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There are so many people, so many faces...

How many of them once knew Lyney? How many people has Lyney passed that must have known his name? Nobody in particular seems to stand out, there are familiars—the newspaper boy, the man running the cafe, the tall, red-eyed woman who runs an orphanage, yet none of them seem to poke out at Lyney like Charlotte does.

Perhaps he has met Freminet before, but Lyney feels something strange whenever he catches a pink-haired girl bobbing by on her toes. He tilts his head ever so slightly to observe her sometimes, as if a different angle of her face will jog any of his memories.

Gods, it bothers him.

"Freminet, you know Charlotte, don't you?" Lyney asks one evening on the aquabus, crossing his legs and wrapping his arms around himself.

"I don't personally know her, per se," Freminet shifts in his seat, repositioning himself with his hands at his sides. "But I've encountered her quite a few times. She has this idea that I'm some unique diver, with some sort of secret."

I would think that, Lyney thinks of himself studies Freminet's face now, noticing the constellation of freckles that hides behind the shadow of Freminet's hands. We made quite a few deliveries the past day or so, and he's barely said a word to any of his employers.

"I want to do something. About the memories," Lyney suggests suddenly, snapping his fingers as if he'll pull a card out of thin air. The faces he's sure he's seen before burn in the back of his mind...

Freminet's eyes widen, and his voice lowers. "Have you even heard about what happens to the people who we forget about?"

Lyney shakes his head innocently.

"I don't know much either—and that's the thing. Many people who have their memories wiped are taken into a home, supported by the Gardes... and they never appear again. The people of Fontaine hush about the prophecy because of how much it worries them, and most people don't even think about the victims, or what happens after—" Freminet lifts his gaze, and Lyney turns his head, a few people staring at them from behind.

The boy taps his foot impatiently on the ground, drumming his fingers against the fabric of his shorts. He looks around. "Do you know someone who would know?"

"There's someone who's always looking for the scoop. Someone who's willing to do anything to prove the truth," Freminet stands as the aquabus approaches their stop. Lyney's hand is clammy against the handrail. "Charlotte knows just about everything, and I know exactly how to get to her."

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The next morning, the two of them approach a circular-shaped building. It's billboard is packed with flyers, an organized chaos advertising beauty products and restaurants alike. The papers blow in the wind, the sound of them snapping sweet to Lyney's ears—he reaches for the door handle, Freminet behind him, and he pulls—at the very same time, someone pushes from the other side, and they fall right on their face at Lyney's feet.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" Lyney drops the door and rushes over to the girl, wiping her pink hair out of her face. "Here, let me—"

He meets a very familiar face.

Freminet stutters, "Ah! Miss Charlotte! It's you!"

"H-hello?" She adjusts the monocole on the right side of her face, shaking her head as if to shake the dirt off her clothes. "Lyney? Freminet? I didn't expect to see you here."

Lyney shakes his head. She's not going to want to talk to us after we've collided twice now, is she? Lyney takes her hand and pulls her up. Freminet shyly holds her small camera in his hands, a cute little thing in a decorative brown case.

"Monsieur Verite? Oh no, are you broken? Poor thing..." Charlotte takes the camera back in her hands, and plays with the lens, frowning as she twists it back and forth.

"Is there anything we can do to help...?" Lyney asks, folding his hands behind his back.

Charlotte pouts her lips, her gaze drifting over to the coffee shop in the distance.

"We can buy you coffee, and I can fix Monsieur Verite," a bashful voice suggests, and the two of them turn and face Freminet.

Charlotte has a look on her face. "Well, I'd appreciate that, but don't you..."

"Freminet and I were looking for you, actually," Lyney flashes a smile. "We're you headed off for..."

"Coffee, yes! At the Cafe Lutece, just over there," she gestures to the umbrella-covered restaurant. "I just had to deliver my report, and I wanted to get coffee before researching..."

Well isn't that just perfect? Lyney grins to himself, and the three of them find themselves at one of the tables; Charlotte has a cake and coffee, Lyney has a slice of pie, and Freminet has chosen a glass of water. It's to "save money," Freminet insists, but Lyney can tell he's been a little uneasy since Charlotte entered the picture. She blinks enthusiastically between the both of them, her hair blowing gracefully in the wind, revealing a small braid between it's thick layers. She sits so tall, Lyney notices, as she delicately stirs her coffee with a fork.

"What did you want to talk with me about?" The journalist's bright eyes fall on Lyney, who feels pressure immediately weigh on his chest. The way she looks at me, or quite frankly anyone... why does it have that effect? Perhaps it's because she's a journalist?

"You might want to be up front with this," Freminet suggests, and Charlotte leans in, her face propped on her hands.

Lyney sucks the air in through his teeth and decides to tell her everything. He starts with drowning, Freminet rescuing him, his lost memories, and the fact that it must have to do with the memory wipe... "So, we were wondering... what exactly happens to the people who lose their memories? What happens when they are recovered?"

Charlotte, with a hard look on her face, sits back and crosses one leg over the other. Lyney and Freminet do the same, the mood in the airy Fontanian atmosphere quickly shifting. "Well, for our friend here, let's be clear. There's a prophecy that has haunted every Fontanian for centuries, stating that the seas will swallow the people of Fontaine, leaving the hydro archon to survive, weeping, on her lonely throne. No one has ever been able to clearly decipher it, but for hundreds of years, we've noticed people going missing. Fontanians have felt this... sense that they are missing parts of their lives, as if half their story has vanished into midair. Bodies were discovered drifting in the sea, and eventually people were recovered, unable to speak, or screaming without ceasing..."

The three of them shiver, and Lyney notices a mist beginning to build up around them. A light rain has begun to fall without reason, and bells chime in the distance, bells ringing and resounding inside of Lyney's tolling head. He's not surprised that he's familiar with the words of the prophecy, as if he had once committed them to memory, but it still shakes him...

What would his fate have been if Freminet didn't save him from drowning?

Would he have just... given up?

"The people who have lost their memory are kept hidden from the public so that people can live their lives. After all, worry eliminates all options narrows the mind down to one topic: fear," Charlotte shivers.

"Did the hydro archon approve of the... memory-wiped people?" Lyney thinks slowly. Surely, this is something that doesn't fall far from the gaze of a goddess?

Freminet shakes his head, and the journalist speaks for him. "Hydro archon? Ever since the Archon War, Fontaine has been waiting for one. But they haven't come."

"But, the prophecy," Lyney hesitates. "How is the hydro archon supposed to weep on her lonely throne according to the prophecy, if there is no hydro archon?"

"Maybe she will be too late," Freminet peeps sadly, looking up from twisting the gears of Monsieur Verite. Everyone is oddly silent—even Pers, who stares at his master with blank eyes.

That can't be true.

People just don't abandon each other like that.

Well.

The hydro archon certainly isn't a human; and if there's a prophecy speaking with impending doom on her nation, coming true in front of her eyes, why would she step into the spotlight if she knew she was doomed to fail?

"So... there is no cure to the memory wipe," Lyney shakes his head. He was hoping that maybe the prophecy would jog some sort of memory, some sort of action—but it didn't seem like it.

"Prophecies come true," Charlotte sets her mug down on the tabe. "Never once has a prophecy not come true, no matter how we mortals and immortals try to break or bend it. But that doesn't mean that people are still willing to try," Charlotte says warily, reaching into the back of her pocket, a look in her eyes full of mischief and anxiety that Lyney seems to know all too well. "There's a powerful astrologist who writes a column for the Steambird every now and then. Her name is Mona Megistus, and just a few days ago, she sent me this letter."

The journalist pulls out a piece of thin paper, long and delicate cursive across it. "Mona Megistus created or discovered a potion that could be the remedy that we need. I... don't doubt her, but some of the things on this list are a little, well, radical," Charlotte presses the paper into Lyney's hand, and Freminet leans over to read it as well.

There are many flowers listed—cecelias, forget-me-nots, lumidouce bells and rainbow roses... whatever a lycoris radiata is? Lyney's thumb falls to the bottom of a page, where a line, clearly thought over, has been pasted: "All flowers can be manifested through pure human emotion. To successfully make this remedy, one must authentically harvest every flower by harnessing emotions. Only then will our remedy truly work..."

Freminet huffs, though his eyes are filled with wonder, "It sounds sort of like a fairytale."

"Is this... really what's going to save all of us?" Lyney is hesitant to let go of it.

Charlotte looks down in her lap. "I-- I was told by her in a letter that people would come to me, looking for my help, and I was to give them this," she shakes her head with determination, and she stands to her feet, declaring:

"I want to be so much more than a messenger. I may not be able to give this message to the public but I—I want to personally help you, more than anything!"

People waiting under umbrellas and under their coats turn their heads so slightly, Lyney and Freminet looks to each other with slight discomfort.

Charlotte scoots back in her chair, the sound of it moving across the ground sharp in their ears. Her hair has been slightly matted because of the shower above them, but she doesn't seem to notice it. Her gaze is completely fixed on Lyney and Freminet, who look back at her anxiously.

"I suppose... we're going on an adventure together, aren't we?" Freminet clicks something into place, and Charlotte grins, her camera friend passed right back into her hands. "Here. Is it working?"

Charlotte forgets to check, bouncing up from her seat, barely able to contain her excitement. "Do you want me to join you? I know Fontaine like the back of my hand, I promise!"

Lyney sits down, watching the two of them high five, their hands together barely making a sound. But he nods.

Are they making a fatal mistake?

What if these two strangers end up dead because of him...?

Is it so selfish to want a life he can't remember? Is it so wrong to want an old story when Lyney could start fresh and new?

Charlotte grins, taking Lyney's hand in hers. "You know what? We should talk about some other things over cherry wine sometime?"

"Ch- cherry wine?" Lyney recoils, "Sorry, where did that come from?"

"Oh, no, just a thought!" Charlotte laughs nervously, and it's easy to tell that she's forcing a smile on her face—

"Hey, is anyone else just really cold?" Freminet shivers, and Lyney comes to his side immediately, as if his warmth will be enough for the both of them.

The journalist cringes, looking from the Steambird's offices, which are not too far up the road. "How about you stay with me until the skies clear? We can weather the weather together, how about that?"

Lyney tilts his head. "Are we going to have cherry wine?"

"I... don't think we have any wine at the Steambird," Charlotte shrugs, and gestures for them both to come along. "Hey, are you two just going to stand there and freeze?"

Lyney looks at Freminet, who has faint-heartedly curled up behind him, about ready to grasp his arm. "I don't mind going to a warm place."

"Me neither!" Charlotte calls over the sound of brewing thunder, and Lyney doesn't think he could agree more.

It's just... weird to think that the two of them are perfectly willing to go on adventures with a complete stranger. Lyney smiles, though his thoughts are clear: now that I've tied myself to these people, I absolutely cannot let them down.

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