At the center of the island stood Sector Alpha. I looked up at the building we had first visited upon arriving here a month ago, now without a trace of sentiment. The structure, disfigured by countless additions and renovations, had once possessed a chaotic vitality, like a tangled jungle of life. But that energy was long gone. The people gathered here, preparing to return on the ARK, uttered not a word—not even a sound. A shadow passed silently overhead. Everyone turned their gaze skyward in silence.

It was a little earlier than scheduled, but Shuka had brought the ARK for us… Or so I thought. The shape matched, but this one glided silently through the air. It moved in stark contrast to the usual ARK, which always made a spectacle of its presence. Someone murmured:

"They're the AO crew."

A ripple of unrest ran through the crowd, though none among us could act. Asking why AO had come to the island was a foolish question—but people had long forgotten what Noah had once meant to AO. She had stopped singing. Her voice no longer stirred anyone's heart. Not a single soul. Not even her own.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw them—uniformed figures. AO’s operators. I hadn’t seen them in ages. At their head stood Rio, leading them with quiet authority. He raised his left hand, and the operators halted. The pure white cloak billowing in the wind made him shine more than anything else on the island.

And then I realized—the islanders were all staring at me.

Their eyes were filled with hostility. Suspicion.

“Wait. Wait, please… I didn’t do anything.”

I scrambled to explain, sensing what their looks implied. But their glares only grew sharper, shifting between me and Rio.

“I didn’t call them here…”

The circle around me tightened, step by step. I looked to Rio for help—but he wasn’t looking at me. His gaze was fixed on the shore, as if he were waiting for someone.

“Rio…”

“It’s been a while, Noah.”

Following his line of sight, I saw Noah—her eyes wide in disbelief, approaching us. Beside her stood KAF and Calliope.

“‘Been a while,’ you say…?”

Noah raised her hand to stop the others, then stepped forward alone. Rio mirrored her. With both AO’s operators and our people watching, the two faced each other.

“Maybe ‘been a while’ isn’t quite right,” Rio said, his voice gentle. “I’ve been watching you all along—from the Nexus.”

“You’ve got some nerve.”

Noah spat the words out. Standing before Rio, her frail frame appeared all the more fragile. Rio continued, his tone that of a teacher trying to reason with a stubborn student.

“The ARK you’ve been using—it was AO’s to begin with, wasn’t it? You’ve modified the Cherubim for optical camouflage. But Cherubim are meant for more meaningful purposes.”

“How kind of you to say. So? Why are you here? Come to drag us back to AO?”

“There’s no need. I suspect many of them already wish for that.”

“They can do what they want. But I’m not going. I don’t want to live in a city with no freedom.”

“But this island—if it can even still be called that—has lost all semblance of society, Noah. What remains here isn’t freedom. It’s chaos.”

“Listen to me, Rio.”

I couldn’t bear it any longer. I shouted:

“Maybe this island failed. Maybe we didn’t make it work. But AO—AO had no song. It was Noah who reminded us how to sing.”

“And this is the result.”

“Yes. But there was a moment. A real moment of freedom. Of passion. When her song connected us all—even if just for a brief time.”

“That may be true. But these are fleeting moments.”

I wiped my eyes with a dirty sleeve. That moment of true freedom… it had existed. But now I had no choice but to speak of it in the past tense.

“Rio. Tell me. Was it you who erased the songs from AO?”

He met my gaze, but said nothing. I wanted him to deny it.

“Because it disrupted your harmony?”

“I believe I told you before. We need a flag. A symbol. And that symbol… isn’t something you can see.”

A dusty breeze stirred a scrap of fabric at our feet—part of an old tapestry.

“Do you remember AO’s waterworks? Even the water that flows freely eventually reaches a predetermined place.”

“Are you saying this was inevitable? That the island was always going to fall apart?”

Rio shook his head.

“I don’t claim to know the future. But can’t you imagine it was all set in motion long ago? That Noah sang, that you came to this island, that its order crumbled—not by accident, but by destiny. As surely as every river flows to the sea—this was AO’s fate.”

“You’re insane.”

Noah sneered.

“You’d think so,” Rio replied. “But it’s already decided. Even whether or not you will sing.”

Noah’s expression clouded. Rio raised his left hand. On his wrist: a milky-white band—the emblem of AO, the Being.

Then he turned his gaze to me.

“You seem to misunderstand something. AO doesn’t brainwash its citizens. We respect individual freedom to the utmost, as long as it doesn’t harm others—and we guide people, as a collective, in the right direction.”

Noah, KAF, Calliope… Even the islanders listened closely to Rio’s words.

“Those of us guided by AO are like a divine ARK of fate. Each person is assigned a role befitting them. They live it out. No one gets hurt—not like you all have.”

“What are you even talking about, Rio…?”

“I’m saying AO had assigned you a role too, Noah.”

What…? Noah’s lips moved soundlessly. Her hand brushed the choker at her neck.

“The Being—a device granted to every AO citizen. You once said it controlled people. That if removed, one could reclaim their freedom. And so your bare left hand came to symbolize your liberation.”

Rio glanced around. Everyone avoided his gaze. So did I, instinctively glancing at my left hand. Of course, no Being. KAF, Calliope—the same. No one here wore one.

Rio’s eyes returned to Noah.

“Tell me, Noah. That choker… Do you remember who gave it to you?”

He pointed at her neck. And as if in response, the surface of the black choker shimmered, faint patterns beginning to spread—irregular symbols shifting from black to gray. The shimmer turned milky white.

Gasps rose from the crowd.

It was unmistakable.

A Being.

“No…” Noah whispered, fingers trembling as they reached for the device.

“Your song was beautiful, Noah. But whether you sang, or didn’t… it was all AO’s decision.”

Her fingers gripped the Being, one by one.

“You intend to destroy it? I won’t stop you. But consider—wouldn’t that be a rejection of everything you’ve been on this island? Of everything your song stood for?”

Rio’s gentle voice was like poison. I searched frantically for an answer. If AO used the Beings to control people, then even Noah’s actions had been programmed. She could smash it easily—but in doing so, she’d deny her own freedom. But to accept it? That would be even worse. Rio said AO had assigned her a role. He claimed to have been watching all along. That meant everything—her presence here, her singing—had been part of a plan. And now that it had served its purpose, they’d come to retrieve her. He’d never let her sing again.

And whatever this was… it wasn’t the freedom Noah had yearned for.

“Noah! Don’t listen to him. I don’t believe some tool can control people!”

A clear, dignified voice rang out from the crowd. Everyone turned. Even Rio raised an eyebrow and said, surprised:

“You’re Mori Calliope, aren’t you?”

He hadn’t been bluffing. He really had been watching the island. But Calliope didn’t care. She went on:

“And even if it could control you—Noah, you of all people wouldn’t be swayed. You loved freedom too deeply for that!”

“What if… what if that love itself was the result of manipulation?”

Noah’s voice was barely a whisper. But Calliope shouted back, as if to drive away her doubt.

“I know you. I know your soul isn’t gone!”

“An interesting thought.”

Rio stepped between them, intrigued.

“Though I must say—spoken like that, it sounds as if AO citizens have no souls at all…”

Calliope shot him a sharp look.

“Are you saying they do?”

“The beauty of imbalance cannot exist without harmony. Even music—your music—needs it, Calliope.”

But she didn’t answer him. Instead, she turned to Noah.

“Don’t be deceived. I came because you said you wanted to sing. KAF came too. Everyone here followed your voice. Your freedom.”

Noah shook her head slowly. Her eyes, long since dulled, stared into the void.

“I came only to tell you this,” Rio said. He raised both hands, showing he meant no harm.

“From here on, whether you continue to wear the Being—or cast it aside for the freedom you believe in—is entirely up to you. This is the freedom you so desired.”

Noah’s gaze turned to him.

“So no—it’s not for me to decide.”

Rio’s eyes moved between Noah and me. Then he asked:

“Which will it be, Noah? The choice has always been yours. Hasn’t it?”