The cold air, laden with the scent of rain, gently mingled with a bittersweet sensation, evoking a flood of long-forgotten memories that lay dormant within the chambers of my heart. As the rhythmic patter of raindrops incessantly battled against the clay tile roof, their relentless assault reverberated through the air, disturbing the calmness of my surroundings. Each exhalation escaped my lips, transforming into delicate vapor that hung in the misty atmosphere, suspended as almost ethereal droplets, a visual manifestation of the intangible emotions swirling within me.

I gently wiped my wet right cheek with a soft white towel, unsure if it was tears or rainwater. As I remembered the entire lyrics of that song, I felt incredibly happy, moved, and puzzled as to why I had almost forgotten most of the lyrics. It was one of the legacies left to me, and I felt foolish for forgetting it. There was also a sense of curiosity as to why I could remember everything in that very moment.

"Young Hana, have you finished drying yourself?" A soft voice of a middle-aged man came from behind the guest bathroom door, asking about my condition.

Considering he was the host, I had to hurry. "Yes, Uncle. Sorry for the inconvenience."

"It's alright. Dry your whole body to avoid catching a cold."

"Okay," I replied briefly.

The changing room felt cramped with multiple doors leading to other rooms and the bathroom entrance. There were several wooden furnishings, such as a wardrobe with hangers, a wooden rack, and a three-tiered drawer. The room was illuminated by simple incandescent lights, giving off an orange hue. On the wall, there were plastic clothes hangers, and my school uniform was wet hanging there. Thankfully, my underwear remained dry as I wore double layers.

After drying myself, I tidied up all my uniforms and placed them in my backpack as temporary storage. Ah, I forgot to comb my wet hair. Oh well, I didn't bring a comb, and it would be uncomfortable to use someone else's without permission.

I pushed the sliding wooden door aside and exited the room. I could hear a conversation from the adjacent room, which was the family room with a U-shaped sofa, a table in the middle, and a TV hanging on the central wall with a table underneath, along with a DVD player. I walked towards that room.

"How are you, Hana?" Arkan asked his uncle Tio as I entered the room where they were gathered. I saw Arkan standing with Tio's uncle, while Tio was sitting, observing them, and Chika, as usual, was sitting in the corner of the sofa with a towel on her shoulder.

"She should be done soon—oh, there she is." Tio's uncle turned towards me, motioning with his hand, signaling me to come over.

"Hana, are you okay? Would you like a warm cup of tea?" Arkan asked with a worried and serious tone.

"I'm fine, really, no need," I declined. Why was he the one offering? Was he also a host?

"But it startled me," Tio said. "The rain went from level 0 to level 100 in less than a second." Game level analogy, huh? I didn't understand.

"Yeah, it has been cloudy for a while, but the sudden increase in volume caught us off guard," Chika added. Apparently, even though she secluded herself, she remained active.

"Alright then, I will make some warm tea for everyone, at least to provide some warmth," Tio's uncle said.

"Oh, in that case, let me help, Uncle," I offered with good intentions.

"No need, Young Hana. You stay here," my good intentions were halted once again.

Everyone in the room finally settled down. Chika and I faced the side of the TV, while Arkan and Tio sat on a long sofa facing the TV. The cold, damp air and the silence filled only with the sound of raindrops reminded me of the dark times in my previous residence. Arkan's serious face, Chika's pouting, and Tio continuously facing Arkan made me uneasy.

Unconsciously, I blurted out, "I'm sorry."

In an instant, everyone seemed to snap back to reality.

"Sorry? Why are you apologizing?" Arkan asked.

All eyes were on me. Being treated like this, I didn't know how to respond, so I could only lower my face.

"Do you feel guilty because we all got caught in the rain?" he continued.

My face lifted, and it turned out Arkan had already stood up from his seat, looking at me while I kept my head down. It's not easy for someone to guess what's in someone else's heart, but Arkan answered it so easily.

"Was anyone blaming you from the beginning?" After saying that, he looked around with me following his gaze. Tio shook his head, and so did Chika.

"If anyone blames you, I'll punch that person," Chika said.

"But, the fireworks..."

Tio answered, "Oh, if it's about that, it's not a problem. If it's dried again, it will ignite as usual." He continued while looking at Arkan, "However, that thing..."

"That discussion can wait until Uncle is here. It's better to have him with us, right?" Arkan replied.

"Sounds reasonable."

I didn't know what they meant, but I didn't ask. Nonetheless, I didn't inquire. We all sat back in our previous positions, waiting for Tio's uncle who was brewing tea for us.

The aroma of fragrant tea, infused with hints of delicate floral notes, gracefully permeated the airy shortly after, with a gentle and measured stride, the uncle entered the room, his presence accompanied by a symphony of clinking porcelain. Balancing a wide square plate adorned with intricate patterns in both hands, he carried an antique teapot, its handle wrapped in aged wicker, and a collection of dainty teacups, each with its own story etched upon the surface. With utmost care and precision, he poured a nice warm, wait no, hot tea to each of our cups.

"Be careful when drinking it, okay? I accidentally used a high flame." He said.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Tea served in such hot conditions while the weather was cold due to the rain was indeed delightful. As it was served, I took one cup and sipped it. It was a bit hot, but it was okay. The sugar used was also slightly bland; perhaps the uncle didn't stir it evenly.

We all sipped the warm sweet tea while exhaling from our mouths, releasing vapor as the warm air met the cold outside air.

Then, the uncle sat on the sofa facing me. "Alright, now that everyone has warmed up, I have one question for Young Hana," he said. His words almost made me choke in surprise. A question? For me?

"I-Is there anything wrong, uncle?" I replied, stuttering.

"Ahaha, no need to be tense. You didn't do anything wrong." Arkan said the same thing earlier...

"I just want to ask one thing... Do you know where that song came from?" Suddenly, his tone became serious. I was confused and nervous about how to answer, even though I actually had an answer to the uncle's question.

"Sorry, Uncle, let me change the question. Have you ever visited the Ilutu City Festival? Or have you only watched it on television?"

Now, it ends up not making any sense with the first question and making me more confused. Nonetheless, I reply, "Ah... I may have seen it on television, but I haven't been there in person."

"In that case, where did you learn the lyrics of the song you just sang?" For some reason, uncle sounded extremely serious when the 'song' I sang came up.

Nervously, I answered, "...I-I know the song from my mother."

"Yo-your mother, you say...?" Arkan interjected suddenly.

"What, Arkan?" Tio's uncle asked.

"N-No. It's just..." He seemed unable to answer and shifted his gaze towards me.

I smiled. "My mother... has passed away, Uncle."

In an instant, silence enveloped the room again. Tio, his uncle, had a look of surprise and regret on his face. Arkan simply lowered his head, Tio appeared shocked, and Chika turned away.

"I-Is that so... I apologize for asking such an impolite question. I sincerely apologize," Uncle said.

I could feel his genuine apology and regret. I responded softly, "Ahaha, it's okay, Uncle. I have already accepted it..."

'Accepted'... Have I truly moved on from that?

"So, it was your mother who taught you that song?" Uncle continued his question.

"Yes, my late mother often sang that song to me. Whether I was sad or when we celebrated something, she would always sing it. That's why I memorized the lyrics. Although I have forgotten some of them, they all came back to me earlier for some reason."

Ah, damn it. Diving into memories like this, remembering my late mother who is no longer here, it hurts my heart.

"I don't know where the song came from. I never asked. But when my mother sang it, she looked so happy and cheerful. My father also enjoyed her singing. They both seemed to reminisce about a pleasant past."

"..."

"Why did you ask about that, Uncle?" I asked to make sure.

"A-Ah, nothing. Actually, the song originates from the Ilutu City Festival. Well, one of the event in that festival. A really cool one, you see."

Upon hearing that statement, I couldn't say anything. I was too shocked and could only utter words of confusion.

"E-Eh... I see..."

"...If I may ask, what was your late mother's name?"

Slowly, I placed the antique cup filled with hot tea that I held tightly onto the table, to avoid it from falling. My gaze became empty, not knowing the intention behind his continuous questioning.

Trembling and stuttering, I answered, "My mother's name is Nathalia Amber."

Suddenly, my uncle stood up from his seat, his face showing a surprised expression. He didn't say anything and his body tensed up. He took a step back, causing him to stumble over the sofa behind him and fall. Fortunately, he fell onto the sofa in a sitting position.

As time passed, the look of surprise on uncle's face disappeared, replaced by a... sadness. He clasped his hands together, clenched like he was pleading, as if he had received tragic news about someone close.

A fleeting thought crossed my mind. What is the connection between him and my mother? But I couldn't voice that sentence.

"W-What's wrong all of a sudden?" Tio tried to find an explanation for his uncle's strange behavior.

"A-Ah, sorry. Excuse me for a moment, will you? I need to get something from my room," he said with a weak tone. He stood up, then gave me a compassionate look before leaving the room. His gaze left me unable to respond.

Silence once again enveloped us in the room. None of us spoke. But I saw Arkan continuously looking at me with a worried expression.

"What was that all about..." Chika said.

"I don't know either," Tio replied.

While we were puzzled, we heard the sound of things falling coming from the room where uncle went. It sounded like scattered cardboard boxes. Once again, we were taken aback.

"What now..." Chika muttered.

"That old man..." Tio growled with a slightly harsh tone.

Then, Tio's uncle returned to the room, holding a DVD disc in his hand. It was covered in dust, leaving stains on his clothes.

"Hey, isn't that..." Tio ask him something, while recognizing the thing in uncle's hands.

Ignoring us, who were staring at him with confusion and worry, he continued with his own activities. He inserted the DVD disc into the DVD player on the table, which was connected directly to the TV.

With deep curiosity, I finally asked, "Uncle, what are you doing?"

"Soon, you will find out, Hana," he said with a serious tone. He continued, "By the way, do you know where your mother's hometown is?"

What a strange question again. What does it have to do with the current situation?

Nevertheless, I still answered, "Honestly, I don't know."

My uncle's movement, which was about to press the 'Play' button on his DVD player, came to a halt. Slowly, he shifted his gaze towards me.

I continued, "I have never been told much about my parents' background. I only know that they are not from my old town. My Uncle and Auntie used to visit our house often to take care of me when I was little, while my parents were busy. But other than that, I don't know much."

True enough, I don't know the reason too. Was it because they were too busy to make a story? But there were also my Uncle and Auntie visiting us, they can tell me much or less about them. Had I've been to this city before? Where my Uncle and Auntie lives? Nope. I always thought this city was a place for a retired family like my Uncle. Never in my life have I thought this place was...

"I see..." he said. Finally, he pressed the 'Play' button after inserting the DVD disc.

Uncle stood parallel to the TV and pressed the power button on the electronic device. From a black screen that showed nothing, a text appeared: 'Fire Dancer #12'.

"This is... a glimpse into the past entrusted to me. Generations that inherit our traditions. And one of them is..."

The snippet from the DVD began playing and the black screen start turning grey.

[Hey, does this device really allow me to see myself in the past?]

My heart skipped a beat as I heard the voice of a woman in the recording. The room we were in was immediately filled with the gentle whispers of the woman as the footage started playing. Suddenly, once again, a voice flowed from the speakers, a voice that evoked memories of warmth, comfort, and unconditional love. It was my mother's voice, clearly taking me back to the colorful moments of the past.

[Can't I practice being a Fire Dancer before helping make the fireworks?]

A male voice responded.

[Come on, making fireworks isn't that difficult. Just help me for a bit, it should be fine, right?]

My mother's voice was distorted, but I was certain it was her. On the TV screen, there was also the face of a beautiful girl who resembled me more than the mother I knew. Tears welled up in my eyes as I heard their laughter and joyful conversation once again. A single tear fell from my cheek into the grip of my hand.

The recording continued, and as the analog camera faithfully captured each moment, the flickering flame, born from the torch clutched in someone's hand, dispersed the darkness, casting a warm glow that illuminated the surroundings and unveiled a figure standing proudly on a magnificent stage adorned with enchanting decorations. In her grasp, she held Sparklers ablaze, their radiance dancing in harmony with the flickering firelight. With graceful movements, the woman gracefully wove through the roaring inferno, her every step synchronized with the bursts of vibrant fireworks that adorned the night sky, creating an awe-inspiring spectacle that mesmerized all who beheld it, a testament to her artistry and the indomitable spirit that burned within her.

"Is that... my mother?"

"Yes, she is your mother. Nathalia Amber. When she lived here, she was an incredibly talented Fire Dancer."

A trace of a recording left behind in time. A memento of someone who once set foot in this house.

A hidden memory.