"My name is Lyra and I live in house two of New Bark Town. I'm lost, can you help me? Now repeat after me."

She repeats after her mother dutifully.

"Good girl! Now if you ever get lost just tell a kind adult what I just told you and they'll help you find your way back."

"Mama, what happens to the children who are lost but don't know where to go?" she asks, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

Her mother pauses before slowly weaving her way through her words. "Well, sometimes they get lucky and find their way back. Sometimes another adult who knows them finds them."

"What if they're never found and they never find their way back?"

"I guess they… they don't exist anymore. Now my dear Lyra, why don't you go play outside with Ethan while I prepare dinner?"

Lyra nods, glad that she's finally free to go play and blab to her friend about her day and she turns to go outside when she stops.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees her mother standing there staring at her with a frown that slowly turns into a look of doubt.

"Mama, did I do something wrong?" she asks as she pulls one of her strands of light brown hair nervously around her finger.

Like magic, her mother unfreezes from her frozen expression and smiles reassuringly as if everything she's thought in those past few seconds are forgotten immediately.

"No darling. Go out and play."

They are conventional childhood friends and not a day goes by without them spending time with each other doing homework, exploring the boundaries of their tiny town, and everything else that friends do—argue, make up, eat ice cream 'til their heads feel too frozen and their still-growing teeth are numb. They're in the forest on the edge of town today, as they usually are after school.

"Red."

"Using it right now," she replies. She doesn't take her eyes off her paper as she bites her lip and concentrates on colouring. Bits of her waxy crayon shave off onto the table as she presses it against the paper.

"You're taking so long," he whines. She ignores him. "Blue then."

Without taking her eyes off the page, she grabs the blue crayon and hands it to him, her other hand still colouring away.

For a few minutes, they are both quiet and only the scratches of the hard wax against the paper, the wind rustling through the trees of their forest hideout, and Marill's snores are heard in these rare moments of silence between the two.

It doesn't last very long.

"Lyra are you done with the red crayon yet?" Ethan says. This time she looks up to see his visibly annoyed face.

"Yes, yes!" she chirps. It makes her grin when she sees Ethan become even more frustrated by her unfazed reaction to his agitated one. He takes the crayon from her hand without a word.

In the time they take to finish up their drawings and pack up their materials, Marill wakes up, the air gets colder, and the sky takes on a golden hue, warning them of the oncoming night.

"What'd you draw?" Ethan asks as he peers over her shoulder.

She proudly holds up her drawing—her most elaborate one yet—of her with a bunch of messily outlined pokemon (she can't remember the details of the pokemon off top of her head that well). "This is me and this is what my pokemon will be when I start my pokemon journey. See there's a spinarak, just like Bebe our adorable class pokemon, and I'll have a ledyba because they're shy and cute and lastly, my favourite, pichu because pichus are the cutest of them all!"

"You need strong pokemon to go on a pokemon journey, not only cute pokemon," he says. He crosses his arms and blows his bangs out of his face.

She glares at him. "Don't worry, my pokemon will be cute and strong. What's your drawing?"

He pushes the paper to her and the first thing she notices is how clean the picture is. There's only one figure in the middle, leaving the rest of the space rather blank. The wax from the crayon somehow is not splayed messily around the space like her picture is but instead, neatly applied into the drawn girl. It's not anything near a skilled artist's work but the effort is there and when Lyra realizes the girl isn't her from the blue sharply-angled pigtails, she feels a dull clang in her heart.

"Who's she?"

"My imaginary friend," he says.

"I never knew you had an imaginary friend." Her voice rises a little and she's not sure why there's a panic in her chest. She knows most of his other friends and sure, she's not his only friend, but it feels like a betrayal because their imaginations are barely secrets from each other and every creation is one born from both of them and shared in their imaginary worlds.

He cocks his head to one side. "Are you mad? I just wanted to remember her so that's why I drew her. Don't worry Lyra, you're still my best friend," he says.

"Oh," she says, her expression sullen. She almost adds in 'good' but holds her tongue.

"We should hurry home. Race you back?" he says. He tilts his head and leans in, offering a small smile as if to say 'don't be mad'.

She hates to be angry at him but she doesn't want to let him off that easily. "You really think you'll win this time?" she says. Her head is tilted away from him and she pretends she hasn't forgiven him just yet.

He hesitates but a sly expression spreads across his face. Suddenly, he snatches her hat from her head and takes off back to home. "This is for tripping me last time! C'mon Marill!" he calls back as the blue mouse scrambles to catch up.

She gapes at him before taking off after him. "You dummy! You tripped yourself because you got distracted taunting me!" she yells. "Give me my hat back!"

His maniacal laughs echo through the trees and the nocturnal pokemon just coming out hoot and chatter as they disturb the peace of the falling night.

She catches up to him and steals his hat in return and she wins again because she always does.

They return home with each other's caps on their heads, their arms around each other's shoulders as they struggle to stand on the porch of Ethan's house from running and breathing so hard as his mom chastises them for being late. Marill, once she catches up a few seconds after they get back, 'harumphs' as if to agree.

She trembles as she slowly makes her way back home through the forest. Home is not far at all but the sky is darkening and the air has cooled considerably since she first ventured out. It's her first time she's in the forest without Ethan.

She's not lost yet but the shadows of the trees seem to twist and blend into the dark sky, tricking her eyes into seeing multiple paths home when there's only one. That tree with the peeled off bark looks familiar but is it the one she passes by everytime coming into the forest with Ethan? Those leaves seem to be the pile that she shuffled together when she came in earlier that day but is it actually where she passed through? It's confusing even if it shouldn't be because the environment comes together to lead her astray.

The sun is almost completely set and Lyra starts hearing the cries of the nocturnal pokemon of the forest. Hoots, whispers, chitters… they are familiar to her from all those days she's stayed far too late with Ethan in the forest but they offer no comfort. They seem to give the shadows a voice and help them become alive and animated.

Didn't she already pass that fallen tree a few minutes ago? She squints her eyes to make out the outlines of the foliage but it's difficult, much too difficult and she stumbles forward, almost blindly.

Leave.

She jolts her head to her right but makes out nothing. "Who's there?" she says. There's no reply and she swears her brain must be interpreting the wind's sounds into words.

Annoying.

There it is again. She shakes her head and puts one foot in front of the other.

It's like the shadows were moving against the ground and the trees.

She was so much better. Why are you here?

She moves faster, her feet making crunching sounds on the fallen leaves. These whispers are familiar as they remind her of a nightmare from many years ago before having any friends. One filled with black nothingness and harsh whispers tearing at her very soul. The only one where she's woken up to tears.

Please die.

She's running now and her feet slap against the ground painfully. If she goes faster, the wind's howls in her ears might just be enough to block out those words. She blinks multiple times to block out the shadows, now a taunting mass of black. The pokemon cries amplify the chaos in the hushed voices. Their whispers become almost incomprehensible as they all blend together.

Go away...

Why…her…hate…clothes…you...ugh

Replaced...?

Her head hurts from the cold, and her legs are becoming sore. A thorny bush brushes and scratches her knees and a branch almost makes her trip—she stumbles but regains her footing once, twice, three times since she can't trip now because if she does, she'll never get up as the words consume her.

She's so alone.

Her eyes blur but she can just make out the house lights of New Bark Town and she gives one last burst of energy, gasping as she charges through the trees into the open space. The whispers stop at once and her head clears as she stops running. She's home and she's safe at last.

But the peace doesn't last long and that night, she has a dream from many years ago, of whispered taunts from faceless figures, of dark masses pulling and pushing at her mercilessly.

And it haunts her every night.

Ethan doesn't remember the first time they met.

It's only something she's just learned during a game of 20 questions and she pouts when he comes up with nothing after a minute of thinking.

"What! Don't give me that look. We were like five, okay?" He looks a little guilty as he says this. "I'm sorry, I really don't remember, Lyra." He runs his hand through his messy dark hair before putting his cap on. "You could refresh my memory if you want," he suggests.

"No, it's okay," she says, relieved, before abruptly switching the topic.

She's glad that he doesn't remember the circumstances around their first meeting—twice.

Silver acts like he doesn't know her.

It's not suppose to be strange at all but after more than a few coincidental run-ins with the guy, she would have thought that by now he would acknowledge her properly instead with a despicable glare, a couple of harsh words, and a challenge for a battle. She beats him every single time no matter how strong he gets and his frustration is clear. Why he doesn't avoid her completely if he clearly despises her, she does not know. She's not even sure if he knows her name!

Once again, she meets him, this time in Ecruteak City. Once again he goes on his spiel about her and her weak pokemon (despite the fact that that's been consistently proven untrue) and once again she beats him. He snorts in disgust and moves to leave but she stops him.

"Wait, Silver! Please, I have to know, what do you have against me? Is it because I reported you to the police? Or because I keep beating you? And why, even though you obviously think I'm weak, do you still bother to talk to me and battle?"

He glares at her with an intensity that makes her shrink into herself. She hasn't done anything wrong, yet why does she always feel like she has?

"You are an imposter of a good trainer who doesn't deserve to be here with your pokemon." He snarls at her and she wonders, what did she do to offend him so badly? By merely existing?

"You're in my way all the time so of course I can't back down from a battle. You don't belong in the circles of the great trainers and I'll be the one to show you." He pushes her away to leave and just under his breath he mutters something which she barely catches.

"...like her."

She feels her eyes welling up and she attempts to wipe away the feeling to cry as she stares at the figuring storming away from her. There's a nudge by her legs and she looks to see her bayleef nuzzling against her and gazing at her with clear worry in his eyes. She bends down and wraps her arms around him. That's right. She couldn't cry now. Her pokemon needed her. "I'm fine, really. Thank you. Let's get you and the others healed."

For the rest of the day, once she finishes healing up her pokemon, she strolls around the city, marvelling at the ancient architecture and the unique atmosphere it gives off, a far contrast to the modern, urban centres she's been through so far. She takes her mind off of unkind rivals and focuses on her pokemon and the city and comes to the realization that despite all the hardships of journeying across the region she wouldn't trade it for anything. Not even home.

For once, she's not even sure if she can keep her promise to Ethan to call every week or to visit home every month. Because despite the rude strangers and rivals out here, she doesn't ever want to go back physically or mentally.

Because her dreams no longer haunt her here, far beyond the boundaries New Bark Town.

Outside in the open world, she's free.

"Where's Kris?" The dark-haired boy with the marill is confused and a little wary as he steps closer to inspect her with his dark-grey eyes. "I've never seen you before," he says.

The girl with the brown pigtails doesn't know what to say at this.

Because he's seen her every day for the past four days waiting for the bus to take them to and from school.

And he's always said hi until today.

"You remind me of a trainer who stepped through these doors into this gym a very long time ago," the man says. He passes over the badge which Lyra stows inside her case before she snaps her attention back to him.

"It seems like forever ago. Truth be told, I'm not even sure if she's just a figment of my imagination or actually a part of my memory. She was a strong trainer. The strongest I've battled in a long time. Until you challenged me today."

The indirect compliment warms her ego especially after Silver's comments, but still, she can't help but feel chilled inside Morty's gym, with its near-black space and ghostly shadows. It doesn't help that Morty, also known as the mystical seer as attributed to the plaque at the entrance, was sparse in his words yet decided to throw in such an innocuous remark.

She reassures herself it's just a casual compliment.

"I wonder how she's doing today. I feel like she's still out there. But maybe she's stuck," he says.

"She could be taking a break. Or maybe she decided to do something else," Lyra says, lightheartedly.

He barely acknowledges her suggestion. "Crystal I think was her name. You look a little like her, though she had blue hair," he muses thoughtfully.

"Is that so? Anyway, I have to go. Thank you for the battle and the badge," she says. She starts backing away and almost considers running to the entrance if not for the fact that she could barely see the floor.

He waves her off and adjusts his scarf. "Good luck on your challenge. I guess you'll be the one to fulfil that girl's dream."

She nods and hurries away, her steps becoming larger and faster. She's almost at the entrance when she turns around one last time to look at the gym leader high above her on his platform. It's a mistake she makes because her stomach sinks when she sees him looking in her direction but not at her, his eyes intent on something to her left.

She whips her head around to see nothing around her that could possibly catch his interest unless it's the empty shadows that play with the space of the walls and tricks on her mind.

She reassures herself it's just a haunter or something because ghost gyms are supposed to be spooky.

Being a champion is both an amazing experience and a tiring one because though Lyra loves the attention and adoration the people shower on her and her pokemon, there're many obligations that come with maintaining her popularity. And right now, she has to do that by doing yet another interview with another magazine at Celadon Hotel's restaurant. If only she could find the hotel that is.

"I'm sorry, but are you looking for someone?" a passing man asks. He's wearing glasses and is dressed in casual working clothes.

"Is this the Celadon Hotel?"

The man shakes his head. "We're in the Celadon Condominiums. The hotel is down the street to your left."

Darn! How can she have thought this was a hotel? On a second glance around, it is obvious that the sparse, quiet lobby she's in looks nothing like a busy concierge at a grand hotel.

"Before you go, may I ask you a favour?" the man says.

"Yes?"

"You see, I'm a game developer, a sound designer to be exact and I have a piece of music here that I want you to listen and give your opinion on." He smiled. "It's very short."

She nodds and he begins fiddling with his pokegear until he found the music.

To Lyra's surprise, it's an 8-bit piece. It is nostalgic and frankly, quite pleasing as it brought back warm memories of her and Ethan lounging about in his room or her room on a lazy afternoon on the weekends or afterschool going through video game after video game, cursing and cheering as they took turns winning and losing (or rather, Lyra took turns winning and 'losing' because she hates to say it, she's that good) all the while the stilted staccato-like music went on and on in the background…

And there's something else in the short track playing right now that Lyra can't put a finger on. She's heard this piece somewhere, she's sure of it. It makes her skin prickle and her hands grow cold as the music ended and she still couldn't figure out where she'd heard it before.

"What'd you think of it?" The game developer eagerly waits for her to answer.

"It reminds me of playing video games with my friend when I was younger." She pauses. "I feel like I've heard it before."

The game developer laughs. "It's an all original piece though we did use it for a few of our older games. They were never released in Kanto or Johto though."

"What games was it in?" Maybe she has played through them before somehow.

"We make trainer simulator games where people can go on their own virtual journeys to capture pokemon and battle because not everyone has the opportunity to do so in real life." He pauses and proceeds to say slowly, "One of the games this piece was in is called 'Pokemon: Crystal Version'."

"Oh. I've never played it before." Lyra sighs. "It's funny because I was so sure I heard this piece somewhere. I guess I'll never know where."

The game designer smiles wryly. "I understand your frustration. Sometimes that happens, these unexplained things. "

"Mmm… the mysteries of life."

"Maybe these mysteries are actually glitches that whatever gods exist forgot to fix," the designer continues with that wryly smile still on his face. "That happens sometimes to us developers. Sometimes there's some leftover code or data we forget to patch up before the game is released. Sometimes these glitches don't affect the gaming experience so they go unnoticed by the player and us. I'd like to think, though, they do affect our characters in some way, however fictional they may be." He chuckled.

Lyra nods along. "I need to meet someone at the hotel soon. But good luck with whatever game you're working on. Maybe I'll get to play it someday."

He raises his eyebrows in amusement. "Good luck with your future endeavours Lyra. Whether it would've been you or Ethan, we all knew either of you would be destined for great things. It was the will of the programming gods."

There are very few people who are less sympathetic than Silver but unfortunately for Lyra, he's the only person she can confide to when she's on the road. Fortunately, he doesn't seem to dislike her as much as he first did and in fact, tolerates her company.

"Like, he must've known I was the champion of Johto from maybe watching TV or something but how does he know Ethan?"

Silver leans against the wall and rolled his eyes. "It could've been any random guy named Ethan. The developer sounds like a wacko."

"I know, right? He was nice but he kept on comparing life to the struggles of game developing. And I still don't know where I heard that music he played from. Have you ever played a game called 'Pokemon: Crystal Version'?" she said.

"Never even heard of it." Silver narrows his eyes. "Why does this bother you so much?"

She's not sure how to frame it and she's pretty sure Silver would call her an oversensitive leaf because she is one. She's always unnerved by the smallest of things.

"Have you…" Even her meganium, who is usually so serene, is eyeing her suspiciously as it stops playing with the rocks in the cave to stare at her. She reconsiders what she's about to ask because it seems too much of a stretch.

"I need to go soon so hurry up." He brushes his red hair back from his face and looks at his pokegear for the time. He collects his bag and starts standing up to leave when she finally asks something she's never said out loud.

"Have you ever met someone named Crystal or Kris?"

Silver flinches, his bag falling out of his hands to the ground before he can compose himself. He gives her a hard look. She barely understands the expression on Silver's face—he has never been easy to decipher anyway—but after a moment of thought, she concludes that it's familiar to the ones he used to give her. Glares of pure resentment. She shudders but presses on.

"Well?" she asks as she holds her breath waiting for an answer.

He doesn't answer until he picks his belongings up and starts heading towards the cave entrance.

Without turning around he says curtly, "No."

He's about to exit the cave when he turns around, facing her with an expression so carefully and unnaturally nonchalant.

"Would your life be better if you found all the answers to your questions? Would it improve your life if you kept digging into the past?" He keeps his tone even but even Lyra can tell it's not easy for him.

He leaves before she can respond.

She has that dream again where Ethan and her meet for the first time as children. It's the same dream that's been on replay at least thrice per week for the past few months and it's always played exactly like her memory of the event before it dissolves into the soup of other random pieces from the past.

This time, when it gets to the part where little Ethan just finishes stating that he's never met her before, instead of a brief silence where she stares awkwardly at him before the dream cuts, a voice calls out from behind her and little Ethan's eyes widen, the gold in them shining as he forgets about her and darts around to the person behind her.

When she turns, the sun is in her eyes and from a child's point-of-view, it's difficult to see the person's closely because of the height difference. But Lyra can tell that the tall girl in front of her who is hugging Ethan has pigtails just like her, red and white sneakers just like her, and a red shirt on just like her. The girl looks up from Ethan and down at her and even though she's not crying, Lyra can tell she looks a little bit sad… but she's smiling. It's confusing to her why someone would smile when they're sad but even at this point in her life, little Lyra already knows there are things she will never understand. Before she can work up the courage to ask what's wrong the girl speaks.

"Don't worry about me. Take care of yourself."

At that, the girl flickers, yes flickers, uneasily before disappearing.

She's practically beating the front door of his house, praying he's home when it opens to reveal a frazzled looking man with a lab coat on, his dark hair in a mess (as usual) and a curious Marill trailing steps behind him.

He groans and scrubs his eyes when he sees her. "What's wrong with you? I'm glad you finally came back to visit but I didn't think you'd come at four in the morning."

She knows it's rude but she doesn't answer and jumps straight to her point. "Ethan, remember when we used to draw pictures as kids? Like drawing pokemon and people and stuff?"

"...yeah?" He yawns and it only now hits Lyra how dark the circles under his eyes are and how wrinkled the tie and collared shirt under his coat looks. It makes her feel bad for disturbing him but she presses on.

"Do you still have the pictures you drew? Can I see them?"

He raises an eyebrow. "You came all the way to see my drawings as a kid? I'm flattered, Lyra. Well, child-me is flattered actually, since you came all the way to see his work rather than mine."

She doesn't blame him for any bitterness in his voice because she knows it's been months since she's last called or visited and the fact that she came to visit at such an ungodly hour doesn't help. A sliver of guilt embeds itself in the pinboard of her heart, adding to the collection of missed calls and lost connections contained within.

"Can I see them?"

He sighs and shrugs before letting her in, telling her to wait at the dining room table while he searches through memories deep in the dark corner of his house.

It's telling how he so casually allows her to sit in the kitchen even though it's cluttered with newspapers, lab reports, unwashed dishes and more stuff. Or maybe he never really cared about what anyone thought, stranger or friend. There are a few pictures sitting on the table and Lyra picks them up one by one before quickly putting them back down when she scans over them and realizes that aside from Ethan, she doesn't recognize a single face in the photos.

"You're lucky I didn't throw them out years ago," he says as he comes back with a stack of battered sketchbooks and loose sheets. "Why do you want to see them? Have you just realized my talent as an artist? Or are you here to mock me?" He sits down beside her and she immediately starts flipping through the books.

Most of them were simple scratches or scribbles of undeniably childlike versions of pokemon in various battle poses, attacking, defending, flying and more. She smiles slightly at the preference shown in the pages for a certain blue, round mouse.

She pauses for a bit longer than a second to glance at one picture. Titled 'My Best Friend', it is a drawing of her. Although her pigtails are drawn just a tad bit too long and her head a tad bit too wide, she can't help but notice the care put into the picture compared to the others, where the colours actually are within the lines and the drawn lines are more finely done. She continues flipping onto the next book and the next book while Ethan starts nodding off and just when she thinks she actually misremembered she comes across what she needed to see in the first place.

"Ethan, Ethan, Ethan!" she says as she shakes his shoulders. He jolts awake.

"Wha..?" he says.

"Do you know who this is? Or why you drew her?" Lyra points to the figure on the untitled paper. It's a girl with pigtails just like her, red shirt just like hers, and red shoes just like hers. Only this girl has blue hair, a white jacket over her shirt, and a confident smile unlike the smile draining off of Lyra's face. Just like her picture, this girl is drawn and coloured with care, perhaps with even finer lines and thicker application of colour.

Ethan takes the paper in his hands. "I don't know who this is. Maybe some girl from our school?" He shrugs as he sets it down.

"I think she was your imaginary friend. Did you have a name for her?" Lyra grabs his arm, desperate for something, anything.

He gives her a strange look. "How am I supposed to know? Maybe I had a thing for girls with pigtails, I don't know! This was drawn like 15 years ago. Why do you care so much?"

Because of her dreams! Perhaps she should say something about them—she never did back then—but she hesitates and instead tries a different approach.

"Would her name be something like Kris?" she says quietly.

She swears Ethan's face changes to something of realization as if a dusty lightbulb from deep inside the attic of his mind goes off. He looks like he wants to say something about that but it's his turn to hesitate before speaking.

"That's oddly specific," he says. "It could've been but—" he throws his hands up "—like I said, I don't know."

With that final failed attempt, Lyra slumps into her chair and sighs before shuffling his drawings back into a neat pile. "It's okay. I'm sorry to have barged in this early in the morning. Thanks for your help though. Get some sleep." She gets up to leave when she has other thoughts.

"Can I keep this picture?" She picks up the drawing of the girl with the blue pigtails and bright smile.

He doesn't say anything but his face darkens and he grabs the other end of the paper. "No."

"Why not? It doesn't mean anything to you anyway," she says, surprised at his reaction.

"No, please just let go of it, Lyra."

"Why are you so attached to it? You didn't even remember you drew it."

His face looks panicked and he brings his other hand up to clutch at the paper. "I don't kno—just put it down, Lyra."

From the corner of her eye, she sees Marill becoming skittish, nervously gnawing on her tail.

"It's just a picture of a girl. You don't even know if she exists or if she's just based on your imagination. Why does it matter—"

He lunges forward to tear it out of her hands but her grip is surprisingly firm and the paper rips, not neatly from one side to the other, but all at once in a loud bang that makes Marill squeak and dart to a corner. Only then, does she let go of the shred that's left in her hand and it falls to the ground, gently, gently, stop.

He scrambles to the ground to pick up the piece and put it together with his but it's no use. Though it's only in two pieces, the tear goes all the way down the drawn girl's body and the rough middle layers of the paper make it impossible to create one coherent girl again.

"Ethan?" Lyra says. Her voice is quiet and uncertain.

He doesn't speak and just kneels there, his lab coat falling lamely to the curves of his hunched shoulders as he stares at the two halves before him.

"Ethan?" She tries again.

No answer. Not even a glance in her direction.

"I'm sorry."

But unlike when they were children, where he would at least get angry for a second or two or at least scowl at her or at least, at least, at least look at her before forgiving her...

He doesn't even look at her. She reaches out to comfort him and when her fingers make contact he flinches and turns his head sharply towards her, his breathing laboured.

He's not even angry. Just wounded.

She whispers it again. "I'm sorry, Ethan." Her voice cracks as it runs itself over his name. From the corner of her eye, Marill just looks at her, shuddering beside the kitchen counter.

She backs away slowly and darts out the front door and just runs, the wind and the early morning air tearing into her lungs, her ears, her eyes. Those callous whispers hiss at her between the dense forest pines and she covers her ears to block them out but it's no use running or blocking them because they keep growing stronger. She collapses against a tree trunk and brings her knees to her face.

When she looks up she has to blink twice—first because the faceless figures are still there, blending into the hazy fog of the morning and second because there's a girl sitting by a tree trunk a few feet away directly in front of her with her knees also to her face. Crying.

She has pigtails, red shirt, red shoes, all just like her. Lyra reaches out to her but it's too late.

This time her body becomes a string of numbers and she disappears, fading into the morning mist and the girl with the brown pigtails chokes back a sob as the figures surround her and grow louder than ever in their accusations. She tucks her head under her hat to shield herself but it's absolutely no use at all.

Under the sunrise of another day, she repeats over and over again two words in a small, broken voice.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Once data has been deleted, there is no way to recover it.

Delete saved data anyway?

Yes
No
:
:
→ Yes

Start new game?

Yes
No
:
:
→ Yes