Exploration, floor 3 b
Ah... Looks like it's you and me for this floor, Outis.
Feels a bit strange, doesn't it? Having to go around with a different group on every floor.
…….
... Wait, do you hear that? Sounds like a pair of scissors.
It might be worth checking out.
<... Hey, Meursault. Do you still have that pair of scissors we got from the Alteration Shop last time?>
Yes. However, its edges have chipped slightly in the process of cutting through the last Two-piece. We will require a new pair of scissors for that task.
<They were pretty tough, I guess...>
<We need to cut through Two-piece if we want to proceed, so... looks like we'll be getting ourselves a new pair of scissors.>
This isn't where the noise is coming from, Manager.
Desire. Then it shall be donned.
According to Miss Jeanne, it seems like each faction has a... guiding "Voice," who is, in truth, a "Giant." This voice probably belongs to one of them, too.
A classic manipulation tactic. It bolsters solidarity within a faction by instilling its population with the entrenched in-group-versus-out-group mentality.
This isn't the way to the vendor, Manager.
Not this way, Manager.
Still, I'm glad to be partnered up with you for this floor. It's been easier for us to work together lately, so...
What? No, I'm not "easy" with anyone, least of all you Sinners. Ridiculous.
Riiight...
Who said that?
Pfft... Still got that excellent memory, huh?
The voice came through with clarity, but it carried a note of sadness.
And... I'd come to be intimately acquainted with the name of the speaker.
Ah, here we go again. Time to introduce myself.
My name is... Jeanne. That's the name of the Voice I've so graciously chosen to share with you this time as well.
Hey. I need to ask you something.
Outis fixed a quizzical look toward Meursault, who looked completely unfazed by everything that should be, for all intents and purposes, as unfamiliar as the world is to a newborn.
No, I have not been in here before. I was told about this place by someone in a managerial position within the Grand Magasin Sisyphe.
Have you b - What?
Meursault's succinct reply came almost simultaneously as Outis had begun her query, but it answered everything she was about to ask.
Whiplashed by the speed with which Meursault answered, she stumbled over her words for a moment before clearing her throat and continuing with her next question.
What was the nature of your relationship with that individual?
... The romantic kind. Once.
The kind that gets... pretty steamy.
The Voice... has now seeeeettt...
Yet do not griiieeeeve...
<Hmm... I don't know what deal we can offer this one.>
Attempts to communicate with this being may be futile.
Doooonnnn... The more you are Doooonnneed...
<Don't think we have any business with them...>
Ah... I see your will and abide by it wholeheartedly. Today, once again, I will be honest with myself... and indulge in my desires.
I shall stand against all that seeks to stop us, that one day your Voice might reach me, too...
... Do I hear new customers? First thing I like to tell the first-timers on our floor is this: you'll find the apparel displayed here to have a much more generous proportion of the Golden Hide than the shops below us, who only include trace amounts just so they can technically claim to be selling Golden Hide-infused fabric. Please, don't hesitate to touch the garment - I'm sure your discerning hands will notice the difference in quality.
Look, her eyes...!
Though the vendor was facing us, I only saw empty sockets where her eyes should've been.
She's also been... nailed to the ground.
... Fan your desires... The more you are donned... the higher shall your self ascend...
I understand... These meager patches of -
…!
Wait, that Voice...!
I... heard you. You answered me.
Where are you? Where are you speaking from?
The vendor thrashed around and reached out toward us, unable to move with the nails that fixed her in place.
This Voice doesn't drag like stretched tape... doesn't stutter... doesn't endlessly speak the same words over and over again...
No, they are speaking to me... they speak to me...!
But... none of us said anything, did we? What's wrong with her?
Where... where did you come from? The Voice to lead us on... the Voice to guide us... ohh, it speaks to me so clearly. This is the Voice I've been searching for my whole life...
All those days of silence... I see now. They were in anticipation of this beautiful day.
Thank you... Thank you for bringing them to this humble place...
We don't hear any "voice," unless you're referring to this voice track playing on a loop through your store.
Of course you'd be deaf to it. The Voice speaks only to those who have heard its calling...
The vendor turned slowly, her empty eye sockets scanning through each of us...
... until they came to rest on Meursault.
There they sleep, nestled in your bosom.
... In Meursault's bosom?!
Yes. They have spoken thus - the Voice that once shepherded us has fallen like the setting sun... Mourn we must not, for a new Voice shall rise to lead the flock.
The new Voice slumbers soundly in the Cradle of all threads, its strands undone and taken from all... To them, the world outside is at once a curiosity... and horror...
When they awaken from their sleep, we will - oh, I can see it... We shall be wreathed in Golden Hide, taken from every fracture of the Grand Magasin...
Alas, we must do our due diligence preparing for their awakening.
... And what might that due diligence entail?
On this floor is an Alterationist's shop. It is said that her scissors are sharp enough to slice through any textile within the Grand Magasin... and her hands dextrous enough to weave any string into fabric.
Then... those keen, precise scissors will one day cut gently into the Cradle,
and the fabric woven from her adroit hands will protect the Noirs whose hands shall desecrate the Cradle...
The Alterationist's destiny is to be the root of our bane.
Cutting off the enemy's supply line at its source before the war even starts? That is... tactically sound. Fantastic, even.
Um... But she's not even a part of Le Noir. As far as I know, at least.
You are correct. She is but a humble, honest Alterationist who merely cuts threads to weave them into fabric.
But that has changed.
Now that a new Voice has risen on the horizon... all that stands in their way must be... reaped.
... And how do you intend to do that "reaping"? You're nailed to the ground.
I have collected many eyeballs during my time here.
Sever the Alterationist, and... all of that will be yours.
Your decision, Executive Manager?
<... Let's not rule it out as an option. We'll have time to decide after we hear out the Noirs on the other side.>
Fan your desires... The more you are donned... the higher...
The voice of Meursault's mother, imprinted on the flat surface of an audiotape, repeats and repeats her message from behind the wall of this shop.
But it may as well no longer exist in the vendor's world - she does not turn toward it as she once had, and never will.
That irritating snip-snip has finally stopped... I understand that you have done as I asked?
Yes, we have. And I'm hoping you'll hold up your end of the bargain.
Of course, of course. Here... take the eyeballs I have gathered.
As Meursault scooped the veritable hillock of eyeballs into our sack, the vendor, who had been quietly nodding away into the ether, turned toward us.
Ah... of course. Anything you say.
The Voice summons you... They are summoning the strangers there to the Luxury Hall. The promised hour of awakening is nigh...
We can't even hear that "Voice" of yours. Did they say anything about what they want with us?
Yeah, that's kinda weird. Shouldn't they be summoning the rest of the Rouges, not us?
We are bound by the rules of the Grand Magasin. Only on special occasions are we permitted to freely traverse between its floors. Only true strangers, whose presence the Fount welcomes, are free to rise and descend.
You carry the shard of our cherished one within you. Once you assemble the final piece, they will awaken.
Ahh... This is what I sacrificed my eyes for... and let myself be nailed to the ground... All in service of this day...
Blessed with an eternity of nailed existence to convey the Voice's will to the promised strangers... Ah, what a joyous day... What a joyous day...
Suppose we are to do as this "Voice" asks. Where would we find this "Luxury Hall"?
<I know where it is. We stopped by the entrance on the second floor earlier.>
Then the true form of the Voice must be waiting for us there.
<There was a... cocoon the Rouges were caring for.>
We ripped it open with a nail and killed the thing that crawled out of it.
<Yeah. Then... the Noirs took over the Grand Magasin... triggering the Liquidation process. Which means...>
The end of the Grand Magasin we witnessed was ultimate "stagnation."
All lives within the department store were consolidated into a single purpose: to become pillars to perpetuate its existence...
Eternity passed within the Grand Magasin, devoid of any change - even shopping.
And as eternity came and went, everything became integrated, seamlessly assimilated with the walls of the Grand Magasin.
In the end, not even the smallest stir survived. All was melded into everything and everyone... including us.
If only I hadn't ripped open and torn that thing out of the cocoon...
<Let's descend, Meursault.>
You intend to ally with the Rouges as a means of climbing the Grand Magasin.
<Yeah. It's kinda hard to explain why, but... I have a feeling that that's what I must do this time.>
That inexplicable sort of intuition is an indispensable quality in a commander. Those without it... did not survive the War for long, no matter how excellent their other abilities were.
Looks like this is where we get off. Good work, everyone.
... In my experience, recognizing the hand of fate doesn't necessarily mean that one can break free from its grip, Executive Manager.
<Outis...>
Ah. Apologies, I overstepped. I'd witnessed and heard far too many tales of a similar nature that... the present circumstance must've put me in a contemplative mood.
Tsk. I would much rather serve you by your side at all times, Executive Manager... It is regrettable that I won't be able to.
... And... some of them have been holed up inside the whole time...
... Right, I suppose it's only a matter of time before the Grand Magasin falls, now.
They were never sane to begin with, but now they're growing more and more deranged by the day.
Do you think it's true, though? What if they...
Welcome back, strangers with drooping shoulder seams.
... But you're not here to have something mended, are you?
It's, uh -
The hand that comes to caress the string and the hand that comes to sever it make different sounds on contact with my doorknob.
This time, your visit is to... see me severed.
... You're quick to notice... Yes, it is... We won't deny it.
... So, the strangers have chosen to stand with the Rouges. It seems they have found themselves more than one salvation.
Not to worry, strangers. There is little difference between what you are doing and alteration work. When you have chosen the part of the fabric to mend the attire with, the remaining half joins the scrap pile.
But let's be fair. If you would like to cut me away... you'd better have come prepared to be snipped away yourselves.
We are prepared.
I can see the desire to go snip-snip! in your eyes.
I like that look.
Unlike our last attempt... I may be able to adjourn the meeting.
<Yeah? Then... it's all yours.>
... Still full of meeting.
Disturb the meeting, and you'll become two.
... You're pretty good.
The path is now... locked. Whatever the Rouges choose to weave into existence now, it cannot be undone. You have irrevocably made yourselves enemies of the Noirs.
…….
Cutting... is not the sole purpose of scissors... Sometimes... scissors are the only means... to untangle a knotted mess of strings...
Take my scissors with you... strangers... with drooping shoulder seams...
You have beheld the pulse... I'm sure... you'll make... good use of it...
The Alterationist stirs no longer.
<Let's take her pair of scissors and return to the Rouge vendor.>
Yes, Manager.
We ripped the pair of scissors - which might even have been her skeleton, now that I'm getting a better look - off the Alterationist's torso.
Once we removed the pair of scissors, the rest of the Alterationist's body crumbled like an article of clothing removed from its hanging rack.
Can't go this way.
…….
... Still full of meeting.
Disturb the meeting, and you'll become two.
... Still full of meeting.
Disturb the meeting, and you'll become two.
Do you need anything altered?
I can patch, and I can mend. Which would you like?
We emerged into a round room whose walls were lined with multicolored spools of thread and swaths of cut fabric. At the center stood a figure, her arms moving up and down as she stitched something together in a carefully regulated rhythm.
Um... Hello?
Shoulder seams hanging a touch too low... hems of the arm a span too short. Much work to be done, this one. So, what would you like to have altered?
We would like to procure a pair of scissors.
... What? Scissors?
... My scissors are not tools to be hung and sold from the product racks. I do not part with my blades for just anyone, you see.
They're reserved for customers whose eyes twinkle with the desire to go snip-snip. Like the Noirs, my longtime customers - they always visit me to have me weave fabric for them.
Are you... well-acquainted with the Noirs?
I've been regularly supplying them with fabric for a while now, so one could say that we are partners.
The Noirs have been quite busy as of late - spreading and fishing tales, suspicious that the red ones are up to no good.
I simply do not see that same passionate desire in you. I do have other items available for purchase, however.
<Looks like getting straight to the point won't work on her... This isn't what happened last time.>
Perhaps... we could procure the pair of scissors at our next opportunity, Manager.
<Don't think we have any other choice.>
So... why did we need a pair of scissors, again?
Scissors, when honed to perfection, make excellent weapons. Haven't you come to understand by now that every action the Executive Manager takes is backed up by perfectly reasonable explanations?
Dooooo noooot griiiieeeeve... Dooooo noooot griiiieeeeve...
A voice once set... like the fallen sun... will never return...
Executive Manager, it appears that their only response will be to repeat "we're in a meeting" ad nauseam.
... Yeah, no need to talk to them.
Huh, looks like they're blocking the way through.
<... Talking to those things'll probably achieve nothing, but...>
Excuse me, would you let us into the store behind you?
…!
Meeting! So much meeting!
So no entry. No room for anything else.
What's the taste of meeting?
Salty, so salty. Salty like tears. Too salty for anyone to swallow.
Meeting won't end. Swallow meeting to end debate. But can't swallow.
... So, what's this meeting about?
Agenda 1: Who is the outer fabric, and who is the lining?
Agenda 2: Who is the right hand, and who is the left hand?
Mmm, mmm. Good agendas. Let's write them both in the minutes.
Approaching them might be dangerous... Should we come back here later?
<Don't think we have any other choice.>
Huh? Weren't they further down the other side of the corridor earlier?
<Yeah. When'd they get here?>
Crawled here. Creepy-creep.
Meeting's over.
Agenda: Warm aroma. Aroma of life. Whose is it?
So we creepy-creep. Encroaching. Creepy-creep. Narrowing the gap.
<Hey, Meursault... I think they might be...>
<... after that piece of flesh you're carrying.>
That appears to be the likely explanation.
Tsk... We're going to have to circumnavigate that monster to reach the other side, Executive Manager.
<There's a way south of the Rouge shop. Maybe we can take that route to the other side.>
Huh? That didn't take very long.
As expedient as always, Executive Manager - hm?
... What is that thing behind you?
<The... true form of the new "Voice" the Rouges have been talking about. I think.>
<One of the Rouges asked us to look after them, so... we decided to let the kid tag along for a while.>
I see... So why are they standing so far away from us?
The child appears to be apprehensive of our presence.
Hmm... Doesn't appear to pose us any threats at the moment...
... but you don't want to have entities of dubitable intent following from behind, Executive Manager - I implore you to remain vigilant. Unlike your ever-so-faithful and trustworthy Outis, there is always a threat of backstabbing from such unknown factors.
<Y-yeah...>
<Anyway, since we're here to show the kid to the Rouge vendor, let's head to her shop.>
What's happ - ...! Take cover, Executive Manager!
Aaaahhhh!? S-she exploded!
Uu...?
…!
…?
Ah... Ahh... You have brought them to me... I am truly blessed...
Oh, dearest Voice, revered be your presence... I have prepared a humble gift in anticipation of your promised advent...
Please... Please take this.
Uu...?
The vendor produced a red handkerchief - clearly of her make - and carefully placed it on the child's hands.
She withdrew with visible reverence, and seeing the child hold her creation, began to tremble like she was a bomb about to go off.
Aaaaah... They accepted it! They accepted my creation...!
Nothing could ever make me happier than this... Oh, my God... I have no more needs... Take me, I am yours...!
Are you unhurt? Has any of that filth -
<I'm - I'm fine.>
Nnh... Uu...
<... Didn't see that coming.>
... So you haven't experienced this before.
When I looked up, the child had already scurried off to a distance it seemed to have determined safe from us... Something about that made my heart ache a little.
<I wonder if the Rouge's spinal cord will be important again?>
That cannot be said for certain. However, it is recommended that we bring with us any object that may potentially be useful.
<... Yeah, let's take that with us and head right upstairs.>
Understood.
Several birds lie beneath a long, trumpet-shaped tube.
<Ah, here it is. "Series 2.">
A close observation the floor beneath the installation has revealed nothing, Manager.
Nngh... I assume all these "Mannequins" are just people, too.
Sinclair scrutinized the "artwork" with discomfort clear in his face... then, as if he'd recognized something, raised a finger toward it.
Huh? Do you see that over there? It looks like a ring.
A single-coiled ring... It must've belonged to a Student of the Ring.
<Ah... it's too high for us to reach, though.>
<Let's keep looking.>
[Differential of Falling Series 3: "Stockmann" This installation was inspired by a Mannequin's fall through the Grand Magasin. The imagery evokes the falling continuity of time. Sculpted in a smaller size relative to the Series 1 installation.]
<This is the last one in the series, I think...>
Ah...! There's something written on the leather here.
[... Artworks made from human corpus for cheap shock value are now long outmoded in the current zeitgeist.]
[But... this department store doesn't seem to have gotten the news.]
[I'm running out of material. Running out of inspiration. No one here really appreciates my art - they're all obsessed with clothes and nothing more. Then...]
[... But these sell well. Le Rouge seems to somewhat value these... sorry excuse for artwork that the world outside regards as nothing more than mass-produced garbage...]
[If they're worth something to them, I can sell these, make money - eyeballs. Then I'll buy better clothes, then I'll - ]
<There are more installations like this one, but those didn't have any titles attached to them.>
Perhaps they were too ashamed to attach their name to these artworks, but the more likely explanation is simply that...
... they've forgotten what artwork they were trying to create, or the fact that it was artwork at all.
<... They've become a customer.>
There are numerous holes here. Possibly for plugging something in.
These haven't been connected in a while. The sockets are full of dust.
Each hole has a tag taped on top of it. There used to be something written on the tags, but now they're faded and illegible.
Don't hear anything.
Sounds like the hubbub of a distant crowd.
It's quiet. Must've mistaken some other sound.
This device looks like a ventilation fan. It's so dusty inside... Must have been out of order for a while.
There's a dusting of... dust inside the long gap.
Fallen debris is blocking the way. There's no way over or around it.
Don't know any games that use these dice.
Random pips and letters are scattered on its sides without rhyme or reason.
A useless, heavy die.
A weird die.
Huh, wonder what this is? Some kind of broadcast device?
<It's a communication switchboard.>
What's a communication switchboard?
... Have you had access to one of these devices in the past, Executive Manager?
<Uh... No, I just read about it in a pamphlet once.>
... As expected of our Executive Manager! Your rising passion for learning is most admirable indeed.
Outis seems to consider something for a moment.
The way these tubes are lining the wall reminds me of a massive pipe organ.
Though I don't know if it's for listening or relaying but...
... imagining that someone might be listening in on my every word, giving me commands from where I can't see... a strange trepidation gurgles from the pit of my stomach.
The gaze is not beholden to the limitations of the sight, it seems.
Several birds lie beneath a long, trumpet-shaped tube.
No... don't understand it... you mustn't understand...
When I pick up one of the birds, the voice cuts off.
Obtained Dead Bird.
Something glints between the shafts of sunlight.
Meursault pulled out the glinting object. It's an old recorder.
... Is it just me, or is this coat shrinking?
Those are socks that have become quite popular among the customers on the fourth floor. The kind you can put on simply by wearing them.
S-Socks? This is a coat!
Functional socks. One merely slips them on without having to go through the trouble of bending over.
Hm, fascinating. Why don't we bring this along, Executive Manager? It doesn't belong to anyone anymore.
<Sure.>
It says [Origami CollectioN° 92, 3 of 5. Someone's fall sublimated into superpositioned time.]
[Origami CollectioN ° 92, 4 of 5.]
[Origami CollectioN ° 92, 2 of 5.]
<I think we saw the "1 of 5" of the series on the first floor.>
Oh, right...! I remember learning about how some prints and sculptures are made with creating multiple identical copies in mind, only giving a different number to each "iteration" to distinguish them.
And even though each piece is pretty much indistinguishable from one another, their value might vary depending on the number they're given.
Then... the one on the first floor must be the first copy.
Most unremarkable rabble would've walked past it without a second thought... What impeccable perception you have! I expected no less of our Executive Manager!
It says [Off-Season / Prêt-à-porter]. Still on sale.
It says [Off-Season / Prêt-à-porter]. Still on sale.
Huh, these clothes are more expensive than the others.
That is because the display you are looking at is for this season's Prêt-à-porter items.
Prêt-à-por...ter?
Prêt-à-porter. It refers to made-to-stock, ready-to-wear items; those of higher quality and prestige, in particular.
<These don't look so expensive anymore...>
This couch is disturbingly shiny. No need to try slumping down on it.
... Don't feel like dredging through the gaps anymore. Decided to move on past it.
... Still a busy bee, huh?
Pff... Do you really have to try so hard for loose change? Aren't you rich enough to ignore a handful of eyeballs?
<…….>
<... I can always afford to be richer, can't I?>
The manager replies that they can always afford to be richer.
Took some eyeballs lodged deep inside.
Huh, look at the tags. These clothes are cheaper than the others.
Cloth straps wrapped around the figure make a faint straining noise.
... Did it just smile? Probably just seeing things...
This might look like a straitjacket, but it's not. It's a formal suit.
Can they even see out of this thing?
Wait, the expression changed... A nameless terror crawls up my spine.
Just looks stuffy now.
This outfit is called [La Première Superposition]. Must be pretty popular among the Noirs.
Something's breathing from behind the fabric. Uncomfortable.
The Noirs at the checkout counter are wearing something similar to this outfit.
[La Troisieme Superposition. A fascinating blend of cape, frock coat, and jacket in a all-in-one integration. Highest prestige in this Season's collection. Please visit the reception desk for pricing and reservations.]
Maybe we can afford it now...?
[La Troisieme Superposition. A fascinating blend of cape, frock coat, and jacket in a all-in-one integration. Highest prestige in this Season's collection. Please visit the reception desk for pricing and reservations.]
[Prêt-à-porter. Contains 150% of the Golden Yarn compared to the Last Season's!]
Upon closer inspection, I notice that it contains only 0.00015% of the so-called "Golden Yarn." Doesn't seem anywhere near significant enough to warrant putting that on the advertisement.
Doesn't this mean that the last season's products had only 0.0001% Golden Yarn...?
... I'm willing to bet that Whale chips from U Corp. have more Whale in them than this has Golden Yarn.
A display case full of glasses. Not sure how I'd go about wearing them, however.
... These are glasses, right...? The label above the display does say "glasses"...
On display are pairs of glasses and sunglasses. Some of these'll look good on Gregor.
Bizarrely normal-looking pairs of glasses and sunglasses that look out of place here. Surprisingly mundane, almost.
A combination of a stool and a drawer... A strawer. Looks like it fails at being either, though.
A combination of a stool and a drawer... A strawer. Found a handful of eyeballs in its drawer that somebody forgot.
A combination of a stool and a drawer... A strawer. Found a handful of eyeballs in its drawer that somebody forgot... not. A clock can hope, though.
A [Prêt-à-porter] display rack.
[Differential of Falling Series 1: "Cynthia" This installation depicts the fall of Cynthia, the first Mannequin to fall in the Grand Magasin. The only large-scale installation in the series, it sets itself apart from the rest of the series by being the only piece to depict the precise moment her fall began in painstaking detail.]
When too much has become tangled together, the only choice is to sever them.
Outis once told me that it's a communication switchboard.
It says [Origami CollectioN° 92, 2 of 5. Someone's fall sublimated into superpositioned time.]
The fuck're you lookin' at! Get lost, fuckwit!
<... I see. This couch came from the Furniture Hall.>
<At least this room is well-lit.>
It doesn't twinkle or dance anymore.
The corpse of a Rouge. Their veins have stopped writhing, turning dry and grey.
A slough of flesh is splayed on the ground. Looks like a popped balloon.
One has become two. The one who has become two stirs no longer.
Another shop, another boring, insipid dress made from flesh.
[Differential of Falling Series 2: "Siegel" This installation was inspired by a Mannequin's fall through the Grand Magasin. The imagery evokes the falling continuity of time.]
Looking at it probably won't advance my understanding of it. ... Not that there's any need to.
[Differential of Falling Series 3: "Stockmann" This installation was inspired by a Mannequin's fall through the Grand Magasin. The imagery evokes the falling continuity of time. Sculpted in a smaller size relative to the Series 1 installation.]
A necklace that appears to be made of metal is on display.
A cash register. There doesn't seem to be anything left inside.
An unadorned mannequin torso.
A T-shirt dyed in a unique pattern. Haven't encountered a single Rouge who's wearing this.
[Le Président 67' Signature Collection. An encapsulation of Le Rouge's unique choice of material and bygone heritages, this exceptional blending has established a unique yet fitting identity for itself in the age of change. - Please enquire a customer representative for more information on its price.]
It's a cash register. Reaching into its drawer to see if there's anything left... yields some eyeballs that were rolling around in its corner.
Not a bad get, Executive Manager. Take it - it should do us good to find and keep as many of these as we can.
<Hm... Sure.>
There's a caption below that says the following: [Treated and coated with fresh-melted fat tissue from a living subject. Touch it and feel the glassy, enamelistic surface.]
Obtained some eyeballs that fell through the cracks in the couch.
The price tag says "Sarcopenic Weight"
The label calls it [Seasonal Apparel]. Not that "seasons" mean anything.
The Floor Manager speaks no more.
Doooooo nooooot...! Griiiiieeeeve...!!!
A neonate vooooooooice shaaaaallllll...
The corpse of a Noir. Even the fabric they took such pride in couldn't save them from this fate.
Still looks like a lump of dough.
[68' Signature Collection. An unequivocal rejection of the revivalist philosophy that underlined the 67' Collection, and a consummation of the deconstructive quality that is quintessentially Rouge.]
Doesn't look so plush now.
[Differential of Falling Series 1: "Cynthia" This installation depicts the fall of Cynthia, the first Mannequin to fall in the Grand Magasin. The only large-scale installation in the series, it sets itself apart from the rest of the series by being the only piece to depict the precise moment her fall began in painstaking detail.]
<Huh, now that I'm looking at it... this place has "installations," that aren't necessarily products.>
<Do you think the Ring... has any presence here?>
Not all artistic endeavors are associated with the Ring's activities.
…….
Still, these remind me of the things we saw back at the Ring Nursefather's gallery.
<Hmm...>
<Maybe there's a note explaining what all this means. Assuming that the note survived...>
There indeed seem to be other "Differential of Falling" series in this area...
<Well, they went out of their way to call it "Series 1," so it seems reasonable to assume that there's a "Series 2." Let's keep an eye out for it in case they have anything that might come in handy.>
The label says [Off-Season Items].
Articles of clothing adorned with what appear to be bones.
["Les Oiseaux" Experimental Collection.] The caption below reads that it was inspired by a bird. It is plastered from top to bottom with a thick coating of feathers - where did they even get the feathers?
There's a heavy curtain draped over this door. Can't seem to enter.
A gargantuan arm separated from somebody. Or something.
A brimmed hat that one might dare call "average."
A sundry of colorful threads line this wall.
The edge is very sharp. Almost like a scythe's edge rather than a scissor blade's.
A rusty pair of scissors. These haven't been used in a while.
The other side is hidden behind a thick layer of fabric. There's something twinkling there.
The other side is hidden behind a thick layer of fabric. Uncovered the fabric, but this time, there isn't anything behind.
Meeting still underway!
The meeting must go on, they said!
Ooh... Voice...! Help me... Must I suffer death now, when you have finally come to grace me?!
The other side is hidden behind a thick layer of fabric.
…!
It really is as the Brand Manager has said.
Driven by madness, those abandoned by the Voice have begun to scheme a plan most wicked...
... and they shall join hands with the strangers who have just arrived at the Grand Magasin.
There wasn't any joining of hands. Let me clarify now that we are not affiliated with either Le Rouge or Le Noir - we'd much rather keep to ourselves than get involved in a war we have no stake in.
The Voice has prophesied your coming, strangers. That you would come here, after receiving a request to eliminate the Alterationist.
Should you bring her harm, we will henceforth declare you enemies of Le Noir. We cannot dispense with the fabric she weaves in times of crisis like the present.
The Alterationist's importance cannot be overstated. Even the Brand Manager has had to use her fabric to overcome countless trials.
The Brand Manager has also told us much about your plans. You possess an artifact that is integral to the Rouges' insidious plot, don't you?
We'll give you a chance to prove your true allegiance right now, right here.
Hand over that artifact... and we will greet you as customers, not enemies.
<They're... a lot more hostile than they were the first time.>
... It is likely that the Giant who guides Le Noir has done something behind the scenes.
<Oh, yeah. Jeanne remembers the events prior to the loop... then the Noir's Giant must be just as immune to the Liquidation as she is.>
Wh-what do we do? I don't know exactly what they're looking for, but... I think they want something from you, Meursault...
Handing over Meursault's artifact will definitely get us into the Noirs' good graces.
Then they'll give us the Authenticity Certificate, and we'll bring that to the One-leg on the - wait, no. That'll just lock us into the same route as before.
<Tell them that we refuse.>
We... will not hand anything over to you.
Then you are our enemy.
Strangers, you don't seem to understand the Rouges' true nature, so let me fill you in on just what kind of horror you'd be unleashing.
The only thing keeping the Grand Magasin from collapse are the patches of the Golden Resin that have grown over its cracks.
And those red ones... they've been scraping that holy resin from the walls just to wear it as clothes and sate their vain hunger.
Their destruction's been long overdue! Do you have any idea how long we've waited for their own greed to come back and bite them?
If you still won't hand it over, then... you're no different from them. Which means we'll have to take it from you by force.
S-so, are we really going to kill Miss Alterationist?
She wasn't hostile toward us at all, not like these two... Besides, we don't have any reason to do as the Rouge lady asked.
And we don't have any reason not to do as she asked. Remember: she promised us quite a significant sum of eyeballs in return for slaying the Alterationist.
Yeah, but... do we really need that many eyeballs?
Sinclair doesn't seem as desperate for eyeballs - probably because our Prestige Tier carried over from our last attempt.
He wasn't wrong, either. The only reason we weren't beelining to the fourth floor was that we were still trying to figure out how to get to the fifth floor.
You can never have too much money in your war chest, especially when venturing through unfamiliar territory like this. Unfamiliarity equals unpredictability, and money is one way of mitigating the unknown variables.
And don't forget, this place isn't real. She won't die just because we killed her in this virtual space where only our minds exist.
But... But Miss Outis, we don't know what happens to the prisoner's body when their... mind gets killed in here.
The Executive Manager has already set their mind on what to do.
The two Sinners can't seem to come to an agreement. But what's really important this time around is...
<I can't make the same choices again and expect things to be different...>
<... First things first, we need to learn everything we can about the "Liquidation.">
<Meursault, can you call Jeanne and see if she's watching us?>
... Jeanne. I would like to know more about the conditions to triggering the Liquidation event.
Fuhu, ma puce... This is the first time you've decided to call me in here.
The answer is pretty simple, actually. When the Grand Magasin stops producing Canned Experiences that meet its quality standards, when its output is reduced to useless dregs no one would buy... that's when Liquidation occurs.
... Does the Liquidation process entail rewinding time?
Nope. Time loops are more trouble than they're worth - gotta make arrangements with T Corp., somehow secure a consistent and massive supply of energy... It's especially impractical now that we can't rely on Lobotomy Corporation for that last part, what with its downfall and all.
Instead, Grand Magasin Sisyphe has chosen to simply... wipe the memories of every customer imprisoned within. It's a relatively simple process, not to mention much, much cheaper. It's a total system reboot, if you will.
<It's just a memory wipe...? So that's why we didn't lose our purchases or the Prestige Tier.>
Unfortunately, we can't do a complete reset, which would bring the Grand Magasin back to its very beginning...
The seats of all four Giants need to be filled for that process.
With the present vacancy among the Giants... we've only been able to reset up to a certain point in time, which means that the Canned Experience production rate hasn't been able to match our potential output for a while.
Oh, and don't you two worry - I made sure that only you and your... Manager with that extraordinary hairdo can hear my voice, since you two are trying to keep this between us. Aren't I so thoughtful?
<... I appreciate that.>
The Manager expresses their appreciation.
Fuhu. I do have a piece of advice for a polite clock like you...
I see that you're trying to make different choices from your last attempt, but let me save you the time and effort: it won't matter.
What do you think the end of the Grand Magasin will look like, ma puce?
... I do not know. I am only following the Manager's judgment.
But it's your judgment that I'm curious about.
Fine. Then let me free that judgment trapped behind your teeth, since you're being annoyingly tight-lipped about it.
"This Grand Magasin has a predetermined end."
"We can keep searching, keep trying, keep struggling - but it won't change how it ends. Which makes everything we're doing... everything we're racking our brains to solve... simply pointless."
…….
Hey, why don't you... go on a shopping spree instead? Make yourself stand out to the world. Come on, you're in a department store for heaven's sake!
<... Thank her for the advice. But we'll continue to explore all of our options.>
The Manager's judgment remains the same, Jeanne.
I've seen so many customers come into this place, determined and ready to fight against its currents... only for them to rapidly settle into the Grand Magasin's system like compliant little lambs.
Well, while you keep yourselves busy with that silly business, I'll sit nicely in this corner and be a quiet witness to your adventures. I've been one for a long, long time anyway.
... I should go brew myself a steaming hot cup of coffee. I'll take my time until it cools down nicely, and by the time I take the final sip...
You know what I'm talking about, don't you, ma puce?
…….
Is everything alright, Executive Manager? You've been muttering to yourself for a while.
<Ah. I've just been lost in thought, that's all.>
<Alright, let's, uh... let's do as that Rouge asked. Next stop's the Alteration Shop.>
Heh. Excellent choice, Executive Manager.
I watch Outis and Sinclair arguing about random trivialities as they prepare to head to the Alteration Shop.
Neither of them knows...
... that we'd already reached the "end" once and had woken up on the first floor like nothing had happened.
<Do you think we'll be able to... reach a different outcome this time?>
…….
Yes, we will be able to reach a different outcome. However, as Jeanne has said...
... it will be irrelevant to preventing the Liquidation process.
<... I'll be honest, I'm feeling a bit lost. I don't have any clues... let alone any hope of finding one.>
... But...
I see that you haven't let that slow your pace, Manager.
Meursault regards me as if he's scrutinizing me.
Was that supposed to be a question? Or just his way of expressing doubt?
<Well, this isn't the first time we've landed ourselves in a hopeless situation.>
<I'm sure it won't be our last, either.>
<... Or maybe I'm just choosing not to believe Jeanne. She said the end won't change no matter what we do, but... we haven't tried it yet, have we?>
Yeah. More often than not, our journey so far has been full of unreasonable absurdities like these.
I decided that, therefore, it was unreasonable of me to expect that the solution would be delivered to us on a silver platter.
Then... What can we do?
Just keep on keeping on, I guess.
<Let's try doing things differently this time.>
<I know we might just end up proving Jeanne right, and maybe nothing will change from our last attempt. But we can cross that bridge when we get to it.>
…….
<... A-am I being too irresponsible?>
... If that is how you have judged this situation, Manager, then I will do as ordered.
W-wait, isn't this just straight-up thievery?
A more accurate designation for this strategy would be "field requisition tactics."
I don't know, this strategy probably falls under the designation we call "larceny" here.
... *cough*
<Wait, we're not allowed to take eyeballs from cash registers? What about all those Mannequins we kill - I mean, "helped to the exit"?>
Fuhu, you mean "criminal damage to property"?
<It doesn't matter inside this department store anyway, Sinclair. Take those eyeballs, Meursault.>
Hah. You're no fun at all.
Just decided to ignore me now 'cuz you can't understand how jokes work, huh?
Took the eyeballs.
Don't need these that badly.
There isn't anything left.
It's done. You may take this Golden Fabric and its brilliance with you.
Easily ripped the spine off the Rouge who'd stopped moving.
<Damn, thought we dodged that.>
That enemy presents difficulties on multiple fronts... Its speed is one thing, but it has the uncanny ability to swerve at the last minute to follow Meursault's attempt to evade.
I recommend using the environmental obstacles or employing more unpredictable evasive maneuvers.
<... Of course. Let's try this again.>
<Can't get a good grasp on when it'll explode...>
We'll have to move away as soon as it begins to tremble.
Try to stay more alert next time.
It will be done.
It is quite fast for its size.
How should Meursault dodge its charge...? Maybe there's a way to perfectly time a block, but I don't think that'll be easy.
While it may seem as though there is no room to properly evade its charge, there were small indents at both ends of the room - perhaps you could hide there?
<Oh, right. I don't think it can reach that far.>
As for the rest of the battle strategy... A more deliberate approach will be effective, Executive Manager. Take your time fending off the onslaught of Mobiles and slowly wear down the primary foe.
…….
... Tsk. I know it's your "turn," but this must still be incredibly taxing.
Once we return, I'll be sure to assign the cleaning duties to the ones lounging around in the restroom.
So... hold on just a little longer.
I will.
... That thing ripped him in half the moment they came into contact.
We may have to wait until their "meeting" is adjourned, Executive Manager.
Honestly, those agendas didn't really seem all that important...
<Either way, let's steer clear of that thing until we find a way around it.>
<Ah, here it is. "Series 2.">
A close observation the floor beneath the installation has revealed nothing, Manager.
Nngh... I assume all these "Mannequins" are just people, too.
Sinclair scrutinized the "artwork" with discomfort clear in his face... then, as if he'd recognized something, raised a finger toward it.
Huh? Do you see that over there? It looks like a ring.
A single-coiled ring... It must've belonged to a Student of the Ring.
<Ah... it's too high for us to reach, though.>
<Let's keep looking.>