“Purpose, Sota,” Doctor Burke put his hands on the table, looking eerily spirited. “What do you think differentiate the lives of those from outside the border and inside Crystalline?”

“The fact that we don’t actively participate in the war?”

“Purpose.” He stood up and walked to the window that was rarely opened. He looked to the skies of spring that were partially blocked by the sector plate above us. “The people of Crystalling, even those on the poorest side of Phantoms, don’t have the concern of survival day-to-day.”

“To some extent, maybe.”

“Food is affordable enough while healthcare is free. Everyone has the freedom of going anywhere with the monorail and tram series without spending even one bit of money. Electricity? The Luxite provides a tremendous amount of sustainable energy for the Labs to not charge anything for electricity. Education is accessible and opportunities never end.”

“I see it now, yes.”

“Therefore?”

“Therefore?”

“You and every single one of the Crystalline citizens have the privilege to pursue a higher hierarchy of needs, purpose.”

“Are you trying to guilt me into thinking that I’m wasting my life?”

“No. All I’m saying is that you need to take advantage of all this. This youth, this time, this abundance of resources—they’re all usable for you to utilize and find your purpose.”

“But what if I want to just live a boring peaceful life?”

“What makes you think it’s not a purpose enough?”

“Ah…” I nodded repeatedly, only half understanding what he was saying. “I see.”

“Think about a hobby, passion, a job, or anything that you feel like can be your purpose. Anything. Any number. We’ll talk about it in the last session.”

“I’m getting homework, now?”

“You don’t like homework?”

“I’m not exactly sure whether or not I like this homework.”

“Just give it a thought,” he laughed. “If you do have a plethora of answers that we can talk about, the next session is free of charge.”

“Deal!”

Purpose. Reasons to live and continue living. My mind was filled with that particular question during the walk after that one particular monthly session. It had been almost two months since the incident and things had gone back to normal. I decided to have a little excursion that day to find “The Footnote,” the second-hand bookstore at Sector Sixth.

The sector itself was one of the earliest to be created. It was as old as the five beneath it. It was created as the place for government officials and residents before the city expanded to the other sectors above to Sector Fourteen. Since then, the Sixth district became a place where you could find old buildings that were a bit out of maintenance.

That also applied to the building I was looking for that was, for the lack of a better term, really humble looking. It unassumingly stood between small shops of the same nature. The aesthetics were definitely rustic with its outer walls decorated with wood and overgrown vines. Definitely on purpose. At least it smelled nice. Must have been the flowers outside.

I noticed a small gap between the building and the shop to its right that led to what could only be described as a garden of flowers. I traced the gap and found an opening where a few beds of flowers were placed. They were all blue roses, a variant that wasn’t supposed to exist naturally. The thought that maybe it was Hathaway’s Diegesis that enabled her to do that crossed my mind.

Stepping into the store, I was invaded by the smell and dust from old books. Shelves upon shelves lining up throughout the place from front to back. There wasn’t any counter that I could see at the front. Fascinating. I was drawn to the magic of antique books that I found myself walking around aimlessly, looking at all of them one-by-one. Most of the books there were older than my father. Some, even, were older than Crystalline City itself.

I wasn’t even sure I was in the right place but I found myself not caring about that. Breaking the silence, a familiar looking girl emerged from behind one of the old shelves. She had her ashen hair tied to a high ponytail with an unusually thick pair of glasses covering almost half of her face. Her brown apron kind of matched the all-black simple combination of a turtleneck sweater and jeans underneath.

“The blue rose is a hairpin this time?”

“There’s no need to comment on that, Kagura Sota.”

“No need to be hostile, jeez. I’m just saying it nicely suits you.”

“There’s—” she sighed, “no need to comment on that.”

Hathaway nodded to the back before walking there. I followed her without any hesitation to a spacious open area at the back where some couches stood. A small counter could be seen on the corner hiding a man probably in his thirties who was reading a book really closely. He had his blue hair tied up to an apple hair with a pink scrunchy.

“Didn’t match my face, did it? It’s my wife’s.” He smiled, probably noticing what I’d been staring at. “You finally brought him here, Anna.”

“Anna?"