MGSFV?! Chapter 463. Art for All Audiences; What Does It Mean to "Stir the Pot"?
This wasn't quite a "Mistelin-style chapter cut"… it was worse.
It threw everyone off completely.
You can do that?! Truly a master at writing regretful moments.
Writer, if you had just a bit of decency… you wouldn't have cut Duck Mom off before she could finish her sentence.
"'Otto'-san, you… 'What did the pangolin say?' That kind of thing is evil civilization."
Elysia couldn't help but question him.
In real life, someone who keeps dropping cryptic half-sentences like that would have Kevin banging on their door.
And yeah… Hokuto had literally been door-blocked by Kevin before. More than once, actually. Maybe he's gotten used to it by now?
Don't get used to weird things like that~!
But when Elysia asked, Hokuto was confident in his reply:
"Actually, I didn't hide what Alexandra wanted to say."
"Eh? But… you obviously cut the scene off."
Elysia blinked. Yes, the story ended right there. Duck Mom never got the chance to say what came next…
What, is "'Otto'-san" going to gaslight us and say white is black now?
"What Alexandra said earlier—'Venice has already changed beyond recognition…'—that comes from Jack Gilbert's poem The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart…"
Hokuto remained calm, even leisurely explaining it to her.
"That poem has two parts. The first talks about how nothing can be kept forever. Which is why having something is what truly matters. Cherish it while you have it. Even if you lose it later, even if it brings pain, having had it is real. The joy and sorrow in the memories are treasures of their own."
"Mm… so Duck Mom initially chose that line because she hoped, through it, the world would know someone like her had once lived and existed?"
Elysia was quick to catch on.
"Yes."
Hokuto nodded. "But as the story showed, Alexandra gave up on using that line as her epitaph, because she felt 'hardly anyone would remember me—it would feel self-important.'"
"And, her meeting with Mistelin gave her a new perspective. That new idea… came from the second half of that same poem…"
"We look up at the stars, though they are not there. We see the past, the way they were long ago. And that is enough."
"She no longer cared if anyone remembered her. She let go of the pessimistic thought that 'no one will remember me, so what's the point?' and instead… chose to fully experience this world in the time she had left—to love it, and to pass that love to her child."
Elysia listened seriously to everything Hokuto said, reflecting deeply.
"So… Duck Mom truly let go in the end…"
She paused to gather her thoughts.
"Come to think of it, that poem sounds pretty healthy and hopeful. I'll look up the full text after the stream ends…"
"About that…"
Hokuto suddenly hesitated.
Because parts of that poem… were a little inappropriate for younger audiences.
God gives all things, then takes them back. A fair deal, like the ecstasy of youth—when we were allowed to enter a woman's heart… and her bod—
"Hmm? What is it?"
"Nothing, nothing. It's fine if you read it…"
He decided not to elaborate.
Elysia wasn't a child after all.
This was art—meant to be appreciated by both the refined and the crude. (Seriously.)
...
And since Elysia was livestreaming, everything Hokuto said had naturally been heard by the audience too.
They pondered it—and realized, hey, maybe this wasn't really a "cut-off scene."
It just hadn't been spelled out directly. You had to slow down and reflect on it.
Their mood eased a little.
But how long could that calm last?
The plot continued. The game screen transitioned again.
"..."
Three months had passed.
The disturbance in the Imaginary Tree once again tossed Mistelin back into the Real World.
And as if fate was mocking her—
That familiar Siberian tundra had now bloomed into a vibrant paradise teeming with life.
It was late summer, but the forest she passed through lay in utter silence.
Even though she understood her own nature, the first thing she did—
Was set out to search for Alexandra.
But no matter how much risk she took—no matter how thoroughly she combed every inch of the Urals—
She never found Alexandra. Every effort seemed… completely in vain.
Judging by the pacing…
[Mistelin's never going to find Duck Mom, is she?]
[Not just "never"—what if… when Mistelin does find her, she's already become a gravestone? One with the rest of that sentence carved in.]
[No way. No way. NO WAY.]
[Please don't! I can't take a plot like that!!]
Hokuto: "..."
[Real talk—if you guys were writing this story, I feel like you'd be even crueller than the writers.]
[Question the writer. Understand the writer. Become the writer.]
[Become? Surpass.]
Amid the endless emotional chaos in the chat—
In the game, Mistelin finally gave up on her fruitless search.
She decided to seek out someone who might help her locate Alexandra.
Shortly after, on the Arctic Ocean's coast, in the outskirts of the town Tiksi—
In a ceremonial site within a World Serpent branch base—
Dim corridors twisted endlessly. Since its construction, no uninvited guests had ever set foot here.
Until today.
"…Oh? You would take the initiative to come see me?"
Grey Serpent appeared on-screen.
Huh?
Players were a bit surprised. Mistelin had come to Grey Serpent on her own?
Grey Serpent was surprised too. He looked at Mistelin with a note of curiosity.
"Or should I say… you were willing to leave the Ural Mountains? That's a surprise in itself."
Mistelin, as always, was blunt: "I can accept your offer. I'll join your organization."
"But in return?"
Grey Serpent, being direct as well, cut to the chase.
["In return"? What's the trade?]
The trade? Simple.
Mistelin would join World Serpent.
In exchange, she wanted Grey Serpent to help her find the vanished Alexandra.
Grey Serpent replied:
"You're willing to 'stoop to my level' and make a deal for something this trivial?"
Given how nicely he was talking, you'd think he'd accept, right?
Yeah, no.
"Honestly, to World Serpent—even if another Collective treats us ten times worse than you ever did… you're not our only option."
Here, "another Collective" likely referred to then-Herrscher of Reason, Welt Yang.
"So this trade… feels a bit unfair."
[Excuse me?]
[Unfair? Finding someone is child's play for Grey Serpent, c'mon!]
The players were speechless.
Mistelin, however, didn't show any emotion—just assumed she was being refused.
"In that case… farewell."
She turned to leave immediately.
And then—
"Ah, hold on—still don't like letting people finish their sentences, huh?"
Grey Serpent actually sounded a bit anxious: "While I wouldn't accept this as a business deal, as an old friend—I'm more than happy to help."
"Help?"
"Yes… more than making you a colleague in World Serpent—I'd rather have you owe me a favor."
[Ugh, I get it now. Grey Serpent is stalling just to increase his own leverage.]
[Truly a businessman—Grey Serpent.]
[No matter how much profit they make, they'll always say they sold at a loss—until the customer actually tries to walk away…]
That may be true.
But…
This "favor" Mistelin now owed him would turn out to be a very significant setup.
...
Mistelin: "..."
"No need to worry. I rarely make excessive requests. Besides, the day I ask for your help… might never come," Grey Serpent reassured her.
Players: "..."
It might not have come.
But now that he said that? The odds of that day definitely went up.
What do you call this kind of thing in storytelling?
[Elysia: Let me think… This is called foreshadowing.]
And since Grey Serpent had said all this—
Mistelin had no reason to refuse anymore.
She nodded slightly: "Very well. It's a deal."
"Excellent. Seems like… you've got a knack for business."
"..."
"Grey Serpent, I've always been curious— I've transcribed many versions of you before. Those numbers… are they your names?"
Mistelin of old wouldn't have asked something like this. But ever since Duck Mom gave her a name—it seemed something had changed.
"Of course. I'm no exception—'1904.' A rather outdated model, actually. I'm surprised you'd care about something like that."
[Oh, so each Grey Serpent isn't exactly the same? They get upgrades.]
[Wait, you just realized that?]
[They do all look the same though…]
[Wait… 1904? Isn't that the one who took care of Kiana and the kids in New Atra during the side quest earlier?]
[So this same Grey Serpent actually survived all the way into the Stigma Plan arc?!]
"A model specifically mentioned in the main story… '1904' must be important somehow, right?"
"You guess."
"..."
Should've known asking was pointless.
Still, she retorted: "Guess whether I guessed or not."
"…Are you twelve?"
"..."
In the story—
After learning this Grey Serpent's model number, Mistelin said:
"I'm just trying to remember everything I've seen… trying in different ways."
"Well then… goodbye, 1904."
The game screen faded to black.
A full year quietly passed.
Autumn came and went, then returned again—time, relentless and merciful, forever circling back.
And the human Mistelin had hoped to find…
What about Alexandra?
The players focused up, staring at the game screen as it slowly brightened again.
What appeared was—
A gravestone.
[...]*n
It's worth noting that in Hokuto's previous life, the gravestone here read "зайчек," but the correct spelling is "зайчик" (Zaychik).
Not a big deal, though. Hokuto casually corrected it. No need to make it a major point.
The players, meanwhile, had zero interest in such technicalities.
They'd suspected it—but still felt…
sighhhh…
Game subtitles rolled in.
For the human Mistelin longed to find, all she saw was a cold slab of stone. Apart from the full name, even the epitaph was barren—no words of blessing, no final message.
At this, some players couldn't hold back anymore.
[So they meet again, separated by life and death—and we never get to hear that unfinished sentence? That's just too cruel.]
They'd thought their hypotheticals were already bad enough… But the writer had gone even further?
Of course.
[We can't beat the writers.]
[Apologies—I got cocky. Tried to surpass them, but when it comes to inhuman choices, the writers still win.]
[乆乆乆乆乆]
The only bit of comfort?
A single white flower placed before the grave, sparing it from total desolation.
Clearly, not the work of Grey Serpent.
But…
Mistelin, after placing the flower, didn't say a word.
She simply stood and stared at the gravestone.
Until Grey Serpent, holding a parasol beside her, couldn't help but speak:
"…It's been three hours. You really don't plan to say anything?"
He paused and shook his parasol slightly, reminding her:
"The wind here is strong. My parasol isn't as durable as you might think—it's mostly just a fashion statement, you know."
[I was about to cry, and then Grey Serpent made me laugh out loud.]
[Fashion statement? What kind of vibe needs a parasol 24/7?]
That oddly timed line, perfectly in character—
Prompted an outpouring of equally untimely (but justified) comments.
[Sorry, but that joke made me laugh way too hard.]
[Grey Serpent, no matter how much you stir the pot, Duck Mom isn't coming back from under that grave.]
[Bro… is that what "stirring the pot" means??]
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