Back in his room, after the disaster involving Jeanne and Marco outside the tavern, Mitsuki lay down on the bed. He stared at the ceiling, deep in thought. The faint moonlight slipped through the poorly closed curtains and drew pale lines across the aged wooden walls.
Returning to what he had seen while repairing the cracks in his soul, there were simply too many unanswered questions.
Of course, all of that would eventually be answered one way or another, but it was difficult to be patient when the mystery was so tangled. Every memory seemed connected to another, even stranger one, like a thread impossible to untangle.
Mitsuki sighed. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
Within his dreams, he saw a distant and blurry place. It was filled with flowering trees of every kind; vast and thick plains covered in flowers stretched far into the distance. The wind moved gently through that place, causing petals of countless colors to drift through the air like a silent storm.
