Complete Private Stars of the World: Mylar Ouyang

[Pandora*]

Stars of the World: Mylar Ouyang

A Certain Dreamer's Campus

Ziiiiiip!
Whiiiiiiiirl!
Fweeeeeeeuuuuuuuu!!!

The tiny drone darted through the campus like a royalty free blue blur, weaving between students with reckless abandon. A stack of books went tumbling as one poor soul jumped back in surprise. Another unfortunate student found himself the victim of a daring low-altitude maneuver, a quick vroom right between his legs, sending him tripping face first into a passing girl. Cue the sparkles, awkward blushes, and a theme song for a romantic comedy that surely...

No! That's not the focus! NO romance here!

A cheerful, loud voice akin to the most annoying of cartoon mascots blared from the little blue menace:

"Hellooo! I'm your friendly announcement bot, proudly sponsored by your Nexus funded affiliates! Remember, campus will be closed next Friday! Also hot news! McDoggos is bringing piping hot hotdogs to everyone at half price TONIGHT!"

"Back in Primary School, if you didn't want ads, you just didn't look at your phone. Now they chase you… screaming."

"I think it's cute, though!"

The drone zipped, dipped, and then without any sense of personal boundaries, came to a perfect hover right in front of a particular student. Not destiny. Not divine intervention. Just… targeted marketing algorithms.

Still, perhaps Mylar would choose to believe otherwise.

"Attention, sword enthusiasts! TONIGHT after 7 PM, the Local Fencing League is holding an open meeting RIGHT HERE at your school! Ever wanted to witness legendary swordsmanship up close? Ever dreamed of meeting a true master? Well, if you're one of the FIRST FIVE to sign up as a brand new fencer tonight, you'll get to meet the renowned Miss Morrow herself! Two time International Sword Fighting Champion! A prodigy in fencing, kendo, HEMA and basically anything involving sharp, pointy objects! She's so good, she could probably beat you with your own fingernails! Don't miss it!"

"Huh. Isn't she the one that gives to all those charities? Are we a charity case now? Damn I should have enrolled elsewhere..."

The drone continued to spew ads as it flew away from @Mylar...

 

[Schilva Flasch]

Advertisements. Mylar didn't mind them as much as some others did, but at this point, it was ridiculous. The damn things really were everywhere you turned. On billboards strategically placed at major motorway overpasses, signs and flyers plastered up and down the uni promenade, crawling all over any site if you were stupid enough to use the internet without any kind of adblock...
It really was only a matter of time before advertisements started walking around - or in this case, grew wings - and rubbed themselves in your face.

Now, as Mylar tried and failed his best to powerwalk out of range of the hyperactive shadow overhead, the ad-drone swooped in on its prey. He could only resign himself to hearing out whatever annoyingly compelling message it had for him as the sound of busily spinning rotors and a blaring script-read cut him off.

Wha- oh. Fine, okay...

As the street crossing light down the road that he'd been trying to catch switched its green glow for red, Mylar realised with no small twinge of annoyance that he would be hanging around campus a little while longer. He'd been of a mind to go home early today and play some Terrasphere, but he did have that essay he hadn't even started drafting yet, so if this was some form of fatalistic retribution for his hubris - which, incidentally, was the subject of said essay - then...

Wait, what? Morrow on campus? Hold on-

But it was already too late! The drone, seemingly determined to be as much of an annoyance as possible, had finished delivering its message and promptly sped off to harass some other passersby. Left frustrated and with only 'Local Fencing League', 'Miss Morrow' and '7pm' to go off of, Mylar chases the drone for a few paces before realising the futility of that exercise.

Instead, he opts to stand to the side of the busy promenade for a moment and investigate for himself, knowing he was falling hook line and sinker for the almighty advertisers' algorithms. Laptop balanced precariously on a bollard, he minimises his essay (that can come later!) and hops to the LFL's site, eyes scanning for Morrow's name.

Of course, Mylar being Mylar naturally had a passing interest in fencing insofar as cool swordfighting sports went, but his heart was properly set on iaido, were he to actually pick a martial art he wanted to practise. That honestly didn't matter, though, when the two-time world champion was involved - he had to see someone like that in action, deadlines be damned.

He did feel a little bad about signing up for a sports club just for this one event, but whatever reservations of decor he had went out the window as soon as he made sure that this was all legit and above board with the Fencing League's rulings.
That, and making doubly sure he wasn't going to get duped into something of a membership fee scam, like that one time with the shady 'kendo club' members who were actually raising money for the Yakuza. But, uh, that was an entirely different story for a different day.

C'mon, uni wifi, don't fail me now...

...and for once, despite all the times the overburdened Australian-grade wifi had decided to lag on last-minute submissions or take an eternity to download a single file, it worked in Mylar's favour.

- Congratulations!
You are eligible for the promotional event.
Please submit an EOI via your membership portal before 5PM to guarantee entry.
​

Practically jumping to fill the required fields, Mylar excitedly watched the submission go through to the 'EOI confirmed' page, then stared blankly at it for a moment.
Wait, was it really that easy?
He scrolled back through what details he could find on the event's homepage, as well as noting where exactly it would be held. There weren't any extra fields or, like, waivers to sign...

Shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Guess I'll head over to the venue while I've got some time, huh. Damn essay's not gonna write itself; better park my ass there till 7. Time flies when you're having "fun"...

 

[Pandora*]

Stars of the World: Mylar Ouyang

A Certain Dreamer's Campus

"I say, my lady! This is hardly the time for such frivolous endeavors. I understand your father's passing is a painful matter, but you must realize, you are more important now than ever. You should be in the United Kingdom, not here… playing with long knives!"

"You think I look upset? I'm not upset. I moved past all that years ago. I never wished him dead, but let's not pretend he was anything more than a useless political stooge. Besides, it's MY money, I'll spend it how I like. And it's MY time, Wilmington, so I'll do whatever I want with it."

"My word, you are far too old to behave like a child. You spend too much time among the younger generation. Honestly… sigh… if only you could amuse yourself with a video game like everyone else these days!"

The young woman was ready, fully clad in fencing gear, her golden blonde hair neatly tied into a ponytail, her face hidden behind a polished fencing mask. She gently pushed the doting old butler aside and stepped through the door.

" It's time to have some fun."

…And perhaps vent a little pent-up frustration, her heart still heavy with the weight of the untimely assassination.

---

The auditorium was nearly empty, just a handful of try hards still chasing perfection in a sport the world was quickly forgetting. These days, the title of "Greatest Fencer" could be claimed in a VR game without breaking a sweat, without the blisters, without the bruises. Without the harsh limits of the imperfect human body.

Perhaps some here were the children of old, prestigious families keeping the tradition alive…

No. No, Mylar and the others were just nerds.

No, no Mylar and the rest were just nerds.

"En garde!"

"Tah ha ya!"

After the predictable introductions for the lucky entrants, a few exhibition bouts were held between veteran members of the league. Then came the practice session: entrants were handed blunt tipped rubber rapiers and...

A voice rang out from the back. A blonde fencer stood there, her words laced with the faintest trace of a British accent.

She was bored, frustrated, and thinking of something specific she might as well see to here.

"No. Today we try something special. I brought the necessary gear."

The event coordinator loosed puzzled but nodded after another whispered in his ear and showed him a receipt.

Soon, an assortment of unusual training weapons was laid out: wooden swords, katanas, suction-cup throwing darts, a Nerf baseball bat… "harmless" tools of mock combat. Helmets and kneepads joined the pile, resting alongside the standard fencing uniforms.

"To master the sword you must understand all it's forms.. All methods of precision, power, speed... "

The recruits exchanged uneasy glances. This was not what they'd signed up for. And yet… maybe…

"Try it. See what feels good for you."

And so, the first trial rounds began, an unconventional gauntlet to test the mettle of these self-proclaimed sword enthusiasts. One by one, they faced each other, armed with an eclectic mix of practice weapons.

What kind of weapon would Mylar take? What called to him...

What did his inner @Schilva Flasch desire?
How would he fair?

 

[Schilva Flasch]

...really?

Once the venue opened up, the new registrants didn't so much flood nor file as slowly dribble in. As a matter of fact, the head count all up (minus a few who had mistakenly stumbled in looking for a different club) barely justified the exclusive five required for the meet-and-greet to even take place - were there any less, Mylar would surely have started questioning why the event wasn't just an open forum, like it'd make any difference

Disappointing; that word couldn't be a more apt descriptor for this kind of turnout... did nobody appreciate the way of the sword anymore? Clearly, fresh faces and new blood were a direly deprived commodity for the old guard left holding the guttering torch of tradition here at the Fencing League, and such a new cohort didn't make much for an optimistic outlook.

For what it was worth, they showed their work and did so well. While the old hands tried their best to drum up some excitement for the sport in their beekeeper-white lamés, Mylar found himself tracking their lunges and thrusts with fresh eyes.

...

At first, he'd dismissed it as some kind of hallucination or fanciful thinking, but the more he saw it, the more Mylar became confident in his guesswork; his experiences as Schilva Flasch in the world of Terrasphere were tangibly affecting his real flesh-and-blood brain chemistry. He'd done a little research on the effects of VR and AR experiences on neuroplasticity, muscle memory and psychosomatic retention, coming up with some very...mixed feelings about what he saw, he'd say that much.

The fact that Terrasphere seemed to tick those boxes ever so neatly didn't stop him from logging on nearly every day, but it did cool his reckless enthusiasm and motivate him to train up his skills, learn to protect himself from the spectre of Death that hovered over each Starcalled soul.

So now, as his eyes followed the length of each fencer's foil to the safely rubber-nubbed point, he could tell that while their techniques weren't the same as Schilva's blade arts, each calculated movement had endpoints and trajectories against the enemy's corpus in mind. The speed at which each bout concluded might have seemed a blitz to the other onlookers, even those who were about as diehard fans of fencing as he was of iaido, but Mylar captured each motion quietly within his gaze.
They weren't nearly as fast as Schilva. That brought a small, self-satisfied smile to his face.

Soon after, the MC of the event arrived, and the bouts drew to a close as some very not-fencing equipment was brought out. The woman behind that mesh-grille helm must be the woman herself, champion Morrow; maybe this was some kind of test. Without much hesitation, Mylar stepped forth and made a beeline for what he knew best; a simple practice bokken.

...huh. This thing swings like a twig.

Mylar mutters to himself as he stances up just how Schilva would, finding that the mock-sword felt way too light in his hands as he tested it with some experimental swings. Torn between not wanting to make waves when he barely recognised anyone here and genuinely concerned he might break something that Miss Morrow herself had paid out of pocket for, Mylar works up the awkward courage to approach the imposing woman. Better be flustered now than embarrassed later.

Sorry, 'scuse me...Miss Morrow, I assume? Hi, uhh...well, you probably don't know me, but still, it's an honour to be at this event. A-Anyway! nice to meet you, I'm Schi-

holy shit mylar get a grip

...Mylar, Mylar Ouyang. I was just wondering, um...do these come in a, y'know...slightly heavier size than this? I really don't mean to like, boast or whatnot, absolutely not; quite the opposite, actually, since I'm just worried I'll, er, break something if I just swing it around like this...

...and off he goes, motormouthing away. There are some constants in this world, and we may either thank or curse their presence all the same.

 

[Pandora*]

Stars of the World: Mylar Ouyang

A Certain Dreamer's Campus

The lady behind the mask taps a rapier on the floor as she watches the hopeful trainees fumble about. This was a silly idea she had to admit. Perhaps her ever distraught butler was correct. She HAD been spending too much time with a specific person. To come up with such crazy ideas...

Ideas born from desperation, but what... did that mean she had become desperate? Really now.

Her eyes focused on one young man for a moment. Perhaps?

No. Probably not...

Hmmmm?

"Sorry, 'scuse me...Miss Morrow, I assume? Hi, uhh...well, you probably don't know me, but still, it's an honour to be at this event. A-Anyway! nice to meet you, I'm Schi-"

The trainee approached her. That wasn't exactly in the rules, but....

"...Mylar, Mylar Ouyang. I was just wondering, um...do these come in a, y'know...slightly heavier size than this? I really don't mean to like, boast or whatnot, absolutely not; quite the opposite, actually, since I'm just worried I'll, er, break something if I just swing it around like this..."

That was...

"...Hm. Interesting. So it wasn't just my imagination. You have held that type of sword before? Surely not an actual katana. Do you like swords? Or are you some sort of weeb?"

The teasing tone was evident. even if her smirk was hidden.

The tip tapping of a annoying butler approached. His cheeks flushed as sweat dripped down his brow. A near constant state for the man.

"A call for you my lady! It is about the purchase?"

"No. Especially while I'm in the middle of something here. Tell them to go away. Anyway, Mylar is it?"

The few others present burned holes into the young man's back as he was getting such unexpected personal attention.

"Why is he the favorite?"

"I mean he doesn't have a bunch of darts on his butt for one thing..."

"You might be right for something. Meet me here after this is finished. Wait outside then return, if you want to try something more appropriate for you.."

Saying the last bit as a near mumble she shooed Mylar away. The rest of the event would continue.

Patience young grasshopper, or was this just a fools errand? Will you stay and meet later tonight? If you do...

It is quite dark. The lights never stayed on.

 

[Schilva Flasch]

The moment Mylar saw the masked face of the champion fencer shift towards him in acknowledgement, he felt a shiver in his core.

Not that he was intimidated by her achievements; he knew well who she was, and while it was exciting to be in Morrow's presence, Mylar's self-restraint was sufficient to keep his conduct in adherence with propriety while he spoke. God, it was so hard to distinguish emotion and tone without being able to see the other person's face.

No, that shiver was something else. A premonition, or an omen. Call it a hunch or whatever else you will, but Mylar's instincts dimly tipped him off to...something in the works.

Have I-? Oh, well, yes, kind of?

Just as he thought he was going to be ignored and/or told to piss off back to the rookie area, Mylar almost swallowed his tongue when the terse voice behind the inscrutable mesh grille demanded answers of him in triplicate succession.

Katana? Well, yes, again, kind of? I-If you have to know, it's...mostly VR, AR, videogames, nerdy stuff, y'know. Speaking of, I do know, er, swords, yeah; but hey, who doesn't? Er, nevermind.
Also, well, I, er... you could call me that - 'weeb', I mean - I just don't think it's, uhh, it doesn't really properly describe someone who has a healthy appreciation for the, um, y'know, for animanga texts and subculture-

Glancing over the part about how he somehow committed to his muscle memeory the rigorous motions of combat merely through exposure to 'nerdy stuff', Mylar stumbles his way through his response - before snapping his mouth shut as he sees Morrow's butler approach.

Once the sweaty little man is dismissed (leaving no small amount of questions in his mind), Mylar listens attentively once more as he hears his name being mentioned. Woah, hold on, the Miss Morrow dropped his first name?

Ma'am? Oh, yeah; that's uh, that's me.

Oblivious to the envious glares directed his way as he clearly gains the favour of their famed instructor - somehow - Mylar's eyes almost begin sparkling visibly before he reins himself in with tremendous willpower.
Was any of this real? Holy shit, world champion Morrow was implying that he had caught her eye? He was being offered an after-hours visitation?!

Yes ma'am! My pleasure- er, no, wait - it's my honour- I mean, it's an honour!

aaaaa this is just like that one scene from 'Journey to The West' where the Monkey King goes to the hidden master in the mountains to learn the secrets of Tao and gets into trouble for showboating how well he's learned the entry-level skills but then notices that the master's making a cryptic gesture while admonishing him signalling that he should visit after midnight to learn deeper and more intricate arts one on one and-

Cut, for brevity is the soul of wit.
Some time later.
Exeunt all. Mylar, solus.

...ghh. Cold out.

Without the exercises or even at least four walls left to keep him out of the dark night's chill, Mylar was finding it harder and harder to keep the sniffles from coming as he sat on a bench outside the closed auditorium. It had been some time after the last of the trainees had returned their equipment and dispersed, and the essay hadn't done anything to assuage the nervous excitement buzzing in his skull.

Now, it would be great if Morrrow showed up sometime soon, but that was starting to seem like a cruel prank more and moreso by the minute...

 

[Pandora*]

Stars of the World: Mylar Ouyang

Campus under the moonlight

The night air felt heavier the longer Mylar waited. The lamps on campus had long since sputtered out, leaving only the pale gleam of moonlight stretched across the pavement. The silence was so complete that every rustle of leaves or distance rang louder than it should have.

And then a cry.
A cry for help.

A random girl stumbled into view, arms raised in terror.... maybe?

"Ahhhh, I am... so... ...scared. The... infamous... ...ghost of the *unintelligible nonsense word* is here."

She ran to Mylar with a somewhat confused look, than turned and ran the other way.

"Oh.... no, more ghosts. Or goblins, or whatever it said, again. Won't... someone ...please.... help me!?"

Wait what?

The girl ran off into the darkness in a incredibly awkward display of horror.

A sudden metallic scrape cut through the stillness. From the shadows, a blade gleamed, tumbling in a slow arc through the air.

A katana.
A real weapon.
A weapon that could kill.

It landed point down in the ground before Mylar, quivering like a tuning fork. The reflection of the moon rippled across the steel.

"Pick it up, draw your sword Blade Sentinel."

Out of the shadows stepped a figure completely white with a pitch black mask. Even the long ponytail was a great white mane. Her movements were unnaturally fluid, almost otherworldly, as if the night itself bent to carry her forward. The dust trailed behind her like a spectral flame.

Could it be?

A... GHOST FENCER?!

And with no further warning, she lunged.

The strike was deliberate, aimed not to wound but to force a response. The world faded to the elegance of her movement, the glint of her blade, and the terrifying immediacy of a champion fencer's attack.

The test was clear. Would Mylar flinch? Would he swing? Would he step in to play the hero, was he actually supposed to be a villain? in this drama?

"Blade dance in the full moonlight!? Are you the one that will make the world shout?!"

Shadow covered eyes from behind the mask watched Mylar did he have any talent beyond just understanding a sword? Was there a sign of perhaps... theater? Would he even have the skill to dance for a second with her? His sword was of course still dulled but still... he didn't have to know that.

Regardless, the fencer had no intention of drawing things out. She pulled back, after a pass or two. The white dust already coming off, revealing her blonde locks.

Her mask came off.
Natalie Morrow spoke again in a fairly jovial tone.

"I had to check if you could do your own stunts~. it could effect your pay as a cast member. But there can also be a reward in just a fun experience right?"

Wasn't it as an extra? Well, it sounded better!

Of course, if he was now just a crumpled heap on the ground....

 

[Schilva Flasch]

...

Ah, even the main building lights were turning off around campus; it was getting late late. As much as he was loathe to admit it at this point, Mylar was pretty sure he'd fallen victim to some kind of stupid prank. Now that he was thinking on it again, it's not like he or any of the other lucky few to meet the so-claimed Miss Morrow actually saw any championship-grade swordplay.
In fact, it felt more like the worst ren-faire sideshow ever, with how little substance there was - just a bunch of amateur idiots throwing their weight around, under Morrow's watchful masked gaze. Who was to say that, under that inscrutable helm, the woman they had met was even Miss Morrow in the first place?

Just as he was starting to seriously mull over the conspiracies his fanciful thoughts were conjuring, the entire process grinds to a halt as a drunken girl (so he assumed initially) stumbles past, spouting complete nonsense about ghosts or goblins or whatever. Mylar stands up from the bench with a slightly exasperated grunt, not wanting to leave someone so clearly intoxicated hanging - then realises she was both completely sober and... kind of familiar? Had they met before?

Hey, do you need any help? Hey-!

Too slow; she was already gone, staggering unconvincingly into the dark from whatever nonexistent horror she'd been awkwardly trying to elucidate. Ghost or goblin... geez, make your mind up, lady, just pick one to run away from while sc-

Wha-?!

Mylar turns about-face at the telltale sound of steel being drawn, recognising the grating sound as if by second nature and deftly backing up several paces; his body moved before his brain understood what he was doing, which was allowing the falling blade to land somewhere well away from his body.

His eyes traced the trajectory, hearing starting to fill with the roar of adrenaline-filled blood. The situation had suddenly taken a turn for the surreal, the scene before Mylar reminding him distantly of a Noh performance he had seen once. Center stage, the bewildered young warrior and the restless phantom, festooned with the chill mist of the grave.

Pick it up... pick up... the sword?

Of course it - she? - meant the sword! If Mylar had a spare moment to kick himself for hesitating, he would, but the ghostly fencer had already decided that his time was up. The point of her weapon flashed in the wake of ghostly luminescence trailing behind her, a silver flash directed straight for his center of mass. With some luck, he could walk away from this strike alive, but how long was he going to stay alive with one kidney?

Wait. A silver flash?

No, this...

This isn't the fastest he's seen someone move before. In real life? Maybe. But in the world of Terrasphere - a world as real as any other as far as sensation and perception went - Mylar knew better than anyone the legendary speed of Schilva Flasch! To compare what he could accomplish to this, the fresh terror of facing down the Kurungaar Queen or the unmatched despair of challenging the Mother of Machines on his own two feet; this...

...isn't anything to be afraid of!

As Mylar found his words, so did his hand find the hilt of the katana. In that moment he wasn't just Mylar Ouyang, the weedy uni nerd; he had taken the role of Schilva Flasch once before, and now it was time for the Master of the Godspeed Slash to return the favor!

I'll cut you d- argh!

His body may not have been able to surpass the sheer strength that he felt behind his ghastly opponent's blade, as out of shape he was, but it was enough. The finesse with which he had deflected the blow was proof enough - to draw sparks and fend away a second pass, despite his fingers and ears ringing raw with the shuddering impact.

The threat drawing back as the glowing powder faded off was enough to give him some pause, however, and just like that:

Buh-- huh-?! Whuh??

Mylar was back, collapsing to his knees as soon as his fighting instincts dissipated with the sight of Natalie Morrow's true face under that mask. It all fell into place, even though he hadn't been told explicitly; there was no other way to interpret this in context. So she wasn't a ghost after all... but what she was saying just made him even more confused. What was going on?

I... you... Stunt? Cast? Eh?

 

[Pandora*]

Stars of the World: Mylar Ouyang

Campus under the moonlight

"I'll cut you d- argh!"

Huh... so this one too.
It wasn't her imagination. It was more than just "theater".
Why? What was going on? Why was there so many experiencing what should just be...
Why was she so attuned to noticing when others couldn't?
Was it just because she's seen such things from them?

"I... you... Stunt? Cast? Eh?"

Natalie chuckled again. Removing a glove she gestured towards a nearby tree. A girl's head poked out. The same "scared" girl from before.

"H-Hey... sorry about that hehe. I was confused too."

"You did a good job. Consider your next tuition payment covered."

"The flyer."

The same old man from earlier emerged from the building along with a campus employee. The lights in the building went back on, illuminating the eerie night. It seemed it really was all just a set up.

From Natalie to Mylar went the fyier.

...And upon it read, with several notable edits.

Sailor Dune? Nein! No!
Pretty Pure? Nein! No!
Mega Rangers? Neiiiiiin!!! No!
Kamen Flier! Ich sage NEIN I say NO, AGAIN!

This is not your ordinary magical girl show.
This is not your ordinary hero squad.

THIS… is the DAWN of a NEW, BLOOMING fighting force that will bring PEAK HEROISM straight to your screens… and maybe, even to your HEART!

Mahou Shoujo:
Flowers of Dawn
(Working Title)

Ultimate Heroines that stand against the evil Cyberton Army with only their faith in each other and pure HEROSIM lay everything on the line for the ULTIMATE VICTORY!

We are IGNITING the start of a REVOLUTION!
We are bringing the HYPE of a NUCLEAR STAR to the web!


From Indie Visionary Ingrid Schwartz.


PREPARE YOURSELF FOR...
ABSOLUTE CINEMA!​

---

CASTING NOW!
We are seeking passionate actors for multiple roles!
Contact Ingrid Schwartz to claim your destiny and help us bring this epic, blooming saga to life!​

Looking at Mylar's face she tapped him on the nose with her forefinger.

"You might just have talent. I know some girls who could use your help. Have you ever heard of Saint Joan, in the United States? Probably not. It's an institution for… well, troubled girls. Not even that country's UBI can pull everyone from the cracks."

She handed her weapon off to Wilmington, folding her arms. Her voice now carried a strange tone, genuine care, something completely absent during the mock duel or the class before.

"Ingrid is someone with a lot of vision. I'm the one funding to make that fantasy a reality, if only to give those girls something to hold onto once they're released into the world. I can't pay their way forever."

"You'll be paid. And it could be an eye opening experience for you. You might have to skip a semester or two here, though… fufu~!"

When all was said and done, Mylar was left staring at the flier, left to wrestle with the decision of whether to agree to this bizarre, out of the blue acting career.

The old man lingered, clearly unwilling to let the matter close without his say. His voice carried the exhaustion of one who had weathered far too many late night such as this one.

"While I would rather you reject this, and mayhap let the entire endeavor fail, I understand that sounds cruel. Miss Morrow carries a great many stresses these days. Her father was recently victim of homicide, in what is whispered to be a politically motivated murder. And the institution she speaks of? It's being targeted by unsavory purchasers with government backing. My point is, take her wild ideas with a great helping of salt, young man. She is not in her best mind, I fear."

He shook his head. A reminiscence of better, simpler days.

"If I were young again, I'd focus on my academic pursuits and leave these things to video game fantasies… oh, the days of the console wars."

And so the night closed on Mylar's choice.

Stars of the World: Mylar Ouyang Complete!

Welcome to Flowers of Dawn route!
There will be threads in real life during S5 that continue these plotlines. The option to rp request certain npc in real life, based on route, will also open up at some point. Until then, just do as you like, and remember to build some good Life Skills!

If you need any significant assistance with how to rp something specific to this route on your own, dm me on Discord.​