The mountain wind stirred softly, carrying with it the scent of pine and old earth.Chara walked alone.
Her steps were soundless against the rocky path as she descended from the peak of Mt. Ebott, the world quiet around her — unnaturally so. No birds. No insects. No voices.Just the whisper of the cold wind and the steady, hollow sound of her boots against the ground.
Below, a town came into view. Faint candlelight flickering in windows, smoke rising from chimneys.The place felt too clean, too untouched, like a memory she didn't ask to remember.
She passed a merchant's stall without a glance. Six knives glinted under the sun.When she walked past, only four remained.
Her pace never faltered.
Past silent homes and dusty streets, until a well came into view. Golden flowers surrounded it, their petals catching the late-afternoon light.The glow reflected in her empty, unblinking eyes.
Chara stopped.
For a long time, she stood there, staring at the flowers.Not moving.Not breathing.
The wind shifted. The world held its breath.
And then she turned — reaching for the handle of a modest, old door nearby.The wood creaked open.
Inside, a pair of familiar faces turned toward her, eyes wide, breath catching in their throats.
"C–Chara?!"
Her father's voice cracked.
"Where were you?!"His face was drawn, his hair grayer than she remembered."Your mother and I… we were so worried! We had to come back early because you went missing!"
He stepped forward, voice trembling."I… I know we weren't here much, because of work… but we've been trying so hard to make you happy! I know we're harsh sometimes… but everything we've done is for you. You're the only one we have left."
Tears glistened in his eyes.Her mother's face crumpled as she joined him, wrapping Chara in their arms.
"We love you, sweetie.""We missed you so much."
They held her tightly, as though they could keep the years and blood and sins at bay with the warmth of their embrace.
And for a moment, time stilled.
Then — a voice.Old, cold, and knowing.
…She lived a faded dream.The one she hoped for before it was too late.But it didn't matter anymore.
A heavy pause.A distant, echoing sound like a heartbeat in a hollow room.
This was the start of first ACT.
Chara's eyes remained distant, detached.
Slowly, deliberately, she lifted her arms.Her parents still clung to her.
With a flick of her wrists — two blades slid from the sleeves of her sweater. The same blades that had vanished from the merchant's stall.They gleamed coldly in the dim light.
The embrace tightened as though sensing the change a second too late.
Chara raised the knives.
"I'm sorry."
Her voice was soft. Almost gentle.
And with a clean, effortless motion — the blades came down.
The room was silent again.
Only the scent of golden flowers drifted through the window.