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Huh, you want to buy obsidian?

Mhm! I see you have all kinds of ores here... but no obsidian.

I saw something about the Obsidian Festival on a flyer before... Isn't obsidian supposed to be a Siestan specialty?

The short man flips through a geology manual and shows the Obsidian Festival flyer enclosed within to the shopkeeper.

Next to the crumpled flyer is a sketch of the mineral that he drew himself.

The shopkeeper's nose is buried in the goods awaiting arrangement on the shelves, and he doesn't even lift his head to look.

We can't go around selling the stuff openly, not after the Obsidian Festival.

Try your luck elsewhere. I got nothing for you!

Wait, <i>music</i> festival? ...I've only heard of the regular Obsidian Festival.

Is... it not a festival for selling obsidian?

It's not. It's for music addicts to cut loose.

Noisy as hell, day in, day out. At least it's finally over now.

Um... Would you happen to know where I can find some obsidian then?

The shopkeeper looks up from his hectic work and peers at the short fellow in front of him.

He is surprised at first, but then shows signs of displeasure.

A kid? ...Didn't I say not to cause trouble at my place?

I don't have any obsidian here, so run along back to your mommy now!

The shopkeeper slams the door shut, locks it from the inside, and draws the curtains.

The small man scratches his head.

Huh... Did I offend him somehow?

It's probably because you mentioned obsidian.

Some Siestans get real antsy the moment they hear that word, as if they're afraid it'll get them involved in something.

Apparently there was a Catastrophe Messenger who hid the volcano's situation and completely tricked everyone.

A Catastrophe Messenger... hiding the truth? But why?

Why else? For the money. Long story short, so much obsidian was dug up that it destroyed the environment around the volcano, and now Siesta has to relocate...

What a damn shame! When I think about that beautiful beach soon being swallowed up by lava... A tragedy is what it is! Maybe this is the unavoidable fate of the Siestans.

So stop looking for obsidian and get a move on! What could possibly be more important than getting outta here before the whole volcano blows?

Destroying the environment, lying to the people, and inviting disaster...

It's nothing like what the flyer said. Is obsidian really such a terrible mineral?

Also... if the Siestans knew in advance that the volcano was going to erupt and had already begun preparing accordingly, then why...

Why does everyone still seem so restless?

Heeheeheheheh... Lemme tell you something, kiddo. In the face of disaster, everyone's going to go through a mix of sensitivity, anxiety, and pain, no matter how well prepared they are.

That so-called 'preparation' is nothing more than a false sense of security, a coping mechanism... Heeheeheheh.

...What? Wh-Who are you?

Oh, that hardly matters. What matters is that I know your past. I've also grasped your present and glimpsed into your future.

A withered hand stretches out from under the sleeve, presenting a small bone plate.

The mysterious person wobbles the plate around, causing the metal balls upon it roll around, making an indescribable sound when they collide.

He then contorts himself into a strange posture, craning his neck to press his ear against the bone plate as if carefully interpreting some sort of message.

Ohohohoh... I hear it.

What a poor, pitiful child you are. From the day the disaster from the skies destroyed your 'burrows,' you were driven towards the frigid cold and scorching sun of the surface.

Burrows? They're not burrows, they're our cities. Underground cities. Have you never heard of Durins?

Durins? They're no different from us. We all have our fair share of worries and hardships throughout life.

I know what it is you're looking for, and what you're trying to protect. Do not heed the words of others; simply follow your heart, and do as you desire.

With the other hand, the person reaches inside his pocket to produce a small stone.

The jet-black crystal seems to absorb all sunlight, diffusing it across its lustrous surface.

Whoa... It's beautiful.

Instead of preparing for disaster, it is better to seek out refuge so that disaster may never again occur.

Heheheh... This chunk of obsidian will protect you, but... only if you're willing to pay a small 'price.'

(This black stone is certainly quite beautiful... but it doesn't feel like a natural mineral at all.)

(Is it really obsidian?)

(For all I know, it could just be a piece of glass.)

Excuse me, sir—

Oh, I found it! Over here!

Finally, there you are! The swindler with the bone plate!

Trying to scam people with fake goods?! You call this obsidian?

Absolutely. What I sell is 'obsidian'! These are all spiritual stones that ensure peoples' safety. Once sold, they cannot be returned!

If what you're after is that accursed rock that brings only calamity, then go dig it up yourself from that volcanic cave!

You bastard! Give us back our money, now!

The situation before the short man devolves into a brawl.

The tourists' wallets, the mysterious person's bone plate, and a button ripped from someone's shirt all fly through the air and land nearby.

Along with the 'obsidian,' rolling to a stop at the short man's feet.

He leans over and picks it up.

Hmm...

It turned darker...

He takes out the 'obsidian' he had just obtained earlier from his specimen box.

The piece of black glass sinks into the darkness of the cave, and it becomes hard to distinguish its outline.

The short man waves his staff around, brightening the area.

The bone plate guy gave me directions to the real obsidian mine as a thank-you for pulling the two angry tourists off of him.

It should be right here.

Though this mine's really old, some company has been active here for quite some time, and the ore in the shallow layer is likely on the verge of exhaustion.

But this place should be safe enough, based on how far it is from the volcano... In any case, I won't know if I can find any obsidian here until I try.

Hmm... Actually, I really need to take a closer look at the geological structure of this cave. These fine, regularly-spaced lines... Were they left behind by lava flows? The thin line bends here, then extends downward...

...Which likely means I still need to go a bit deeper. The veins containing ore should be farther down.

That sound... is that water? ...No.

Behind the pillar... Who's there? Why are you hiding?

What, it's just a little kid.

I'm not a kid! I'm a grown adult!

The man frowns.

What'd you come here for? You don't just waltz into an obsidian mine. It's dangerous down here.

I'm looking for obsidian veins... I'm a geological surveyor of sorts?

Tch, a surveyor, huh?

Where are you from, Victoria or Columbia? What geological institute do you belong to? Or are you with one of those high-and-mighty conservation organizations?

You've got the wrong idea, sir... I'm not here on behalf of any organization. Collecting beautiful rocks like obsidian is just a personal hobby.

Hold on... Gah, too bright! Point that thing away from me! What are you doing?!

...Abnormal ridges around the fingernails, and sclera show signs of yellowing, which either means you have some problem with your digestive system, or you haven't eaten in a while.

Also...

The short man raises his staff, and a faint glow pours out in front of it.

Wh-What's going on? I feel... warmth.

You've sprained your leg. Don't worry though, I'll help relieve the muscle fatigue and repair the damaged tissue.

How do you feel now?

Much better. It doesn't seem to hurt anymore. Are you a doctor, little fella?

I don't qualify as a doctor yet, but I do know some basic healing Arts.

This light can only temporarily relieve your symptoms. If the problems come back and the pain gets worse, you should go see a specialist.

Mm... Appreciate it.

Here, I'll help you up.

The short man reaches over to help pull up the person lying in the corner, but his body is heavier than expected.

He manages to help the man stand up, but the force from being pulled forward nearly makes him topple over.

The little piece of black glass tucked in his pocket falls to the ground with a clinking sound.

Ah! My 'obsidian'!

Obsidian?