Memory Bubble: Family

Memory Bubble: Family is a Memory Bubble.
==Location==
==Dialogue==
:Bubbles are floating in the air with a colorful glow gliding on their surfaces. For some reason, they form an image that seems to carry a profound meaning. As you approach them, a female voice that sounds similar to Herta's murmurs monotonously, "The Family."
----
:You have never imagined yourself to be sitting in the lavish box of a grand theater. The silky red velvet sofa is stuffed with Pierduck down feathers. You can't find a better word to describe the sofa other than "extravagant."
:An unfamiliar classical opera is playing on the stage. "The King's Pleasure you are not mistaken, that's the opera's elegant title. Actually, you could ask Mr. Renoir, who's sitting next to you, about it...
:After some consideration, you decide not to ask anything, since you cannot understand what's going on anyway. After all, you're only here to investigate The Family... If everything goes well, you might get your hands on an invitation letter to Penacony — that's what you are after.
:Not wanting any trouble, you pretend to be engrossed in the performance and songs of the actors onstage. At the same time, you size Renoir up from the corner of your eye...
:Renoir seems to notice you. "Sir," he asks with his usual impeccable smile, "do you find the opera boring?" The fact that you cannot detect any emotions in his words makes you feel uncomfortable.
:"Not at all." You quickly wave your hand dismissively. "I'm just... curious." Mr. Renoir watches you silently, as if asking you to continue — well, he better be — otherwise you would've wasted your time...
:"Does The Family... really exist?" You ask tentatively. Renoir shakes his head and beckons a waiter over. The young waiter presents an item on a tray to the two of you.
:It is an exquisite wooden box with a long and narrow opening on its side. As you wonder what it is, you hear Renoir speaking in a muddled voice. "Put it in." No... Is that Renoir's voice? You are sure you heard a NOISE...
:Although the instruction is unclear, you still place your hand in the box out of instinct. But why? You are shocked by your reaction... Next, you experience an overwhelming sense of guilt surging through your body...
:You feel like a criminal waiting for judgment. Yes... You are certain that looks are being leveled at you — penetrating, icy gazes from Mr. Renoir, the waiter, and everyone else in the theater.
==Other Languages==
==Change History==