"Trickster"

A doll that Denia carries around. Far from the pretty thing you usually see, its worn body is now stitched all over with clumsy repairs, and the Voidmatter that once stuffed its shape has long since bled away. <i>"A broken, stubborn vessel, once shaped by the world's gaze. Now, it whispers a plea, over and over: Please, give me a heart. Any heart will do."</i>

Startorch Memory Album

An ornately decorated photo album, meticulously maintained. It is clear at a glance that its owner treasures it dearly. The Photography Fan Club at <te href=851069>Startorch Academy</te> gifted each member a personal album as a vessel for their cherished campus memories. Most of the pages are filled with group shots where Denia smiles quietly from the corner... It was simply her way to earn credits. <i>"The wilderness has no word. Perhaps it sees nothing, hears nothing, and cares not what we say. It simply reaches out, stretching toward the infinite horizon."</i>

"Dream Maker"

A device that generates massive bubbles, nothing extraordinary except for its dreamy design. It looks more like a toy than a weapon. Denia uses it to hide Voidmatter inside the bubbles. A small illusion of being able to protect others. <i>"To be honest, Aleph-1 never harbored any hostility toward us. It's simply indifferent to all things. Life and hope are insignificant noises for it. Meaningless. That's exactly why it could never understand how the darkness of <te href=750040>Voidspace</te> is filled with color. Those are lights from a cosmic graveyard. Starlight that faded trillions of years ago. Proof that the stars were once there."</i>

A Gift

To those who raised her, "Denia" was merely another asset of the Fractsidus, another pawn for the Grand Architect. And "Denia," strictly speaking, isn't a real name at all. In the region where she was born, people usually say "Dasvidaniya" when parting ways, meaning "until we meet again." For human beings, a name is a parent's first gift to their children, aside from life itself. From that moment on, the child steps into the world as someone new, growing day by day, slowly adding depth and meaning to that name. The girl chose Denia as her name because it was the only gift her family had left for her. Even if that family only ever existed in some fleeting fever dream. She had scoured her birth records. She even questioned if she was not something artificially constructed. But in the end, all she ever found was a blurred image of farewell in her memory. And it's so hard to tell anything from this little piece. Whenever she brought it up with the Grand Architect, the answer was always the same: "Memories are unreliable. Let it go. It's best you don't know." Maybe the Grand Architect had a point. Once she had a chat with Nastasha about her friends' names, and learned of the blessings and stories they carry. Some were hopes for peace or joy. Others were wishes or dreams. All of them, in one way or another, pointed toward happiness. Yet when she asked what "Denia" meant, she received no clear answer. It was obvious Nastasha didn't want to talk about it, so Denia stopped asking. After a year of observing and imitating humans, she had long since mastered the arts of masking and deception. Maybe some things could never be found out. She wasn't even sure if that hazy memory was really hers. Maybe it came from the biological original she was modeled after... Maybe it was nothing more than something the Fractsidus planted in her to keep her in line. She had once overheard the Fractsidus researchers mention that while the human body replaces its cells and substances every few years, something always stays, to be refined time and again. That's what makes life so special. That's especially true for those who never find their way back... Anything that manages to stick to the memories carves deep into their souls. Even just a scent. That is why some love to watch rainstorms, while others are obsessed with an unremarkable melody. Such is the human being. Always pretending to be rational, while venting all their emotions through irrational acts. Maybe there really was a girl named Denia, once. A girl who waved goodbye to her mother. But was that girl truly her?