The infirmary of Hanamo Academy always smelled of medicinal herbs. A slightly sweet but calming scent—a blend of chamomile and some other herb. Normally, just breathing in that smell would make her think "this place is safe," but today it didn't feel that way at all. Lyra sat on a round stool beside the bed, cradling Celeste's hand in both of hers. For three days, she'd been doing almost nothing else. Celeste's hand was warm. That alone was Lyra's salvation. Not the cold of death. Warm, soft, but completely still. Not a single finger moved. For three days straight. Lyra's eyes were swollen. She'd cried so much her eyelids felt heavy, yet tears still came. She found it strange herself. She should have run dry long ago. "...Senpai." The words came out. But there was no answer. Celeste's face was peaceful. Like she was sleeping, quiet and serene. Her pale aquamarine hair spread across the pillow, her silver eyes closed. *(Wake up.)* Lyra bit her lip. Near the entrance of the room, Elian stood. Black hair with red streaks. He usually wore his hood up, but today it was down. His deep crimson vertical-slit eyes kept moving—from Celeste's face, to the direction of the Garden beyond the window, back to her face—repeating this cycle for three days straight. Lyra had come to understand the meaning of those movements over those three days. *I want to go. But I can't. I can't. But I have to.* Elian had been standing frozen between those two truths. Nurse Dawn entered the room shortly after the morning Luminous Hour ended. She was a composed woman in her forties who came every morning to take notes and shake her head. "Cases where the entire spiritual body is consumed... there's almost no record of them." Nurse Dawn's voice was quiet. Too quiet, which made it even more frightening. "All we can do right now is—" The nurse stopped mid-sentence. The rest wouldn't come. Lyra's hand squeezed Celeste's tighter. Elian moved. "...I'll check on the hidden sector." He said it curtly and stood up. [serious] "...Elian." She called out. Elian didn't stop walking. --- About thirty minutes later, Elian returned. The moment Lyra saw his face, she understood everything. He was pale. The corner of his lips was slightly stiff. Elian was losing his ability to hide his emotions—and that alone told her how dire the situation was. "...Ancient dream flowers. Four of them." As Elian tried to gently place an observation instrument on the shelf by the wall, it caught on the edge. With a crash, a vase fell to the floor. The sound of it breaking and water spreading echoed through the quiet infirmary. Lyra almost blurted out "you're so clumsy," then stopped for a moment. ...But she couldn't stop. [sarcastic] "...You're so clumsy. What are you doing?" Elian slowly turned toward her. [cold] "...Shut up." [serious] "You're not being loud." Lyra stood up. She gently placed Celeste's hand on the blanket. Then she turned to face Elian. [angry] "You dragged Senpai into that dangerous investigation. Senpai tried to find the source alone, so she got consumed. If you hadn't invited her to that secret investigation in the first place!" Her voice was shaking. Shaking with genuine anger. Elian didn't argue back. He just stood there, taking it head-on. That silence only made Lyra more frustrated. [angry] "Say something! Argue back, make excuses, say *something*!" "...It's the truth." A low, short answer. Lyra's throat tightened. Then Nurse Dawn cleared her throat and turned to Elian. "Elian. May I have a word?" Elian turned toward the nurse. "Being the garden keeper of the hidden sector was supposed to be top secret, wasn't it?" The nurse's voice was gentle. But there was an edge hidden in her words. "...Yes." "Did you tell Celeste?" Elian was quiet for a moment. "...She noticed the sector's existence on her own. I didn't invite her." "But you allowed her to come on the investigation." "...Yes." Nurse Dawn's eyes narrowed slightly. "The matter will be discussed at the teacher's conference. There's talk of removing you from your position as garden keeper. You'll receive the formal notice after next week's meeting. ...Understood?" The infirmary fell silent. Lyra looked at Elian's face. His expression hadn't changed. But something had left him. Something in the depths of his eyes. --- [sad] "It's my fault. All of it." His voice was low and quiet. Elian walked toward Celeste's bed. He stood at the head of the pillow and looked down at Celeste's face for just a moment. Only a moment. Then he turned on his heel. He started walking toward the door. [angry] "Where are you going?" Elian didn't stop. [angry] "Are you running away!?" She shouted. Her voice cracked. Elian stopped in front of the door. Without turning around. [cold] "If the hidden sector is consumed any further, more dream flowers will wither. If you want to save Celeste, protecting the Garden comes first." Something inside Lyra snapped. [angry] "That means you care about the sector more than Senpai!?" Elian paused for a moment. His shoulders trembled slightly. He tried to respond—but the words wouldn't come. Lyra could feel it from his back. *(Say it. Say that Senpai is important. Please say it.)* Lyra thought it. She didn't voice it. A long silence. Elian said nothing. He simply opened the door and left. Lyra tried to chase after him—but her legs wouldn't move. Her knees buckled. The anger that had been driving her moments ago evaporated the instant he was gone, like fuel running out. She stared at the floor. Tears came again. Even though she'd thought they were done. Nurse Dawn gently placed a hand on Lyra's shoulder. She said nothing. That kindness was all the more profound for its silence. Only Nurse Down, Lyra, and the sleeping Celeste remained in the infirmary. --- She was in light. Warm light. The color of late afternoon streaming through a window, somehow nostalgic. Celeste looked at her feet. A wooden floor. She recognized it. A sound came from the kitchen. The sound of stirring a pot. The smell of soup. *(Home.)* But something was slightly off. The shelf positions were different. The color of the dishes seemed different from before. "Welcome home, Celeste." A voice. She turned around. Her mother stood in the kitchen. Celeste's feet froze. "...Welcome home," her mother said again with a smile, stopping her stirring and turning her body toward Celeste. With a soft smile. Five years. Five years since that name had been called. "...Mom." The word came out. Her mother tilted her head slightly. "What's wrong? Why do you look like you're about to cry?" Celeste's feet moved. One step. Then another. Before she knew it, she was running. She threw herself into the kitchen and hugged her mother. Her mother let out a small laugh of surprise and wrapped her arms around Celeste's back. It was warm. It was soft. The smell of soup and her mother's scent mingled together. Celeste broke down crying. She cried silently, her whole body shaking. "What's wrong? Did something bad happen?" Her mother gently stroked Celeste's hair. *(It's a lie.)* Something in the corner of her mind was saying it. *(The temperature is slightly off. The skin texture is too thin. The smell is... too perfect.)* She knew. She knew this was a lie. Celeste possessed the sense of Flora Whisper—the ability to receive the voices of plants as sensations. That power was now rustling with warnings. "This isn't right." "It's different." "It's a lie." But. Her mother was pulling out a chair, waiting for Celeste to sit. Pouring soup into a bowl. "Your complexion looks terrible," she said. *(I want to stay here.)* The thought escaped her. For five years, she'd wanted this. She'd wanted her name called. Just that, and it overflowed like this. Celeste clung to her mother's back, unable to move. She had to return to reality. She knew that. But her feet wouldn't move. --- She didn't know how much time had passed. Fake evening light streamed through the window. Fake soup had grown cold. Fake mother sat beside her, continuing to stroke her head. Then. A sound came from far away. At first it was just noise. A high-pitched sound like tinnitus. But it was different. Not tinnitus. Celeste knew what it was. Flora Whisper—the sensation of receiving the voices of plants. But with a strength she'd never felt before. Strong enough to cause a headache. *(Help me.)* It became a voice. Not just one. *(It's cold.)* *(I don't want to disappear.)* *(Help me, someone.)* Dozens of flower voices overlapped and reached her. The screams of dream flowers. Flowers dying in the darkness, crying out for help. Celeste narrowed her eyes in her mother's arms. *(I can hear them... everyone... asking for help...)* Fake warmth and real screams. Both existed at the same time. "Celeste? Are you in pain somewhere?" Fake mother leaned in to look at her. With a worried expression. A perfectly worried expression. Celeste moved her lips. *(... I'm sorry.)* She still couldn't move. Her feet wouldn't come. Her body was heavy. She didn't know how to let go of this warmth. But the flower voices didn't stop. *(Help me.) (Help me.) (Help me.)—* Dozens of flowers screaming. Each one carrying someone's dream. Someone's memory. Someone's cherished emotion. Celeste's hand slowly moved. The hand that had been gripping her mother's back loosened just slightly. Her consciousness hadn't completely sunk into the fake world yet. Flora Whisper had lit a thin, thin thread of light that kept Celeste tethered in the darkness. A thread's worth of light. But it was there. Definitely there. --- In the real infirmary. Lyra held Celeste's hand and stared at the floor. Nurse Down said "I'll step outside for a bit" and quietly closed the door. Only two remained in the room. The sleeping Celeste and Lyra alone. [sad] "Senpai... there's nothing I can do?" Her whispered words reached no one. Lyra turned her gaze to Celeste's face. A peaceful face. An unknowing face. Lyra couldn't even imagine what was happening inside Celeste's fake dream. *(What's inside Senpai right now?)* Beyond the window, the Garden was visible. The morning Garden, already fading past dawn, nearly disappearing. At its edge, there was a black stain. It seemed slightly larger than yesterday. Elian was probably standing there alone right now. Lyra imagined it and pressed her lips together. The anger was still there. But it wasn't all there was. She knew Elian's face from three days of coming here. The face that kept looking between Celeste and the Garden, unable to move for those three days. She understood that was a time when he was forced to make a choice that wasn't really a choice. Understanding that didn't stop her from shouting at him. *(... That's unfair. I was unfair too.)* Lyra cradled Celeste's hand in both of hers again. [sad] "Senpai's hand is always warm. Always warm, but you won't wake up." Another tear fell. Celeste didn't move. In the dream, the screams of dozens of flowers continued. And as long as those voices reached her, Celeste's consciousness didn't completely sink. A thread's worth of light still burned. Lyra couldn't see it. Elian couldn't see it. Nurse Down couldn't. But there was a voice reaching only Celeste. The flowers were still screaming.