Exploration, floor 7 c2

.....

Take a seat, ma puce.

You've not gotten a chance to rest your feet since entering here, have you?

.....

.....

.....

.....

.....

Welcome, ma puce... and strangers who came from the Fount.

You don't need to climb so hard anymore - this is the final floor of the Grand Magasin. In other words... the "rooftop."

.....

.....

.....

.....

.....

.....

.....

.....

A corner of my mind had always harbored a bit of curiosity for what Mother did in that chilly room.

As she had always warned me not to enter, however, I never indulged that particular curiosity.

I never miss a watering and regularly apply the Experience Fertilizer. But the leaves wither and fall anyway.

Empty Canned Experiences lie strewn about.

I feel a small sense of relief in that disorder. There is nothing quite like it in the experiences sealed inside those cans.

Even with the curtains drawn back, only faint rays of light shine through.

Still, I have to close them again before Mother comes out.

She does not want so much as a sliver of light getting in.

The coat I bought Mother with my first paycheck.

It was identical to what she always wore. Even so, my gift made her happy.

... No. That was merely my subjective perception. She only gave me a faint smile. She never said that it made her happy.

The chains that beheld the gaze.

You're not even going to hesitate strike me? It's just my avatar, but... that makes me sad.

... I am sorry.

But that door... is now open. My gaze keeps gravitating toward the narrow gap.

What was it about this room that brought her comfort?

Had something happened to her?

My thoughts grow louder and louder, but the dark living room around me remains perfectly still. Not a whisper of a draft to disturb that silence.

…….

I needed certainty. Something that would put that unease to rest.

.......

The light inside is painfully bright. My brow tightens against it, and my vision blurs.

All I can make out is an empty, brightly lit room and Mother's faint silhouette.

Little by little, my eyes adapt to the light. Mother's indistinct silhouette comes into focus.

She does not stir. There is no rising or falling of the blur that is her form.

A faint tension creeps up my back. Before long, it becomes concern, then fear, and eventually settles into unease.

Mother was... lying on the floor.

She was not eating from any Canned Experience, nor was she praying to anything...

All this time, she had remained perfectly still in that bright room,

AAAAAHHHHH!

staring at the door the entire time.

That day, I noticed that the door to Mother's room had been left slightly ajar.

You've come this far, and now you're trying to run away?

It's futile, ma puce. You know this.

... Is this your idea of a joke? Overwrought jokes are never that funny, you know. Why don't you quit messing around and take a seat?