The Empyrean Academy—an esteemed place where, according to legend, human will and God's will became one to extinguish the Abyss that tormented the world for thousands of years.
Just a tale from a game created by someone I once held dear.
And in a week, I'm supposed to enroll there.
A sick joke, to say the least.
They say a human's worth stems from the weight of their duty—the responsibility they bear in life. As I mulled over those words, my hand instinctively reached into my pocket, searching for a cigarette.
Old habits die hard, huh?
So much for quitting.
"Worthless… lower than garbage."
That was the only thing ringing in my head as I sparked the lighter and took a drag, smoke curling into the cold air. I stood silently before the grave, my vision blurring at the edges.
Damn this… damn it.
Isabel—why?
I couldn't comprehend it. Or maybe I refused to.
I lost her once.
And now here I was, once again, standing before her grave. At first, I thought I was dreaming. But it was just another nightmare refusing to end. Even now, my tears wouldn't fall.
For as long as I could remember, she had been a frail child. Her only joy was drawing. I told her not to push herself as her body grew weaker year after year—
—but how could I steal away the little happiness she had?
I still remember her smile when she told me she was working on a game project. She poured everything into it, working tirelessly to see it completed.
But before she could even publish it, she lost her life.
At the time, I couldn't believe it.
The only thing I truly remember after her death was sulking in my room, unable to leave the house. Days blurred into nights. The curtains stayed shut. Silence became suffocating.
Most of my time was spent playing the game she left behind—the last piece of her dream.
I cleared every route, every ending, every secret path. Yet as I searched for the true ending, the world grew blurrier, fading at the edges.
And when I opened my eyes…
I wasn't in my room anymore.
I was standing inside her world.
Aether Asteria.
That's my name now.
I collapsed in a narrow back alley, staring blankly at the night sky, unable to fully understand what had happened. Yet none of it seemed to matter. Who I was held no meaning anymore.
At first, I believed I had never asked for any of this—yet as the stars shone above me, fragmented memories surfaced. I saw a vision of a little sister in this world, and her name was the same as hers.
For a fragile moment, I thought it was a miracle.
A second chance.
Clinging to that hope, I believed there might be a chance for repentance—a chance for her to live the life she dreamed of, one not confined by suffering.
It had only been a month since I arrived in this world, yet every day haunted me. At the time, I didn't bother to understand where I was or who surrounded me. Guided by instinct alone, I chased the traces left behind in those fragmented memories.
Going to Isabel—that was my only thought.
I ran through streets that felt painfully familiar, arriving at a small mansion. I barged inside, ignoring the servants' voices as they reached out to check on me.
But it was nothing more than a hopeless wish.
When I finally stood before her room and saw that familiar smile greet me, my heart shattered into countless pieces.
She was the Isabel I knew—forcing a smile even as her body fell apart, clinging to brightness through her misery.
My legs failed and so did the lie I told to myself as a sharp pain rang through my head as memories resurfaced—why Aether had collapsed in the streets in the first place.
One month.
That was all she had left to live.
She was suffering from a terminal illness. Her death was certain.
I collapsed to the floor, clutching my chest as tears finally spilled free. She was crying too. Struggling from her bed, she knelt before me and gently embraced me, whispering:
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry for being such a useless sister who only makes you cry."
We cried together.
A cruel joke.
This world hadn't grown tired of playing it.
That month, I stayed by her side. We talked endlessly, shared dreams, and filled the days with quiet warmth. I refused to let her be alone—and she wasn't. The servants cared for her as family, attending to her every need.
But even joy has an end.
Isabel smiled until her very last breath.
Back in the real world, she died alone in her office—working, pushing herself, believing she still had time.
And in this world… I was there when she breathed her last.
Was that better?
Was it kinder for her to die without pursuing what she loved knowing it will come to failure?
Or was it better that I held her as the light left her eyes?
I don't know.
I don't think I ever will.
And now, here I am again—
standing before her grave.
As the cigarette burned down to ashes, only a silent whisper escaped my lips:
"…what am I supposed to do?"