"So, did it work?" Isadora asked.

"Did what work?"

Myrabelle was standing next to Isadora's chemical carrier. Two bottles, which previously had contained what remained of her samples, were now empty.

"Did you forget about the letter?"

"What letter?"

Shera gasped lightly, her hands going to her mouth. "It-it worked so quickly."

"… Did we finally do an experiment?" Myra asked.

Iz, on the other hand, was looking at her with a ferocious intensity that she usually reserved for worse people, like the imperials. Myra feared for a moment that she was going to start shouting. She didn't though—she seemed to collect herself. Instead, she calmly looked at her watch.

"Okay," she huffed. "So that's settled." She started to pack up her briefcase.

"What do we d-do now?" Shera asked.

"I still think we should go around and interview the Unkmireans," Iz said. "Even if this amnesia crap is real, we should understand the cultural importance or whatever."

"B-but they don't even know about it," Shera said. "Do they?"

Iz looked ready to argue, but she just said, "I don't know. Let's find out."

◆

"How many people have you asked so far?"

"Maybe a dozen?" Myra estimated.

"Where'd you find them?"

"I asked around at bars."

"And all of them gave you the cold shoulder?"

"It's my bad language skills, I think. They can all tell I'm an outsider."

"Mm." Iz scanned the full three-dimensional community center ahead of them. "Let's ask…" She pointed to someone seemingly at random. They were seated on a bench reading a book with a gloomy expression. They had short hair dyed white and were wearing ear muffs even though it wasn't that cold out. "That one."

"Why that one?"

Iz shrugged. "I have a good feeling about them."

It had been Iz's idea, but of course, it fell to Myra to grab the attention of the aloof bookworm. "Excuse me—could we—could we ask you a few questions?"

Iz's intuition, though, was spot-on. After a fairly awkward introduction, and making the fortuitous observation that the person's book was written in imperial, which allowed Shera and Iz to participate, they seemed to have a spark of sympathy for the girls and their confusion. When Myra described all the throwing things off and forgetting, it was like a light went on in their head. Like they knew exactly what misunderstanding the girls were having.

"It's a pretty old tradition," their new acquaintance, whose name turned out to be Kimmik, explained. "The idea is when a group of people decided to put something behind them, they would drop something into the abyss—something symbolic, usually."

"And then they forget?"

Kimmik shook their head. "No, there's no forgetting, really. Depending on what it is, exactly, there may be an agreement not to talk about it. If the community was grieving for a beloved member, then there'd be no need for such a thing… but it's when they leave behind something particularly ugly, like an abusive family member that everybody is glad to be rid of… or some other tragedy that people want to forget about. Then there would be some kind of agreement. This kind of thing was particularly common in the south."

"What would they do if someone broke the taboo? Started talking about it after doing the ritual?"

They shrugged. "Depends on the person, I guess. To be honest, I wouldn't quite describe it as a 'taboo.' Some people might get offended, some might shrug it off."

"Would they… act like you had no idea what you were talking about?"

They scratched their neck. "Of course, there are stories of people taking the whole thing too seriously. Such a thing isn't unheard of."

"Well, why was it so hard to get anyone to tell me about all this?" Myra asked.

"Ah…" Kimmik looked a little sheepish. "Well, it's sort of more complicated right now. Maybe I undersold it a bit… because there is someone who's being very weird about it right now. Someone high up in the government, with the ear of the king."

"And that's…?"

"The ambassador and cultural minister, Lluruma. His stance is that by denying the existence of what you've lost, you essentially 'defeat grief.' He thus concludes that in Unkmire, it is 'impossible to lose anything' and that's why it's the greatest country on Zyarth. According to Lluruma, Unkmireans never need to experience grief, and that makes them stronger. So now it's the official government philosophy, and that means every official state institution is going to give you the runaround, pretend they don't know what you're talking about… And then lots of citizens buy into it… a lot more people bought into the whole thing than anybody expected, frankly. So everyone you talked to either didn't say anything because they bought into it, or they didn't say anything because they were embarrassed by the whole thing. Which, in my opinion, is the exact opposite of the way they should respond if they don't like it, but what can you do?"

"… Huh," Myra said.

"S-so what about the curse that erases memories and things?"

Kimmik shrugged. "I dunno. I can't deny that that doesn't exist somewhere. I've never heard of anything like that. But then, maybe I just forgot about it." They probably had no idea what kind of sore point they were inadvertently stepping on with that joke.

"One last thing," Myra asked. "Is there anyone who would want to kill Lluruma?"

Kimmik frowned, seeming more disturbed by this than the other questions. Iz and Shera both shifted in surprise as well—it occurred to Myra that they might not have made the connection with the name 'Lluruma.'

Then again, that was a stupid question, anyway.

"Well, he's a controversial figure," Kimmik said. They started eyeing some of the bridges that led away from their platform. The strange question was obviously making them uncomfortable. Myra decided to wrap it up quickly; her last question was 'When did Lluruma come to power?' to which the answer was 'eight years ago.'

When they regrouped ten meters away, Iz looked really pissed off, her lips tight and her eyebrows scrunched.

"What's up with you? I thought you'd be happy to hear a more… mundane basis."

"It's not that," Iz said. "Why the fuck did this not come up in our readings?"

Oh, sure. Of course, after repeating over and over that the erasure curse, if real, had to be written down, being caught off guard with this must have been a gut punch. That said, it was also very Iz to be upset over some books letting her down. It was almost a relief, a familiar pattern.

"Seriously, why didn't we find this?"

"Do you think Kimmik was lying to us, then?" Shera asked.

Iz looked to be at war with herself, but eventually, she said, "No." She checked her watch. "Urgh… we need to overnight it to Ralkenon if we're going to make our 'appointment.'"

If anything, Shera looked pleased at the idea—Myra herself was pretty relieved, too. She was ready to be home in Ralkenon. For once, she could sleep in her dorm bed, where the mattress was shaped perfectly and the morning light peeked through the curtains at exactly the right intensity. Hell, she could attend class if she wanted. She didn't really want to spend time going to class, but she wanted to be able to do that.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"Have you given any more th-thought to seeing your father, Myra?" Shera asked.

"Huh? What do you mean, more thought?"

"What, did you forget about our whole conversation back at the park?" Iz cut in.

"It's kind of fuzzy," Myra said.

"Okay, but did you forget about when we brought it up at the very beginning of the loop?"

"Oh! Um… no, I didn't forget about that."

"So, to Shera's question—did you give it any more thought?"

"No."

Iz squinted her eyes. At this rate, she was going to get in that position.

"Well, think about it," Iz said.

◆

Half a loop truly consequence-free, and she was spending a day going to meet Violet fucking Penrilla of all people.

It made her feel a little better, at least, that Iz didn't seem thrilled about it either. Even though she had pushed them to get there on time, she seemed to find it a bit of a necessary evil. If the previous-loop-Iz hadn't specifically requested it, Myra doubted her friend would be taken with the idea at all.

Logistics: The last time, the group had included Cynthia and Nathan. Myra didn't really want to deal with Nathan just days after she'd murdered his brother, but she was grateful to have Cynthia around. Frankly, Myra wasn't sure the rest of them would be able to muster up the requisite sociability without her.

At least they had the restaurant with the greasy onion dish to look forward to.

With 3/4 of their party in the know, they were able to time it just right, filing into line right at the appointed time, a perfect ambush to the unsuspecting heiress going about her lunch.

"Violet Penrilla," Myra called out her name.

The young woman snapped around so fast she almost got her dress in a twist. "Ah?!" Like a cornered animal surrounded by predators, her eyes darted between the four of them, sizing up the situation and looking for an escape route. "It's…" She looked them over one by one, with a deep, searching expression on her face. "You're… whooo are you? We haven't met…?"

Ah, right. Last time we got into an argument because she recognized us from when we were stalking around the hotel. This time, she doesn't recognize us.

"We're the coolest girls to hang out with in Ralkenon!" Cynthia said. "I'm Cynthia! You wanna go bowling with us?"

"What the fuck?" she said. It was probably the least rude thing she'd do all loop.

"Bowling! The ultimate sport, woman versus pin. These are my pals, Iz, Myrabelle, and Sherazyn."

She looked at Iz. "Iz? You look familiar."

"Do I?" It was too sharp.

"Yeah…" Violet had to think for a long moment, but she pulled it up. "You won that puzzle contest… Izz…" She thought for a long time. "Isadora?"

"That's me."

"Hang on—" She seemed to regain some reasoning faculties. "How did you all recognize me? Where do you know me from?"

"Oh, uh… I've seen your photo in the paper." She was probably in the paper at some point. Right? "And there's been a rumor around our school that you're in town with the princess. Or rather, that the princess is in town, and your name popped up a couple of times… One of my classmates swears he saw you two at the Hotel Caldera."

Violet Penrilla bit her lip, thinking intently. Myra was definitely worried she'd just cut and run—who knew how she really made up her mind on this. Finally, she agreed. "Sure, I'll join you."

◆

"Man, I haven't been bowling in years," Violet said.

"Really? You seem really good at it."

"You think?" Actually, of three frames (mostly played in awkward silence except by Cynthia), Violet had gotten two spares and a strike. Good, but not nearly as good as her near-perfect game they'd had before. Maybe it was because they'd chosen a different lane. "Well, I used to play a lot, but it's been a couple of years."

"Who'd you play with?" Previously, Violet had given the impression she didn't have a tight social circle beyond the princess.

"Just myself."

"Do you not like competing?" Iz jumped in.

"I like to compete with myself," Violet said.

"So have you ever like… gotten into dueling?" Iz asked. She obviously wanted to ask about dueling given the accounting of the previous loop. Unfortunately, by jumping on the obvious segue, she had inadvertently given the young woman a quick out to be dismissive of the subject.

"Dueling? Nah, like I said, I like to compete with myself."

"Really? I heard you're good at it," Iz pushed.

Violet looked baffled. "The hell? From who?"

"I don't remember. The newspaper."

"You've gotta be mixing me up with someone else. I've barely dueled in my life."

Iz ended up dropping the subject. Only a few frames in, and they'd already hit a wall, though knowing Iz, she would make the most of this, somehow.

They continued the game, and Cynthia chatted the heiress up a bit, mentioning that they had "nearly met" as kids because her dad was a colleague of the Penrilla family physician. All the rich people's physicians knew each other, apparently. She was also able to extract a story of the woman's socially isolated childhood, similar to the one from last time.

Violet seemed to 'find her footing' in the bowling game, not missing a strike since their conversation about it. This was, somehow, in spite of having already downed two drinks from the bowling alley bar. Meanwhile, Shera watched the girl's every motion with her mouth half-open, a deep fascination in her eyes, looking away only to avoid being caught out by the heiress herself.

God, I know she's pretty, but she's also a royal cunt. You don't have to fuck her with your eyes. It was unnecessary to be annoyed. Shera could find a girl cute if she wanted. Myra was annoyed anyway.

"So, Violet," Myra said, now that Violet had firmly established herself as definitely good at bowling. "You're not just cheating with telekinesis are you?" Had Myra made the same joke last time? She thought she might have. It was equally unfunny this time.

"No, of course not," Violet said, rolling her eyes. "That'd trivialize it, yeah?"

"Wait, what kinda telekinesis are we talking about?" Cynthia asked. "Like controlling the ball all the way down the lane, or just using it to push off?"

"Either, right?" Myra asked. "Even if you're just pushing off, telekinesis still trivializes the thing. Experts can get like 10 sig figs of precision in their physical control, it's really reliable if you know how to do it. I think?"

"That assumes a vacuum," Iz and Shera said at the same time. Only Iz went on. "Obviously, the ball still has to contend with the air resistance, the friction of the floor, which might be bumpy or oiled weirdly."

"Wait, does that matter?" Myra asked. "I thought we were just supposed to roll the ball as straight as possible. Are you telling me that maybe I'm supposed to angle it one degree right because the floor could be warped?"

"No, you're not supposed to throw it straight," Violet said, while Shera shivered. "Usually you wanna curve it or hook it. Much better chance of getting all the pins when you come at it from an angle."

"Wait, that has utility? I thought you were doing that to show off…"

Violet grinned.

Iz had been silent for a while now, just observing the duke's daughter, but there was a lull in the conversation at this point, and she jumped in, swerving the conversation like the aforementioned hook. "So, Violet. Do you know much about Unkmire?"

Violet shrugged. "I know a lot about a lot of countries. Why? Interested in the big summit?" She took a drink of her beer. "Oh fuck, is the summit common knowledge yet?"

Iz didn't answer. "Myra and I… we were in Unkmire and we learned about this thing they do where they pretend to forget about all the important things they lost."

"Oh. That."

"… But we can't find anything about it in the empire. It's not in any of the cultural guides we checked, not in any encyclopedias. We thought it was… strange."

"Just a sec." She took another drink. She considered her words, then she decided to take her turn at bowling (she got a strike).

When she finally answered, she said, "It's not verboten exactly. You can find books about it if you know how to look. The keyphrase you're looking for is 'voluntary collective feigned misrecollection'. But yeah. They make it hard to find."

"They?"

She shrugged. "You know. The government. Mala's family." She blinked. "The imperial family," I mean.

"Why?"

"'Cause… They find it creepy, obviously." She looked like she had been about to say something else.

"Do you know anything about the cultural minister guy? Lluruma?"

She snorted. "Creepiest of the lot, if you ask me."

"You've met him?"

"Well, sure. My parents have a lot of international business."

"Why would you run into Lluruma, though?"

She squinted at Iz, starting to get put off by her questions. "You're being nosy."

"Hey, I'm just trying to learn about Unkmire. I don't care about your personal business."

Violet rolled her eyes. It looked like she wasn't going to say anything more. Cynthia finished her turn and Iz stepped away to take hers.

"Like the compartmentalization you need to do that sorta thing, you know?" Violet spoke quickly, her head and eyes tilted in different directions, and neither towards any particular person. "To just act like something doesn't exist in the face of the reality it does. You know, take Mala. God knows how many secrets she's got locked up in her brain, probably every other day she meets someone affected by something she knows—what goes on in her head when she talks to them? How's she do that? What's it do to her?"

"Uh—"

Violet took a drink and didn't say anything else.

"What'd I miss?" Iz had taken a really good turn, but she was looking peeved at having missed a part of the conversation.

"I'm not sure," Myra said. The train of thought had been all over the place, she hadn't quite followed from one point to the next.

"My turn," Violet said. She got eight pins.

◆

Unfortunately, she was done talking about Unkmire. Iz did manage to get in another interrogation round, though it was mostly information Myra already obtained before. Under the guise of 'trying to crack the crater case' (which Violet seemed to find wryly amusing) Iz was able to eke out an account of Violet and Malazhonerra's first night in the city. They had arrived at the hotel late at night. Violet had taken a long shower, and was pretty sure Malazhonerra had gone straight to bed, but "she theoretically could have gone out for a bit, I'd have to ask."

Getting Violet to actually ask seemed like a different question altogether.

Well, it was good they at least to get the princess's story corroborated. And anyway, it had been several hours before 5 A.M. From the story, it sounded like they were definitely both asleep at that point.

When they were finished, Cynthia suggested another activity. Rather than karaoke, she proposed the art museum, but Violet said she'd already seen it. They ended up going rafting down the river that cut through the city. It was fun, though it didn't give them much chance to chat. Then they parted ways.

There wasn't much to debrief about Violet Penrilla. It had broadly gone the same way as before. They had at least learned some more interesting information about Unkmire and the empire's relationship to it, but it was unclear what to do with that information. What did all this say about Lluruma's presence at the summit? Was his presence a factor in the massacre? Did any of this have anything to do with the bust that Benkoten had mentioned…?

"We've learned a lot about Unkmire," Shera said. "But still nothing about the memory c-curse." She looked at Myra. "Even though we know it exists now."

"Right," Myra said. "Apparently I forgot something."

"Yeah, about that," Iz said. She checked her watch. "It's been around 24 hours. That was the time I decided yesterday."

"… Time for what?"

"For humoring all of this."

"…"

"Have you got it out of your system, Myra?"

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