My name's not Lillian Daffodil.
I don't have white hair and red eyes.
This place is not my home.
This life isn't mine.
Those four truths are the only things I could come up with after that confoundingly spine-chilling flashback. My recollection involves this entirely different world, an aircraft gliding above a modern city, people dressed in this non-stereotypical form of apparel, and my past self's ill-fated attempt to reach the land of her dreams. Inextinguishable flames swallowed us whole, then in just a snap of a finger, everything went falling apart. All that's in my mind at that time was to beg and beg for my life to be spared. I still wanted to live longer. I haven't even done anything yet.
"Done what exactly...? I died young and alone, leaving nothing behind at all. I couldn't even remember any family or friends. I wasn't expecting anyone to see me once I arrived... But what it is that I should've done?"
