excu

No, Seniora. I have no right to retaliate against you.

And as long as your actions match the emotions deep in your heart... I won't even judge you.

But you are supposed to be a kind person. Please tell me – is the reason you refused to help those people because you've grown accustomed to our collective empathy, but are unable to truly feel the emotions of others?

And I pose the same question to every person sitting here.

Arturia stands up and walks into the crowd.

She pauses and stops in front of each and every Sankta, feeling their thoughts as if they were the most intimate friends.

You blew up a flowerbed this morning. Do you feel for the others living in the same neighborhood, who are now mourning the loss of a precious childhood memory?

And you, you were in a hurry to get home yesterday, and rushed to board the public transit. Do you feel for the elderly woman you pushed aside, who was herself anxious about not being able to get to the hospital in time?

I am the same.

It is not that we were born selfish, weak, or dishonest.

We simply hid beneath our Sankta halos, using our 'collective empathy' as both the premise and expression of mutual care, and deemed that to be enough.

But can we truly accept another person's emotions as our own?

Did you answer her question?

I had no way of answering.

She posed that question to everyone present.

And afterward, she asked us, 'would you like to feel even more?'

She walked to the center of the church, lifted her bow, and began to perform... our hymn.

It's not as if she took control of us. But we were all drawn to the sound of her cello.

I had heard the same hymn countless times before, but in that moment, it was as if I was hearing its melody for the very first time.

The whole city... blossomed to life in my mind.

You're crying tears of happiness.

That's right. Even now, I can still feel those effervescent emotions.

Some are crying, others are laughing; some are born, others pass away.

The doctors called my symptoms an 'empathy disorder.' They said that the memories I was seeing were deranged hallucinations, and wanted me to take tranquilizers.

But only I know... No, only those of us who heard that hymn know.

None of us had ever 'felt' each other before. Or 'felt' Laterano, or 'felt' the advent, continuation, and cessation of life as we did in that moment.

Under the torrent of such powerful emotions, I no longer feel shame or regret towards what I did in the past.

I know clearly that their pain will become my pain, and I will carry those memories with me as my own, until I face my next decision.

Thank you for your cooperation. I will report your testimony to the Notarial Hall.

Where are you, Federico?

Roberto, as you are my partner, I have an obligation to inform you of my intentions.

I am ordering the arrest of Arturia, the suspect in the 'empathetic expansion' case. She is most likely in the cemetery right ahead of me.

I have already sent you the coordinates. Please be prepared to cooperate.

G-Giallo? Isn't she your...

Distant relative. But that has no bearing on my decision-making.

You're here alone again, Soror.

Avuncle has also locked himself inside. The two of you haven't spoke in a long time.

Why not tell him that you're suffering?

There's no point.

Fede, my father's love for my mother blinded him to her true emotions. He wanted nothing but to keep her by his side, but she didn't want to be chained down by him.

I only wanted to help him realize this, but he pushed me away.

He would rather hate me than admit that it was Mamma's idea to leave him.

Regardless, you shouldn't have caused such a commotion at the funeral.

People are hurt by your music. I agree with Avuncle's judgment that you were in the wrong.

Are you also afraid of me, Fede? Just like father, and everyone else at that funeral?

...I'm not afraid of you.

But...

The Sankta girl stands silently before a tombstone.

She continues playing her cello, each note filled with emotions that Federico cannot feel.

All he can do is sit on the grass not far away, scrawling away and thinking, occasionally lifting his head to look at the tightly-shut windows, the vibrating strings, and the silent tombstones.

He can even discern that the sound of the cello reverberating in the wind is becoming more and more frantic.

I will stop you.

I will not allow you to continue your self-centered performance—

—Arturia.

It's been a while, Fede.

Are you also here to pay a visit to Mamma?

You know why I'm here.

You're still exactly the same as when you were little. Always so straightforward... always so good at spoiling the mood.

Three days ago, in a church in Pagus Stevonus, you used Originium Arts on thirty-one Sanktas, causing them to suffer from an empathy disorder in serious violation of our laws.

As an executor of the Notarial Hall, I declare you under arrest.

Did you know? Ever since you were little, I always knew you'd grow up to be an exemplary executor.

But... Well, even I couldn't imagine that I'd be the first person you tried to arrest.

From a certain perspective, that makes this rather amusing, doesn't it?

Federico Giallo and Arturia Giallo were born to be mortal enemies.

I do not find that amusing.

Your actions seriously threaten the stability of Laterano.

Fede, do you know why I went to that church?

The refugees abandoned by the clerics were rescued from the battlefield by a Sankta named Luciana.

That's right. I wanted to see where my mother went after she left Laterano, so I retraced the path she took and found the people she'd helped.

One of these places happened to be a settlement, where my mother described the beauty of Laterano to them. She told them to come here for help in desperate times.

She knew that most of them were Infected, and would not be accepted by the pure Holy City. But she thought that her handwritten letter would impress her former friends and colleagues.

But what she didn't know was that most of them would treat her ideals—her feelings—as a laughingstock at her funeral.

Even the few who still held good feelings towards her... such as that cleric, would go on to look away from the plight of others.

That does not justify harming her or any of the others present.

Harming them?

I simply allowed them to share each other's emotions.

After that, they gained the opportunity to become brave, benevolent, and compassionate people, just as Mamma was.

You speak of something completely uncertain and absolutely beyond your control.

The indiscriminate expansion of the scope of Sankta empathy will affect our daily lives, causing uncontrollable panic and chaos.

The order that people are accustomed to would cease to exist, to the point where it would become dangerous to leave one's home. Law-breaking behavior will occur on a massive scale, which may trigger a large number of Sankta falling from grace in a short period of time.

While becoming kinder is one possibility, they may also become violent or crazed, or even turn into criminals who threaten public safety.

I see that you can't accept that the order you're so familiar with has long since lost its rationality.

Look at the truth. Emotions alone never give rise to madness. On the contrary, it is only when your heart cannot accept your own emotions that they pierce the shield of reason.

We should have broken away from this false order constraining our emotions, making people callous, hypocritical, and cowardly.

Only afterwards can a new, emotion-driven life be truly built. We'll be more free... and have less regrets.

It is unclear who you are referring to as 'we,' as well as the context of 'afterwards.'

All I know is that, much like Amita Luciana – your mother – it has no future.

Fede, you really know how to hit someone where it hurts.

I know it wasn't your intention, but... you made me feel pain so effortlessly.

Oftentimes, pain can be a wake-up call.

However, judging from your subsequent actions, I cannot tell if you've ever experienced even a moment of remorse.

Remorse?

If there's anything I regret, it's that I couldn't do more for my mother at the time. So she wouldn't been so easily and hastily taken by death while on the path to realizing her innermost feelings.

Your choice is irrational.

Fede, how I wish you could understand the sound of my music.

How I wish I could share with you what I think and feel when I stand in front of my mother's tombstone, recalling those times over and over again.

I refuse. No amount of emotions justify your crimes.

I don't want to exonerate myself. I just... want you to understand me.

Put down your cello. I won't allow you to touch those strings anymore.

My beloved brother, are you really going to point your gun at me?