That night, a single flower had turned black. In the Garden, 1,200 dream flowers always bloomed. Gold, blue-violet, pale pink—the emotions of each person transformed into color, spreading across the night sky like constellations. That was the ordinary reality of the town called Nightbloom. Celeste sat on an old stone bench at the top of Petra Hill, watching it all. Luminous lavender grew densely across the hillside, glowing faintly when night fell. In that purple light, there was one thing—just at the edge of the section where golden dream flowers clustered, a black stain. (Ah, it's spreading again.) Celeste wrapped her arms around herself. Her back felt just a little cold. For about forty minutes after sunset—during the blue-violet twilight hour called Luminous Hour—when the townspeople began to fall asleep, the Celestial Garden appeared in the sky. This miracle had continued for over four hundred years in this town. And when the dream flowers in the Garden withered—their owner's memories and emotions gradually faded away. Celeste knew this better than anyone else. From the town below drifted the smell of dinner. Someone must have opened a window; laughter could be heard too. The surface of the Somnia River glimmered, catching the light of the Garden. Beautiful, she thought. This town was truly beautiful. But black spots were beginning to increase in that beautiful night sky. Celeste kept gazing up at the Garden, her eyes following the direction where the darkened flower lay. Whose flower was it? Had they noticed yet? Or not yet? She stood and descended the hill. Small wildflowers grew between the stone steps, swaying in the night breeze. When she reached out instinctively, a sensation—warm, or rather, soft and fluffy—reached her fingertips. (It looks healthy. I'm glad.) Celeste thought of this as "intuition and experience." She'd always thought so. It just felt like she could somehow understand the condition of plants when she was near them. Her pale aqua-colored long hair fluttered in the night wind. In her white blouse and light purple apron—an outfit similar to the uniform of Flower Guardian Academy—illuminated by lantern light, Celeste turned her back to Petra Hill and headed toward Petal Street. --- The next afternoon, the practice room at Flower Guardian Academy was wrapped in an odd tension. "Luminous Dive, it's a second-year fundamentals check. Make sure you concentrate, okay?" Teacher Merlin—a woman in her thirties with her hair neatly tied back, always calm—said this while arranging her students on beds. Luminous Dive. A technique to project consciousness into the Garden while in a state of deep concentration. Any second-year student at Flower Guardian Academy could do the basics. The physical body remained lying on the bed while only the spiritual form could walk around inside the Garden. Simply put, it was like moving through a dream by your own will. Celeste lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. She regulated her breathing. The sensation of consciousness floating up from her body—it had taken half a year to get used to it, but now it came naturally. She emerged into the Garden. Whether day or night, the Garden looked the same. A luminous grassland spread out, and colorful dream flowers swayed. The golden ones were someone's hope, the blue-violet ones were thirst for knowledge, and the pale pink ones were—someone's romantic feelings. Every time Celeste came here, her chest felt a little unsettled. Today was a practice session, so she only needed to walk around in the outer region—the general section called Public Bloom—and check the conditions. (Alright, then—) The moment her spiritual form took a step forward, something reached her fingertips. —Pain. Not clearly "pain," exactly. But something close to it. That feeling when a plant was trying to tell her something. Celeste instinctively changed direction. At the edge of the Garden, near the boundary of the outer region—a dream flower, blackened and discolored, hung its head. Black from the roots. Like ink had been poured into it. (This... it's the same as yesterday.) The moment Celeste tried to approach, what reached her from the flower intensified. Something close to a scream, but not a voice—just a sensation— "Celeste, dozing off on the dive again? The teacher's gonna get mad~" A voice came from outside. Still in her spiritual form, Celeste couldn't turn around. But she recognized the voice. It was Lyze. The always-grinning classmate who'd positioned himself next to her bed. (I'm not dozing! I'm watching, something important—!) "Celeste, please don't lose your concentration," came Teacher Merlin's voice, gently descending. Celeste clutched her head within her spiritual form. (I was about to report it! The timing—!) Reluctantly, she burned the location of the blackened flower into her memory and pulled her spiritual form back. When she opened her eyes, she saw the ceiling. Lyze was grinning at her. "You really were dozing, huh." "[angry]I wasn't," "Then why'd you come back? There's still time." "[serious]I found a withered flower—" "Celeste! Edano is calling for you." Teacher Merlin waved her hand. Another student apparently needed something. Celeste stood up with her mouth half-open and headed in that direction. In the end, that day's practice record apparently noted: "Celeste: Issues with sustained concentration." After school, she cornered Teacher Merlin. "[serious]Teacher, I found a dead dream flower during today's practice. It's at the eastern edge of the outer region, near the boundary." Teacher Merlin raised her eyebrows slightly, then smiled gently. "[gentle]Ah, that one. I've already confirmed it. But the data shows it's within normal range. When the seasons change, these things happen occasionally." "[surprised]But yesterday there was another one in a different location—" "[gentle]You really do notice everything, Celeste. That sensitivity is something to treasure. But there's nothing to worry about right now." It was a smile. A genuinely unconcerned smile. Celeste just said "...Yes" and left the staff room. Walking down the hallway, she pressed her lips together tightly. (Nothing to worry about, huh.) Five years ago, someone must have said the same thing. --- The hospital was tucked away in an alley off Petal Street. Celeste came three times a week. After her part-time job at the herb shop Rootwork, it had become a habit to stop by. Today she didn't have work, so she could come a bit earlier. She'd bought a small bouquet at the flower shop Bloom Basket—Meena had wrapped it for her. The fact that she always gave her a discount was probably her way of being considerate. She knocked on the hospital room door and opened it. Her mother sat by the window bed, sewing. She looked up. "[gentle]Oh my. The kind young lady from Petal Street." That's what her mother said. She smiled, and her face was the same as the mother Celeste remembered. Her voice was the same too. But her eyes—were different. Not nostalgia, but the warmth with which one looks at a neighbor, that's how she looked at Celeste. "[gentle]You've come to visit again. Thank you so much." "[gentle]Yes. Rootwork's herbal tea. It's supposed to help you sleep well." Celeste placed the bouquet and small bag on the table and pulled up a chair. Her mother took the flowers and murmured that they were beautiful. She looked happy. Truly happy—and that was what hurt Celeste the most. "[gentle]How's work? You go to the academy, don't you?" "[gentle]Yes. I'm a second-year at Flower Guardian Academy." "[gentle]My, how impressive. So young too." They talked about trivial things for a while. The weather, recent happenings on Petal Street, the new bread at Komugitei. Her mother smiled the whole time. She looked like she was enjoying herself. Celeste smiled too. She kept smiling the whole time. "I'll come again." "[gentle]Thank you, kind young lady." She closed the door. The moment she stepped into the hallway, her smile crumbled. Celeste leaned her back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. She held back the urge to cry. She bit her lip and steadied her breathing. —Five years ago, her mother's dream flower had turned black. It took three years for it to completely wither. At first, memories seemed to slip away bit by bit, and every time Celeste realized it, she was terrified. There was nothing twelve-year-old Celeste could do. When a dream flower withers, you lose memories and emotions. From that day on, to her mother, Celeste was a stranger. Celeste slowly walked down the hallway. Through the window, she could see dusk. The beginning of Luminous Hour was near. The sky was beginning to tint a faint blue-violet. (How many black flowers are in the Garden right now?) And—even at this very moment, someone else's flower might be beginning to wither. --- On the way home, she looked up at the sky. Luminous Hour had begun, and the Garden was starting to appear. Golden dream flowers bloomed all at once, spreading across the night sky. Beautiful. She really did think it was beautiful every time. But. Until yesterday, there had been a golden flower in that spot. Now, blackened from the roots—it hung its head. It was a different location from the flower she'd confirmed yesterday. (It's spreading.) Celeste's pace quickened. She walked down Petal Street. When she passed Komugitei, the bread shop, the old woman closing up looked up. "[gentle]Another beautiful day, wasn't it, Celeste?" "[gentle]...Yes, it was." Celeste answered without stopping. The town was peaceful. The sounds of dinner preparations, children's laughter, the sense of people lighting lanterns. No one was paying attention to the sky. The Garden being beautiful was ordinary, something that bloomed ordinarily every night, so no one bothered to check on it. That was normal. That was fine. But— (Only I can see it.) She opened her front door. She passed through the first-floor living room and climbed the stairs to her second-floor bedroom. From the window, she could see the edge of the Garden. The black stain seemed slightly larger than yesterday. It might have been her imagination. But she didn't want to think it was. Celeste lay down on her bed. (I have to check. By myself.) She closed her eyes. She regulated her breathing. She sent her spiritual form into the Garden. Luminous Dive seemed to go deeper when she did it alone than when she did it in Flower Guardian Academy's practice sessions. Without anyone watching, she could concentrate better. Her consciousness floated up—and she emerged onto the luminous grassland. Dream flowers bloomed everywhere. Gold, blue-violet, silver-white, pale pink. Celeste walked toward the eastern edge of the outer region. The location of the blackened flower she'd found during the day, the location she'd seen on the way home yesterday, and the location she'd seen today—each one was slightly different in direction. The withering wasn't a point; it was spreading. As she approached, the sensation reached her fingertips again. Something close to pain. A plea from the plant. The blackened flower slowly hung its head. And beyond it—there was black mist. A hazy, mass-like thing. No outline. A blackness darker than the night itself, the kind that seemed to absorb light. The mist moved slowly. It crawled along the flower's roots like— Celeste stopped moving. The mist slowly, slowly turned. It seemed to change direction—toward Celeste. —It saw me? In that instant, a chill ran through her spiritual form. It wrapped around her from the outside, all at once, completely. Cold spread from the center of her body, and her consciousness—was ejected. She jolted awake on her bed. Cold sweat beaded thickly on her forehead. Her heart pounded violently in her chest, refusing to stop. Her hands were trembling. She gripped the blanket, trying to steady her breathing. The ro