melnte

No need.

I'd welcome that kind of motivation if this were the problem children of A6, but you're the type to keep pressuring yourself without accepting anybody's help.

Plus, the results from your checkup yesterday weren't too good.

I even had a little conversation with Honeyberry about you. I can't say I fully understand, but it's clear that you've been bothered by your dreams lately.

You knew?!

Keeping track of your condition is part of my job as instructor.

I'm fine, Instructor. Really.

Did you have another dream last night?

Take the day off.

Please, training is the best way for me to relieve stress.

Are you sure?

I'm sure.

Missed.

Missed.

Missed!

This isn't working at all...

I've done this so many times before, but I've never missed like this...

The more I try to aim, the more my hand shakes. What's going on? How do I fulfill my duties like this?

Time's up!

I'm sorry... I let everyone down.

It's solo training. Who exactly are you letting down?

Come on, have some warm milk.

What I mean is... I'll only be a burden on missions if this keeps up.

You don't need to worry about that.

You mean... operators in poor condition won't even be sent on missions?

To put it bluntly, yes. Field missions can be dangerous.

And an operator in bad form can't be trusted with them?

Huh?

Sorry, but I need to go. Thanks for the milk.

Melanite? Melanite!

Sunday

As she opens her eyes, she feels the familiar sensation of the dream filling her chest for a fleeting moment.

If she takes a moment to savor it, the soft yet heavy feeling seems almost poignant.

It is not the bloody pain of having your arm cut off.

It is the sorrow of remembering, long after the injury has healed, that you once used your hands to cover a friend's eyes one afternoon, long ago.

Now, however, Melanite does not have the luxury of analyzing the subtle and difficult-to-describe emotions.

All she knows is that her dreams have disrupted every aspect of her life, made her anxious, given others cause for concern and made them give her special treatment... Left unchecked, they would eventually make her a worthless invalid.

Rhodes Island may be kind, but how long would they tolerate an invalid?

Huh?

Why would you think like that, Melanite? That's not how his works!

Is it not?

My relatives supported me because we're connected by blood.

They greeted me warmly because my grades were good.

My previous employer paid me because I could test weapons that others couldn't.

Rhodes Island employs me and gives me treatment because I can provide fire support with this railgun...

I know it's disrespectful to compare you to them, but who would help a worthless invalid?

...Your parents.

They loved you unconditionally, didn't they? Otherwise, why would you be so upset about losing them?

Just stop right there, Honeyberry, please. All I want is a quiet and peaceful life. I don't need unconditional love. It's enough that I can earn a living with my own two hands.

You can't allow... No, you can't pretend that the memories of the past are but a distant shadow, just because you feel sad when you remember them.

Maybe your subconscious defensive mechanisms are detaching you from your past emotions without you even realizing it. But that doesn't mean they've gone away.

They're just tucked away in a corner, hidden from your consciousness. But you can't remain detached and run away forever.

If you're worried about these dreams ruining your life, then running away will only make it worse.

But... what can I do? I can't go on like this.

Rhodes Island doesn't fire people just because they have mental health issues. You can trust me on that.

Maybe people need a reason to love someone, but you certainly don't need one to show kindness.

Just spend the rest of the day doing whatever you want, okay?

I'll get you something to drink. There are books here, if you want to read.

'The warm air rising from the cup melted the white frost on the window. The subtle, tender scent calmed my mind...'

'Firewood cracked in the fireplace opposite the armchair, seemingly causing the air in the room to rise and expand, like soft bread...'

No... I can't even read a book.

Melanite brings the cup of warm cystymilk towards her mouth.

Before it touches her lips, the poignant sensation in her chest suddenly grows sharply.

(The smell of cystymilk? I had a little bit when I was with Instructor Dobermann, too...)

(No, it's not just cystymilk... there's something else.)

(But why would I feel like there's something else? Have I smelled something recently?)

(Maybe... there's something near my room?)

Honeyberry, I... I need to step out for a bit.

Sure. I'll be here all day. Come back anytime you want.

(Here it is, my room... There's a faint smell... but it's not coming from inside. It's from over there...)

(Here it is. Just one floor from my room.)

(The smell's coming from that unremarkable door in the corner. I can probably find out what's going on by going inside.)

(But what if...)

What if whatever's inside makes you feel like a fool?

You and I, we worked so hard to forget those painful memories... Unconsciously, you shoved all those colors, smells, and emotions onto me and detached yourself.

Just so you could feel better, so you wouldn't think back to happier times when you're alone, so you could clench your teeth and keep going.

Go back, Melanite. There's nothing to see here. You don't know, but I do, and it's absurdly simple.

Emotions, memories, they're nothing more than burdens to you.

But I'm already at my limit.

Don't believe those people. Did you really think you would get better? They're just doing the job they're paid for, whispering sweet lies into your ear. What do they care what happens to you afterwards?

Then what do you want me to do?

Go back.

I need to... I need to know what I'm dreaming about.

What if what's inside doesn't have anything to do with your dreams, or your past, or your life?

You said you knew!

Do you really want to let all our efforts over all these years go to waste?

Are you really going in?

Melanite pulls the door open.

The voice like her own no longer speaks, instead merging into the smell coming from the room.

...Instructor Dur-nar?

Melanite?!

Dur-nar is holding a hot drink in her hands.

This smell...

What are you doing here? Did Medical send you?

No... I just smelled something like a drink.

Whew, you gave me a fright there.

So what is it?

A kind of powdered drink mix with milk. Real nutritious. It used to be carried in grocery stores all across Columbia about a decade ago, but you can hardly find it all these days. Took a lot of effort to get my hands on this.

But you can have some if you want. I haven't touch this cup yet.

Melanite takes the cup with a blank look on her face, feeling the warmth in her hands and trying to pinpoint the deep sorrow that the sweet scent has stirred within her heart.