It's been a couple of weeks since I started visiting my mother again.
During the first few days, she was clearly taken aback by my actions, expecting my initial visit to be a one-ti thing.
Her guarded deanor and skeptical glances made it obvious she thought I'd disappear as quickly as I ca.
But as the days turned into weeks, our interactions shifted. Slowly but surely, the two of us grew accustod to each other's presence.
Today was no different.
"Hm? What's that?" she asked, her curiosity piqued as I walked in holding a box.
"A PSV," I replied, setting it down on the table in front of her.
Her eyes lit up with intrigue as she looked at the old gaming console. "Well, ain't that quite the relic. Didn't think you'd be interested in that kind of thing."
To be fair, I wasn't-not really.
But the sa couldn't be said for her.
As I watched her inspect the console with sparkling eyes, her interest was evident.
For soone who constantly acted like she was above such things, she was surprisingly taken by the retro device.
"Here," I said, handing her the box.
She eagerly took it, almost like a child receiving a new toy, and quickly set about connecting it to the monitor screen.
Within minutes, she had the console up and running, her excitent bubbling over as she browsed through the gas already installed.
"Hoh? So you can play this here?"
I watched her start a ga, her enthusiasm radiating from every movent and expression. If there was one thing I'd co to learn about my mother during these visits, it was that no matter how utterly terrible she was at gaming, she always seed to enjoy herself.
Her face would scrunch in concentration, her lips curling into a mix of smiles and smirks, and even her curses-inevitable after a poorly executed move-held a hint of amusent.
It was an odd sight, seeing soone who was otherwise so composed and calculating lose herself in sothing so simple and mundane.
Yet, there was sothing strangely comforting about it, too.
Perhaps, in so small way, gaming bridged the gap between us-a silent understanding ford over shared monts of play.
Even if we were worlds apart in so many ways, these fleeting interactions felt... normal.
Almost peaceful.
And for now, I didn't mind that at all.
One more thing to take note of is that ever since I started visiting her, there hadn't been a single restart. This only reinforced my theory that my mother was, in so way, tied to my trial.
It wasn't hard to see why.
There was sothing unresolved between us-sothing the system clearly wanted to confront.
And if the standard clichés of the ga were anything to go by, the trial was likely about correcting the mistakes of my past.
If that was true, then what was the objective here? Was it as simple as not ignoring her this ti? To nd the strained relationship I had so callously left in tatters before?
But knowing how these trials worked, I doubted it was that straightforward.
If the solution were as simple as spending ti with her, it wouldn't be much of a test, would it?
No, there had to be sothing more-so deeper lesson or challenge hidden beneath the surface.
Still, the trial was uncomfortable, to say the least. It tested my patience in ways I hadn't anticipated.
I'd never been close to my mother, and frankly, I'd never wanted to be.
The feelings I had for her weren't born from outright hatred but from a profound sense of apathy.
To , she was just another figure from a past life-a life I had long since discarded.
A dead person I had completely forgotten, buried beneath the weight of more pressing concerns and regrets.
And yet, here she was, front and center in this trial.
At the end of the day, my indifference toward her was what made this trial so excruciating.
It forced to confront emotions I wasn't sure I had.
It made question what it was I truly felt toward her.
Was it disdain? Resentnt? Or was it simply the hollow remnants of a bond that had never truly ford in the first place?
"Hey let's play this"
"Sure,"
Whatever it was, I would have to figure it out.
...
Ti passed once again, and this ti...
Weeks had turned into months.
My daily visits to Mother had beco a casual routine, so much so that she no longer seed surprised when I showed up.
She fully expected to walk through that door every day, and strangely, I found myself fulfilling that expectation without much thought.
Even the uncomfortable feelings I used to have whenever I saw her-the unease, the subtle resentnt-had vanished.
It was like they had dissolved into the rhythm of our daily interactions, leaving behind a strange sense of normalcy that I hadn't anticipated.
Today, as I walked down an empty street, the sky above was shrouded in a thick layer of clouds, blocking out the usual warmth of the sun.
The air had grown cold, a stark contrast to the crisp warmth of the weeks before.
The first snow of the season had fallen just yesterday, blanketing the world in its quiet chill.
I glanced around at the ever-changing streets, taking note of the subtle differences in the people I passed by.
They looked a little different from when I first started this strange trial-an extra wrinkle on a
face, a new scarf wrapped tightly against the cold.
Little details that spoke of ti's quiet march forward.
The realization hit , bittersweet and oddly grounding.
"I've really been here for months, huh..." I muttered to myself, my breath forming wisps of
fog in the chilly air.
Though it wasn't the longest I'd been trapped in a trial-so of the illusions cast by the
other versions of had stretched even longer-this one felt different. It felt like the
longest, in its own way.
Every detail, every interaction, every mont spent in this place... it all stuck with .
Unlike the fragnted, hazy mories of other trials, the experiences here felt vivid and real. Nothing slipped away, no matter how mundane or fleeting it seed at the ti.
I could rember every conversation, every glance, and every awkward pause with Mother. The quiet monts when we shared a ga or sat in silence.
The way the seasons had shifted around us, marking the passage of ti like clockwork.
A huff of smoke escaped my lips as I exhaled, the frosty air mingling with my breath and dissipating into the cold winter sky. My gaze drifted to the ground, where the snow was steadily piling up, each flake adding to the pristine white blanket around .
"I wonder what they're doing right now..." I muttered, my voice barely audible over the gentle rustle of the wind.
I knew that, thanks to the distortion of ti within the trial, not much had passed in the real world. By the ti this trial was over, it might feel as if only monts had slipped by. Still, I couldn't shake the urgency gnawing at . I needed to clear this trial, to move forward.
But figuring out the conditions for success was proving to be far more difficult than I'd
anticipated.
Over the past few months, my only tangible lead had been my daily visits with Mother.
That pattern hadn't changed, and the trial offered no clues to suggest I was on the right path
-or any path at all.
It was like walking through a snowstorm with no sense of direction, just hoping the next step
would bring closer to my goal.
December 23.
The date felt heavy in my mind. There was only a month left before Mother's eventual death.
Was that what this trial was leading to? Was I supposed to sit idly by and watch her life slowly
fade, visiting her day after day until the end?
It seed plausible.
A part of —a small, stubborn part-hoped that wasn't the case.
...
"Hey, how about we play this one next?"
Her voice was weaker than before, but her tone still carried a playful edge.
It was January.
The days had grown colder, and so had the reality of the situation.
Throughout this ti, my mother had always put on a strong front, refusing to let her
condition define her.
But even the most resilient will eventually succumb to the inevitabilities of their own
mortality.
When I first started visiting her, she had been frail but still functional.
Now, her body was nowhere near its previous state.
Though she had started eating better and more regularly after my visits began, her
malnutrition and years of neglect couldn't be entirely undone.
Her psychic abilities, which had likely extended her life far beyond what her failing body
could manage on its own, seed to have finally reached their limits.
Watching her now, I was reminded once again that, Codex or not, she was still human at her
-core.
"What are you doing?" she asked as I approached her bedside.
"The doctor said you should eat this."
I held out an apple, or rather, a plate of thinly sliced pieces that I had carefully peeled and cut
to ensure they were easy for her to chew.
"Doctor, eh-" she mused with a hint of sarcasm, her usual defiance shining through even in
her weakened state.
I knew she hated fruits-she had made that abundantly clear during the first week of my
visits. But after being "persuaded" to eat them every day, she had begrudgingly gotten into the habit, albeit with plenty of complaints.
Still, she took a slice from the plate and ate it without further protest. It was a small victory.
I turned my attention to the screen, where she had pointed monts ago.
It displayed the title of the last ga saved in her library.
[Hero's Legacy]
This was the ga that had changed my life.
The ga that had set everything in motion.
The ga that... Made forget about her. "They say this is a romance ga, just the right ga for you no?"
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