Scene 115 — "Like a Memory Losing Its Place"
The hidden world trembled.
A new crack spread across the colossal gate.
Stone groaned.
Dust drifted from ancient runes.
Far beyond the fractures—
something moved.
The Traveler stood among the silver flowers.
The woman remained near the gate.
Watching it.
Listening.
Waiting.
The warning still lingered in the air.
Do not let it see your eyes.
The Traveler studied her.
Something felt wrong.
Not her words.
Not her presence.
Her existence.
The feeling grew stronger the longer he looked.
The woman remained motionless.
The crystal forests swayed gently.
The glowing rivers flowed.
Then—
the Traveler noticed it.
A flower behind her.
Visible through her sleeve.
Only for a moment.
A brief flicker.
Gone immediately afterward.
The sleeve became solid again.
The flower vanished behind the fabric.
The woman showed no reaction.
As though she hadn't noticed.
Or perhaps—
as though it happened often.
The Traveler remained silent.
The hidden world trembled again.
Another crack appeared upon the gate.
The woman lowered her gaze.
A faint sadness crossed her face.
Not because of the gate.
Not because of whatever waited behind it.
Something else.
Something older.
The Traveler watched.
Then it happened again.
This time her hand.
The fingers became transparent.
Not entirely.
Just enough.
Enough for the silver flowers beneath to become visible through her skin.
The effect lasted only a second.
Then disappeared.
Solid once more.
The woman slowly closed her eyes.
"...I was hoping it would hold longer."
The Traveler heard the words.
He understood them immediately.
Not because she explained.
Because he already knew what she meant.
The woman was fading.
The realization settled quietly between them.
She opened her eyes again.
A faint smile appeared.
Tired.
Resigned.
The smile of someone who had expected this moment.
"...You're noticing now."
The Traveler did not answer.
The gate cracked again.
The hidden world shuddered.
The woman's shadow vanished.
Instantly.
One moment it stretched across the flowers.
The next—
nothing remained.
No shadow.
No outline.
Only moonlike light surrounding her figure.
Then the shadow returned.
As though reality had corrected a mistake.
The woman looked down at her hands.
For a moment she seemed distant.
Lost in memory.
Then she laughed softly.
Not from amusement.
From recognition.
"...It's happening again."
The Traveler stared.
The woman lifted her eyes toward him.
Something in her expression had changed.
Not fear.
Not sadness.
Loneliness.
Profound loneliness.
The kind carried across centuries.
The kind that survives long after memories die.
The gate trembled violently.
Another fracture raced across its surface.
The sound echoed throughout the underground world.
The rivers rippled.
The flowers bowed.
The crystal forests shook.
The woman looked toward the gate.
Then back toward the Traveler.
And for the first time—
there was urgency in her voice.
Real urgency.
"...Listen carefully."
The fading around her became worse.
Her hair flickered.
The edges of her robes blurred.
Tiny fragments of light drifted away from her form.
Like pieces of a memory breaking apart.
The Traveler remained silent.
Listening.
The woman took a slow breath.
As though gathering strength.
Then she spoke.
"...The gate isn't a prison."
Silence.
The hidden world listened.
The Traveler listened.
The woman continued.
"...It's a door."
Another crack.
Louder this time.
The stone groaned.
Something enormous shifted behind it.
The woman glanced toward the sound.
Then immediately looked back at him.
Her face flickered.
For an instant—
she nearly disappeared.
Then returned.
Weaker than before.
"...And doors open both ways."
The words settled heavily across the flowers.
The Traveler's gaze narrowed.
The woman smiled again.
A sad smile.
A familiar smile.
As though she had known him for a very long time.
Even if neither of them remembered why.
Then—
her right arm vanished.
Completely.
Not severed.
Not destroyed.
Gone.
The empty sleeve fluttered in the glowing wind.
The woman stared at it.
Then sighed.
"...That's unfortunate."
The gate thundered.
A massive section of stone shifted.
The crack widened.
Darkness became visible beyond it.
Not ordinary darkness.
Something deeper.
Something older.
The flowers throughout the hidden world bent toward the gate.
Every single one.
The woman looked at the widening fracture.
Then at the Traveler.
And for the first time since he had met her—
fear appeared in her eyes.
Not fear for herself.
Fear for him.
The fading spread further.
Light drifted from her shoulders.
Her outline blurred.
The hidden world shook.
And behind the gate—
something took a step closer.