Congratulations, Bette.
Bette: For me?
Bette: Oh my god, I can finally stop pretending to be someone else on the big screen.
Bette: Victim C
Bette: Ah!
Bette: What's happening?
What was that?
No matter how hard she tries, Bette can never pinpoint where the chaos began.
It feels like reality itself is caving in, as if someone had knocked over a dollhouse with one swift blow.
What's going on?
The world is falling apart. Raindrops rise from the ground, defying gravity, while her thoughts plummet, free-falling into the pavement of the film set.
The scene flips. A woman's scream echos in her ears, sharp and frantic. But it isn't Bette's voice. It belongs to someone else.
Bette: Have I gotten too deep into my role and forgotten where the script ends and reality begins?
Bette: Or was it something the camera captured?
She covers her mouth and nose with her hand, as if trying to suppress her rising panic.
Foundation Staff Member I: Miss Bette, is this a good time?
Reality at last interrupts Bette's stream of frantic thoughts. More pressing than fear, she needs to return to the present.
Bette: Ahem ... Come in.
A woman in a black-and-white business suit walks in, holding a thin folder in her right arm. Her face hidden under a white mask.
Seeing the masked woman, Bette instinctively touches her upper lip.
The mustache she had worn before was gone. The realization hits like an overwhelming sense of nakedness.
Foundation Staff Member I: Feeling any better after a night in your own bed?
Bette: Me? Oh ... I guess so ...
She is still alive, at least.
Foundation Staff Member I: Your body has recovered well. You should be able to begin the intake process today.
Though she can't read her face behind the mask, the voice carries a certain kindness.
She takes out a form and places it in front of Bette.
Bette: Intake ...
Foundation Staff Member I: There's no rush. You have plenty of time to think it over. After all, you've been through a lot. You may need time to process it.
Bette takes the form and scrolls across it mechanically.
Bette: ◇ St. Pavlov Foundation ◇
Name：_____________
Gender：_____________
Arcane Skill：_____________
How many times has she filled out forms just like this over the years?
But the words only pass over her lips. They never sink in, never become anything meaningful.
Bette: ...
Bette stops reading and stares blankly at the form.
Foundation Staff Member I: Do you have any questions?
Bette: Outside ...
Bette recalls the nightmare she had barely survived.
Bette: What happened out there?
Bette: ...
Bette: This ...
The staff member leads Bette from the guest room and into the hallway. Here, she finally gets a glimpse beyond the Foundation's sterile walls at the new era awaiting her.
Beyond the echoing footsteps and hushed voices in the hallway, a peaceful scene unfolds.
A deep blue lake stretching far across the horizon, a white sailboat drifting toward its center.
On the shore, a family sits on a pale pink picnic blanket. The children are running in and out of the shade of the trees, while their mother watches them from the edge of the grass.
Foundation Staff Member I: The outside world is safe now. Once you've recovered, you'll be free to leave the Foundation, though few choose to.
The sunlight is soft, carving out crisp shadows without feeling harsh or glaring.
The air beyond is fresh, a stark contrast to the chlorine-laced sterility of the hospital. It feels like the real world.
But Bette frowns, staring at the idyllic scene in disbelief.
Bette: There's something strange here ... eerie almost.
Her pupils tremble, and the illusion of peace shatters—but this disaster is one only she can see.
Foundation Staff Member I: You're not the first to say that.
The world is still beautiful; yesterday no different from today. So what exactly have I lost?
Bette glances at the staff member beside her. Her voice calm, her masked face unmoving—yet Bette can tell she is still wearing that same rehearsed smile.
Foundation Staff Member I: The world is mostly the same, but there are things that have changed.
Foundation Staff Member I: Hmm ...
The staff member takes out a pen, resting the cap against her lips as she ponders for a moment.
Foundation Staff Member I: That house has a new roof, and the trees have grown taller.
Foundation Staff Member I: That park over there—its fence used to be black, the paint was peeling off. Now it's white.
She points at them with the pen, speaking as if these shifts were the most natural thing in the world.
Her gaze returns to Bette.
Foundation Staff Member I: If you want to understand what you've been through, you can attend the Foundation's information session once you've recovered. You'll get some answers there.
Foundation Staff Member I: We've developed a standard recovery process for survivors of the "Storm."
Foundation Staff Member I: It will help you move past the trauma, adjust to your new life, and if you choose, join us in assisting others.
Foundation Staff Member I: You're free to go about the facility as you please. If you'd like, you might want to visit the other survivor who arrived with you.
Foundation Staff Member I: Welcome to the world after the "Storm."
Bette: "The other survivor"?
The screams in her ears never really faded. If anything, they have grown sharper.
Foundation Staff Member I: Yes. I believe she was your colleague.
The staff member flips through the folder, searching for a particular page.
Foundation Staff Member I: Her name is Jones.
Bette: Jones ...
Jones: I hate this place.
Jones braces herself against the fake brick-patterned wooden panel with one hand, pressing down her wind-blown hat with the other.
Her elegant face is caked in thick, exaggerated makeup.
Jones: It's so high up, and the walls feel awful! They just slapped these painted panels on and called it a day! Why should I have expected better when they call this mess on my face "makeup"?
Perched atop the tower set, Jones makes no effort to hide her frustration.
Jones: My eyes sting! This foundation is already running like a soup—I feel like I'm going to pass out!
Bette: I'll try to get this in one take so we can wrap up.
Bette keeps her head down, double-checking the harness around her waist, making sure it doesn't peek into the shot.
In a few moments, she will be playing the male lead, leaping off the tower right in front of Jones.
Jones: You'd better get it in one take, Miss Bette. I heard you're a real professional.
Bette: Uh ... yeah.
The grumbled compliment leaves Bette unsure whether it is genuine or sarcastic.
She returns to the safety checks, not wanting to push Jones's temper.
A top Hollywood star like her could have Bette fired with a snap of her fingers.
Jones: When are they calling action? They—
Her words are cut off abruptly, like someone sliced them clean through. Bette glances up in confusion, trying to see what has caught her attention.
Jones: What is that?!
Bette: Hm?
Jones's body stiffens as she looks ahead.
Jones: Something's wrong.
Bette: ...
Following the same eyeline, Bette turns toward something beyond her comprehension.
怪异的感觉如同洪水蔓延，世界仿佛为贝蒂戴上了万花镜，随着难以描述的异样逐渐肢解现实，布景高塔已如孤岛。
The sky begins to take on a kaleidoscope-like panoply of colors, the phenomenon spreading out like a flood over the horizon.
Reality begins to unravel around them, leaving the tower standing out like a strange island.
Until it collapses.
Foundation Staff Member I: She's inside.
Bette: Thank you ...
The staff member leaves her just outside the door.
Beyond the thick glass, a woman lies inside a capsule-like machine, her face wrapped in bandages. Several grayish-white square monitors are angled toward the head of the device, watching over Jones.
The room is silent except for the rhythmic beeping of machines.
Bette: Jones?
At the sound of Bette's voice, the woman turns her head toward the window.
Bette places her hand against the glass, and the screams begin to fade, replaced by shallow, raspy breaths.
