In the dimly lit tunnel, Moen followed the nimble Rabbit, quickly threading deeper in.

The passage was narrow, once again to the point that Moen had to hunch to get through, but fortunately it no longer went straight up and down as before; it was extremely level, and it seemed that simply going straight ahead would bring them to their destination.

And after observing, Moen roughly came to believe that this passage had been dug by the little girl before him.

The walls of the passage were covered with pickaxe marks; each mark was much the same, clearly made by the same person, with the same tool.

Moreover, judging by the degree of weathering, the farther in, the more ancient the excavation.

This entire maze of tunnels really did look as if it had been dug out bit by bit over a long time by the girl's hands, thin as bamboo poles, and the rusty pickaxe she held.

Her grimy white dress fluttered before him, and in Moen's eyes a scene seemed to appear: a stubborn little girl, chipping away at the tunnel with a pickaxe, then straining to carry away dirt and stone with her slender little hands.

Time flowed on, day after day without cease.

"Hey, Miss Rabbit."

Moen suddenly asked:

"How long have you been digging?"

"I don't know."

Without even turning her head, Rabbit said:

"It should have been a long time; I can't remember clearly."

"No one dug with you?"

"No."

Rabbit shook her head:

"Back then, those people thought I was doing something stupid, thought I was profaning the Lady Goddess, and wouldn't let me dig—mm, that was before that round moon came out."

"The Lady Goddess... do you remember her honorific name?"

"The Lady Goddess is the Lady Goddess. What's an honorific name?"

Rabbit looked back and asked in puzzlement.

"Oh."

A veiled light flickered in Moen's eyes. He made a sound of acknowledgment and smiled: "Just take it as me babbling like before. Back to what we were saying—once, they wouldn't let you dig. And now? After that round thing appeared?"

"Now... everyone can't even get out of here, so they leave me alone, but they still think I'm doing something stupid."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

Rabbit cocked her little head: "Maybe what I'm doing just looks very stupid to them."

Moen's heart inexplicably tightened.

Rabbit, however, looked calm, as if answering a question that had nothing to do with her.

She had something in her mouth; her cheeks were puffed out, and even her speech was a little muffled.

It was the fruit seed earlier; she couldn't bear to spit it out and kept it in her mouth, as if licking a candy.

But Moen knew that most fruit pits are not sweet at all—some are even bitter.

"Then... may I ask, why are you digging a tunnel?"

Moen looked into Rabbit's pitch-black eyes and asked cautiously.

After circling around it, he still couldn't help asking the question.

"Why dig a tunnel?"

Rabbit's little face went blank for a moment, as if she hadn't expected anyone to ask her that.

She stopped, scratched her head, and seemed to sink into a long-ago contemplation.

"I have to think about that; it must have been a very, very long time ago... Ah, I remember."

After a moment's thought, Rabbit's pitch-dark eyes suddenly grew bright, as if a warm light shone into their depths:

"I want to see the sun!"

"The sun?"

Moen froze.

"Which sun?"

No sooner had he spoken than Moen wanted to slap himself.

What other sun could it be? It was surely the one beyond this realm, the sun that shines on all beings and brings warmth.

Because here, there is no sun.

"My mom told me before that the sun has the peel of an orange, the warmth of a stove, and the kindness of a grandpa. I don't know what an orange or a stove is, but they must be very wonderful things, so I want to go see it."

Rabbit blinked and blinked; the little face that had been numb now hung with a hopeful smile.

It seemed even the grimy dust had become a bit endearing.

"So..."

Moen fell silent for a moment:

"You've been digging tirelessly, just to catch a glimpse of the sun?"

"Mm-hmm!"

Rabbit nodded vigorously: "If I can, I also want to see the moon. Mom said the moon isn't as warm as the sun and doesn't have an orange's peel, but she bears people's yearning. People will admire the moon together during reunions; it's a very gentle thing, too."

"The moon..."

Moen's lips worked. He very much wanted to say, You've actually already seen the moon—it's that round thing you mentioned.

But the moon in Rabbit's heart was as beautiful a thing as the sun; how could it be that false thing now hanging in the sky, cold and indifferent as it looks down upon this realm?

A little girl who chases after a sun she's never seen—it's just like a fairy tale.

"May I hold you?" Moen suddenly said.

"Huh?"

Rabbit seemed not to understand.

"I want to give you a hug." Moen repeated, making his expression as gentle as he could.

Rabbit stared at him blankly: "You have a smell on you that I hate."

"Ah..."

"But."

Rabbit smiled: "I don't hate you."

Moen smiled as well, bent down, and gathered the little girl into his arms.

"So warm."

Rubbing her cheek against Moen's chest, Rabbit murmured softly:

"Is the sun this warm?"

"No."

Holding her, Moen stroked her head with pity and answered with certainty:

"The sun is even warmer than this."

...

...

"We're here."

The road after that was not long. Rabbit led Moen through the last stretch of tunnel and to the exit.

The exit was very crude, just an old plank set up at the back doorway, like a door as simple as could be.

But the last person to go through it seemed to have forgotten to pull it shut, so it stood ajar, and the clamor, like the wails of anguished ghosts from hell, scraped at the nerves.

Moen silently swept his gaze over the traces before the battered door and nodded:

"That's right—Lea has indeed been here."

"Then my job is done."

"Mm. Thank you, Miss Rabbit." Moen said sincerely.

But Rabbit looked at him for a long time, and just as he was about to step forward, she couldn't help asking:

"Aren't you going to ask about other things?"

"Other things?"

"Mm. About us, about what's inside... about the natives."

Rabbit's gaze seemed to pierce the makeshift wooden door that stood ajar, yet also seemed fixed on Moen:

"I know a lot about those things. For the sake of all the fruit you gave me, I can tell you."

Moen was taken aback for a moment, then smiled and shook his head: "No need. I have a rough idea already—about you, about the natives, about the church's intent, and... about what's beyond this door."

"So..."

Moen's hand gripped the edge of the door:

"I don't need to ask those questions. I just have some regret."

"Regret? You regret coming here?"

"No. I regret letting Lea come here alone."

Holding his breath and listening to the chaotic clamor in his mind, sounds that seemed as if they could shred a person's soul, Moen said softly:

"The scenes inside must be very terrifying for kind-hearted Lea."

"Do you like that person named Lea?" Rabbit asked, tilting her head.

"Mm."

Moen answered: "The way you like the sun."

"Then don't you dare give up."

Rabbit swung the pickaxe in her hand as if she were a general brandishing a treasured sword, baring her teeth like an incensed rabbit: "I don't know whether the sun is waiting for me, but she is definitely waiting for you."

"You little brat, what do you know?"

Moen cursed her with a smile, "Do I look like someone who would give up?"

Yes. He certainly would not give up.

Because he had told the girl before: wait for him.

So even knowing full well how terrifying the things inside were, he still stood here.

"I said I would make you a saintess."

Moen pushed the door open to meet a whole world's darkness and light:

"I've come to fulfill my promise, Lea."