Sunday raised his hand and pointed at Firefly.
"Firefly, someone like you should understand this better than anyone." He said calmly. "Entropy Syndrome forces you to live with constant degradation. With the certainty that everything, even the body itself, has a limit."
Firefly frowned.
"…When you put it that way, his ideology really does sound perfect." March murmured with a troubled expression.
Sunday tilted his head slightly, curious.
"Your reaction intrigues me. The hostility you radiate, Aleph Avesta, far from diminishing, only seems to grow with every word I say." He commented. "May I ask why?"
"Stop playing games with us."
Aleph looked at him with a deep frown; there was a hint of hesitation in his eyes.
"Promising paradise…"
Firefly stepped forward.
"You said there would be no more worries." She said bluntly. "Then tell me—what's the real price? No matter how good an idea may be, nothing can be achieved by ideas alone, much less something as ambitious as what you desire."
Sunday smiled softly and nodded.
"Indeed, you're not wrong. Everything has a cost, and that is undeniable. But in this case, the price is something insignificant… eternal." He replied calmly.
"A single personal sacrifice. One watcher who remains awake until the end of the Cosmos, waiting and protecting everything until the final moment, while the rest sink into eternal paradise."
March began to tremble at the thought.
"To watch over… alone?" She murmured, imagining herself in that position. "For an entire lifetime?"
Firefly looked at him, crossing her arms.
"You speak of a vigil, which means that… the 'paradise' you propose isn't anything more than a dream, is it?" She said. "And the price you're talking about… is abandoning reality entirely."
Sunday nodded.
"It is not abandoning reality—it is simply transcending flesh, weakness, fear, and inevitability. If the physical truly is the root of spiritual affliction, is it not logical to leave it behind?"
"Separating people from hardship, from conflict, from error. Freezing them in a state where they cannot move forward. What you propose is not a path to salvation—it is nothing more than eternal stagnation, where people would lose forever the chance to grow."
Sunday shook his head, letting out a disappointed sigh, and extended a hand toward the group.
"What is wrong with fleeing? Is it not the most basic instinct of any living being to move away from what it perceives as hostile or harmful? Why do people sleep?" He asked. "It's quite simple. Not only to rest the mind and body, but also so that, even if only for a brief moment, consciousness may escape into a dark corner of the unconscious and soothe its fatigue with sweet dreams. To deny that is to deny the fragility of human existence."
With a compassionate expression, he continued.
"Only by accepting that there are things human beings cannot change or overcome can you truly understand the fragility of your existence—and from there, desire protection, and learn to give and receive compassion."
Stelle tilted her head, visibly lost, while she heard Aleph mutter a single word under his breath.
"Disgusting."
"Such a view of humanity is… truly pessimistic." Firefly murmured. "You're contradictory. Despite your words overflowing with pessimism, I can feel that you are genuinely compassionate, but…"
She looked at him firmly.
"I can't accept it. Because unlike you, I can't be that compassionate. I live for myself. And I believe the ability to make one's own choices is a natural right. I won't deny that part of your words—you're not wrong in wanting to escape."
She shook her head softly.
"But you have no right to decide that for others."
Scorching heat filled the space. The ground began to freeze around Aleph, while powerful currents surged nearby despite the area being enclosed.
"Aleph…?"
March, worried, tried to touch Aleph's shoulder. Stelle attempted to stop her but was too late.
"Aleph…?"
As she reached for him, her hand was instantly engulfed by a burning sensation, and a jolt left it rigid.
Her eyes watered as she felt pain as intense as the time she touched the rear of a test rocket moments after ignition.
"March—" Aleph immediately pulled himself together and forcibly suppressed his magic; it was harder to do without Burroughs assisting him. He instantly cast Dia on March's hand, the energy running across her skin until the burning sensation faded.
"I'm sorry." He murmured, cursing himself internally for losing control.
Himeko stepped forward, placing herself at the center between Aleph and Firefly, while Stelle and March moved to either side.
"As Firefly has already made her stance clear." Himeko said calmly. "don't you think it would be rude of us not to follow her example? Don't worry—our answer is quite simple."
"Far simpler than any speech or philosophical discourse you might give. No matter how well-founded your arguments are, no matter how many examples you provide, you cannot change our perspective."
She looked at Sunday seriously.
"For people who abandoned the notion of home to travel as Nameless across the Cosmos, following the Path of Akivili." Himeko said as she advanced with the others at her side. "Venturing among the legacies of those who came before us on an endless journey into the unknown—and even beyond that…"
With defiant smiles on their faces, they looked at Sunday.
"Why would we submit to the ideology of Order?"
Sunday sighed and lowered his head in disappointment. When he raised it again, he looked at the group with a solemn expression.
"If that is the case… then, in the name of the Dreammaster of Penacony." He said. "And of the 107,336 members of the Oak Family, I extend to you a formal invitation to the Grand Theater of Penacony."
March blinked as Stelle prepared to throw her bat like a projectile.
"Of course, you will not be among the audience, but on the stage. It is there that this dispute—and the fate of Penacony—will reach its conclusion." Sunday said. "If you truly believe in the path you have chosen and the Path you follow… then show me your courage and determination."
March leaned toward Stelle and whispered softly.
"Is it just me, or did he just use a lot of fancy words to say he wants to fight us during the Carismonia Festival?"
"Yes." Stelle replied as she tried to calculate the distance and force she'd need to throw her bat if she wanted to hit Sunday in the stomach—or the groin.
For a brief moment, Aleph's and Sunday's gazes met.
Aleph brought a hand to his forehead as a sharp headache surged.
"I will ask you one final question, Aleph Avesta. If the price of the eternal bliss of those you love is their freedom and your suffering… would you accept it?"
Aleph did not answer.
Sunday smiled—and withdrew in silence.
March let out a sigh as she looked toward the spot where Sunday had left.
"It's strange." She murmured. "I mean… technically he's a villain, right? But he acts like all of this is a fair debate. As if he genuinely believes what he's doing is right."
She tilted her head slightly.
"How does someone even reach the conclusion that the best way to prove their idea is through a battle?"
Himeko crossed her arms calmly.
"Because he's convinced. Sunday is committed to his philosophy to the very end, and he wants to prove that Order is the correct answer."
Stelle tilted her head.
"Like when Aleph and I fight over the last yogurt on the Express?"
Himeko shot her a sideways glance.
"No." She said, shaking her head. "And yet… I still don't fully understand him. It might just be a hunch, but there's something more in him than mere conviction. I sense a clear desire for domination."
She raised her gaze, thoughtful.
"I think he's the type of person who won't accept any outcome unless he defeats us head-on. He needs to prove—to himself and to us—that he's right. That's why, when the time comes, he won't hold back."
Stelle lifted her bat over her head brazenly.
"Hmph. We already beat a weird giant woman, a dragon that shot explosive sparkly lights, and an icy milf." She declared, lifting her chin arrogantly. "What's a pigeon man going to do against us?"
March felt a bit embarrassed by Stelle's words, but she still raised her fist in support.
"Yeah! We'll beat him!"
Himeko shook her head gently.
"Don't forget about the Stellaron. Leaving it unattended could cause problems later." She said firmly. "And more importantly, time is not on our side. We need to find Mikhail's legacy as soon as possible. That will be our trump card against Sunday."
Firefly stepped forward.
"Sorry to be the one to cool the mood." She said. "But you shouldn't place too much trust in that legacy."
Everyone turned their gaze to her, urging her to continue.
"The Order's plan wasn't built overnight. It's taken years—maybe decades. And they aren't alone." She continued. "They have the collective will of a huge portion of Penacony. Tired people who want to sleep, to run away, to stop facing reality. All of those desires are being used to cement the Dream of Order."
She lowered her gaze slightly as she slipped a hand into one of her pockets.
"They're trying to recreate an Aeon. This won't be resolved just by stepping onto the Grand Theater's stage and confronting Sunday."
March blinked, a bit lost.
"Does that mean you're not going to fight with us?"
"Perhaps Firefly has another battlefield to walk." Himeko commented.
Firefly nodded.
"The script Elio wrote for me may be short, with far fewer lines than scripts like Kafka's or Silver Wolf's." She said calmly. "But even so, it's a role I can't ignore. If I don't fulfill it, you won't be able to face Sunday at full strength."
She looked at Aleph with a hint of hesitation, as if she wanted to say more, but ultimately chose not to.
She stepped closer and took his hand, gently pressing an object into his palm before closing his fingers around it, leaving Aleph confused.
Himeko watched her carefully.
"Have you already decided what you're going to do?"
Firefly smiled.
"I'm more than ready."
"Then." Himeko said, returning the smile, "I hope we meet again in reality."
"Good luck." Firefly replied. "And I hope your Trailblazing Expedition never ends."
She turned around and began walking away along the same path that had brought them there.
A thunderous roar shook the air.
Everyone looked up just in time to see a blazing trail tear across the sky. SAM was ascending, wrapped in brilliant fire, heading toward an unknown destination.
As it grew more distant, Aleph opened his hand.
The object Firefly had left there was a slightly damaged hairpin, identical to the one she had been wearing. Aleph closed his fingers around it as a fleeting memory crossed his mind.
After a rather particular mission in which the three of them had nearly died, Firefly, Stelle, and Caelus went out together looking for something to do on a somewhat remote world that had only just begun its Interstellar era. Caelus ended up spending more credits than necessary during a local festival just to buy that very same hairpin and give it to her as a gift.
Aleph quickly slipped the hairpin into one of his pockets.
"Do you want to know what that young lady didn't tell you?" He could hear a voice in his mind, though there was no one around him besides Himeko, Stelle, and March. "How sad, young heir. Have you truly forgotten me?"
Aleph sighed with resignation as, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a ghostly blue flame flickering atop a candle.
"Sorry." He said, turning his back to Himeko, March, and Stelle. "But I don't think I can go with you to look for Mikhail's legacy."
"What?" March exclaimed, planting her hands on her hips and giving Aleph her most scrutinizing glare. "Why?"
"I have something urgent to take care of." He replied as he began to walk away. "Don't worry. I'll be with you at the Grand Theater when the Festival Carismonia begins."
"Huh? Hey, wait!"
March tried to catch up to him, but Aleph had already vanished. Annoyed, she crossed her arms, stomped the ground, and puffed out her cheeks.
"Great. Couldn't he have picked a worse time to leave? Stupid Aleph!" She muttered, stomping even more as she imagined it was Aleph's stupid face beneath her feet.
Stelle shrugged.
"Maybe he needed to go to the bathroom."
March blinked dumbly at that possibility, which had never occurred to her.
"…Oh." March scratched her cheek, a bit embarrassed. "Well, if that's it, then I guess I can forgive him. When you gotta go, you gotta go."
*************
Meanwhile, aboard the Astral Express.
Acheron leaned against one of the walls while eating a dessert prepared by Pom-Pom.
"Are you aware of the true weight of your words?" Dan Heng asked as he looked at Acheron. She simply nodded. "The Family wouldn't dare attempt something like that in Penacony, and if they truly did… how do they expect to face retaliation from numerous factions at once when what they're doing is practically a declaration of war?"
"And what if it isn't the followers of Harmony who are behind this?"
"What do you mean?"
Black Swan set her teacup down on the table as she stood by one of the windows.
"Allow me to remind you of an old story that you may all already know… In the past, when Tayzzyronth the Propagation unleashed its Swarm upon the Cosmos, it triggered a war between Aeons," she said as she sat down on a sofa. "Two Aeons fell in that conflict, and their Paths were left without owners... Propagation and Order."
"Harmony took part in that war for no clear reason, and in the end it devoured Order, incorporating the Choir of the Firmament into its ranks." Acheron added.
"And what exactly are you trying to say?" Boothill asked, bored.
"'Memory' has interesting properties that can be used for many purposes… The Asdana system is completely submerged in it. With the right method and proper planning, even something unheard of could be achieved by human hands." Black Swan said.
Boothill let out a whistle.
"Well I'll be damned." He muttered. "Are you telling me this whole damn mess could be coming from remnants of ownerless Paths?"
Black Swan shook her head.
"There are no traces of the Swarm in Penacony. Nor any signs of a Pathstrider of Propagation—at least, if there is one, we haven't encountered him or her yet."
Dan Heng frowned slightly, his thoughts drifting toward Aleph, but he quickly composed himself. That was not a secret he could speak of in front of others without putting Aleph's life at risk.
"Then… someone could be trying to revive a fallen Aeon?"
Black Swan rolled one of her cards between her fingers.
"It's a possibility." She said calmly. "The planet of celebrations could be the perfect stage for such an attempt."
"I see." Dan Heng murmured as he took something out of his pocket.
"Are you seriously sure you want to do that?" Boothill commented from where he was reclining in a chair, boots propped up on the table. "That's a single-use treasure. You'll never be able to use it again in your life."
"It's just an idea. The Jade Abacus might be the solution to all of this." Dan Heng replied. "Besides… my companions are also treasures you only find once in a lifetime."
************
Following the trail of blue flames and that persistent voice, Aleph eventually made his way into an alley in the Golden Hour.
He frowned as he noticed a strange sensation in the alley—something felt deeply out of place there.
Two figures emerged from the darkness. One was wearing something that could barely be considered clothing, while the other wore a white dress and a wide-brimmed hat of the same color, adorned with black flowers.
"It's good to see you again, heir." Constance said with a relaxed smile.
"Wow." Kali added, tilting her head. "With that look on your face… it's like we're debt collectors you ran into at the worst possible time! Why the long face?"
"What did you mean when you said there was something Firefly wasn't telling me?" Aleph asked, looking directly at Constance.
Constance let out a sigh and rested the palm of her hand against her cheek, giving Aleph an aggrieved look.
"How cruel." She complained. "You ignored our greeting, didn't even say 'please.' And then you try to drag me along with your urgency and expect to force me to cooperate… Is that really your taste? So domineering~."
Kali slowly shook her head, trying to force a serious expression onto her face.
"You'll never be popular like that… unless you happen to run into a masochist, of course."
Aleph didn't react at all, choosing instead to glare at them with annoyance.
"I'm not going to repeat the question." He said flatly as magical energy began to swirl around him.
Both of them sighed.
"How boring!" Kali said with a pout.
"…Poor thing, he really must have no sense of humor." Constance said before snapping her fingers. "Or maybe it's because of that woman's bad influence…?"
A flame of spectral blue expanded before their eyes, and at its center the darkness split open, forming a perfect circle with no visible bottom.
Aleph briefly gave them an expressionless look.
"Do you really think I'm stupid enough to walk into that terrifying-looking thing with two strange women?"
Looking back at the bizarre phenomenon in front of him, he couldn't help but get a little distracted.
"Mei would hit me if she found out about this…" He muttered with a somewhat odd expression.
Before Aleph could say anything else, Kali grabbed his hand and began dragging him along.
"Don't fall behind."
At last, the three of them passed through the portal.
...
After crossing through, Aleph surveyed the new surroundings with a slightly grim look, discreetly preparing to absorb a bit of the portal before it finished dissipating.
They were in a rather elegant and strangely cozy room with a somewhat gothic aesthetic.
A full-length mirror stood beside a bookshelf packed with old-looking volumes.
In the center of the room was a low table with two steaming cups of tea and three luxurious-looking chairs.
Aleph frowned slightly.
"This place…" He murmured.
"Nice, right?" Constance commented with a smile as she took a seat in the chair near the mirror. "I took the liberty of designing it to my own taste, though inevitably someone decided to stick their hand into the matter and add things that didn't belong." She muttered as she narrowed her eyes at Kali.
"It looked way too gloomy!"
"…If it were up to you, this place would be pink."
"You have no proof."
"Hmm? I wonder if—well, let's leave that conversation for another time." She gestured toward the other two chairs. "Standing around should be uncomfortable for both of you, and what kind of hostess would I be if I didn't kindly offer you a place to sit? Go on, I insist."
Both Aleph and Kali sat down.
Kali offered him a cup of tea, which he rejected without even looking at it. He closed his eyes for a moment as his fingers tapped impatiently against his forearm.
"You know… lately I've been feeling a certain craving for birds." Constance mentioned as she took a sip of her tea. Kali raised an eyebrow in curiosity.
"Are you going to eat Charmory Doves? Certain pigeons might be scandalized if you do that." Kali remarked as she started taking a few desserts from the plate in the center of the table.
"No, I meant swans." The smile on Constanza's face deepened as her eyes sparkled with delight and a faint touch of malice. "I find the process of plucking them particularly interesting—leaving them naked and unable to fly, with no choice but to succumb to their final fate… Sounds quite fun, don't you think?"
Kali gave her a strange look.
"You're definitely not popular with animal rights activists, are you?"
"Hehehe, I've been banned from most planets with protected ecosystems."
"…Is that really something you should be saying with such a proud expression?"
....
Five minutes later, Aleph opened his eyes.
"Did you drag me all the way here just to waste my time?"
Constance puffed out her cheeks slightly and shot him an annoyed look.
"You should relax." She said lightly. "Stress is terrible for your health, especially at such a young age. You don't want your growth to suddenly stop, do you?"
Aleph's eye twitched as he forced a smile and used every ounce of self-control to suppress the urge to turn her into an ice statue.
Kali, meanwhile, kept eating with absolute calm.
"They're delicious." She murmured, resting her cheek on one hand with a sweet smile.
Constance sighed, brought a hand to her forehead, then turned back to Aleph with a much more serious expression.
"Tell me, heir." She finally asked. "How much do you know about the Swarm and Propagation?"
Aleph tilted his head slightly, studying her as he wondered why she would ask that.
"Only the bare minimum." He replied. "Tayzzyronth began its disasters a long time ago, drew the attention of many Aeons, and all of that culminated in a war during which it finally met its end."
"A very condensed summary." Constance nodded. "By the way, I'll give you a small fun fact, if you don't mind."
When Aleph nodded, Constance took several sugar cubes and dropped them into her tea, stirring counterclockwise with her spoon.
Kali grabbed a chocolate chip cookie and began breaking it into small pieces while eating it slowly.
"This is something many who studied biology observed when capturing different Swarm insects to extract something useful from them. Offspring born through bipartition depend on the 'mother' organism for a certain period of time. If it dies… or if they are separated too early…"
She took a sip and looked at Aleph.
"They begin to destabilize. Even if they look the same on the outside, their interior deteriorates more and more over time until they eventually perish and fade away as if they had never existed."
She lifted her gaze, smiling sweetly.
"Tell me—doesn't that sound familiar~?"
Aleph's eyes widened.
"Are you saying that…?"
"Glamoth fell a long time ago. Its legions now exist only in stories. And perhaps in some memories."
She set her cup down on the table.
"Your little friend is no different."
Aleph's expression darkened.
Constanza tilted her head, her smile impossibly sweet.
"Tell me, heir." She asked in a playful tone. "How far would you be willing to go if I told you a little secret about a certain script you know? And about a way to ease your little friend's pain?"
Kali shuddered and took a step back when she saw Constanza's smile.
"Constance…"
Aleph, however, stepped forward.
"Talk."
***********
"This place is strange." Misha murmured. "But… it feels familiar."
March's eyes widened in surprise.
"Before, the bubble was empty." She said quietly. "How is there something inside it now?"
Himeko carefully observed their surroundings.
"After speaking with Dr. Edward, I learned something interesting." She explained. "Bubbles and the dreams they contain are made of memories. They can't take shape if their center is empty."
She looked at Misha.
"That's why I thought you, an outstanding bellhop of the Reverie Hotel, might be able to help us."
Stelle tilted her head, confused.
"But if we're looking for the legacy of—"
March quickly covered Stelle's mouth with her hand.
"Hahaha! What Stelle meant is that we're happy you agreed to help us!"
Misha scratched his head.
"I don't know much about dream bubbles." He admitted. "But… I'll do what I can."
Himeko smiled.
"That's enough. Thank you."
"So… where do we start?"
Misha looked down both ends of the corridor. He blinked a couple of times before making his choice.
"Over there." He pointed to the left. "I think that's the right way."
"Adventure time!" Stelle shouted as she hoisted Misha onto her shoulders.
March stared at them, speechless.
"Can I ask you something, Himeko?"
Himeko nodded with a slight tilt of her head.
"Why did you really bring him?" March asked.
Himeko watched Misha as he moved a few steps ahead.
"It was a hunch." She replied calmly. "Nothing more."
March tilted her head, giving her a sidelong look.
"That doesn't sound very scientific coming from you."
"Hunches rarely appear without a reason." Himeko added. "And when Misha not only managed to enter the bubble, but also said this place felt familiar to him… I thought maybe I wasn't wrong."
Stelle moved a few meters ahead, but soon stopped when she noticed a certain degree of destruction in the area.
"This place…" She murmured. "It feels weird."
March turned toward her.
"Weird how?"
"Nostalgic." Stelle looked up. "Was it here?"
Himeko gave her a curious look.
"I think this is where we ran into Lethargy, when he was with Firefly and Aleph."
The hallway opened into a wide lobby.
Fragments of memories floated like poorly defined reflections across the windows.
"I don't understand why I know where to go." Misha said quietly. "I just… do."
An electric net snapped down from the ceiling. Stelle rolled to the side as a mechanical spider dropped in front of her, its legs digging into the floor. More emerged from the side walls. Their bodies glowed with a bluish hue, and the nets they fired crackled with energy.
"Should I take pictures and sell the designs to Herta so she can make new mobs for the Simulated Universe?" Stelle muttered as she started smashing them with her bat.
March raised her bow.
"Ugh. Spiders."
Stelle pushed forward, cutting a net before it could close around Misha.
Himeko brought another down with a slash that split it in half.
A robotic gorilla emerged from an adjacent room; its arms detached from its torso and shot forward like projectiles.
March cursed and jumped back.
"Who designs these things?"
Stelle deflected one of the fists and slammed it into a wall. The gorilla collapsed seconds later after a combined attack from March and Himeko.
Before they could move on and continue forward, a massive orange figure burst through a door at the far end, blowing a huge hole in it. It was a mechanical dinosaur wearing a chef's hat.
"Oh, it's March's old friend!" Stelle commented, starting to wave at it.
March stared at it with a sour expression.
"That thing is not my friend!"
...…
After crossing several corridors and fighting numerous battles, they were finally able to move on. Nearly forty minutes had passed.
Misha looked around, feeling strangely familiar with the surroundings.
"Hey!" March shouted when she saw him running. "Where are you going? Wait for us!"
Stelle and Himeko immediately started running after him, along with March.
Misha moved incredibly fast, slipping easily through every corridor and room in his path, ignoring everything else until he suddenly stopped, allowing them to finally catch up.
A long, dark hallway stretched out before them.
"Uh, this looks like that horror movie where—"
"Shut up, Stelle!" March shouted as she looked around, half-expecting some hideously ugly monster to leap out of the darkness and attack them.
A soft, eerie, and melancholy tune began to play as they entered the hallway. March shuddered.
Misha walked forward calmly.
"It feels…" He closed his eyes for a moment. "Like a fish returning to the water after being on land for a long time."
...…
The corridor opened into a fairly spacious room.
A lit fireplace illuminated a luxurious sofa and a low table. Resting on it was a black fedora, with a gray band and a blue feather.
Misha walked over and sat down on the sofa.
"All of this is… so familiar."
Himeko approached.
"How do you feel?"
Misha stared into the fire.
"I remember sitting here and watching the flames together with Clockie."
Misha lifted a hand from the armrest, and the sound of a door opening drew everyone's attention as they turned toward the now-open adjoining room.
The room was filled with toys and amateur-designed clocks. Each one seemed to be arranged from left to right, and the closer they were to the right, the more refined they looked, clearly showing the maker's improvement in craftsmanship.
"I liked taking the toys out and playing with Clockie while we made up stories for them." Misha frowned, bringing a hand to his temple.
"But this doesn't make sense." He murmured. "I grew up in the Dreamflow Reef. So then… what is this place?"
Himeko sat across from him.
"Maybe you went through something that made you forget." She said gently. "That wouldn't be strange. But don't worry—this doesn't mean those memories are gone forever. Looking through this room and the others might help you remember more."
"How can you be so sure?"
"I'm not." Himeko replied. "But forgetting isn't the same as erasing. Sometimes all it takes is a simple trigger to awaken memories that are sleeping deep in your mind."
Stelle turned toward Misha after noticing a manual on the proper use of deep-sea diving equipment, written under a name that had been crossed out.
"Who does this belong to?"
Misha smiled as he took the book.
"Ah! It was my grandfather's—Mikhail's. I used to read it all the time, hoping I'd someday understand it completely."
March's eyes widened in surprise.
"…The Watchmaker? Misha is the Watchmaker's grandson?"
"As far as we know, it was never mentioned that he had any descendants. And remember, Mikhail isn't exactly an uncommon name, so this could just be a coincidence." Himeko said, slowly shaking her head. "Or is March's assumption correct, Misha?"
Misha shook his head.
"I don't really know much about the Watchmaker." He said. "My grandfather was a sailor who didn't like being called Grandpa. He always insisted that his heart was still young, and that meant he couldn't be called that." He smiled as he briefly lost himself in the memory.
"He traveled a lot. I remember that whenever he came back, he always brought interesting stories in his logbooks. It was because of those stories that I fantasized about going on an adventure someday."
The sound of chirping birds filled the corridor. Misha looked up happily.
"My friends."
"Who are you talking about?" March asked.
"The paper birds, of course. All of them were crew members of the Compass, along with Clockie and Miss Mirror. They're all identical siblings whose skills as sailors are unmatched."
Stelle blinked, curious.
"A paper bird sailor? How does that even work?"
Misha laughed.
"Aboard the Compass, and under Miss Mirror's guidance, they work magic."
"Could you tell us more about the Compass, Misha?" Himeko asked.
"The Compass is a ship bound for the New World! Aboard it, Clockie and his friends venture into the fog in search of a new horizon, driven by the desire to explore the unexplored. And if danger approaches, Clockie takes out his compass and guides them onto the right path!"
Himeko nodded with a smile.
"It's an interesting story. But there's a small problem with it."
Misha looked at her.
"In Penacony's cartoon, Clockie and his friends never left Dreamville."
Misha frowned.
"Never…? Really…? It's strange." Misha murmured as they moved forward. "In my memories, Clockie always reaches a new world."
Himeko stepped closer and gently rested her hand on his head.
"Don't worry." She said with a serene smile. "Maybe Clockie has a past that was never shown."
Misha nodded, though doubt still lingered on his face.
March, on the other hand, came to an abrupt stop and slowly turned toward Stelle.
Stelle was walking a little behind the others, her pockets visibly bulging.
"Give it back." March said in a dangerously calm tone, fixing her with a hard stare.
Stelle looked away.
"Pirates never return their loot."
March crossed her arms and tapped the floor with the tip of her boot.
"Give it back. Now."
Stelle sighed with reluctance.
"How harsh the life of crime is…" She muttered as she began emptying her pockets, causing small toys, clocks, and a few loose parts to tumble onto the floor one after another.
Misha watched in surprise.
"Those were memories." Stelle said quietly, pouting.
"Exactly." March replied, arms still crossed as she gave her a strict look. "Memories that don't belong to you."
"Tch." March clicked her tongue as she saw Stelle trying to hide the very same fedora that had been on the table inside her clothes.
Misha looked at her and smiled.
"You can keep it." He said. "I think it suits you better."
Stelle blinked, then put the hat on with a proud grin.
"See, March. Explicit consent!"
March snorted as she watched her strut around with the hat, but said nothing more.
"Can you hear it?" Misha asked as he started walking.
"Hear what?"
"The sound of the water!"
As they drew closer to the source of the sound, they heard Misha murmuring:
"The water remembers every name lost within it. It keeps dreams at its depths, like rusted anchors. Sailors gaze at the horizon not out of bravery, but because they fear standing still. The sea promises no return. It only offers a path. And yet, every wave shines as if it knows where home is."
Stelle gave him a strange look.
"What were you mumbling?"
Misha lowered his gaze and scratched his cheek, a bit embarrassed.
"Oh, that? It's something I read in one of my grandfather's logs."
The corridor opened into a space where a crystalline fountain occupied the center. Water flowed with a constant murmur, reflecting soft lights that didn't seem to come from anywhere in particular.
Stelle stepped closer.
"Did you remember anything else?"
Misha nodded.
"My grandfather said the sea is dangerous." He said quietly. "But at sunset, when he looked at the waves from the deck, everything felt different. Like he was home again. Like his family was there with him."
Himeko observed the fountain.
"Travel always leads you back to that." She said. "To the desire to return. To a place where the heart can rest, even if only for a brief moment. That's a compass too."
"When he came back, he used to fill a huge fish tank. Inside it, he placed the toys I made—whether they were ships, islands, or animals—playing with me before going back to his work." Misha smiled with a hint of nostalgia. "Whenever I asked when I could go on an adventure with him, he laughed loudly and told me I was still too small."
March crossed her arms, nodding to herself.
"Well." she said. "That confirms this Mikhail isn't the Watchmaker."
"And now you realize that? Congratulations, great deduction, March Holmes!" Stelle said, offering a sarcastic round of applause.
March stomped the ground and glared at her.
"Hmph. If you keep this up, when you grow up you'll turn into an ugly, evil witch."
Stelle's eyes went wide as she grabbed her head.
"She just cursed me!" She shouted. "The evil witch March 7th has cast an ancient curse on me!"
"Stop saying stupid things." March snapped, tugging on Stelle's ear.
"Mercy! O mighty witch, I beg you!"
"…You should stop reading so many fantasy books."
"I don't want to. They're fun."
March sighed, then looked at Himeko.
"From what we've seen so far, Misha's homeworld seems to be an ocean planet with no connection to Penacony. Why are these memories here?" She rested a hand on her chin, thoughtful. "What if they're some kind of metaphor? The sea could be the Memory Zone."
Misha lowered his head, a little embarrassed.
"I'm sorry. I can't help any more. All I can do is try to absorb the runaway current of memories pouring into me a bit faster."
March gave him a pat on the shoulder.
"That's fine. Don't worry so much about it. What matters is that you keep moving forward and slowly recover everything."
...…
They descended the lobby stairs. Once at the bottom, Misha turned left and moved down a long corridor. At the end, a door opened.
"It really is identical…" Misha murmured, recalling his grandfather's study.
"Welcome!" Clockie greeted them, making a small hop.
Misha smiled brightly at the sight of his dear friend.
Himeko scanned the room, noting that every wall was covered with bookshelves packed with rather thick notebooks.
"Those are—"
"They're all his logs!" Misha explained. "They contain records of every expedition he undertook during his travels around the world."
He picked one up and handed it to Stelle.
"My grandfather compared what was happening to our world to an overflowing spring. From one day to the next, the sea began swallowing the land. He and others explored the vast ocean in search of habitable places, while also trying to find the cause of it all."
Clockie climbed onto a table and rested his hand on Misha's arm.
"There was a day when, unlike other times he left, he had a very grim and bitter expression… the same expression my father had on the day he left and never returned." Misha shook his head. "I remember asking him to let me go with him, but he refused, saying my adventure was a different one… that I just had to stay home and wait for the sound."
Stelle glanced at him sideways while playing with her new hat.
"What kind of sound was it?"
Misha smiled.
"My grandfather meant the whistle of a train you can hear from the distant sea of stars. A train that races at full speed across countless paths—and creates even more. A train whose crew is made up of children eager to venture into the unknown with all their hearts."
He looked at everyone.
"Grandpa said he was a friend of the crew, and that he'd asked them the favor of taking me with them. And that my adventure… would begin there."
March opened her mouth, but no words came out as she blinked dumbly.
"Wait." She finally said, raising a hand. "Wait, wait, wait."
Misha smiled softly, as if he had anticipated the question long ago.
"That's right." He nodded. "It was the Astral Express."
March slowly turned toward Himeko. Then to Stelle, and then back to Misha.
"The… Astral Express?" She repeated, incredulous.
"My grandfather knew the crew from that time. In fact, they worked together for a long while while trying to repair the disaster caused by the Stellaron on my home planet."
Stelle tilted her head.
"…You mean they were the bay guardians?"
"They explored the ocean in search of new lands, but also the cause, as I already told you. My grandfather said it wasn't enough to run away. If the sea kept rising, there would be nowhere left to escape."
Misha slipped his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a small pocket watch. The metal was worn from use, but the glass remained intact.
"Before he left for the last time, he gave this to me." He said, looking at it. "He said it was the most valuable thing he owned."
He took a few steps forward and carefully placed it into Stelle's hands.
She looked down at it, startled.
"Huh? Me?"
"He told me to keep moving forward." Misha explained. "That as long as I had that watch, I would always find the way to where I was meant to go."
Stelle closed her fingers around the object.
"That's… a lot of pressure." She murmured, though she didn't give it back. "Well, it's mine now."
"It was then that I managed to hear the sound…"
March frowned.
"What sound?"
"The distant echo of a train whistle…"
A wall began to vibrate softly. A luminous outline traced itself across its surface, forming a door that hadn't been there before.
Misha smiled.
"Would you accompany me a little longer?"
As they crossed the door, the environment changed completely.
The walls were covered in pale blue. The lighting didn't come from any visible lamps, but from a diffuse glow that seemed to seep in from every direction, like sunlight seen from beneath the water.
March slowly turned in place.
"Wow…" She murmured. "This is… beautiful."
"This is the clock room." Misha said. "While my grandfather was away, this place became my workshop. It was here that I learned, from beginning to end, how to make clocks and gears."
He took a few steps forward, gazing with quiet nostalgia at some old models resting on the shelves.
"And it was also… where I was born and grew up."
"So… is this the replica inside the dream bubble of the building where you lived and grew up?" Himeko asked.
Misha shook his head.
"Yes, but at the same time, not exactly." He replied. "To be precise… this bubble is my home."
Himeko looked at him, then smiled.
"It seems you finally remember everything."
"One second." March interrupted, raising both hands. "Why is everyone acting like they understand what's going on except me?"
Stelle stepped beside her and gave her a bright smile, raising her thumb in encouragement.
"If it makes you feel any better, I don't understand anything either."
March stared at her flatly.
"That doesn't help."
Himeko let out a small laugh.
"Try thinking about it." She said. "The clues were always there."
March sighed.
"Fine. Enlighten me."
"Why do you think only members of the Astral Express have been able to see Clockie?" Himeko asked. "And no one else?"
Clockie gave a small hop.
"It must be because all the members have childlike hearts! Tick-tock!" He exclaimed cheerfully.
March pouted.
"Stop talking in riddles."
"It's not a riddle." Himeko replied. "Think about it. Clockie is a memetic creature… a hidden message left specifically so that only a Trailblazer could perceive it."
Stelle raised an eyebrow.
"What you're saying doesn't make much sense… Misha can see him too, and he even claims they grew up together. How does that work?"
March nodded emphatically.
"Exactly. And Misha doesn't seem to follow the Path of Trailblazing either."
Himeko narrowed her eyes slightly, giving them an amused look.
"Think for a moment." She finally said. "Have you really seen anyone else interact with Misha? Talk to him? Or even notice his presence?"
March's eyes slowly widened.
Stelle's did the same.
Both looked at Misha, and he returned their gaze with a calm smile.
"Originally, I stayed here waiting for you."
"Waiting for us?" March repeated.
Misha nodded.
"For you—the next generation."
Clockie stepped closer and took his hand.
"I became something similar to the memes of the Memory Zone." Misha continued. "An existence made of memory. But when reality and memory began to mix, the door opened, and I unconsciously escaped along with Clockie."
March struck her fist into her palm, a look of realization crossing her face.
"I get it now! So it wasn't that the bubble was empty. It's that you escaped."
She murmured.
"And the train whistle… was that maybe when we arrived in Penacony?"
Himeko gently shook her head.
"I think it's a bit more complex than that. But I'd rather have you explain it yourself."
Then she looked at him with a kind expression.
"Tell me—what would you like us to call you? Misha, or…?"
Misha and Clockie bowed politely.
"Thank you." He said. "For helping me remember who I am."
He lifted his gaze, making sure to look each of them in the eyes.
"Born on Lushaka, in the Przesmir star system." He continued. "I was adopted by the sailors Mikhail and Char. They gave me their treasure. And a name filled with their hopes."
He smiled serenely.
"Mikhail Char Legwork." He said. "But you can call me Misha."
Clockie gave a small hop.
"Or the Watchmaker!" He added cheerfully.
Misha laughed softly.
"I suppose that name is fine too."
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Woooo, getting closer and closer to the end, and finally at Chapter 70.
How are your rolls going?