Her body, along with her consciousness, plunges into the sea, falling and falling.
A deep sleep is about to descend.
But her consciousness touches the bottom.
Mesmer Jr.: Is this a dream?
Mesmer Jr.: A rare possibility. This would be the first time in three years my body has voluntarily triggered a dream.
Mesmer Jr.: What's that?!
Two figures emerge from the fog.
Their faces are familiar.
Yes, she knows them.
Mesmer Jr.: Still hiding away in the recesses of my mind ...
Rehab Center Staff Member Danny: Oh, it's you. That plague sent over by that damn family again.
Rehab Center Staff Member Danny: Your shame is precious, isn't it? You're going to keep it all for yourself—take it to the grave with you, aren't you?
Rehab Center Staff Member Danny: Well, I'm going to knock some sense into you, you narcissist! Dorothea would still be alive if she hadn't gotten close to you!
Rehab Center Staff Member Danny: Was it really rational to let Jerry Wilson go? He should've paid for Dorothea's death! You could've punished him in a thousand ways.
Rehab Center Staff Member Danny: But you just had to listen to the higher-ups and let the bastard go, didn't you, Mesmer Jr.?
Rehab Center Staff Member Danny: Hah. How noble! How rational of you! But, wait a minute, this was all because of you, wasn't it? So what gives you the right to make that decision?
He stares at her like a suspect on trial.
Another figure steps forward.
Rehab Center Staff Member Will: Wretch. When you looked at Dorothea's bloodied corpse, did you not even waver?
Rehab Center Staff Member Will: How can you still stand here and give us orders after that?
How can you still have the nerve to show your face at Laplace?
The figures fade away.
And new faces appear.
Z: When it came to restraining Vertin, you could've done things your own way, couldn't you?
Z: You didn't have to follow your orders.
Lilya: Hey, coward.
Lilya: Are you really so willing to be a pawn? You got no guts? No power to stand up for yourself?
Lilya: Pft. You're just a boot-licker for the bigwigs.
What a pathetic wretch.
Mesmer Jr. turns her back to the fog.
Of course, her feelings of shame and guilt would manifest in her dreams. She knows this better than anyone.
They attack her, just like her patients' dreams attacked them.
Mesmer Jr.: Time to leave.
With every step, she leaves the fog further behind.
Until a small hand gently tugs at the hem of her skirt.
???: Mesmer Jr. ...
???: You've come for us.
Mesmer Jr.: ...
Those voices ... They're her classmates, her friends that gathered under George the Oak and shared their memories and dreams of the outside world.
Two small silhouettes emerge from the fog.
They move together as they cautiously approach.
They're trembling.
Isabella: Why are you only coming now? Why didn't you come with us? Did you betray us?
Mesmer Jr. clenches her fist.
Mesmer Jr.: No, I-I didn't.
"The Ring": Why did you watch us disappear in the "Storm"?
Those questions, those uncontrollable impulses from deep within.
Isabella: You could've stopped them.
"The Ring": You could've at least spoken up for us, right?
Tears roll down the children's faces.
Why?
Weren't we the best of friends?
Did you forget our promise under George the Oak?
*sniff* We wanted to live, too.
More faces emerge from the fog.
Fearful, hostile, sad, painful, pitiful, crazed, wretched, weeping, screaming, angry, mocking, hateful ...
... jealous, resentful, scornful, disdainful, malicious, helpless, sorrowful, questioning ...
—Familiar.
The faces surround her, and the same word leaves all their mouths.
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
There are too many voices to count.
She stands there.
Alone, with no one beside her, the road ahead still foggy.
She turns around.
One by one, figures stand, all staring intently at her.
The fates of countless Mesmer family members intertwine and converge upon her.
She looks back at the faces in the fog.
...
Mesmer Jr.: Because ...
Mesmer Jr.: I'm a Mesmer.