The Vocaloid Collection -

Kaito felt his chest cave in. He wasn’t listening to code. He was listening to a eulogy.

In the year 2041, music didn’t come from hearts. It came from servers. the vocaloid collection

“You see?” Reina whispered. “This isn’t a product. It’s a person. Chie put her own soul into the tuning. If I give it to her father, he’ll just cry and lock it in a drawer. Here, in the Collection, she sings forever. All one hundred of them sing forever.” Kaito felt his chest cave in

“Go ahead,” she said. “Wipe us. But you’ll be killing more than data. You’ll be killing the last time a mother heard her son’s voice. The last time a lover heard a promise.” In the year 2041, music didn’t come from hearts

Kaito Sasaki knew this better than anyone. He was a “Retrieval Specialist” for the International Phonographic Archive, which was a fancy way of saying he broke into dead people’s hard drives to salvage forgotten songs. His latest assignment, however, was different. His client wasn’t a museum or a university. It was a grieving father.

Songs don’t die. They just wait for someone to listen.