16:00
Berlin
Street, Berlin
A cold stillness hangs over the land.
Cars stream along the streets of Berlin, a few pedestrians hurrying past.
Mueller: "I-I've finally returned."
Mueller: "I ... I'm finally back. I once knew every inch of this place—every shop, every breath of air." Now, all that keeps him company is a broken tombstone and endless solitude.
Mueller: "Did you know? Berlin shaped every one of us."
Necrologist: "Mr. Mueller, this doesn't look anything like the 'origin of the hero' you spoke of." She scans her surroundings.
Mueller: "Of course, heroes have never stayed here long."
Mueller: "We always march on, forward—until at last, we return to receive the medals and praise we deserve."
As Mueller finishes his speech, the long-silent stone in the box finally finds its voice.
Smith: "I can smell it ..."
He shudders with unease.
Fresh wet drops fall. Mr. Smith's condition has only worsened since arriving in Berlin.
Necrologist: "Mr. Smith, how thoughtless of me."
Necrologist: "Perhaps it is best that we return."
Mueller: "No, no! Ms. Necrologist, you mustn't leave!"
Mueller: "This is the heart of Berlin, the very source of our nation's pride."
Mueller: "Please, won't you take us for a walk around Berlin? Just to take in the atmosphere of her streets, perhaps it might even cure Mr. Crybaby's woes."
Mueller: "Don't change course just for the sake of this half-delirious wreck."
In his condition, Smith is unable to endure this sort of stimulation. It's best to leave now.
Necrologist: "My apologies, Mr. Mueller. We can't stay any longer."
Necrologist: "The process of fulfilling the wishes of the dead requires a gradual process. Sometimes, strong shocks can backfire ..."
Mueller: "If you must insist, Ms. Necrologist, but know that I will not rest peacefully until we return."
A silence falls not only from Necrologist's decision, but also in the streets surrounding them.
After some inspection, Mueller begins to notice that the streets are not as he remembered them. They are far bleaker.
Smith: "Harbor ... gunpowder ..." Smith mutters the broken words again and again, shivering against the glass like a startled deer.
Necrologist: "Mr. Smith, you caught the scent of that creature?!"
Mueller: "Gunpowder? You mean you can smell the smoke?" He presses incredulously, shaking off flecks of grit with something like envy.
Mueller: It seems every tombstone holds a [Lingering Ghost] with its own peculiar traces. "Only an atmosphere this thick can forge strong soldiers. Of course, the weak-willed may not stand for it."
Smith doesn't respond to Mueller's words, but his stone trembles silently.
Mueller: "In fact, Mr. Smith, you really ought to learn to be a proper soldier. "
Mueller: "Right here, just like us—we followed orders, bled for the Great War, brothers to the end."
Mueller: "Berlin will give you faith, or at least cure you of this nonsensical aversion to smoke."
Necrologist: "Mr. Mueller, not everyone is meant to be a soldier. And not everyone wants to be."
The proud stone threatens to ramble on. Necrologist cuts him off cleanly.
Necrologist: "It is time for us to leave."
Thanks to your decision, you've grown more determined.
Necrologist: "My apologies, Mr. Mueller. We can't stay any longer."
Necrologist: "The process of fulfilling the wishes of the dead requires a gradual process. Sometimes, strong shocks can backfire ..."
Mueller: "If you must insist, Ms. Necrologist, but know that I will not rest peacefully until we return."
A silence falls not only from Necrologist's decision, but also in the streets surrounding them.
After some inspection, Mueller begins to notice that the streets are not as he remembered them. They are far bleaker.
Smith: "Harbor ... gunpowder ..." Smith mutters the broken words again and again, shivering against the glass like a startled deer.
Necrologist: "Mr. Smith, you caught the scent of that creature?!"
Mueller: "Gunpowder? You mean you can smell the smoke?" He presses incredulously, shaking off flecks of grit with something like envy.
Mueller: It seems every tombstone holds a [Lingering Ghost] with its own peculiar traces. "Only an atmosphere this thick can forge strong soldiers. Of course, the weak-willed may not stand for it."
Smith doesn't respond to Mueller's words, but his stone trembles silently.
Mueller: "In fact, Mr. Smith, you really ought to learn to be a proper soldier. "
Mueller: "Right here, just like us—we followed orders, bled for the Great War, brothers to the end."
Mueller: "Berlin will give you faith, or at least cure you of this nonsensical aversion to smoke."
Necrologist: "Mr. Mueller, not everyone is meant to be a soldier. And not everyone wants to be."
The proud stone threatens to ramble on. Necrologist cuts him off cleanly.
Necrologist: "It is time for us to leave."
Thanks to your decision, you've grown more determined.
