I Decided to Not Compete and Quietly Create Dolls Instead

After I left the puppeteer's raid, I was falling asleep like mud.

The easy-going status of throwing Mazuma round Kajero and the Earl... was a superficial story, and indeed the good night princess of Physical Hagusukagu, but the consciousness was nevertheless very busy.

I had a strange dream.

In it I was "I".

Altilia as originally written, with no memory in modern Japan.

She was flimsy and straight, but waiting ahead was too sad a future.

Lutne - The figure of the original protagonist is, or the ideal self you might have had in your hands.

There's no way "I" can stay calm with that in front of me. I have no place to go emotions, twisted and distorted and collapsed. Lost a handful of friends. Isolated in college, they are abandoned by their fiancé, Elstat. Solute, as if further indicated, your father was assassinated and Altilia was helplessly cornered.

In despair, which is about to be crushed, she makes one choice.

- Kill Lutne and die yourself.

"I" will take the sword of your father's sight and go to the place he called in the letter "Let's make up". Less crowded crescent day, the backyard of the college.

There was a look of Lutne. I have a heartfelt smile on the opportunity for reconciliation that I haven't visited in years. A soft look as if the Spirit of Mercy had dwelt.

"Nobody's seen it, and it's okay, right?"

Lutne removes the blue and white pendant on his neck. I can take the magic of appearance and voice.

Once we were two melons, mirrored.

But now, I feel sad.

Lutne, in the heart of the circle of warm people, became more and more beautiful, as if to illuminate the area even though it was a moonless night.

"I" is a serious thing. I haven't eaten a meal in months. Her face is thin and her hair is just too bulky. Must look haunted.

Pull out your sword, driven by envy, jealousy and messy emotions you don't know very well.

I shook the blade down to slap the pity I had no place to do it.

I'm gonna kill you, I was gonna.

I wanted to smash your face like that Virgin who believed in people.

The cutting edge, however, stood deviantly on the ground, and the momentum had broken the sword.

If you'd run away and fought me, it would have worked.

Although.

Lutne smiled softly, reaching out to accept everything.

Because of that, I hesitated.

End of winter at twelve.

It was the same day I couldn't try to push my misfortune to Lutne.

Oh, no more, not at all.

I wonder what "I" life was.

Mistakes.

There is only a mistake.

The abandonment of doll magic, the creation of Lutne - if you count it, you can't count it.

Put your thoughts on another possibility.

Decisive and spectacular, the "eagle" chose puppet magic.

I'm sure you were right all over.

- The next time you're born, may you make a rugged choice already.

"I" grips the broken sword again as hard as inside. I put the remaining blade around my neck.

Rip.

It would have been much easier if it had been enough to get my hands on Lutne.

Maybe it's because it's about me.

Then.

How can you be hesitant about Lutne?

It's a simple story.

I wonder why it has never been admitted before.

"I" and Lutne are different people.

Such, very obvious, facts.

Maybe I can go back to being friends with Lutne now.

But it's too late for everything.

It was snowing. It was a terribly cold night.

But I don't feel the cold wind anymore.

I can't hear anything.

I can't see.

It ends.

At first it felt like I was looking at the life of another Altilia, but only when I realized it was integrated with "me". The pain, the mourning, felt like mine. I felt the same way when I lost my own life.

This will finally free me from living hell, he said.

It was sweet.

"My name is Lutne, and I'm an integration student. Civilians out, thank you."

Spring of fifteen.

Time was rolling back. If you say it in the original game, it's the beginning of the scene.

Only my consciousness seemed to have gone back in time to see the movement of "me" mind.

of tragedy, re-enactment.

There was a slight difference.

It's a man who makes love to Lutne. Elstat, the wandering Count, Philka, and then the other two targets of attack - but all the same where we're going.

Altilia Whisp sinks into death in falling and loneliness.

Over and over again.

I can show you how broken I am.

A hundred years or two.

a lifetime of hard work as if it were to last indefinitely.

It was stretched out like the gospel.

(This is the fate that the original Altilia Whisp followed.

It would be sad. It would be painful.

I know how "you" feel. My whole life thought the same thing.)

The whisper seemed to crawl sweetly, and I could forget everything else while I was lending my ear to it.

(Mercy, sorrow, pity.

Emotions without a place to go just swirl around, don't you regret just watching without being able to do anything?

That can't be right.

I understand, what "you" are like.

Don't worry. Shouldn't we show the way better than this?

Altilia in this world would be fine by now.

I learned about puppet magic and even alchemy. Whatever happens, let's live alone.

You don't have to worry about one thing about Garrett Palace. The woman you helped is the Princess of Margaroid. Cajero, you and the Count did well.

No, Altilia Whisp is the hero who saved the crisis in Palazzo Garrett. I got fame that never wavered. We should make this a safe place to live.

So.

It's time to go next.

"You" saved Altilia, who was half seven years old and had puppet magic.

Altilia, 12, who is likely to be confused by the theologian Askus, Altilia, 15, who was reunited with Lutne and his renamed artificial life (Homunculus) - it would be good if they all led him to happiness in the same way.

Isn't that your mission?

Come on, pray to me. Beg and beg.

Let's give you secrets beyond time and space)

Who is this voice, or something?

How do you know that "I" and Altilia Whisp are different, or something?

There were a number of doubts, but the back of my brain was so paralyzed that I couldn't think well.

(What's wrong with you? Make up your mind. before I change my mind.)

Every time every word sounds, the melting comfort spreads and the thought becomes obscure.

Feels like you've been anesthetized directly into your head.

Perhaps if I stayed like this, I would have let everything go.

I never realized that this voice was the same as theologian Askus, and it would have been played like a good one.

But it didn't.

There was something holding me back.

It's a sense of responsibility for your actions to this day, a bond with everyone like Cajero, Valf and Cactus, Mr. Feria and your solute father, and...

It was once the cry of "I" in this world, which should have melted mixed with "I".