FVN Chapter 192: A will to live....2.5
Chapter 192: A will to live....2.5
Chapter 192: A will to live....2.5
Her sudden turn to the dark side had never quite made sense.
Even after considerable research into her lore, the developers had
left players with little to no information about her true motivations.
She was, in essence, a loophole-a glaring plot hole in the game's storyline. And that plot hole seemed to mirror another character: Rose.
Dorothy and Rose shared something significant, something that connected their fates in a way that went beyond the surface-level storytelling.
In every possible end Dorothy faced, Rose had always been a part of it-whether as a friend, an opponent, or an ally.
The two of them were intrinsically linked in a way that hadn't been fully explained in the game.
But now, as I sat beside her in the ruins of the clock tower, it was becoming clearer.
Their connection wasn't random; it was deliberate, deeply woven into the fabric of the narrative.
"Why show me this?"
Dorothy smiled softly, though there was a touch of sadness in her expression.
"I don't know," she admitted, her golden eyes reflecting the morning light.
"I just felt like I could trust you to keep this little secret with me... to the grave, Junior."
Her words weighed heavily on me.
'Trust.'
It wasn't something I had expected from her, not like this.
But there was something genuine in her gaze, something that made me feel like I had been given a glimpse into the real Dorothy-the one who had been hidden away all this time, behind layers of darkness and complexity.
"Does Rose know about this?" I asked, almost instinctively.
Dorothy's expression shifted, a slight frown tugging at her lips.
She shook her head. "No... There's no need to burden that child with such complexities. Rose is meant to become the shining light for everyone. Her path must walk straight, without any distractions."
With her golden hair basking in the soft morning light,
Dorothy looked so similar to Rose that it was undeniable now-their connection ran deeper than mere coincidence.
'They were sisters.'
The resemblance was striking, not just in appearance but in the aura they carried.
And yet, despite the obvious truth, they had lived completely separate lives, unaware of each other's existence.
The reasons for their estrangement, though not explicitly spoken, were becoming clearer by the moment.
Rose, the bright and shining beacon, was meant to take center stage, to bask in the limelight as the perfect child, the hope of her family.
But Dorothy? Dorothy was the hidden shame, the blemish on the family's reputation-the illegitimate child, the one they kept in the shadows.
A bastard.
It was painfully easy to piece together now, and the burden Dorothy must have carried throughout her childhood was suddenly all too clear.
The weight of being cast aside, of being hidden away to preserve a façade of family honor.
If she had been burdened with this her entire life, it explained so much-her readiness to disappear, her willingness to fade from the world without a trace.
She had been preparing for this, hadn't she?
This wasn't the desperate, panicked retreat of someone caught off guard.
Dorothy had planned for her end, had come to terms with it long before this moment.
And though I still didn't have all the details, it was now apparent that Dorothy, in some way, had always been destined to die.
What Dorothy had done-choosing to disappear now, in this way-wasn't just about her own demise.
She had set the stage for someone else.
Her actions had a purpose, a clear intent.
She wanted to cast a light on someone, to bring the focus to the person she believed deserved it most.
Perhaps that was why, in the game, there was always a heroine and a hero present in each of her scenarios.
Dorothy wasn't just a boss to defeat for glory; she was a character specifically designed to highlight the strengths and potential of others.
Her role was to elevate those around her, to make them shine brighter in the eyes of the world.
She was a necessary sacrifice for the sake of others' greatness.
Suddenly, the weight of what she had been carrying all this time hit me like a wave.
The constant rejection, the lack of recognition, the quiet suffering she probably experienced ever since she was a child, it all made sense now.
Dorothy had never been allowed to be her own person, never given the chance to step into the light on her own terms.
And so, she had chosen to shape her own end-to make sure that her death would have meaning, even if her life hadn't been allowed to.
"I must've been hard..." The words slipped out of my mouth before I even realized it. "You've
done enough...."
Dorothy's golden eyes flickered in surprise, as if she hadn't expected anyone to acknowledge the pain she had endured.
For a moment, she just stared at me, her expression softening.
There was a glimmer of something in her gaze-gratitude, maybe?
Or perhaps just the quiet relief of someone who had finally been seen, even if only at the end.
[Note: It is advised to-]
'Just shut up and record...'
I didn't care about the warnings.
The system's mechanical voice faded into the background as I focused solely on her.
I needed this. I needed to remember every detail, every word she spoke, every flicker of
emotion in her eyes.
Even if it hurt me, even if it left a scar on my mind, I didn't care.
This was Dorothy's final gift to me, and I wasn't going to let it slip away.
Her body, once solid and alive, was now barely visible—a ghostly outline of what she once
was.
But even as she faded, her smile remained.
She looked at me with those golden eyes, full of warmth and something I couldn't quite place
-maybe it was peace, maybe it was acceptance.
"Thank you... for finding me," she whispered, her voice soft and gentle, like a breeze passing
through the trees.
And then, just like that, she was gone.
A soft shimmer of light enveloped her as she vanished, leaving behind nothing but the empty
space beside me.
The air where she had been was still, as if the world itself was holding its breath, acknowledging her quiet departure.
I stared at the empty space for a long time, my heart slightly heavy with the weight of her
absence.
She had been right there, only moments ago, and now... she was gone.
The only thing left was the lingering warmth in my heart, the faint echo of her presence that
still clung to the air, and the memories I had carefully archived.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, its golden light illuminated the ruins of the clocktower,
casting long, jagged shadows across the ground.
The debris, the crumbling walls, and the gaping hole in the roof all seemed to blend together
in a scene of desolation.
Yet, amid the chaos, the morning sun bathed everything in a quiet, almost serene glow.
I stood there, staring at the spot where Dorothy had vanished, feeling a strange hollowness
settle in my chest.
It was as if the weight of the entire encounter was finally catching up to me, sinking deep into
my bones.
I had come here with hope-hope that I could somehow change things, that I could be the one to save her.
But now, that hope felt naive, almost laughable.
In the end, all I had done was bear witness to her final moments.
I hadn't been the hero, hadn't altered fate, hadn't rewritten her story.
I had merely stood by, helpless, as she accepted her inevitable end.
And yet, despite the emptiness gnawing at me, there was a strange sense of comfort in the
memory of those final moments.
Dorothy hadn't been scared, nor bitter.
She had smiled, laughed even, and in her own way, she had lived right until the end.
There was something peaceful in that-an odd sense of closure.
Turning toward the dark corner where she had disappeared, I reached into my pouch and
pulled out a few spare mana stones.
They were small, glowing faintly with energy-nothing grand or ceremonial, but they would
have to do.
I knelt down and carefully placed them on the ground, in the exact spot where Dorothy had crumbled into nothingness.
The stones shimmered faintly in the shadows, a quiet tribute to the girl who had borne so much, yet asked for so little in the end.
Straightening up, I took a deep breath and made a slight bow.
"Goodbye, President....."
The words felt inadequate, almost too simple for the gravity of the moment, but they were all
I had.
There was no grand speech, no heroic farewell.
Just a quiet acknowledgment of the life she had lived and the peace she had found, however
fleeting.