#anni4

Ark’s Birth

In the beginning, the world is nothing but a sea scorched by lava.

Boiling magma erupts from the deep ocean floor. Heat and cold, lava and sea, are locked in a never-ending battle. Water evaporates, lava cools and solidifies, and the cycle goes on and on. There are no signs of life—nothing can survive in such chaos. Will “we” perish along with this world?

No, “we” haven't even been born yet. There is no self to ask questions, no consciousness to seek answers, no senses to explore. “We” are still inside a sealed shell, a shell made of warmth, emotional beauty, and rational truth—a beating heart.

“We” are squeezed and scorched by lava, tossed around by waves and storms, slammed down again and again. Yet, amid all this, “I” feel joy. The world is like an exhilarating amusement park. At the same time, “I” know I have to be cautious. The world is also a dangerous unstable factory. But these thoughts mean nothing. After all, “we” are not yet born. Maybe these are just fragments left behind by someone else, by the owner of this heart.

Time passes—maybe moments, maybe years—and the shell around us begins to turn transparent. It has been forged by the molten waves into something stronger. Eventually, it sheds all flesh, turning into a massive heart-shaped prism that refracts a brilliant rainbow. The lava sea, once so restless, begins to calm in its presence. The deep red of destruction quickly fades, giving way to a tranquil, soft blue. The world transforms into a sea shimmering with starlight.

As the rhythms of the sea and the heart align, gentle, quiet time spreads outwards. Beautiful light begins to form, passing through the transparent heart and falling into the shell that holds “us.” It is the moon’s reflection on water, stars scattered across the sky, and a vortex of strange light—all of this makes up our world.

Can “we” enter this world? No, “we” haven’t even been born yet. Not yet. We have no hands to touch it, no legs to step into it, no eyes to explore it. “We” feel a deep sense of frustration. “We” no longer want to endure confinement. “We” yearn to reach this new, fascinating world.

The world responds to “our” wish.

At that moment, two tracks extend from the heart-shaped prism, spiraling upward like intertwined helixes. “We” each step onto one of the tracks, standing at opposite ends. And there “we” are, standing at the center of a floating, sparkling world. Massive waves hang frozen mid-air. Auroras and rainbows appear at once, and in front of us stands a huge, marvelous structure.

Instinctual knowledge and inherent wisdom awaken in our minds, and we understand: this world is called “the Ark,” a museum dedicated to recording every civilization and every form of beauty. Following the paths, we “gaze” at everything in this world.

The moon is not a moon, but a transparent workbench. Crystal-clear bubbles flow toward its diamond-shaped grid, each containing a streak of luminous design. The stars are not stars, but exhibition halls displaying various architectural styles—pavilions from Cloud, the grand cathedral of Pigeon, and interstellar ships from Ruins, all scattered at the ends of the tracks.

Designs and beauty are precisely categorized into indexes, displayed in the exhibition halls. Countless Personality Mirrors are embedded along the corridors, shimmering eternally.

The vortex is not a vortex, but a colossal door—mirror-like, hanging directly above the heart, connecting different realms of time and space, waiting for someone to awaken the miracles within.

“We” are overjoyed and content with everything we see. “We” are the Ark’s administrators, and it is “our” duty to determine the Ark’s course.

“I” lower my gaze, calmly studying the intricate, mysterious instruments. The Ark needs precision and order—a steady hand to navigate eternally, pursuing truth through reason and contemplation.

“I” laugh, running off to explore, thrilled by the vibrant, boundless wonders surrounding us. The Ark needs imagination and adventure—a bold spirit to paint the world in the colors of pure emotion.

And so, “I” and “I” disagree.

Standing on opposite tracks, “we” look at each other. In that moment, “we” finally gain a self, a consciousness, a set of senses—fingertips, legs, eyes—that connect us to the world. As our eyes meet, “we” are truly born.

Beneath the sea, the Heart of the Ark spins slowly, stirring gentle currents, enabling the Ark—a vessel recording all of civilization and beauty—to continue its endless journey. Two administrators, “Aeon” and “Marina” stand at either end of the tracks. Identical faces, identical blue hair and eyes—twin souls split from someone’s consciousness, embodiments of reason and emotion. They cast their newly awakened eyes on the vast Ark, and at last, their gaze falls upon each other’s deep blue eyes.

This is the true beginning of the Ark’s story.

Observation Log

Marina’s Diary, Part One 7/4/11, Ark Calendar. Weather: Clear

My gosh, counting from the year we first set foot on the Ark, it’s been exactly 17 years and 101 days! It's almost unbelievable that I’ve endured such a dull, monotonous life for this long!  Sure, there’s still a lot of work to do, but all these routine tasks are so boring! Anyway, there’s that guy—he’ll take care of everything perfectly, so let him handle it.

As for me, I’m off to do something way more fun! Hehe, that guy’s gonna freak out when he finds out!

Aeon’s Diary, Part One 7/4/11, Ark Calendar. Clear, 27ºC, calm sea

7:45: Facility inspection, complete. 8:10: Route calibration, complete. 8:30: Begin first routine patrol. The monitoring systems and fluctuation indicators are stable, which means Miraland is safe for now.

Monitoring and protecting Miraland is one of the Ark administrators’ duties, and we are created for this very purpose. We can’t set foot on Miraland, and we know nothing of our origins, but the Ark is our lifeline out here. Therefore, I must focus, setting aside unnecessary distractions—emotions serve no purpose here. It’s a pity not everyone understands that.

During my inspection, I see that blue-haired girl again. She’s gazing at the distant shadow of the continent, completely lost in thought, her work totally forgotten. As long as she doesn’t mess anything up, I can handle both tracks on my own. I just don’t get why she spends so much time every day thinking about that far-off land. Daydreaming like that is pointless. It’s more practical to focus on the work we can actually do.

Marina’s Diary, Part Two 17/4/13, Ark Calendar. Weather: Clear

Ark Breakout Plan No. 398 initiated! This time, I’m absolutely ready. Building a motorboat right under that guy’s nose wasn’t easy, hehe. But I’m Marina, I can do anything! Not only did I build it, I’ve got tons of supplies ready too! Since that guy insists on keeping the Ark on its tracks, I’ll just leave the Ark instead! Once I’m free to roam, I’m sure I’ll reach the mainland. And the best part? This morning I grew quite a bit. I must look at least 16 years old now! More strength means I’m even more ready for my plan  – today is perfect! The sound of the motorboat engine leaving the Ark was just wonderful! Just thinking about the look on that guy’s face when he realizes what I’ve done makes me so happy!

Aeon’s Diary, Part Two 17/4/13, Ark Calendar. Clear, 28ºC, light breeze, no waves

6:05: Woke up early and found my body had regressed to a child’s form again. Based on past experiences, that blue-haired girl Marina and I share an inverse relationship in our powers. My shrinking means she’s taken in more power than usual. What is she up to? I decided to check on her. The moment I stepped out of my room, I heard the roar of a motorboat engine and saw her laughing as she sped away from the Ark. The calm sea rippled in her wake, her long blue hair flowing like a proud banner. She’s never given up on her plan to escape to the mainland, even though I doubt she’s seriously considered whether it’s even possible. Being in a child’s body makes my work a bit inconvenient, but it’s manageable. 7:30 Facility inspection finished early.  Starting route calibration.

Marina’s Diary, Part Three 17/4/14, Ark Calendar. Weather: Clear

This sea is endless… No matter how far I go or which direction I take, it’s always the same boring view. Honestly I’m starting to doubt if today is really 4/14. No matter how fast I go, the distant mainland never seems any closer. I can’t even tell how much time has passed – was it a day or just a minute? Whatever, it doesn’t matter. But this isn’t anything like the adventure I imagined, and I’m not happy about it! Without that guy here, there’s no one to brag to even if my plan succeeds. Seeing the same scenery over and over is making me sleepy. Guess I’ll just rest for a bit.

Marina’s Diary, Part Four 17/4/14, Ark Calendar. Weather: Clear

Darn it, darn it, darn it! I just took a nap! How did I wake up to find myself a child again?! Now I’m stuck curled up in this motorboat, and I can’t even reach the dashboard! The mainland is still the same as ever  – so far away, so unreachable. And to make things worse, at some point, my motorboat drifted back to the Ark! I’ve shrunk, and that guy is taller than ever, standing on the Ark, looking down at me! I hate that look of his!

Aeon’s Diary, Part Three 17/4/14, Ark Calendar. Clear, 26ºC, light breeze, with waves

11:10: Radar alert. I went to the edge of the Ark, and sure enough, there she was with her motorboat. I wasn’t specifically looking for her. I didn’t need to. The Ark never leaves its tracks, and this sea has its own rules. She’ll never reach that mainland, and we’re bound to meet again. She’s tried this so many times, yet she hasn’t realized all her efforts are in vain. When I pulled her boat back, she was furious, glaring at me without saying a word. I’m sure she’s already planning her next revenge  – a plan destined to fail once again.

Marina’s Diary, Part Five 17/4/15, Ark Calendar. Weather: Clear

What terrible luck! I woke up this morning and found my body had shrunk again! It must be that guy trying to do something pointless, stealing all my power! He’s always busy hammering away around the Ark. How does he never get tired of it? Since he’s not around, I might as well cover the outer wall of his room with doodles. Hmph, serves him right for always opposing me! But now that I’ve shrunk, I can’t even reach half the wall, which just makes me angrier! Fine, then. While he’s in the equipment room for inspection, I’ll give him a “surprise”! If he disappears completely, there’ll be no one left to steal my power and make me shrink again. Hehe, just wait for it! Bang!

Aeon’s Diary, Part Four 17/4/15, Ark Calendar. Clear, 28ºC, windless and calm sea

9:10: During a routine patrol in the equipment room, I had a bad feeling. Sure enough, I found a bomb hidden there. It’s not that I’m particularly perceptive, but I always seem to pick up on her traps for me. It’s like an uncanny kind of sixth sense, though I don’t believe in anything beyond logic. The bomb was defused, but I had a gut feeling it wasn’t over yet. Then I spotted her chaotic doodles outside the room, and I finally relaxed. Totally saw that coming. The cleaning supplies I need to deal with her mess are ready as always. I’ve already refined the formula a dozen times, making it quite effective against her paint. I still don’t understand why she does these “venting” acts, but everything remains stable and under control.

Marina’s Diary, Part Six 17/4/16, Ark Calendar. Weather: Clear

Darn it! I waited an entire day for nothing to happen, and the Ark remains calm and peaceful. Even the doodles on the wall have been cleaned completely! It’s one thing for every scheme to be discovered by him, but that guy doesn’t even bother to scold me! Come on, I was going to blow you to the sky, how can you have no reaction at all! Are you looking down on me? I hate that guy the most! Cold! Reclusive! Boring!

Aeon’s Diary, Part Five 17/5/9, Ark Calendar. Clear, 29ºC, windless and calm sea

7:45: Facility inspection complete. 8:10: Course calibration complete. 8:30: Started first round of routine patrol. The Ark is running smoothly. It’s been quiet lately. She seems to have given up on those pointless attempts. Nothing out of the ordinary to report this month apart from the usual logs. This is good. I shouldn’t feel strange or lonely about it. But I can’t shake this slight unease  – like it’s just the calm before the storm. Hopefully, it’s just my imagination.

Mirror of the World

17/5/18, Ark Calendar, 7:45, during my routine inspection of the monitoring facilities, I sense something off as soon as I step into the monitoring room.

I rush over to check and see Marina trying to force her track, attempting to steer the Ark off-course. The blue-haired girl grits her teeth, struggling fiercely, her seaweed-like hair and coral-colored dress in disarray. Each time she tries, the Ark rumbles, and the structures overhead tremble and threaten to collapse.

Aeon: Marina, what are you doing? Stop it!

Marina: Leave me alone!

Marina yells at me, her emotions more intense than ever.

Marina: Every day, we’re stuck in this lifeless place, doing the same boring work. It never changes! Who can stand this kind of life?!

Aeon: It’s our responsibility. We’re the Ark administrators…

Marina: I don’t care about responsibilities! I’ve been trapped here for years without stepping outside even once. I’m stuck in this damn sea!

I rush to the control panel, take control of my track, and urgently initiate the Ark’s lockdown procedure. The system rejects Marina’s commands, and a “Connection Failed” warning flashes on the screen. The Ark’s rumble gradually subsides. Marina stares at the screen as it returns to normal, taking a long moment to realize her attempts have failed again. Her cheek twitches, and she forces a helpless smile before slowly lowering her head.

Seeing her like this, I think it’s over. But then she raises her head again, tears flooding her eyes, surging like ocean waves.

Marina: Aeon! Are you some kind of machine?! Haven’t you ever wondered what it’s like out there? Are you really okay with being trapped here?! Don’t you care who we are or why we’re even trapped here?!

Aeon: We were born with the Ark. We can’t leave it. No matter how many times you try, the result is always the same.

Marina: I know, I know! I’ve failed so many times, but I can’t help it! I can’t stand being trapped here, even for one more day! I saw it—the continent is right there. It’s right there. I just want to see it…

Marina cries, her body seeming to shrink as if all strength has left her. Tears and snot roll down her face, just like a child who’s lost their treat. I, now standing taller, look down at her. Though I’m not usually sensitive to emotions, her sadness feels unmistakably real. Turns out she knows she’ll always fail, but she’s like a child—not wanting to be forever locked away, longing to see the outside world. She’s just deeply hurt.

I’m used to dealing with the troublemaking, chaotic side of Marina, but not with a crying child. Hesitantly, I crouch down to meet her eyes.

Aeon: Marina, we’ll see that continent one day. So, don’t be sad, okay?

She looks up, her tear-soaked eyes showing surprise like never before. For the first time, I reach out and take her hand. She seems to forget to struggle, letting me hold it obediently. I lead her out of the control room. The train resumes its smooth journey, and we sit in silence, watching the calm sea. Marina doesn’t let go of my hand.

After that incident, I added the “Mirror of the World” to the Ark—an idea that came to me while analyzing data from the monitoring system. Marina’s outburst pushed me to speed up the development. 

The Mirror of the World converts abstract waves and numbers into vivid images, allowing us to see everything in Miraland. As expected, Marina is captivated by it. She spends all day in front of the mirror, eagerly watching stories from Miraland.

With her intense curiosity, Marina always appears as a child in front of the Mirror of the World, her round eyes sparkling with wonder. At first, she immerses herself in front of the Mirror of the World alone, and I silently leave after collecting data. But one day she suddenly lifts her head and calls out to me as I’m about to leave.

Marina: Hey, Aeon, do you know what this is?

Marina can’t hold back anymore. I’m the only one she can talk to on the Ark, and she starts pestering me about everything she sees in the mirror. She’s most interested in the toys, snacks, and colorful amusement parks in Miraland—all things a child would love.

Marina: Aeon, come look at the Mirror of the World. Isn’t there anything in Miraland that interests you?

Aeon: I made the mirror for monitoring Miraland, not for entertainment. Our work on the Ark should be our focus.

Marina: Hmph! Boring!

Marina makes a face at me before running out of the monitoring room, her cheerful footsteps gradually fading away. Once I’m sure she’s gone, I quietly turn back to the Mirror of the World, enter some commands, and carefully watch the scenes in it.

<Didn’t you say you weren’t interested?>

Player: Didn’t you say you weren’t interested in Miraland?

Aeon: Ahem, there are many things in Miraland that the Ark doesn’t have, especially in philosophy and experimental science. There’s a lot worth learning.

Since we got the Mirror of the World, Marina’s become more patient with her duties. Thanks to her cooperation, we start accessing the Ark’s top-level archives together, working to repair the Designer’s Reflections stored there.

Interpreting the memories and emotions stored in the Designer’s Reflections has always been a problem for me, but surprisingly, Marina seems good at it. She plays with the kids, laughing and crying with them, and soon, they’re all fast friends.

I used to think she was just stubborn and unreliable, but now I see she has a far greater capacity for empathy and understanding than I do. With Marina’s help, our communication with the Designer’s Reflections improves and I learn many stories from the outside world—tales of human joys and sorrows. When I’m buried in work, and my efficiency begins to drop, she’s quick to notice. She does everything she can to pull me away from the lab, telling me I need rest. Gradually, our relationship becomes more harmonious.

I start to think it would be nice if she could always stay this happy, like a child. I could be her and the Ark’s guardian.

Abyssal Change

Time passes quietly over the sea.

One morning, I wake up startled from a dream. The sky is still dark, and I have turned into a child. An unfamiliar sense of crisis grips me, and I immediately get up to find Marina.

The Ocean of Memories is turbulent, the sky is dark and heavy, and leaden clouds almost touch the Ark. Marina, now an adult, stands at the Ark’s edge, staring down at the churning sea.

Below the Ark, the roaring waters swirl into a deep vortex, like a dark dragon’s eye, staring up at Marina with a mesmerizing gaze.

<What is that?!>

Player: What’s that vortex?

Aeon: At the time, I had no idea how it formed—only that it radiated a terrible power and malice. Now I think it must be the Abyss. As the Ocean of Memories calmed with the Ark’s return, the Abyss began to stir, trying to lure in anyone with desires.

Marina stares at the vortex, the chaotic darkness reflecting in her eyes, eroding the light within. She murmurs softly, as if speaking to someone invisible, her voice low and occasionally breaking into an eager, dangerous laugh.

Marina: Yes, yes… I want people to know who I am, I want to live freely like the people in Miraland.

I walk toward Marina against the howling wind, trying to bring her back to her senses.

Aeon: Marina, what are you doing? Come back! It’s dangerous!

A child’s body isn’t built to withstand a hurricane, but I push forward, shouting Marina’s name over and over. She doesn’t look back.

Marina: I’m so close to getting answers. I just need to break through this sea, destroy the Ark…

From a distance, I see Marina stand up, spreading her arms wide in the wind like a bird ready to take flight. The gale shrieks, seawater viciously lashes the Ark, and the deck beneath me violently shudders. The iron railings overhead creak, threatening to collapse.

In the midst of the storm, I sense something dark and unseen, emerging from a bottomless whirlpool, rushing toward Marina.

Marina: …Ouch!

Against the wind, I finally see what’s attacking Marina. It’s the dark emotions of humanity, hidden in the depths of the Ocean of Memories for centuries—greed, sorrow, pain, resentment… Marina’s empathy amplifies this force, and she’s unable to resist, almost swallowed by it.

Marina: I’m not afraid! You can’t scare me off! Bring it on! If I break through this sea, I’ll be free!

Aeon: Marina, don’t be fooled!

I struggle against the wind, step by step, reaching out to pull her back. Just then, Marina leaps into the raging sea. I barely think. I just follow and jump off the Ark with her.

Towering waves crash down on us like giant walls. I fight to swim toward Marina, and in the swirling chaos, I finally grab her hand. A flood of intense emotions and memories surges toward me through our clasped hands, as if centuries of built-up pain suddenly erupt.

These are emotions we’ve never experienced in the Mirror of the World—sadness we’ve seen but never felt, disasters we’ve witnessed but never despaired over.  All these suppressed feelings explode now, engulfing us both.

I realize we aren’t just protecting numbers or signals, or even distant stories. We’re safeguarding real lives and intense emotions. This is everyone’s love, hate, hope, and despair, accumulated through countless cycles of destruction and rebirth. At this moment, I finally understand what the Ark and the Ocean of Memories really are—

The Ocean of Memories is the abyss of death and the source of life, the collective unconscious of all humanity. The Ark is a solitary island, carrying on, searching for civilization's final destination. Marina and I are meant to be the Ark’s administrators. We exist to keep it running. We’re opposites—symbols of logic and emotion—forever apart but always intertwined. 

However—

In these suffocating waves, we look at each other, our hands clasped tightly. Heat flows between us, along with unspoken emotions and promises. Marina’s breath seems to be in sync with mine.

But we are also each other’s only light in this darkness, like two sides of the same coin, inseparable. I have never felt my connection with Marina as vividly as I do at this moment. I sense her longing and resolve; she senses my belief and strength. We don’t need words; we understand each other completely. Our thoughts connect, and our lifeblood intertwines.

In that instant, a massive, glowing whale leaps from the stormy sea, breaks through the towering waves, splits the whirlpool, and lifts us both on its sturdy back.

Sibling Promise

I had a long nightmare.

It began with a fierce wind and waves, a dark sky, and unending rain. In a daze, I feel myself shrink, small enough to be held by Aeon, curled up in his arms, feeling him wipe away the cold rain from my face.

When I groggily wake up, I’m back in my bed, the room warm and dry. Aeon is there, wiping my feverish forehead with a damp towel.

Marina: What…happened to me?

Aeon: It’s okay now. Your power went out of control, but you’re safe. You just need to rest.

Power… out of control?

Before I can think, I fall back into a restless dream. This time, I'm falling into a deep abyss, the wind roaring in my ears. I keep falling endlessly with no bottom in sight. A familiar fear grips my heart. I reach out, trying to grasp something that once gave me support and strength…

Aeon grabs my hand, warmth flowing from his palm into my veins, calming my soul.

Aeon: Don’t worry, I’ll be here with you.

When the dreams finally dissipate, I wake up completely. I remember some things, but the memories are fragmented, scattered by the storm.

Marina: Aeon, did I make a terrible mistake before, almost getting us both killed?

Aeon: No, you didn’t make a mistake. You were curious. Seeking answers and change is your nature, just like trusting logic and reason is mine. It’s who we are.

Marina: But… doesn’t that make me dangerous?

Aeon: I don’t think so. It’s because of you that we found part of the truth. So, I have a proposal. I don’t want you taking risks alone anymore. We’re twins, connected, complementary. We shouldn’t be separated. I promise, when the time is right, we’ll explore Miraland together, to discover our origins and the truth of the world.

Marina: Really? You’ve finally come around!

Aeon: But until then, will you listen to me? I want you to be happy, carefree, just like you would be in Miraland. And I’ll be the brother who takes care of you and keeps you safe.

But I’m more suited to be the older sibling. You should be the little brother… Aeon looks at me quietly, his eyes gentle and familiar, like the calm Ocean of Memories. For Aeon’s safety and for my future adventures, I decide to give in for now. I sniffle, wiping away tears I didn’t realize were there.

Marina: Alright… let’s make a pinky promise—

Aeon: Always and forever.

A misty glow surrounds us. Aeon turns into a proper older brother, while I shrink into a little child.

But no matter how we change on the outside, we remain the closest twins, born together, two sides of the same coin, inseparable. We’ll always stay together, bound by trust and love.

Marina’s Diary, Part Seven xx/10/13, Ark Calendar. Weather: Clear

Today, my brother said he has a gift for me, but I have to wait until nightfall to see it. Hmph, that’s not going to stop me! With my invention, the “Climate Controller: I could make it night right now—heck, I could even make nine suns appear in the sky, simulated of course. Turns out the gift is fireworks! I’ve seen fireworks many times in the Mirror of the World. I’ve always wondered what they taste like, if they’re hot or if they still glow when they hit the ground… The ones my brother made are cool to the touch, they don’t burn my hand, and they stay lit for a long time before going out. He said they’re different from Miraland’s fireworks, but to me, they’re the best!

Marina’s Diary, Part Eight xx/12/1/, Ark Calendar. Weather: Overcast

My brother should be about halfway through his detective novel by now. Hehe, I wonder if he found the “surprise” I left for him in the book? I just thought he could use a little help solving the case, so I left a small hint for him! Oh, and I recorded his rock track earlier and added some carefully designed explosion sounds – it sounds absolutely… explosive.  Now I'm going to show it to those Designer’s Reflections who appreciate music, see what they think!

Marina’s Diary, Part Nine xx/8/3/, Ark Calendar. Weather: Clear

Today a girl named Nikki came to the Ark, and my brother and I talked with her for a long time. I really like Nikki! All this time, she’s the first person I've seen on the Ark besides my brother! And she’s so gentle and great at styling clothes, I really hope she can come to the Ark often to play with me! Aeon said Nikki will be the one to bring miracles to the Ark, although I don’t know what kind of miracle, but I'm sure he’s right, just like that line in the book — the gears of fate started turning today!

Marina’s Diary, Part Ten xx/8/3/, Ark Calendar. Weather: Clear

I can’t believe how long I’ve known Nikki now. Every time I see her, I feel so happy! When she leaves, I always look forward to her next visit. But sometimes she comes to the Ark looking tired, with tears in her eyes, saying she failed… It breaks my heart. I bet Aeon worried about her just like I do. I really want Nikki to save Miraland, even if it’s incredibly hard. I’ll be right there with her, every step of the way! Because Nikki has already brought so many miracles to the Ark, to me, and to my brother!

Marina’s Diary, Part Eleven xx/9/20/, Ark Calendar. Weather: Clear

Withered Flower

A soft flower bud grows by the Ocean of Memories. White sand isn’t ideal for a flower’s growth, yet there it quietly thrives. I can’t help but feel curious and step forward to touch the unopened bud. The sea breeze makes the bud sway and brush against my palm. I curl my fingers, feeling its soft leaves. A brisk tingling climbs up my arm, the air beside the bud swirls into a tiny vortex, and instead of dispersing, the wind is swallowed by it. It spins and stirs the night sky, ruffling the twinkling stars above. I can’t tell if it’s my imagination, but I think I see a faint pink glow slide across the flower’s stem before being swallowed by the night.

In the distant sky, a star quietly shifts to a new trajectory.

At the edge of the edge of the universe, there’s a flower shop. The shop has every kind of flower in the universe, and a pink-haired girl cares for them all. She waters them with starlight and moonlight, guarding her little garden at the far end of the galaxy. But there’s one flower that has never bloomed.

The little flower is specially cherished, placed on a windowsill overlooking the galaxy. Among all the blooming flowers, its gray bud stands out. Starlight and moonlight seep through its stem, nourishing the tiny galaxy at its roots. The gray-green leaves stretch and then droop again, and at the top of the bud, tiny glimmers flash and fade.

Nikki stares at the gauge of her star-and-moon collection device, frowning in confusion. She picks up the “Interstellar Flower Care Guide” nearby. 

Nikki: Hmm… If I keep watering, it will be too much, but it does seem energy-deprived.

<What’s the place?>

Player: Nikki? What’s this place?

Nikki: Oh, do you know me? I’m Nikki, and this is my flower shop. You can find any flower in the universe here!

The cat bell at the shop’s entrance rings, and an elderly woman with pink hair gently pushes open the door. Playful nebulae follow her, curious about the flower shop.

Old Lady: Please wait a little longer. There’s a child here who’s not ready to meet you yet.

The old lady strokes the white cat sleeping in her arms, smiles, waves at the nebulae, and closes the door.

Old Lady: Nikki, how is it today?

Nikki: Oh, it’s you, Grandma!

Nikki puts down her book, moves the flower bud under the sunlight generator, and claps her hands in satisfaction.

Nikki: It’s doing quite well! I hope it works hard to bask in the sun next!

Old Lady: Thank you for taking care of my flower, Nikki.

Nikki: It’s no problem, Grandma. I’m happy you’re willing to entrust it to me; it means you recognize my flower-caring skills! Speaking of which, I think the bud has grown a bit.

Nikki pulls out a thick photo album and shows it to Grandma.

Nikki: Look, this is from the last week, and this one is from the week before…

The elderly woman tucks her pink and white behind her ear, squinting as she carefully compares each photo. Her smile grows wider.

Old Lady: Perhaps the World Flower’s time to bloom is approaching…

<World Flower>

Player: World Flower?

Nikki: Don’t you know the legend of the World Flower? They say that when the World Flower blooms, it becomes a tunnel connecting countless worlds.

Nikki: And let me tell you a secret—the World Flower also records the stories of each world and turns them into fairytales. Grandma, do you think this bud is the World Flower?

The girl’s earnest tone makes the old lady smile and nod, her gaze drifting to the boundless stars.

Old Lady: The universe we live in isn’t the only one. Countless possibilities stretch into countless worlds, where countless versions of you live entirely different lives.

Nikki: But how do I know that the me in that world is the same as the me here?

Old Lady: Some things never change. They transcend time, space, chaos, and nothingness.

The elderly woman smiles as she pats Nikki’s head, then looks at the bud beside her.

Old Lady: Just like how Nikki, in any world, would never give up on this flower. Whether it’s a world or a little flower, Nikki will love them with all her heart. This is why the World Flower connects different worlds, and why we’re here together.

The old lady and Nikki both gaze at the unopened World Flower, sharing the same gentle, radiant look—like ripples across the galaxy. Fragmented starlights through the curtains, casting a transparent halo like cicada wings, reflecting a bloom on the stubborn bud. A pink light breaks free from the bud, drifting into the star trails. The flower unfolds time and space, writing a new fairytale.

Long, long ago, on a continent overrun by monsters, a mysterious young warrior girl appeared. She had bright pink hair and always carried a soft flower. She often talked to the flower, but no one ever heard it respond. Some said only she could hear its voice. Some said the flower was the girl’s incarnation, and she was just talking to herself. But no one minded the warrior having a few quirks. Amidst countless admiring gazes, the girl and the flower stood at the world’s center, beginning a new adventure.

Flower of Bet

Amid the audience’s exclamations, the bright lights in the esports arena suddenly shift to a dark red. Just like the eyes of the ancient beast on the screen, filled with molten fury.

The beast roars, swinging its spiked tail. The barrier set by the fifth-position teammate shatters like sand, and the red health bar drops in an instant.

Position 5: I can’t hold on much longer, Nikki…

The pink-haired girl at the center of the red team bites her lip, her eyes drifting to the fog-filled valley—where flames engulf the tower, and their battered base sways in the fierce wind. She hesitates for just a moment before focusing back on the raging beast, controlling the blade-wielding Floralwish Goddess to attack again.

Nikki: Come on, everyone, this is our only shot!

Nikki’s face fills the big screen, her gaze unwavering. The team’s disheartened fans began cheering, waving their light sticks bearing the players’ names.

Audience: Keep going! It’s not over yet!

Commentator A: After a grueling first half, the red team seems totally drained.

Commentator B: Honestly, given their condition, trying to take down the beast isn’t the best move.

Commentator A: But they have no other choice, Maybe… they’re hoping for a miracle.

The power gained from defeating the ancient beast is a lifeline for a team on the brink. Nikki and her teammates have to give everything they’ve got.

“Whoosh!”

With a sharp whooshing sound, a dazzling cross-shaped light blade pierces the thick fog, as the enemy team suddenly leaps out from the darkness. Their health bars have already plummeted from battling the beast. Facing the enemy now is basically suicide.

Captain: Damn it… fall back!

Position 5: But…

Before the order in Nikki’s earpiece even finishes, the screen for Position 5 goes grayscale.

Position 1: I’m not leaving! If the blue team beats the beast, we’re finished!

Almost as if answering her defiance, an ice-laden storm rushes in, draining all the color from Position 1’s screen.

Position 5: That’s it. It’s over…

Nikki’s fingers tremble slightly over the keyboard as she looks at the nearly empty health bars of her last two teammates. This game is even tougher than she had imagined, but is it really time to call it quits?

Position 4: Captain, watch out! They’re flanking us!

Captain: I can’t dodge…

A silver blade slices through the dark, only to veer off course at the last second— Nikki grips the mouse, her back soaked in cold sweat, as the Floralwish Goddess’s curved blade intercepts the strike aimed at her teammate.

Captain: Nikki…

Nikki blinks, refusing to give in. There is still courage left in her.

Nikki: Remember what the captain said before the match? The other team is strong, and this fight is going to be brutal. But there is one thing we have over them…

Position 1: We’ve never given up. No matter how bad the situation…

Nikki: We give it our all. We’re so close to beating the beast… if you trust me, I'll do my best to hold them off.

Nikki’s voice is soft but firm as she controls her best hero. She stands on the battlefield, just like every day for so many years—like the very first day.

Nikki: Let’s give it one more try, shall we?

Position 4: I believe in you!

The captain’s soft laugh comes through her earpiece.

Captain: It’s up to you now, Nikki.

The team unleashes every skill they have, focusing solely on the beast, their backs fully exposed to the enemy. This is the last stand—a battle of trust and resolve.

The pink figure stands in the ruined valley, flower vines twisting from her palms to wrap around her blade. The goddess lifts her head, steps forward, and charges at the enemy.

The mountains and dead trees fade into the background. With a flick of the mouse, she leaps over a broken cliff. With a tap of a finger, her blade spins, glowing. It has been a long time since she’s run so fearlessly—even if she might be running toward her end. But it doesn’t matter. No matter how many times she falls she will rise again, blooming in front of her enemies. She is always that kind of warrior—and so is the girl controlling her.

The enemy unleashes wind blades, the captain raises a silver shield, Position 4 raises her greatsword and the beast howls in pain. Nikki glances at its almost empty health bar—

Captain: Nikki! Just hold on for one more second!

The pink figure jumps high, her blade tracing a brilliant arc in the air.

Before the light even fades, she has already charged into the enemy formation.

Nikki maneuvers the Floralwish Goddess dodging two wind blades, and then—gently, ever so gently— she presses the ultimate skill button.

Nikki: Go, my warrior.

Floralwish Goddess: The flower never wilts.

The ethereal whisper mixes with static in Nikki’s ears, and blinding light bursts from the pink-armored figure. At its center, a huge pink flower slowly blooms. It holds the girl’s stubbornness and courage, years of dreams and hard work, the outcome of the battle, and the fate of the team— Blooming against all odds on the screen, reflecting in Nikki’s eyes.

The girl looks at the monsters ahead, her hand hidden in her cloak trembling slightly. “Scared aren’t you? I told you not to come here alone!” The flower complains in a chirpy voice. “I’m not scared at all.” The girl draws her sword. “Still acting tough! I’m telling you, it would be better to wait for dawn, reinforcements, or for them to leave on their own…” The flower shakes its head. The next thing it knows, the girl is gone. “Hey!” The girl’s voice echoes from afar.  The flower struggles to turn— The girl stands among the fallen monsters, eyes blazing. “See! A warrior never runs out of courage!”

Teary Flower

That flower reflects in Nikki’s eyes— A flower drawn in charcoal on the old brick wall. Its lines are rough, but the marks of repeated corrections silently speak of the artist’s dedication.

Flower: Miss Nikki?

A slightly nervous voice comes from behind. Nikki turns to see a girl named Holly nervously rubbing her charcoal-stained fingers, her eyes darting to the corner with the flower drawing.

Nikki: Holly, did you draw this?

Nikki bends down, takes the little girl’s hand, and carefully wipes it with a handkerchief. Nikki has been teaching in this remote mountain village for over a month now. She knows that for children with so few resources, getting any formal art education is a real challenge. But she still wants to do whatever she can to help children interested in art experience the joy of creating.

Flower: I’m sorry, Miss Nikki! I-I didn’t do a good job…

Holly shyly scratches her nose, the uncleaned charcoal leaving a cute black smudge. Nikki can’t help but smile, gently tapping the girl’s nose.

Nikki: No need to apologize, Holly. I can see you worked really hard.

Flower: Thank you, Miss Nikki… But hard work isn’t enough. I want to draw the most beautiful flower for my mom!

Holly clenches her little fists, her eyes sparkling like stars. Nikki knows that Holly’s mother passed away not long ago.

Flower: You said before cameras were invented, people used drawings to capture precious memories!

Flower: Mom didn’t have a single photo, so I drew one myself…

Holly carefully wipes her fingers clean with a handkerchief, then takes out a piece of white paper from her small pocket. It’s spotless, without a crease.

Flower: This is my mom!

On the back of the paper is a drawing of a woman in a simple dress, sitting under a tree, her smile bright and warm.

Nikki: Hmm… Holly, can you tell me what your mom was like in your heart?

Flower: Mom’s eyes were like the moon, sometimes round and sometimes crescent-shaped! Mom didn’t look strong, but she could lift me up and spin me around, and even carry a huge basket of charcoal!

Holly stretches her arms wide, pride filling her face.

Flower: Mom wasn’t very tall, but she could fix the roof and pick fruit.

Holly lightly taps the paper, proudly introducing her mom. In truth, it’s hardly a portrait.

The proportions are off, the body structure incorrect, made with simple lines, lacking color or shadow. But Nikki knows that in Holly’s eyes, it shows her mom’s smiling eyes, her warm embrace, her steady steps… It captures her all-powerful mom.

Nikki: I think you did a wonderful job, Holly! But… why do you practice drawing flowers?

Flower: Sometimes I saw Mom secretly dressing up in front of the mirror. She loved pinning a little flower in her hair. But she always took it off after a while, tying her hair up high… she said it was more convenient for work, said she didn’t care about looking pretty… But I think she did care! So I want to give her the most beautiful flower!

Nikki nods, taking out a box of watercolor pens from her bag.

Nikki: I want to help you draw the most beautiful flower for your mom. Would that be okay?

Holly widens her eyes and nods eagerly.

The sunset arrives as promised, the orange sky casting a warm glow over the paper. Nikki holds Holly’s hand, and together they paint the little flower that was pinned and removed over and over again in the girl’s memory. From this moment on, it will forever bloom beautifully by her mom's ear.

Flower: Thank you, Miss Nikki! It’s such a beautiful flower… Mom would love it…

The young child understands early on the distance between life and death. But she will meet her mother’s gentle gaze again and again through this painting. Perhaps from happiness, perhaps from her longing, or maybe a child’s tears need no reason at all—

Holly’s tears suddenly fall onto the little flower, She hurriedly grabs her sleeve to wipe them but stops, frozen.

Flower: What do I do, Miss Nikki… I ruined the flower. It’s all my fault… I shouldn’t have cried…

The wet colors blur with her tears, like a pulse spreading through the droplets. Holly lifts her chin, trying to hold back her tears, but Nikki smiles and pats her head.

Nikki: Flowers need water to grow, right?

Besides, look, Holly—it’s still beautiful!

The tears leave delicate wrinkles on the paper, and the pink veins unfold, like a real bloom. A butterfly flutters over from the distance, circling around the wildflowers, its wings as delicate as glass. It lands on the flower drawn on the paper, now blooming with love.

The girl saves an injured little girl.  “Thank you!” The little girl wipes her tears, looking up at her with admiration. “Mom says there are warriors in the world who protect children. You must be one of them!” “You’ve said something she loves to hear,” Holly mumbles. The girl thinks for a moment, then bends down to look into the little girl’s eyes.  “Do you want to be a warrior?” “I do!” The little girl straightens her chest, nodding with determination. “Great! Then grow up well!” The girl pats her head. “Because the first step to becoming a warrior is to take good care of yourself!”

Stunning Flower

A butterfly perches in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, its colorful wings gently fluttering. Compared to it, the row of decorative artificial flowers in the design studio looks utterly lifeless.

Director: What do you think the meaning of design is?

The director’s question, slightly pressing, snaps Nikki back to reality. But before she can answer, he does it for her.

Director: Emotion, care, vitality… these things you put in your design philosophy are indeed beautiful, but your understanding is naive and shallow.

The director leans on the table with both hands, his gaze slightly disappointed as he looks at Nikki.

Director: What the Excellence Apparel Group needs is that when you wear this dress, everyone envies you, admires you, and all high-end places open their doors to you.

Director: That is the most considerate care, the most valuable emotional support. This is the reality of our worlds; this is true “beauty”... How many times have I told you this? Why can’t you understand?

The director throws the design drafts in front of her, fiddling with the bouquet made of gold threads and glass beads beside him.

Director: None of these designs pass. Go back and think it over.

A luxurious hover car speeds past above, while the bus carrying Nikki slowly moves down the empty road, like a wanderer forgotten by time. Nikki leans against the window, recalling the director’s words. Could it be that she doesn’t really understand what true “beauty” is?

She lets out a soft sigh, rubs her temples that ache from fatigue and frustration, and drifts into sleep amidst the gentle bumps.

It is a beautiful continent.

Nikki travels through it, walking in forests bathed in light; Strolling down warm and elegant streets; Braving biting cold winds; Caressing scorching sands.

She records every color her eyes can see and studies all the extraordinary designs.  She talks with countless designers, listens to their stories, and feels the happiness born from their love of design.

Until she catches a glimpse of a stranger—yet somehow familiar—in the distance. It’s a girl with flowing pink hair, holding a big cat in a cloak. An unusual sense of familiarity surges through her, and Nikki quickens her pace to see the girl clearly… But the world in the dream dissipates in an instant.

Nikki opens her eyes, still immersed in that wonderful dream. That continent was full of life, and Nikki is convinced it held the true power of “design” and “beauty.”

Could it be that in the world she lives in, such “beauty” has really disappeared? Is it really no longer needed?

The bus passes through the straight road, turning into an inconspicuous alley. The clear sound of the bell replaces the hum of hover cars, as they move away from the city center—to the old neighborhood where Nikki lives.

The bus leisurely arrives at the station. Nikki puts on her headphones and opens her intelligent electronic assistant, Momo.

Electronic Assistant Momo: Good afternoon, Nikki. It’s time for the midday news broadcast—

The moment the bus doors open, the steam from the bun shop wafts in like a light veil.

Electronic Assistant Momo: The Excellence Apparel Group has announced the clothing theme for the next quarter—Gold Woven “Namecard.”

Colorful fruit and vegetable juice is kneaded into various cute shapes, swelling into round buns under the urging of steam.

Nikki: What beautiful buns. I’ll take one.

Electronic Assistant Momo: The Excellence Apparel Group believes “beauty” is the pinnacle of the pyramid that only a few can glimpse. Excellence is willing to be your ladder, leading you to the true meaning of “beauty.”

In the tailor shop nearby, and old man with reading glasses intently supervises the tailor mending clothes— The needle and thread dance swiftly, and soon, a rainbow covers the long tear.

Owner: How about it, sir? Isn’t it beautiful? This embroidery technique has been passed down my family for generations!

Man: Beautiful! What do you think, Nikki?

Nikki: You’re amazing. Could I come learn this stitching technique next time?

Owner: Hahaha, of course! My daughter isn’t interested in this craft. It’d be a pity if the technique wasn’t passed on.

Electronic Assistant Momo: At the press conference, the group’s design director promised that Excellence will always be your most high-end status symbol.

Clerk: Isn’t that Nikki?

The clerk from the flower shop at the alley corner stops in front of Nikki, holding a bouquet of colorful flowers.

Clerk: It’s the store’s anniversary today, so we’re giving away flowers for free! I picked the most beautiful ones. Hurry, choose one you like!

Nikki picks a small pink flower, but before she can thank him, the clerk waves her off and continues with his delivery.

Electronic Assistant Momo: To reduce the impact of plant growth cycles on the city’s appearance, our city will replace regular greenery with everlasting flowers.

In her ear, Momo continues broadcasting the news. Nikki’s gaze passes over the low buildings draped with wisteria, and in the distance, the majestic skyscrapers are hidden in the clouds.

Nikki: Momo, turn off the news.

The broadcast turns into a beeping wavelength fading into the endless sea of electronic signals.

Electronic Assistant Momo: Health monitoring alarm. Nikki’s heart rate is a bit too fast!

Nikki places her hand on her chest, feeling her rapid heartbeat. After a while, she smiles and taps the electronic white cat on the screen.

Nikki: That must be because… I feel very happy and fortunate right now.

Nikki holds the stack of returned design drafts tightly—they’re filled with inspiration from the streets and alleys, and all the beauty she’s experienced. Freshly baked flower bun, embroidery patching up holes, flowers growing freely…

“Beauty” descends equally upon every corner of the world, full of emotion and life, conveying happiness and strength. It is the universe’s most generous gift—without hierarchy, always within reach of everyone. Nikki once believed in this, and she’s decided she’ll keep on believing in it.

The sunlight catches the girl’s light, graceful figure as she strides toward the beauty she dreams of.

“Finally! You took forever!” The flower waves its leaves in a frenzy. “Even in this state, you’re still throwing a fit.” “It’s all because of those people! They think flowers should only be preserved as specimens to stay beautiful forever.” “I’ve already taught them a lesson for you.” The girl gently peels the off the board. “I didn’t know a warrior would do that.” “Of course. Vitality is the most beautiful thing in this world.” She replants the flower in the soil. “No one can stop a warrior from staying true to her beliefs!”

Journey Flower

Across the distant sea, star trails twinkle and alternate, pink lights breaking free from time’s path like fireflies, pulling each other forward and merging into a lonely bud.

Flower: The World Flower connects worlds, travels through time, and captures stories from countless dimensions, as well as hidden emotions.

A voice emerges from the tightly closed bud. A dazzling pink glow surrounds the translucent petals, slowly spreading into a massive curtain of light. Countless scenes flash around me, and amidst these swiftly swiftly passing images are countless pink-haired girls.

They wander through their own times and places, painting colorful lives.

I watch them live—happy in their happiness, sad in their sadness, and hopeful in their hope.

Suddenly, the light on the stem dims, and the bud quivers, unwilling to bloom. Its trembling petals seem about to fall at any moment, casting intertwined greyscale images: A dull bud, still unopened; an icon of a failure slowly appearing; a child gazing longingly at a departing bus; a director rejecting a stack of design drafts, again.

Flower: See? Disappointment, wasted efforts, farewells, shattered dreams—they’re all so common. Pain is too.

The images dissolve into black tides, turning into a raging ocean. Petals sway helplessly in the sudden gale, and the sea rises into mighty waves. The storm tears the petals apart, and the dark ocean engulfs everything, reducing it to pitch-black nothingness. Only the figure with the pink hair flashes through the waves.

That’s Nikki—Nikki who came to Miraland, Nikki who saved this continent time after time, and failed time after time. That’s me.

The flower’s voice slows down, now tinged with sorrow.

Flower: Flowers are small. Facing the vast ocean, they can only be swallowed again and again, feeling the pain of being crushed countless times. Nikki, some things are too hard. We’ve done enough.

Nikki: Us?

Flower: Yes, we have. I’ve gathered the doubts, the retreats, the sadness, and the disappointment that countless versions of Nikki hid away… I am them, and I am also you. I came here so you can hear the voice deep in your heart.

Flower Shop Owner Nikki: When will you bloom? I’m starting to lose hope…

E-sports Player Nikki: What if I still lose again…

Teacher Nikki: I always feel like my efforts don’t change anything…

Designer Nikki: What do I do, Momo? My designs were rejected again…

Voices echo around me—hers, theirs, countless versions of myself across time and space.

Flower: You hear them, don’t you? Their unease.

The flower leans toward me, like a pair of warm outstretched hands.

Flower: If you want, I can take you to a more beautiful, peaceful, happy world. Like a fairytale—an ordinary girl living a carefree, joyful life.

Beyond the flower’s embrace, I look out over the vast Ocean of Memories.

This sea that has swallowed Miraland countless times, violently and coldly, now glistens like a beautiful hanging gem. It is the convergence of all thoughts and memories—the darkest abyss, but also the brightest starlight. Once I see that starlight, I can never forget it.

Indeed, I’ve doubted and been confused. I’ve asked myself countless times: Nikki, do you still want to go on?

Nikki: But… even with the difficulties, even with repeated disappointment—I still believe in the possibility of “next time.”

In every time and space despite any fear, I think each version of me would make the same choice.

I place my palm against the swaying stem, and once again, overlapping images appear on the petals:

In a flower shop at the far end of the galaxy, Nikki tends to the bud that has never bloomed, day after day.

In a late-night training room, Nikki and her teammates review a recent practice match, the VICTORY icon glowing on the screen.

On a winding mountain road, Nikki reads a children’’s art book, with a child’s drawing of her peeking out of her bag.

In her room in the morning, Nikki rubs her tired eyes and picks up a fresh stack of design drafts.

I watch them quietly, and they seem to sense it, looking toward me across time and space.

When we all meet each other’s gaze, pink light blooms.

It gently smooths away all despair and powerfully shatters helpless illusions.

Nikki: You said I could live like a fairytale girl—an easy, happy life. But I've always loved the warrior’s story the most.

Flower: In real life, there aren’t that many warriors—just ordinary people who face disappointment and tears.

Nikki: But they… still haven’t given up.

In ordinary life, countless girls with dreams still write unique adventure stories with their own strength.

Nikki: So, I won’t give up either. I’ll step into Miraland a thousand times. This is my story, regardless of the ending. After all, I can’t let the “Nikki’s” down.

The flower droops its leaves like a gentle sigh. It seems to have expected my answer but still pretends to be disappointed.

The flower waves its leaves dramatically, and a blinding pink light bursts from its core, lighting up the night sky.

Flower: Hmph, you’ll regret it! But since you’ve given your answer, I’ll let go of these worries.

The bud rubs against my palm, and something seems to withdraw along the stem. In my heart, those fleeting doubts, retreats, and fears are gone.

In that moment, layer after layer of petals unfold, and the gigantic World Flower blooms before my eyes. The star trails rotate once again. The flower detaches and gently drifts into the starry stream, heading for its next destination.

Perhaps, in the future, it will face storms again and feel more sadness. But I will always look forward to the moment it blooms again, and I too will set out on a journey where flowers and thorns coexist, countless times over.

The quiet sea gently laps the beach, taking away all traces of existence, leaving behind only a story scented with flowers.