The girl walked into the dusty room. The sound of her footsteps kicking up dust made her cover her nose and mouth, fanning away the dust in the room that hadn't been visited in years.
The room layouts at the Fire Moth Headquarters were generally similar, but everyone could customize them according to their personal preferences. The owner of this room was clearly someone who didn't care much about their living environment.
A chaotic, unplanned environment, piles of clothes and lab coats, instant food packaging...
Rooms of deceased Fire Moth members would usually be reassigned to newcomers, but rooms belonging to those who made significant contributions were preserved exactly as they were, maintained by sterilizers, as a memorial to them.
The girl casually pulled open a drawer. Inside lay a diary.
She took it out. After flipping through a few pages, she found a familiar name.
Lin.
The girl turned to the beginning of the diary, starting from when this person joined the Fire Moth. It was apparent he rarely had time to write, only jotting down scattered events he deemed important.
He had provided the Fire Moth with many advanced technologies while alive. A large part of Lin equipment was made by him.
After meeting Lin, the focus of his narrative gradually shifted to Lin. He wrote with both guilt and emotion in his diary that he might have treated Lin as a replacement for a deceased dear friend. That complex emotion made the girl pause.
"If anyone can advance on behalf of those of us who cannot, I think it is only Lin."
"Humans are naturally wingless birds yearning to fly. So, what I must do is attach wings to him."
The final entry abruptly ended. This person's significant contribution was stored so inconspicuously in this small diary.
...
This room had not yet been assigned to anyone, so the interior furnishings were still the same as before the owner left, though it would likely be replaced soon.
The girl could sense a certain emotion lingering in the room, which she could perceive directly from the various decorations and objects left behind.
She quickly walked over to the bedside, lifted the blanket, and climbed in, covering herself, closing her eyes to experience the feeling of the original owner resting here.
A moment later, she opened her eyes and looked at the photo frame on the bedside table.
One person in the photos was particularly noticeable. In every scene, he was present.
Admiration? Worship? Conflict?
The girl couldn't describe this person's emotions, because the person and the subject in the photo were separated by an intangible barrier.
But more than her feelings for Lin, the girl was more interested in this person's emotional journey.
Lin was in every photo, but the overall content of each photo was completely different, from the initial squad group photos, to later two-person photos of her and Lin, to finally only Lin remaining in the frame.
As the content of the photos changed, what she could perceive internally was also changing, wasn't it?
Growing narrower and more extreme.
In the end, did this person find peace?
The girl speculated. She placed the photo back where it was.
...
According to the data library, the girl had found the right place.
The assets left behind by someone who defected and passed away were taken over by the Fire Moth. They temporarily lacked the capacity to sort through which of the man's possessions were useful, so everything was sealed in one place.
She walked in. Without needing to reach out and turn on the light, the light above her head suddenly turned on.
Circling the meaningless objects, she curiously picked up a book. The gaudy cover looked quite old, and the content was a ridiculously cliché urban fantasy novel. It seemed quite inconsistent with the taste exhibited by the person's other belongings.
But upon closer inspection, she could find other objects deemed vulgar entertainment products, stored alongside items that might contain secrets, which was certainly eye-catching.
Was this a disregard for the distinction between high and low culture?
The girl somewhat guessed this person's thoughts. He knew these things were vulgar, but he didn't care whether they were noble or base, elegant or vulgar. Treating everything equally was enough for him.
"A weirdo."
Even the girl had to pass judgment on him.
He lived a life rooted in partiality, yet he was unwilling to acknowledge the inherent differences humans perceived in various matters.
Contradiction was the best interpretation of him. Whether he was a good or bad person... seemed as meaningless as assessing the value of these books.
...
After many months, the girl returned to this room. The setup was exactly the same as when she left. This was also characteristic of that person.
The room was clean and simple, seemingly uninhabited, furnished with only the most basic items, living a frugal life, taking only three minutes to shower... People who knew him probably thought this way.
But in reality, Lin would also place a pot of flowers in the corner of his room, his refrigerator was filled with various ingredients, he would cook different delicious dishes every day to satisfy his palate, and he would soak in the bathtub for about ten minutes after showering...
Living his own life, misunderstood by others. That person probably lived like that all along.
The girl hadn't looked too closely at the room before. This time, she could examine it to her heart's content in this empty room.
Besides the usually similar arrangements, the girl noticed that one drawer was locked.
Lin had few secrets. He had always openly displayed everything about himself to others. As for how others interpreted it, that was none of his concern.
So, it was quite novel that Lin had something locked away.
The girl touched the keyhole, and a key appeared in her hand. She inserted it, twisted, and the lock opened.
The contents were somewhat unexpected.
Two broken sword hilts, a beret, a coin, a pistol... and some other useless items were piled together. It was unclear whose they once were, or where Lin had retrieved them.
What was evident was that Lin was meticulously preserving these items that had lost their owner and value. For him, these things held immense significance, which was why he cautiously locked them in the drawer.
This seemed like preparations for...
"A burial collection..." the girl whispered softly.
Whether gifted by others or sought out by himself, the objects representing certain people, big or small, light or heavy, all left a strong imprint on the timeline in Lin heart.
But the girl felt something was amiss. Lin hadn't prepared anything to represent himself. When considering the burial of others' mementos, he hadn't considered his own.
She quickly let go of the thought.
Lin probably didn't need it. Even if he died without a name, he wouldn't object.
He was just that kind of person. She understood him well.
So, the girl smiled, placed one item inside, closed the drawer, and left.