HSR Lore and Notes

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====== Yoyo's Letters ======
Letters dropped in front of a certain residence. One is yellowed with age, while the other looks relatively new.

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//Two letters lying by an abandoned residence. They appear to have been written by the same person.//
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**Worn Letter**
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To the 25-year-old Yoyo,

Hi there! I'm you from when we were 5! Ms Gina gave us our first assignment of the semester: writing a letter to ourselves twenty years in the future.

Mom bought me a new schoolbag this morning and made my favorite pan-fried fish. She says that as long as I study hard, I'll be able to go to Duomension City and work in one of those sparkling skyscrapers, and I won't have to go out fishing like Mom and Dad. I've been practicing writing my name every day. The spelling is really hard, but I've already learned how to write it.

To become you, my plan is as follows:

  - Learn how to count money. That way, when I get paid working in those big shiny buildings, they won't make any mistakes.
  - Remember the way home. From now on, I have to walk home by myself so Mom doesn't worry.
  - Eat well. Mom says eating fish makes you smarter, so I make sure to lick my plate of fried fish clean every single day.

I drew a picture of you with crayons: you're wearing a red shirt, holding a briefcase, and standing on top of a dazzling skyscraper. Can you help me look around and see if there's any shop selling fried fish in Duomension City? Dad says you can find anything in the big city.

I'm gonna go take a nap now. I still haven't earned today's little red flower.

Will you miss me, your little self?

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Yoyo\\
■ 10, 1979
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**New Letter**
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Dear Mother:

I hope this letter finds you well!

I landed a staff job at Pearluxe Corp. Starting this month, I'm on a six-month probation. My desk is by a window on the 17th floor. We have to wear the standard uniform while on the clock. Shirts must be ironed daily, and the cuffs have to be spotless. Sometimes, I envy my mechatron colleagues since they never seem to stress about the dress code.

I live in an apartment on the far east side of Duomension City. It's a bit of a trek to the office, but the distance to the train station isn't too bad. There's a convenience store downstairs that sells instant fried fish for 28 credits a pop. The fish is tender, but the sauce is way too sweet... Not really my thing.

On the 10th of every month, a string of numbers pops up in my bank account. Then, just as quickly, they drain away: one-third to the landlord, one-fourth for train tickets and convenience store gift cards, and then there's some baffling "Wishpower Mediation Fee." Maybe I've been in a bad mood lately and caused trouble for the community workers?

Mom, I don't think I'll ever learn my way around this place. This city is huge, yet I have no time to get familiar with it. After a whole week of work, all I want to do is lie down in my rental and get some extra rest. I don't know where to go to have fun, and I don't have any friends here to take me out.

My colleagues are always talking about "financial freedom" and "escaping the rat race." Hearing those words puts me in a daze. The life everyone's yearning for... it sounds exactly like the life we had twenty years ago! Once I've saved up enough money, I'll come back to Seafeld and run a small restaurant with you. Doesn't that sound nice?

Mom, last night I dreamt of when I was little. If I can make it home this holiday, could you make fried fish again and teach me how to do it? I don't want to be smarter this time. I just want to retain its taste.

May the seas be calm and your burdens lighten. After all, you're all I have left to worry about since Dad passed.

Wish you all the best!

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Yoyo\\
■ 12, 1999
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