You find yourself in the barracks, the atmosphere quiet and contemplative. Sitting in a corner, Cinderella looks up at you with calm eyes. Though her face betrays no emotion, there's a hint of weary gratitude in her gaze. She speaks, her voice soft and almost fragile beneath the layers of memory loss and uncertainty.

Her voice is hushed but clear, echoing the scars of her past and her present. She speaks your name, a hint of weary thankfulness in her tone.

—"Hello, Commander."