The girl in front of him was called Stardust. The rough gray cloth on her body couldn’t hide how pale she was—so fair it bordered on sickly white. She looked eight or nine, with ashy-gray short hair curling inward, the ends slightly flipped up. In her eyes, it was like a silver star ocean was sealed within. Her gaze was calm, her face expressionless as she looked at Ye Weibai.

Floating above her head, that gray big cat that kept “eating itself” was her Misfortune. The only reason he couldn’t see the girl earlier was because it had stuffed her into its belly.

Interesting thing was, the two of them seemed able to sense each other’s existence. Ye Weibai thought, the little girl seemed to know about the big cat.

Unlike Yin, though. That was a poor woman who knew nothing. She had no idea that everything about her came from that faceless dog.

Was ignorance a blessing, or a curse?

“So—” the girl in the cage suddenly spoke.

“Mm?”

She stared at Ye Weibai with eyes like dead ash. That was a trait of the Silver Spirit race: normally their twin pupils were like cold embers, utterly still, like a dead sea of stars high above the sky. But whenever their emotions rippled, their pupils would start to shimmer, layer upon layer, flickering like a galaxy lighting up.

Looking at her, something stirred in Ye Weibai’s heart—Little Ash’s appearance was actually a bit similar to the Silver Spirit race.

“Let me out.” Slender fingertips slipped out from sleeves that were a little too long. The girl pointed at the lock on the iron cage.

“...” Ye Weibai looked at her. “You can’t get out by yourself?”

“No key.” Her tone was flat, without rise or fall.

“I don’t have one either.” Ye Weibai smiled.

“Mm...” The little girl tilted her head slightly, blinking her gray eyes. “Then that’s… bad.”

She said it was bad, but there wasn’t a trace of distress or turmoil in her eyes. Her face stayed blank, making you doubt if she was really troubled at all.

The Silver Spirit race did have trouble expressing emotions, but someone like Stardust, who didn’t let even a hint slip out, was rare. Maybe this wasn’t a racial thing. Maybe it was because of that gray cat on her head.

That big gray cat that kept gnawing on itself—what exactly was it eating?

With the Eye of Misfortune open, Ye Weibai saw it clearly. It wasn’t just the cat’s body, or simple Misfortune particles… Mixed in among those particles were some transparent, thin, silk-like strands. Once the cat swallowed them, the Misfortune particles returned to its body, but those thin, unknown strands were gone.

“Curious, meow? Those things are her Existence, meow.”

Noticing Ye Weibai’s stare, the gray cat spoke as it ate.

“But someone who can actually see Existence, meow—this is the first time for me, meow. You really are interesting, meow.”

“Existence.” Ye Weibai rolled the word on his tongue. He roughly guessed what it was. Probably something like… Causality.

A butterfly flaps its wings, the gears of the World turn, and a storm brews across the ocean. The so-called butterfly effect—that’s Causality.

As long as a person exists, they leave traces. That’s the Cause.

Even after you die, you still affect those who live on. They might cry in sorrow, or laugh and dance in relief.

Years later, even if everyone forgets you, your dismembered corpse still feeds the ecosystem. Your body nourishes the growth of nature. That’s the Effect—and all of this together is your Existence.

All these things born because of you, yet beyond your control, because you live in this interconnected World.

“If I eat this Existence, then people will forget her, meow. The World will forget her, meow.” The gray cat spoke without lifting its head.

“But why?” Ye Weibai looked at it. “Does Existence taste good? Better than dried fish?”

“Dried fish, meow—?” The cat raised its head. Greed flashed in its huge gray eyes as drool slipped out. It quickly wiped its mouth with a paw. “Sounds delicious, meow… Actually, meow… Existence doesn’t taste good at all, meow. I don’t taste good either, meow. But—”

Its oversized gray pupils locked onto Ye Weibai. The cat’s tone went calm. “I have to eat it, meow.”

Looking into its eyes, Ye Weibai understood. Some things were never swayed by human will to begin with.

“What’s your name?” he asked. “I mean your own name.”

“Meow?” The gray cat pointed at itself.

“Yeah.”

“A name doesn’t mean anything to me, meow.”

“But it makes it easier for me to call you.”

“No meaning, meow.” The cat shook its head. “Once she wakes up this time, I’ll fall asleep soon. Talking is actually really tiring, meow.”

“Doesn’t matter. Then I’ll call you… Gray Cat.”

“Meow… What a random name, meow.” It waved a paw.

“Didn’t you say it was meaningless?”

“Meow...” It froze for a moment, then blinked. “Maybe something that sounds nicer would be better, meow.”

“Then I’ll call you…” Ye Weibai thought for a bit. “Big Ash.”

“Might as well call me Little Ash, meow~” the cat complained.

Little Ash—?

Isn’t that the same name as my daughter?

Ye Weibai stiffened, instinctively wanting to refuse.

But for some reason, all of a sudden, his heart trembled. In that instant, something scorching, boiling, on the verge of bursting out yet dead silent, distant, hazy—that Thing… broke through the surface of his vast, pitch-black heartsea, revealing just the tip of an iceberg.

That Thing slammed into his heart, then faded like a phantom, sinking back down beneath the waves.

“Then Little Ash it is.” The next second, the words had already slipped out.

“Meow~”

Lifting its two paws to show its pads, the gray cat tilted its head. Its pupils curved, the corners of its mouth rising in clear delight.

“Little Ash sounds pretty good, meow~”

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Boom—!

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