building suddenly vanishes and reappears behind you.
You discover that the garden's structure was completely inverted, like a living creature.
Has the structure of this garden changed?
I wrote about a garden of life in my poetry... but the garden in the poems isn't like this...
The poem is in the hands of the gardener; she must have altered the structure here...
It's still unclear how this place was formed. However, it seems that finding her may prove quite troublesome.
Let's hurry and chase after them!
Approaching the building with Horla, you suddenly hear her gasp.
{Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper, what do you see here?
Horla points to the steps. A small white envelope lies where they just stood.
You pick up the letter and open it.
"To Mr. Herbert, Colette"...
Click...
Hearing the living room door open, the man didn't turn around and continued to gaze out the window with great interest.
What a beautiful garden, Ms. Colette.
Your mansion is enviably prestigious.
Only thanks to Mr. Herbert. Without your help, I would have died from Dissolution.
Not to mention, you can have even more than before...
Each party gets what they need. I need your help to verify the possibility of unifying the Domain with the real world.
The dissolved poem produced such a unique domain. Even the dissolved verses could disturb real objects.
Not even Mythag can find many research projects this interesting.
If one can always live in falsehood, then falsehood ceases to exist.
Your wisdom is truly astonishing, madam.
How is our ritual preparation coming along?
Almost there... As per your instructions, the ritual will begin next month.
According to your statement, by that time, the dissolution of the poem will spread and may even affect the entirety of Cité?
I don't remember you being someone who cares about morals.
Of course. But I care about what I have... Will my Domain still be stable by then?
Heh... Rest assured, ma'am. The formation of the Domain is closely related to Dissolution. The stronger the Dissolution, the more stable your Domain.
The Domain's coverage is still limited. Once the ritual is complete, it will spread across all of Cité.
By then, all the power and wealth in Cité will be yours.
An inexorable victory. Ah, Colette... haven't you always been a winner?
The florist walked to the window and looked at her garden.
She tried to maintain a dignified noble smile, but the wine glass in her hand trembled uncontrollably.
The noblewoman's face was reflected in the swaying wine glass, like a festering wound.
We will all be winners, Mr. Herbert.
6. Statuary Rhetoric, before the fight
77 lines{Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper, has the poetic world... disappeared?
Look back outside.
Horla looks outside the door.
The garden outside still retains the appearance of the world described in poetry, but the indoor world is identical to the real world, with no trace of the Domain.
This should be the real Cité. It seems we've passed through a Link point between reality and the Domain.
Wherever it is, we must find Colette and retrieve the poem...
Knock knock knock...
The floor shakes violently. You quickly pull Horla and hide behind a door.
Help Ms. Colette! Catch the intruder! Quick, search!
A group of monsters with varied shapes rush into the building, passing by not far from you.
Monsters from the world of poetry have invaded the real world...
Their ceremony is about to begin. We need to hurry.
Peering out, you see the monster went somewhere else. You grab Horla and quickly run upstairs.
Horla, let's go up the stairs and find... huh?
You climb the stairs, only to find that they don't lead to the upper floor and end abruptly halfway up.
This... What's going on...
I once wrote a poem about a staircase that breaks off halfway, much like our lives filled with unexpected twists and hardships.
But this is clearly not the world of my poem, how could it be...
Ah! I see!
Horla suddenly lifts her head, too excited to stop herself from jumping.
It's Colette! This place is important to us... She specifically preserved it and remodeled it according to the description in the poem!
I knew it, Keeper! Colette isn't that kind of person!
This is the first time you've seen Horla so delighted. You exhale deeply.
Not wanting to shatter her illusion, you gently patted her on the shoulder.
Maybe... You're familiar with this place. How about letting you take the lead?
Hmm!
Led by Horla, you evade the monsters' search and continue moving forward.
{Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper, up ahead is...
Shh!
You quickly cover Horla's mouth and pull her to the corner of the wall.
What are we supposed to be doing here?
Fool! Lady Colette ordered us to guard this place because... because...
...In short, Lady Colette ordered us to stand guard here!
We've been keeping watch for so long and haven't seen anything. Won't we miss the ceremony?
No, the bell hasn't rung yet. We can't go anywhere until it rings!
I'm truly looking forward to witnessing Madam Colette's live creation...
Madam Colette's live performance happens only once a year. Get ready, soldiers. We'll be competing with all of Cité for seats!
Why don't we head over now?
...because we need to stay here.
So... what exactly are we doing here?
Fool! Madam Colette ordered us to guard this place!
These two don't seem very smart...
There is no other way, Horla. Get ready to clear them out.
Horla nods at you. You hold the silver key, and Horla takes out paper and a pen.
Ah!!...
Accompanied by silver light, elegant script appears in the air, inscribing itself into the monsters. The two monsters fall into a deep sleep.
After defeating the monsters, you hid in the room behind them.
Looks like a storage room... It should be safe here for now.
We can rest here and then find Colette... Horla? You don't look well.
Ah... Is that so?
Were you frowning just now, thinking about something?
Oh... {Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper, I was thinking about the conversation between those two monsters earlier...
When I was eavesdropping earlier, it felt so familiar... I just now finally remembered.
In that poetry collection, I wrote a poem about the statue in the City of Poems.
Poetry City is a city-state that feeds on poetry. It has no king; their faith lies in a statue.
Each year on the festival day, when the clock tower chimes, the statue comes to life and writes a poem for the people of the city.
Its poetry is so beautiful that it can sustain the entire city for a whole year.
Every year on the festival day, people gather at the square where the statue stands to listen to the poems it creates live...
I see. Colette altered the statue's image into her own...
Where is the clock tower?
When I was writing poetry, I had no idea what the outside world was like... So that clock tower was modeled after the one next to this building.
The two buildings are connected, and you can cross over via a covered bridge.
...Horla, can you guess where Colette hid the poem?
It should... be okay... right...?
There is an extremely luxurious room in this building, belonging to the Countess. She stays here once or twice a year on occasion, while the maid regularly cleans it in her absence.
Colette loved that room and even snuck me in to see it. She said that once she made some money, she would definitely live in that room.
I think she and the poetry collection will both be there.
I see... I have a solution!
Are you going to Colette's room to grab the poem? But there are many monsters here...
Yes, there are many monsters here; we probably won't be able to handle them.
So, we'll distract them first, then go to her room to get the poem.
But they're so alert now... what can we use to distract them?
Use the clock tower.
Clock tower? ... Ah! I understand!
Let's ring the bell at the clock tower early. This way, the monsters will gather in the square, and no one will stop us!
Exactly. Colette needs to prepare for her performance. She won't carry such a thick poetry collection; it will likely be kept somewhere safe in her room.
Use this time gap to go to her room and destroy that poetry collection!
7. Garden Dirge, before the fight
132 linesFire! Quick, put it out!
It's too late... Nothing remains of the garden...
Has everyone been rescued?
Most of them, yes... But one is still in the greenhouse...
How pitiful... Two children, just as life was beginning to improve.
Colette, Colette... don't be too sad.
The fire ignited in an instant. Perhaps it was due to the high temperature, an old man's cigarette butt, or something else.
Flames rose in the garden filled with dry grass, engulfing the greenhouse. Before people could react, it had already subsided.
Poor child... you and Horla are like sisters...
Horla is gone. You must live well. Her spirit will bless you...
Don't let her be sad... Colette, live a good life.
At first, many people came to comfort her. Gradually, everyone drifted away, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
Colette stood motionless beside the ashes of her painstakingly maintained conservatory, letting the embers scorch her face.
A tear slid down her face, quickly evaporating in the lingering warmth of the flames.
Horla, they were right... You will bless me. You won't hate me.
You won't hate me for taking everything from you, your talent, your life... Even so, you still won't hate me.
You are so kind and noble. In your presence, everyone else appears vulgar and petty.
I've tried so hard to live... But compared to you, why am I always the contemptible one?
So cruel, Horla. You don't give me a single reason to hate you. You force me to live out my remaining days in pain...
A sob. Colette wipes away her tears. Ash smears across her face, decorating it haphazardly.
She imitated a noble, proudly raising her head and smiling at the garden now reduced to embers and ashes.
...Goodbye, then, Horla.
Plop...
A tear falls on the poem collection, producing a clear sound in the room.
It's been many, many years since I've felt this way... Horla, you're still just as full of surprises as before.
You ask, why didn't you leave your own image in the poem?
It was truly difficult seeing you again... What a pity.
Lady Colette, the midnight bell is about to toll. Please make preparations.
Hmm, understood.
She sits in front of the mirror while the maid carefully wipes away her tears with a handkerchief.
Today is a big day. Even the best audience has arrived... The makeup must not be ruined today.
She gazes intently at herself in the mirror, curling her lips into a smile befitting nobility and victory.
{Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper, this way!
The path to the clock tower is truly complex... and there are many monsters standing guard along the way.
In the poem "The Bells of the City of Poetry," the path to the clock tower is a maze. It symbolizes the confusion in the hearts of the city's residents.
A fitting image.
What untimely rhetoric...
Avoiding the monsters' search, you arrive at the top floor.
The clock tower is right there! Just go through this corridor.
Is there only one monster guarding this place?
The other monsters must have gone elsewhere... This one should be the one responsible for ringing the bell.
Do you think there's a way to deceive him?
Sure, it should be possible... As the poem goes, the envoy of the sculpture will deliver a letter to the bell-ringer, which signals the arrival of midnight.
Great... Horla, you act as an envoy and trick him into ringing the bell. I'll take it out before it reacts.
Huh? I... I have to... lie to a stranger...?
Uh... nevermind, I'll go instead... You stay here, and if they make any sudden moves, help me subdue them.
Hmm!
You adjust your clothing and step forward.
Who's there?
I am the envoy of Lady Colette.
Ah... So it's the envoy...
I'm here to deliver a message. Midnight approaches.
You hand the bell-ringer the letter Colette had written to Herbert. He accepts it respectfully.
But... Your Excellency, the envoy, the current celestial signs show that it is not yet midnight...
There was an error in today's celestial observation.
How dare you question Lady Colette's decision?
Understood...! I'll get it done right away!
The bell-ringer presses a button. The intricate gears begin to turn, and the hammer falls, striking the massive bell.
Ding, Ding...
The hammer falls repeatedly as the twelve chimes of midnight echo across Cité.
Envoy, the midnight bell has rung.
Great... Next, we can attend Lady Colette's celebration.
Ah, great Lady Colette, it is my fortune to ring the bell for your celebration. To see your handwriting is my...
my...? "Dear Mr. Herbert, Colette"...
This is not a command to ring the bell... You...!
Before he could finish, several lines of text floated into his mind, and his eyelids drooped.
After swaying twice in the air, the heavy body thuds to the ground.
Horla peeks out from behind the wall and waves at you.
Looks like he'll miss the celebration. Let's go.
Ding, Ding...
The twelve chimes ring out clear and distant, announcing the arrival of midnight.
People stepped out of their homes and gathered on the streets of Cité, like a black river, slowly flowing toward the square outside Colette Garden.
The day has finally arrived! I'm about to meet Lady Colette!
Ah, Madam Colette, the sole poet and the faith of all Cité...
I've heard that this ceremony will be the grandest ever. If only I could stand below the stage and shake her hand...
Dream on. So many people want to meet Madam Colette. What makes you think you can cut to the front?
Just thinking about it... it's not against the law, is it?
Trust me, don't overthink it. Just relax and watch with me from the outside.
A distant glimpse of Lady Colette and hearing her speak is enough for me.
The door opens softly. You cautiously peek inside.
Come in. The bell rang, and everyone went to the square.
Horla, is this the place?
Horla didn't reply immediately. She looked around the room, her eyes glistening.
Horla?
It looks exactly the same as it did when we were kids...
Even with so much, even having all of Cité... this place has always been where Colette's dreams lie.
Horla's emotions spread once more, and you felt your heart being touched.
Horla...
Ah! I'm sorry, {Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper... I always struggle to control my emotions...
No worries, that's perfectly normal.
No one should abandon their past.
Thank you... {Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper...
We spoke about it before. Colette said that once we buy this house, she would place all her precious items in a special display cabinet for all the guests to see.
Jewelry, handbags, fine clothing... and a poetry collection signed with her name.
Led by Horla, you arrive at a delicately crafted glass display case.
On the central shelf of the showcase, the thick, lavish poem book lay quietly, like a monarch sleeping in a palace.
"The Abode of Roses," authored by Colette...
Back then, this poem collection was just some papers pinned together... Now, it looks quite different.
You take out the poem.
Do you miss it?
I miss it very, very much... But it's okay, {Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper.
She wiped away her tears and shook her head with a smile.
For me, for Colette, and for all of Cité, this poem brings only endless pain...
{Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper, may I?
Hand the poem to Horla
Flames ignited in Horla's hand. Soon, the poem turned into a pile of ashes in the fire.
This book and I should have shared the same fate, reduced to ashes long ago... There wouldn't be such trouble now if it had.
Finally, the problem is solved.
{Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper, I don't seem to notice any changes?
With such a widespread impact, it may take some time to dissipate. Let's leave for now...
Do you like this room, Horla? Everything here has been kept just as it was decades ago.
!!!
The poem is already burned... Your plan has failed, Colette.
The poems? Oh, you mean this...
She waved, and a new collection of poems appeared in her hand, identical to the one that had been burned.
It's a trap... Horla, prepare to attack!
Clang...
A cage suddenly appears beside you, trapping you inside.
This is... there shouldn't be such things in the poem...
Such words were indeed never written in Horla's poems.
Sorry, but this is my poem collection. Anything I want will appear here.
Smiling, she raised her hand and tucked the poem collection into her chest.
...In this Cité, I am the sole master.
Ding, Ding...
Listen, Horla. The midnight bell has tolled.
Today is Cité's grandest festival... I am honored to have two distinguished guests here to witness the ceremony.
Guards, take them to the square.
I have prepared the best seats for our two distinguished guests.
8. Psalm 1843, before the fight
45 linesLady Colette! The citizens of Cité will forever remain loyal to you!
Move! You're blocking my way!
Ms. Colette! Ms. Colette, look over here!!
Rose Square is packed. All of Cité's citizens have gathered here. From above, it looks like a writhing, massive black mass.
What an inspiring scene... wouldn't you say?
Colette, dressed in her finest, stands on the grand stage, elegantly waving down.
Behind her, a black cage of unknown material confines you and Horla, hanging backstage.
Under the crowd's gaze, Horla finds herself curled up beneath the parchment, trembling uncontrollably.
Horla... it's fine. They're just figures from the poem, so don't worry.
This cage must be a product of Dissolution. Buy me some time; I'll find a way out soon.
Ah, I almost forgot. You're still so shy, Horla.
Horla slowly peeked out from under the parchment.
Colette, I have read the letter you wrote to Herbert...
I'd really like to hear how you plan to persuade me at this moment.
I'm not trying to persuade you... I understand why you're doing this.
Heh... What?
For fame and power, sacrificing me, sacrificing poetry, sacrificing Cité... All of this, I can understand.
I love writing poetry, Colette. I try to listen to the voices of all people and things... You're my best friend, how could I not hear your heart?
But after Dissolution spreads... this garden will be erased from everyone's memory...
All that has happened here, the happy and sad days we spent together... Can you really just let it all go?
Colette paused for a moment, then burst into laughter. Her laughter grew louder and louder, almost causing her to forget to maintain her noble demeanor.
I thought... you wanted to say something to me...
Cité has so many people whose lives I don't care about. Do you think I care about a measly garden?
She took a deep breath and straightened herself up.
Horla, you've been popular since you were young. Even though I'm the one who worked hard to support us, people always praised you...
You possess remarkable talent, but so what? There are some truths you will never comprehend.
Poetry, emotion, memories, morals... All just burdens. Only power and fame are truly eternal.
Well said! Lady Colette!
The square erupts in applause and cheers, drowning you in a wave of sound.
Listen, Horla. Hear the voices of the Cité people.
In this world, poetry holds no meaning. In another world, it is the same.
So that's what you think... I understand, Colette.
To be honest, I'm really glad that you could come here.
At the most crucial stage of my life, you have once again become my witness.
She raises her arms.
In the square, everyone knelt down before her.
No poetry, no preaching. Only imagined fanatical worship. Only pure power.
The earth begins to tremble. You notice the dissolution visibly spreading from the poem's center.
Watch, Horla. Watch me secure another victory...
Clang...
?!
A flash of silver light. The cage vanishes, and you and Horla fall to the ground.
It may have been a mistake to bring me here as a spectator, Ms. Colette.
Mythag's Silver Key... Even Mr. Herbert is quite envious.
But I'm curious, even in a place like this, what can you do even if you manage to escape from the cage?
9. Psalm 1843, after the fight
117 linesAh!...
Your surprise attack successfully defeated the monster summoned by Colette. The world within the poem trembled, revealing a portion of Cité's true form.
But the moment you approached Colette, countless flower vines erupted from the soil around her. The spikes on the vines pierced your bodies, binding you tightly.
You... got my clothes dirty...
Do you know how much this outfit cost?
Colette's anger quickly vanished. She resumed her noble and composed smile.
It's all right, it's all right...
To confront me in my garden, you must be both brave and foolish.
You've wasted your last chance to escape... This celebration, you'll have to see it through with me.
There... there is...
You stand at the edge of the garden plaza. Visible D-Rifts spread upward from beneath the small building, encompassing the open space in the center of the garden.
That is... our garden... no... Colette, no...
Horla lowered her head. Colette walked up to her, lifted her chin, and directed her gaze toward the center of the garden.
You know, Horla... Many years ago, I watched that great fire start right here.
I've transformed this place into a plaza and erected my statue here... See, I understand symbolism too.
Watch closely. See it clearly. That is where we live... That is our garden. Soon, everything there will disappear.
My life truly began the day you died. Today, it will once again move towards brilliance...
The black rift spreads rapidly. Soon, the entire luxurious villa is engulfed.
Garden, ashes, doodles, poetry, memories, laughter, oaths... Everything has sunk into the endless darkness.
Tick-tock...
Huh? What's wrong with my eyes...?
Was that... heartache just now? Why...
A tear slid down Horla's face.
Tears fall to the ground, like drops into a still lake. Silent ripples spread, brushing past every pale heart in this illusory world.
!! No... this feeling...
Colette noticed the change in her emotions. She looked at Horla beside her in surprise.
Is this... Horla's ability to spread emotions?!
Her ability might prove useful! I must seize this opportunity...
You want to kill me and use the poem to get the life you desire... No matter what you did, I've never hated you, Colette.
The Colette I once knew was my best friend. But if you destroy this place... only the current Colette will remain.
I can't... let the Colette I once knew be erased by you...
Look at yourself, Horla... What else can you do besides writing poetry?
You're right... Apart from writing poems, I'm not good at anything else...
Cité, the city of flowers and poems, is our home... But all the roses have withered here, Colette...
These roses are the ones you once gave me. Today, I am returning them to you.
She takes a step forward.
Poof...
Horla!!!
Sharp thorns tear her clothes and pierce her flesh, but she doesn't care.
A massive rose spike pierced her heart. Her blood flowed down the black vine, passing the first branch.
The black flowers wither rapidly on the branches. A red rose bud appears, unfurls, and blooms.
Blood flows along the vines, like the veins of leaves, spreading to every corner of the city.
Where it passed, the deep darkness faded. It restored color and emotion, flowers and poetry to Cité.
So... much pain...
Heart... feels as if it's been pierced...
That's... Mother! Mother...
Child... my child has been born...
As the blood spreads, scenes unfold before people's eyes.
It is the newborn's rebirth, the mother's lullaby, and the lovers' farewell.
That was the most precious moment in your lives.
The immense pain that Horla endured spread throughout all of Cité, rippling with her blood.
Rose spikes pierce countless hearts. Crimson flowers blossom within every one.
Colette, you own all of Cité, yet you still live here.
Living in the house we once dreamed of, in the garden where we once lived together...
You once saved my life. This poem, written with life, is for you and for the garden.
This is a poem written for the garden in spring.
Horla... you...
Tears washed away her delicate makeup, but she didn't care, letting them leave messy traces on her face.
Colette couldn't remember when her tears had started to flow.
Past scenes unfold clearly before her. For the first time, she truly understood Horla's poetry. She finally realized what she truly cherished.
Not just her. Everyone in the Cité understood Horla's poem. They were moved by Horla's emotions and could not move.
It's now!
You were well-prepared, your powerful spirit power allowing you to break free from Horla's emotions.
You break free from the thorns and snatch the poem collection from Colette's hand.
Farewell... Cité in the poems!
A flash of silver. Under intense light, the D-mark on the poem evaporates and dissolves rapidly.
Ugh!...
A sharp pain strikes you. The heavy loss of spirit power overwhelms you.
That poetry collection, purged of Dissolution, turned into a pile of yellowed old drafts, simply clipped together with a basic clip, and fell to the ground.
Ah! Ah!!...
Countless monsters roar, fall to the ground, and gradually revert to human form.
Desire fades, emotions return. The foundation of this world crumbles.
Colette felt it.
She felt her power fading. She felt defeat approaching. She summoned thorn-like blades and walked towards Horla.
"Colette," victory... When the old lady's dog passed away and she gave me its name, you were right beside me.
This is the dog's name, but I've never changed it. I need to remind myself not to lose again.
You're right. I can't forget you, can't forget everything here...
I want to win. I just want to win. What's wrong with wanting to win?
Sorry, Horla.
Colette sobbed in anguish, slowly approaching Horla.
The Domain is vanishing. Your plan has failed, Colette!
Even if you attack her now, it won't change a thing!
Struggling to approach Horla, the intense pain immobilized you.
The spike extends towards Horla's head.
Wait!!
*Snap*...
A rose was cut. Colette took it and handed it to Horla.
A fine poem, Horla... I'll trade my flowers for your poem.
Bang...
Perhaps the Domain's dissolution changed the gardener.
Or perhaps the gardener's transformation caused the Domain to dissolve.
The Cité in the poems is gradually disappearing, and the power supporting Colette has also vanished.
Her body turned into a pool of black sludge, mixed with scattered petals, sinking into the ground in front of Horla.
Colette, Colette, are you finished reading?
Hmm... I've finished reading... but I don't quite understand it.
Ah, is that so...? This is my first poem. It's not very good...
It's not you, Horla. I don't really understand anyone's poetry.
I asked many people around me, and they couldn't make sense of it either.
I don't get it... What's the point of something that no one can comprehend?
Hmm... I think poetry isn't just words or images; it's like a key.
A... key?
Yes! A person's heart is like a box filled with many emotions. This box is locked, and these emotions are usually kept inside, hard to take out.
Poetry is the key to unlocking this chest.
Actually, poetry doesn't need to be understood, or even read.
Everyone, whether they read poetry or not, sooner or later, will find this key at some moment in their life.
You'll surely become the best keysmith!
Liar... You just said you didn't get it.
I don't understand what you're saying, but I trust you, Horla.
This poem, "The Abode of Roses," is your first piece. From today onward, I will help you treasure all your poems.
I'll use pins to keep them together, and when I have money, I'll print a beautiful poetry collection!
She extended her hand, which she had kept behind her back. The hands were covered in wounds from thorns, dark and rough, completely unrecognizable as those of a young girl.
This... this is...
The new nobles say that Cité is a city of flowers and poetry. A good poem can earn you a bouquet of roses...
My roses bloomed today. Not many, and all were used to pay the rent and land lease.
But while they weren't paying attention, I secretly kept a flower...
That scarred hand presented a slightly damaged yet still vividly red rose to Horla.
A fine poem, Horla... In the future, I'll trade my flowers for your poems!
10. Lingering Scent, before the fight
47 linesMiss Nymphaea! Miss Nymphaea!
Ah, Miss Hannah, you've come to see me again...
Well I'm glad to see you too!
Um, I have an urgent matter to ask you about...
I don't know where Horla is.
What?! How is that possible! She's been back for a whole day and still hasn't contacted you?!
Could the rumors about the two of you not getting along be true?
Is it due to mutual disdain among literature enthusiasts? Or have you turned into romantic rivals?!
...I have some matters to attend to, please excuse me...
Hey hey hey! Miss Nymphaea!
Hannah.
Wait a moment, Keeper! I urgently need to see Miss Nymphaea! This could very well be headline news!
Horla sent me to find you.
Huh?!!!
Hannah came to a sudden stop.
She asked me to give this to you.
The Abode of Roses, by Horla Colette...
Is this... Horla's poem?! And a new pen name, too?!
She asked me to pass on the message that, if you think it's good, to please help her publish it in...
No problem, no problem! It doesn't matter if the poem is good or not, as long as it generates some buzz!
Also, Keeper, is Horla willing to accept my exclusive interview?!
Just quietly take me to see her, and...
Be too greedy, and you might not even get that poem published.
Oh...
I gave the poem to Hannah.
You once told me that the poems didn't bring misfortune, but I couldn't believe it.
Only after this did I truly come to understand.
Thank you, {Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper!
You can save these words for when Hannah interviews you...
Ah... no, no... I still don't dare to talk to others... but I'll adjust gradually!
Just kidding. I've already declined her on your behalf.
Horla lets out a deep sigh. You approach her.
You know, even if Hannah publishes that poem, few people would actually care.
What people really care about is the stories and topics surrounding that collection of poems.
Hmm, I know, {Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper.
Even in a city like Cité, there are very few true poetry readers...
And you don't mind that?
She plucked a petal from a rose above her eye and brought it to her nose.
In Cité, even where flowers are not visible, their fragrance fills the air.
Poetry, like flowers, doesn't always need to be seen...
She turned her head and smiled at you.
{Male=Sir,Female=Madam} Keeper, do you believe that too?
Few in Cité read poetry, but I believe roses have long since bloomed in their hearts.
She raised her hand. Crimson petals drifted gracefully away from her palm.
The wind carries the scent of roses, as if blowing from Cité decades ago.