Chapter 300: Auntie Sarah
Sora never made it to the Museum.
After the twenty-five-ton industrial riot she had inadvertently caused in the
streets, she felt as if every drop of energy in her system had been siphoned
away. Right now, Sora just wanted to find a soft surface and flatten herself
like a pancake. She wanted to enter a state of total dormancy and remain there
until the Federation dissolved or the Scourge was statistically eliminated.
Bochi seemed to have processed her terminal mental fatigue. For once, the slime
refrained from demanding a new exploratory phase. It sat quietly atop Sora's
head, its two soft tentacles performing a rhythmic, uncoordinated scalp
massage—its own "Slime-tier" method of stabilizing a teammate's parameters.
One human and one slime trudged through the streets toward their sector. The
setting sun stretched their shadows into long needles against the sidewalk,
while the streetlamps flickered to life, casting amber pools of artificial
warmth across the grey concrete.
As they reached a bustling intersection, Sora's boots came to a sudden halt.
She stared across the river of motorized boxes toward a weathered, multi-story
apartment complex. The facade was a map of peeling paint and water-stains.
That was Vivi's home.
Unbidden, the final data-log of her friend's existence played back in Sora's
mind. The scene in the classroom just before the transit took her.
"If you survive... look after my mother." "She has joint pain from the
Mana-drought. Remind her to take the herbs." "And the diary under my bed... burn
it. Don't read it."
Every word was etched into her core as if it had happened seconds ago. Sora had
avoided this coordinate for days. She had zero data on how to confront a mother
who had just lost her singular high-value asset—her only child.
She didn't know the correct vocal script. She didn't know the required physical
gestures. Any attempt at "Consolation" felt like a logic error in the face of
the absolute finality of death.
But Sora realized she had to execute the contract. It was Vivi's final
directive. It was the only thing she could do for the girl who would remain
eighteen eternally.
"Bochi."
"Mmh?"
"We are entering a secondary sector. A friend's home."
"Guchi! Is there high-tier sustenance at this coordinate?"
Sora didn't answer. She simply adjusted the slime on her head and marched across
the road, entering the familiar, dim hallway of the apartment building.
The stairwell was a void of silence, save for the rhythmic clack of Sora's
boots. The motion-sensor lights ignited one by one as she ascended, winking out
behind her like dying stars. The air held the stagnant scent of old stone and
cooking oil.
Finally, she stood before a reinforced iron door on the third floor. Sora had
breached this threshold a thousand times in the past. Every time, she had been
met by Vivi's chaotic shouting and Auntie Sarah's gentle, melodic laughter.
Today, Sora's hand hung mid-air. Her palms were slick with sweat, and her heart
was hammering a frantic, irregular beat against her ribs.
"Sora?" Bochi poked her forehead with a tentacle. "Why have you terminated
movement? Does this sector lack flavor?"
Sora closed her eyes, drawing a long, jagged breath and exhaling it slowly. When
she snapped them open, the hesitation had been overwritten by a grim resolve.
She pressed the doorbell.
Ding-dong.
The chime echoed through the hollow hallway, sounding jarringly loud. A few
seconds passed. Then, the rhythmic patter-tap of footsteps approached from
within.
Click.
The lock turned, and the door swung wide. A familiar face, wreathed in a warm,
welcoming smile, appeared in the gap.
"Oh my! Sora! What a wonderful variable!"
Auntie Sarah beamed at her, the wrinkles around her eyes crinkling with genuine
delight.
"Enter, enter! The sun is so aggressive today; you must be nearing thermal
collapse! I've just sliced a chilled watermelon—it's in the refrigerator
awaiting consumption!"
Sarah seized Sora's hand with a natural, effortless warmth, pulling her into the
apartment before Sora could even offer a greeting. Her gaze landed on Bochi for
a fraction of a second—a flicker of confusion passing through her pupils—but it
was instantly smoothed over by her motherly hospitality.
"Is this your new pet? How precious! The color is stunning—like a fragment of
the deep ocean."
Without waiting for an explanation, Sarah accepted the biological anomaly as a
household guest. She retrieved a pair of pink rabbit-themed slippers from the
rack.
"Here, Sora. Swap your boots."
Sora stood frozen in the entryway. The scene was a total mismatch for the
"Tragic Archive" she had prepared in her mind. There was no weeping. No
mourning. No hollow eyes or sallow skin.
Auntie Sarah looked... normal. She wore her floral apron, her hair was tied back
with a neat wooden pin, and her smile was warm enough to melt the frost of the
Necrotic Realm.
It was as if Vivi had simply walked to school and would be bursting through the
door at any second, shouting, "Mama! I'm hungry!"
"Auntie... Sarah..." Sora's voice was a weak rasp.
"Don't just stand there, child! Sit! Reside in the living sector!"
Sarah ushered Sora onto the sofa with the practiced care she showed her own
daughter. She pressed her hands into Sora's shoulders to ensure she was seated,
then vanished back into the kitchen.
Moments later, she returned with a massive glass platter. It was piled with
chilled watermelon wedges and clusters of washed grapes.
"Consume the fruit," Sarah commanded, placing the tray on the coffee table. She
deftly poured a glass of warm water for Sora. "Look at you... have you been
neglecting your sustenance intake? Your face is quite thin."
Sarah sat beside her, her eyes scanning Sora with a maternal, heart-aching
focus. "Regardless of your study-load, you must maintain your biology. You young
units always treat your frames as if they were indestructible."
Sora gripped the glass, feeling the warmth through the ceramic, but her hands
wouldn't stop shaking.
Everything was too normal. It was a level of normalcy that made Sora's core
vibrate with a strange, internal panic.
Bochi, however, was thriving. It hopped from Sora's head onto the coffee table,
wrapping a tentacle around a slice of watermelon and beginning a high-velocity
consumption cycle.
"FLAVORFUL!" Bochi chirped through a mouthful of fruit, its body wobbling with
joy.
Sarah watched the slime, her laughter bubbling over. "This little one has zero
etiquette! I like its spirit." She picked up another slice and held it out to
the blob. "If you enjoy the taste, consume more. I have an entire sphere in the
cold-box."
The atmosphere in the living room was cozy. The television was broadcasting a
mundane domestic drama, and Sarah chatted away with Sora as if nothing had
changed. They discussed old school stories, the fluctuating weather patterns,
and which market currently possessed the freshest produce.
Vivi's name was never mentioned.
Sora struggled to maintain the social script, forcing smiles and providing
uninformative responses to Sarah's queries. But her chest felt as if it were
being squeezed by a giant gauntlet.
Several times, she opened her mouth to ask if Sarah was truly alright—to deliver
Vivi's final messages. But every time she looked at that serene, smiling face,
the words died in her throat.
She was afraid. She feared that a single syllable would shatter this fragile
glass peace. She feared that if she spoke the truth, Sarah's smile would undergo
a structural collapse right in front of her.
As Sora toiled in her internal conflict, Sarah suddenly slapped her apron and
stood up.
"My word! Look at my memory-archives—I was so occupied with the dialogue I
neglected the evening meal! Sora, you will share our hearth tonight. I'm
preparing sweet and sour ribs—your and Vivi's favorite."
At the mention of Vivi's name, Sora jolted. She stood up abruptly. "No... I
cannot, Auntie."
"What mission could be higher-tier than sustenance?" Sarah chided gently, her
tone a velvet command. "Since when did you start acting like a stranger in this
sector?"
"I truly cannot, Auntie," Sora said, formulating a clumsy excuse. "I was... just
passing through. I merely wished to check your status."
"Actually, Auntie... I think I left a book in Vivi's room. May I retrieve it?"
Sora's heart was in her throat. She stared at Sarah's face, then guiltily
diverted her gaze to the floor.
The smile on Sarah's face stiffened for a micro-second. A flicker of something
cold and jagged passed through her eyes before the mask reset.
"Proceed, proceed," Sarah said, her voice unchanged. "I haven't touched that
girl's sector. Everything remains as it was."
"Thank you, Auntie."
Sora turned and walked toward the familiar door adorned with cartoon stickers.
Bochi, having finished the last of the watermelon, bounced after her with a
satisfied "Guchi."
Sora pushed the door open.
The room was immaculate. Sunlight filtered through the clean glass, illuminating
the dust motes dancing in the air. Vivi's textbooks were still spread across the
desk, open to a page detailing common Rule-loopholes in Anomaly games. A
colorful pen lay beside them, its cap missing.
Posters of pop idols lined the walls, their smiles bright and eternal. The
wardrobe was slightly ajar, revealing her school uniform and a few summer
dresses.
Everything was frozen in the exact state it had been the morning Vivi departed.
It felt as if the room's owner had merely stepped out for a moment and would
return humming a tune at any second.
Sora felt a sharp, localized pain in her nose. A hot surge hit her eyes, and her
vision blurred instantly. She fought the physical reaction, walking to the bed
and sinking to her knees.
She reached into the dark space beneath the frame, her fingers searching.
Soon, she felt it—a hard, bound volume with a small metal clasp.
The diary.
Sora extracted it, refusing to audit the contents. She shoved it directly into
the tactical waist-bag she wore.
"Sora," Bochi's voice whispered behind her. "The owner of this sector... has she
departed on an expedition?"
Sora's frame went rigid. She didn't look back.
"She has traveled to a... very distant coordinate," she whispered.
"And when is her return-transit scheduled?"
"She... she will likely not be returning to this Plane."
Silence reclaimed the room, broken only by the sharp zip of Sora's bag. She
stood up, taking one final scan of the room before exiting.
In the living room, Sarah had tied her apron tighter. She was holding a basin of
freshly washed greens, preparing to enter the kitchen. She looked at Sora and
smiled.
"Localized the item?"
"Yes. I have it." Sora nodded, her jaw locked to prevent any stray
vocalizations. "Auntie... I must depart now."
"So soon?" A flicker of genuine disappointment touched Sarah's face. "Are you
certain you won't stay for the ribs? They're already seasoned."
"I truly cannot, Auntie. My directives are urgent."
Sora reached the door, swapping her slippers for her boots with frantic speed.
"Very well." Sarah didn't force the issue. She followed Sora to the threshold,
setting down her basin. She reached into a cabinet by the entryway and pulled
out a fresh, sealed bag of cookies, pressing them into Sora's arms. "Take these.
Sustenance for the road. Do not let your energy-levels drop."
"Thank you, Auntie."
"Return for another cycle soon, Sora," Sarah waved as the girl stepped into the
hall. Her smile was as radiant as a winter sun. "Mama will always have something
flavorful waiting for you."
"Mmh."
Sora gave a heavy nod, but she couldn't look Auntie Sarah in the eye. She feared
that a single glance would break her resolve and cause her to wail in front of
the woman.
She turned and practically fled down the stairs.
Only when she reached the street, bathed in the fading orange of the sunset, did
she dare look back. Behind the third-floor glass, she saw Sarah's silhouette.
The woman stood perfectly still, like an obsidian monument, watching the
coordinate where Sora had disappeared.
From this distance, the smile was invisible. Sora didn't know if it had
persisted or if it had finally shattered. She didn't know if, in the cold
silence of the coming night, that mother would hide in the dark and weep over a
pillow.
She only knew that the contract was almost complete.
Sora led Bochi to a deserted bank of the city river. The last slivers of sun
vanished beneath the horizon, and the night began to bleed into the sky. The
pedestrians had already retreated to their sectors.
Sora pulled the diary from her bag. She used her lighter to ignite the edge of
the first page.
The flames licked at the fragile paper with predatory hunger. Within minutes,
the entire volume was a blazing orb of orange. The fire danced in the deepening
dark, turning Vivi's secrets—her joys, her trivial complaints, her hidden
crushes—into ashen fragments.
Sora watched the sparks drift into the night wind and spoke softly to the void.
"Goodbye, Vivi."
The wind gusted, carrying the last of the embers toward the far bank until they
merged with the infinite black.
Perhaps, Sora thought, this is also a form of mercy. To erase the record, so the
ghost can finally rest.
☆☆☆
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