2025.09.06
珍成為「面紗的守護者」。她所守護的，並非黃金寶藏或石製遺物，而是那些懸浮於生者與被遺忘者之間的脆弱面紗。每一道面紗都是一種存在的閃爍，是某人故事的氣息，懸浮在兩個世界之間。
她的房間裡堆滿了這些薄紗，每一層都刻印著只有專注之人才能聽見的低語。有些微弱得像暮光中的塵埃，有些則帶著安靜的光芒。珍帶著敬意穿行其間，雙手輕拂紗面，喚醒那些片段──未完成的搖籃曲、半句的祈禱、被靜默封存的笑聲。她的使命不是將它們原封不動地保存，而是將它們重新編織。她會把疲憊士兵的嘆息與孩子的聖歌交織，把哀愁與希望編成同一片面紗。她縫補的，並非為了復原，而是為了尊重記憶那未竟的本質。
有些夜晚，面紗們會緊緊圍繞著珍，彷彿在懇求被記起。在那些夜裡，她也會低聲回應，不是以救世者的身份，而是作為陪伴者：「你並不孤單，你被看見了。」
於是，珍自己也成了一道面紗──半是存在，半是消逝，半是對脆弱邊界的提醒。走進她房間的人，常常帶著莫名的淚水離去，因為那些面紗輕輕觸碰了他們自身隱藏的記憶。
就這樣，珍持續守護著，不是為了終結過去，而是讓它持續呼吸、顫動，靜靜地活著。
Jane became The Keeper of Veils. She did not guard treasures of gold or relics of stone, but the fragile veils of memory that hovered between the living and the forgotten. Each veil was a shimmer of presence, a breath of someone’s story suspended between worlds.
Her chamber was filled with layers of these gossamer fabrics, each inscribed with whispers only the attentive could hear. Some were faint, like dust in the twilight, while others glowed with a quiet certainty. Jane walked among them with reverence, her hands brushing against their surfaces, awakening fragments—an unfinished lullaby, a half-spoken prayer, a moment of laughter trapped in silence.
Her role was not to preserve them untouched, but to weave them together. She would take the sigh of a weary soldier and thread it with the hymn of a child, binding sorrow and hope into a single veil. She stitched fragments not to restore what was lost, but to honor the unfinished nature of memory itself.
There were nights when the veils pressed close, wrapping around Jane as if asking to be remembered. On those nights, she whispered back, not as a savior but as a companion: “You are not alone. You are seen.”
In this way, Jane herself became a veil—part presence, part absence, part reminder of the fragile line between existence and disappearance. Those who entered her chamber often left with tears they could not explain, sensing that the veils had brushed against their own hidden memories.
And so Jane continued, not to resolve the past, but to keep it breathing, trembling, and quietly alive.
