"So, how are you supposed to use this? Can you eat it?"

"You can’t eat it."

"—Huh?"

The exchange was between Ye Weibai and [Time].

Black hair, black eyes—the boy lifted his head, faintly surprised, at the palm-sized quartz clock drifting in the air. Sunlight spilled through the window onto its face, refracting a soul-stirring gleam, bright then dim, like a breathing tide.

"Wei—"

"What."

"You seem in a good mood?"

A pause—cold air held still. Then her signature chill voice came. "Average."

Smiling, Ye Weibai tilted his head, noncommittal as a closed fan.

"So how do you use this?"

He opened his palm, showing a teardrop crystal, like a frozen tear.

"Because the quality is high this time. By contract, I take one third."

Buzz.

An unseen force skimmed his hand. The gray crystal shivered. Its boiling-gray grains thinned at once, a small half blown away like mist.

"The rest—this half?"

"Dispose of it yourself." [Time] spoke her catchphrase. "You’re allowed one related question."

Related… like what it does, or how to use it.

"Then—" He didn’t mull long. He smiled and chose. "How do I give this to Little Ash?"

A sly question—skip “whether,” ask “how.”

Except—

"Are you sure you—" [Time]’s tone cooled a hair, so slight he doubted his own ear.

He nodded. "I’m sure. I’ll give it to Little Ash."

Warmth first, movement after—his lids lowered. Lashes veiled black irises. His gaze softened, sunlit on his side profile.

He was staring at the “Doll” on the coffee table.

On the pale tabletop, a tiny cradle held an even tinier bed, barely larger than an A4 sheet. Sunlight lay on pink-patterned sheets like petals after rain.

A sleeping-beauty girl Doll lay quiet, head on a soft pillow. Gray hair spilled in loose strands. In a high school sailor uniform, her small body curled on its side. A pale sheet covered her, just enough to hide slender calves, leaving two delicate, jade-pale bare feet.

Tender and careful, Ye Weibai reached out. He smoothed the sheet the breeze had teased open and tucked it over her feet.

This palm-sized Doll was Little Ash—[Misfortune] Little Ash.

Watching his fine, gentle motions, [Time] didn’t stir. Yet far away, through the clockface, the girl—Wei—watched as well.

Her brows seemed to pinch, just a shade.

"She’s already dead. That’s a corpse."

"I know."

"As your partner, I need to remind you. This ‘Tear’ matters. It could save your life at a critical moment." [Time] couldn’t help herself.

"Oh, save my life, huh?"

He tipped his head, as if he thought—or didn’t. His smile stayed soft. "Then it’s important, sure."

Silence gathered. [Time] said nothing.

If [Nightfall] Little Black were here, they’d probably feel the same—this man’s ambiguous smile was infuriating, a gust that won’t settle.

Life or death on the line, yet he stayed airy, cloud-light, wind-light.

"Suit yourself."

"Ha." His mouth curved. He lifted his eyes to [Time], sly as a cat. "Jealous?"

"…Nonsense."

"My guess?" His smile went a touch roguish, and so did the line. "Wei might be a cute girl. When do we meet for real? This feels like online flirting."

Wei’s tone stayed frost-cold. "This is the real body."

"Tsk. I don’t buy it. Even if it is, you could take a human shape, right?"

"Pointless." Her chill never thawed. She shifted topics and cut the dull chatter. "I gave the advice. How you use the Tear is your freedom."

"I get it. People only save themselves; life and death are on you." Ye Weibai kept his smile and nodded. "Then that’s that. Can I have the answer?"

"Place it on her forehead."

"That simple? No incantation, no magic circle?"

"No need." Three cold words fell. Blue light flickered. [Time]’s silhouette slid away into the Void.

Ye Weibai let out a muted laugh. Not mad, she said. The light just made it obvious.

"Then, next." His smile folded away. He looked at Little Ash’s body—death still and thin as ice.

"Let me see, Little Ash—this thing you longed for, what does it do for you?"

Gentle first, then movement—his thumb eased her shoulder, rolling her face-up.

He set the tear crystal on her forehead, careful as laying dew on a leaf.

The crystal was just big enough to cover her face. The instant it touched, gray grains flared like oil meeting a spark. They burst free, eager as fledglings, gushing into a whirling cyclone of gray particles. It howled, spiraled, and wound around her small body.

Sheets slid down. The metal storm lifted her like a careful tide.

Gray short hair and sailor sleeves fluttered, dancing like reeds in wind.

Ye Weibai held his breath. His eyes didn’t blink. He watched Little Ash rise into the air.

Time showed itself. With every beat, those gray grains thinned and seeped, soaking into her body like rain into dry earth.

At last, minutes on the clock, every grain folded in like swallows to the nest. The crystal melted away without anyone noticing, like snow meeting first sun.

Without the gray lift, her body dropped. He’d been ready. He reached out and caught the small body, steady as a shore.

"Eh, seems… softer?"

The first thing he felt was the shift in touch—her body softer, warmer, a thin breath of life woven in.

Could these grains revive her? But Wei did say she was dead, beyond any cure.

His gaze lowered. Thought pooled.

Then a child’s voice brushed his ear.

"Daddy…"

…

…

Little Ash mattered.

As already said.

The first Deity Ye Weibai met was [Misfortune] Little Ash.

To Ye Weibai, in his brief life, Little Ash was very, very important.

Not because she saved him from [Nightfall] and let him live, but because—

She showed him this World still held so many [Interesting] things.

"Truly—too [Interesting]."

That was his reaction when Little Ash told him, "In two years, a Deity will kill you."

Back then, the black-haired, black-eyed boy smiled bright as sunlight.

This—was Ye Weibai.

For Ye Weibai, [Interesting] outweighs [Life].

…

…