“Sister?” the word echoed in her mind like a distant memory, a possibility she had never dared to eain. Her eyes remained fixed on the figure with yellow hair, who bore a remarkable resembo Risebelle and Roselle, the creations of Dr. Kintovar.

  As Runebelle tio observe the se unfold, she listeo the yellow-haired girl.

  The yellow-haired girl looked at Sarah with a fused face. “Like, seriously, Sarah, what were you even thinking? I thought we were, like, friends, but you’re, like, hanging out with someone who’s, like, not even, like, cool enough. Are y to, like, sabotage your own popurity?”

  While she spoke to Sarah, her tone was critical and judgmental. “So, like, Sarah, what were you, like, even thinking, hanging out with her?” She motioned dismissively in Runebelle’s dire. “I mean, seriously, she’s like, so not cool, and you’re, like, my friend, right?”

  Sarah, clearly caught off guard by the girl’s attitude, stammered in response, “I...I just thought it was o talk to someone. She seemed really lonely.”

  The yellow-haired girl rolled her eyes and tinued, “Yeah, well, if you want, like, more attention or whatever, you should, like, totally stop talking to her. Hanging out with the weirdos won’t, like, make you popur, you know?”

  Runebelle watched this exge with a small level of intrigue and .

  The girls surrounding Sarah tio chime in with their own ents.

  One of them, with a flip of her hair, added, “Seriously, Sarah, you’ve got to, like, level up yame. Hanging out with her is, like, so not on-trend.”

  Anirl, emphasizing her words with exaggerated haures, said, “Yeah, girl, you o, like, prioritize your image. It’s all about who you’re seen with, you know?”

  Sarah, feeling the pressure from her so-called friends, looked torn. She gnced in Runebelle’s dire, her face refleg guilt.

  As Runebelle observed the teuation unfolding before her, a dawning uanding began to take root in her mind. She khat the pressure Sarah faced from her friends mirrored the loneliness and isotion she had experienced in her own past. It ainful reminder of the choices people made to fit in, even if it mearaying their true selves.

  With this in mind, her thoughts drifted to her college days, where she had also faced a simir struggle to belong and had found so her friendship with Mica. It was a bittersweet memory, ohat carried both moments of happiness aache.

  Runebelle turned her attention inward, speaking to the System that had guided her through these fragmented memories. “I’m starting to piece things together, System. My past, the choices I made, the friendships I formed... It’s all being clearer.”

  The System responded with a cheerful tone filled with pride. “You’re doing great, Project Rune! Yathering the pieces of your own story and uanding the plexities of your past. You’re one smart cookie!”

  Runebelle’s memories drifted to that fateful day, the day before her Mother left oer. It had been a day etched in her mind, though back then, she was too overwhelmed by her own sado question the visible signs of turmoil on her mother’s face.

  On that evening, Runebelle had e home to find her mother looking as though she had been in a fight, her face marked with weariness and sadness. Despite her own struggles, Runebelle couldn’t help but be ed. She approached her mother and asked softly, “Mom, are you okay?”

  Her mother replied, “I’m fine, sweetie. Just…a rough day at work, that’s all. I’ve prepared dinner for us, so don’t worry about a thing.”

  Inwardly, Runebelle couldn’t help but think, “Wait a minute...something’s nht here.” She remembered the versation about her mother potentially losing her job in a year, and the realization dawned on her. By now, her mother should have faced the sequences of that impending job loss. The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into pce, and Runebelle sehat there was more to the story than she had initially uood.

  Runebelle felt a strong urge to speak up, to question her mother about what was truly happening, wheried to speak, she found herself wordless, uo utter a single sound. Panic briefly gripped her, and she wondered why she couldn’t speak.

  The System, as if sensing her fusioly intervened. “In this memory, Project Rune, you ’t speak because, well, you didn’t actually say anything back then. This memory in particur is well-guarded, and it doesn’t allow for alterations. You’re here to observe, to uand, but not to ge.”

  Runebelle’s frustration was evident ihoughts while p the limitations of her jourhrough her own memories.

  After the meal, Rune, her mother, turo Runebelle with a smile and asked, “Did you enjoy dinner, sweetie?”

  Runebelle, with a shake of her head, indicated that she hadn’t e. But deep down, she couldn’t help but remember the tless times she had smiled at her mother’s cooking.

  Rune, notig the pyful gesture, gave her daughter a light tap on the head. She chuckled and said, “You and your jokes, Runebelle. Well, I guess I won’t cook tomorrow then.”

  Runebelle couldn’t bear the thought of her mother not cooking for her. She quickly hugged her mother and whispered, “Don’t joke like that, Mom.”

  Ruly patted Runebelle’s back. “Alright, sweetheart, sorry, I won’t joke like that again. Now, don’t stay up too te. You need your rest.”

  With those words, Rune began to asd the stairs to her room. This time, Runebelle quietly followed her, a sense of reason growing withio uhe truth that had been hidden from her for so long.

  As Runebelle quietly followed her mother up the stairs, she recalled the events of that fateful evening. She remembered that the st time she had been in this situation, she had heard sounds ing from her mother’s room. Back then, her worries and preoccupations had ed her thoughts, and she had assumed that her mother was simply g for her again.

  She retraced her steps and thought more deeply about it. Runebelle then noticed that the cries had been louder than she had initially perceived. How had she not known the depth of her mother’s sorrow on that night? The question lingered in her mind, and she khat she o front the truth, to uand what had truly happehat evening.

  Runebelle, standing outside her mother’s room, straio hear the versation taking pce within. Her mother, Rutered words that sent a shiver down Runebelle’s spine. “It’s over, it’s all over, he took it, he took all of it.”

  The words were filled with a sense of despair and finality that Runebelle couldn’t ighen, her mother trembled out,

  “What am I supposed to do now?”

  Runebelle’s heart ached for her mother as she stood there in the darkness, realizing that her mother had faced a crisis of her own, ohat she had never fully uood.

  Runebelle stepped outside her mother’s room with her thoughts were ed by her own reasons to seek answers. The System, alresent in her mind, asked with curiosity, “Wait, Where are you going, Project Rune?”

  “To my father’s. I o talk to him.”

  Runebelle arrived at her mother’s workpce, the factory where she had spent tless hours b over her duties. The factory was an industrial plex, its massive structure looming over the surrounding area. Tall smokestacks rose into the sky, emitting plumes of thick smoke that added an eerie atmosphere to the se.

  The exterior of the factory was weathered, its walls stained with years of wear and tear. Fading signs dispyed the factory’s name, but it was clear that the facility had seeer days. A -link fence surrouhe premises, adorned with “No Trespassing” signs that served as a reminder of the factory’s current state.

  As Runebelle approached, she could see that the factory was eerily quiet. The usual sounds of maery and workers had been repced by an uling stillness. The only signs of life were the custodians, the ers, who moved about the factory with brooms and ing supplies.

  The ers meticulously swept and mopped the floors, their as creating a symphony of eg footsteps and the soft swish of brooms. They worked in silence being nearly expressionless but with speed as if they were aware that the factory’s closure was immi.

  At the far end of the factory floor, Runebelle spotted the boss, a stern figure overseeing the ing operations. He was a middle-aged man in a faded suit, his face etched with lines of stress and responsibility. His presence exuded an air of authority, and he moved with purpose as he ied the progress of the ers.

  The boss Gred at her for a while, but then his gaze turned into a warm smile, addressed Runebelle in a tone of familiarity. “Ah, Runy, my dear, it’s been quite some time since I’ve seen you here.” He reached out and began to gently pat her on the head, his gesture remi of a fond memory from her childhood.

  Runebelle allowed the boss’s paternal dispy, although it made her feel somewhat unfortable given the gravity of her purpose here. She took a deep breath and replied, “I’m here because... I o know what happened. Where is my Father? I know he owns the pce.”

  The boss’s smile faded slightly as he listeo Runebelle’s words. He withdrew his hand and sighed, “Your father, Gemine, he’s not here, Runy. He left a while ago, and I haven’t seen em since.”

  Runebelle felt a pang of disappoi and frustration. She had hoped to find answers from her father, but it seemed that he had slipped away once again

  The boss, still wearing a troubled look tinued, “He did seem rather ‘cheerful’ tonight, which is unusual sidering the circumstances. I ’t say for certain what he’s up to, but it might be worth trying to reach out to him.”

  A distant memory of Runebelle’s past flickered in her mind, like a long-fotten ember suddenly ignited. She recalled a brief moment from her childhood, a time when her father had given her a o call if she ever wao talk to him.

  However, due to the overwhelming sadhat had enveloped her i years, Runebelle had never reached out. Instead, she had relied solely on her mother for support and guidanever sidering the possibility of reeg with her father.

  Runebelle, spurred by this memory, felt a flicker of Desire surging into her. She always had the means to tact her father, even if she had never used it before. She turo the boss and asked, “Do you happen to have a phone I could use to make a call? There’s a number I o try.”

  The boss nodded aured toward a nearby desk where a pho. “Of course, Runy. Feel free to use it. I know your father likes to py ‘busy man’ sometimes but ohing I know bout em is that he always finds time for the kids. I hope you find the answers you’re looking for.”

  With gratitude, Runebelle approached the phone, her heart pounding with uainty. She dialed the number her father had given her all those years ago and waited anxiously for someoo answer oher end.

  Then, after what felt like ay, her father answered oher end.

  “Hello?” he said urgently.

  Runebelle hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to begin this long-overdue versation. Finally, she found her ability to speak and said, “Dad, it’s me, Runebelle.”

  There was a brief pause oher end, as if her father rocessing the ued call. Then, he spoke again. He was softer this time and held a touch of warmth and hope. “Runebelle, is it really you? Are you ready to go with me?”