Back to back, they kept talking, like two stones warming in the same sun.

It didn’t matter what; they traded one line each, like tossing pebbles into a quiet pond.

It filled the empty hour, a gray tide where nothing could be done and nothing would change.

“I never beat a Divine Being. Not once. The Deity of Justice chose his own dusk.”

“As people say, that age had passed like falling leaves; the old Divine Beings shouldn’t return to the human world.”

“He set down his scepter and power, picked up a blade, and fought you as a Hero, not as a Divine Being.”

“Mortals can’t slay a Divine Being, but a Hero can still cut a man like a stalk of grain.”

“That’s why I say he’d already set his funeral rites, picked his way to fade, and only borrowed my hand to finish it.”

“You thought that during the duel?”

“How could I! Only in my weekly post-battle self-audit did that dawn on me.”

“In the duel, even breathing clawed like a drowning fish; I had no time to ask why a Divine Being moves.”

“The other Divine Beings noticed that too. You didn’t kill a Divine Being. It just happened that the Hero standing there was you.”

“You did nothing wrong, like a clear mirror in a storm.”

“...But they still refused to grant me their blessing.”

“They panicked and dropped their composure, like thunder with no rain. Don’t hate them, please?”

“This was the first time a Divine Being died, even an evil one. Not even the Seven-Day War saw that.”

“Some shuddered and wept; some roared like volcanoes. They know everything, they know you’re guiltless.”

“But to move the great is itself a curse, or a blessing, like a bell rung in a temple at midnight.”

“As for your blessing… it was just bad luck. You stirred too many at once.”

“Every Divine Being’s curse converged like rivers, and the result… well, you only survived because of your Immunity Privilege.”

“So, in the end it’s still my fault? I killed a god and drew misfortune like a moth to flame?”

“Don’t twist the knife with sarcasm. You’re sounding more and more like Andor.”

“Am I? What do they call that… couples start to look alike?”

“No. Not that.”

“Figures. Li always denies things clean to the bone at times like this…”

“You did nothing wrong. Every crack is on the Divine Beings’ side.”

“So I beg you, forgive their failure, understand their grief, and don’t let hate frost your heart.”

“I get it. Losing a friend or a lover is a wound like winter rain.”

“So I won’t complain or hate. Before I drew my sword on a Divine Being, I’d braced to lose everything.”

“So ending up here feels like harvest after the seed.”

“They’ll hurt, but not forever. After this trial at the latest, they’ll find their calm, like a lake after wind.”

“And the curse on you will lift like morning fog.”

“I hope so.”

“Enough heavy talk. Your head’s got no spare room anyway.”

“Come on, say what you want to say, like airing quilts in the sun.”

“What I want… oh, right. Andor once told me about the difference between like and love.”

“He said like is real, like a hearth-fire: a hobby, a recognition, a feeling you can admit.”

“And love doesn’t count? Is he a nihilist about romance?”

“Not nihilist. More… lost, like a traveler in mist.”

“Andor laid it out, cool and careful, like a surgeon with a scalpel.”

“He said love doesn’t exist. It’s just emotional compounds tickling the brain.”

“And those compounds arise from things like ‘she saved me at the brink,’ ‘she’s rich,’ ‘she treats me well,’ ‘she’s gentle,’ like weights on a scale.”

“So what do you think?”

“I only heard that much.”

“We were camping between quests, the fire like a red flower, when Andor chatted.”

“At that point, Elina burst into tears with a wail, like a broken string.”

“It got awkward fast.”

“Later she said she couldn’t refute him, but her heart refused to bow.”

“That sinful bastard…”

“Don’t say that. You’re using his face right now.”

“True. Haha…”

“Honestly, I can’t refute Andor head-on either.”

“Love is idealist fog. Science or magic can’t bottle it.”

“Only if you call it love does it count as love, like naming a star.”

“What is it, then?”

“Maybe it’s belief. Belief can be magic; belief can be love.”

“Belief can also be a bill from a faithless man, like a letter with a knife in it.”

“Hahaha, that sounds fake as paper flowers.”

“Choosing to love or not is troublesome, like walking a ridge in rain.”

“Choice itself is the hard bone to chew.”

“You’ve got a point. You stand on a plane parallel to Andor.”

“But I still think it doesn’t matter whether my heart’s flutter should be named love.”

“It’s parallel talk again.”

“I think this way. I’m grateful I got to like Andor, like sunlight spilling through leaves.”

“I’m grateful he stayed with me while I adventured, not expecting him to thank me for liking him.”

“A bit roundabout, but as a theory, I get you.”

“I’m grateful he was the one who saved me.”

“I’m grateful he was the one gentle to me.”

“I’m grateful he’s the one who kept standing at my side.”

“Maybe by the slimmest margin, a hair’s breadth at enrollment, if I hadn’t followed my gut to cling to him, I’d have met someone else.”

“Someone who would take Andor’s place at my side, like a different star in the same sky.”

“When I think that, our meeting feels like luck, a fallen plum blossom on my sleeve.”

“I should cherish that luck.”

“...”

“What? Why did you go quiet?”

“From the end point, yes, it’s luck. Those meant to live lived.”

“And those meant to die also lived, like a coin landing on its edge.”

“The Demon King has been very kind to you…”

“What are you saying? I didn’t catch it.”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Keep going.”

“So I like Andor. That won’t be wrong.”

“On top of that, I deem him special, unique, chosen by my will like a seal on silk.”

“I hope to be his wife, and he my husband. That’s from the bottom of my heart.”

“That’s what people usually call love.”

“But Andor says that’s just an extension of like.”

“Is he brain-dead…”

“Problem?”

“No, don’t raise your fist. No problem, no problem.”

“Good. This feeling in me—knowing it to this degree is enough.”

“Andor also said, ‘Mortals’ emotions and thoughts come too easily and stay too shallow,’ like rain on sand.”

“But I think that’s fine.”

“He does love to act cool. That kind of brooding line doesn’t need a reply.”

“I don’t think he’s wrong, though. He’s right. Yet shallow—so what?”

“Why compare my small flame with the great ones’ sun?”

“Maybe I’ll like Andor ten years, not a lifetime or forever.”

“So what? It’s my feeling, my in-love blaze; how is it worthless?”

“I can see his face when his cool act failed, like a mask slipping.”

“He then cleared his throat and said, ‘If you’re satisfied, then good.’”

“He said that? He clearly ran out of words.”

“He did. But what came after—that’s another story…”

“Hey, hey! If you’re going to collapse, warn me first.”

Li spun and caught Stini as she tipped like a felled reed.

He dragged her and laid her flat, steady as setting a boat on still water.

The black-gold right arm and left leg the Malice Knight had grafted on weighed like iron moorings.

With only an ordinary body, Li panted as if climbing a hill in heat.

“I’m starving. Suddenly I’ve got no strength…”

“Don’t pass the trial only to die to a head-first fall, like a fool’s tale.”

“Heh, I can’t even fake being strong now…”

Her voice, bright a moment ago, dimmed fast like a candle in wind.

“You should’ve eaten the ‘evil’ earlier.”

“Is there anything to eat? Chocolate would do…”

“You said you wouldn’t eat people. And I don’t have any now…”

“Just kidding…”

“Don’t joke when you’re dying! Mm… relax.”

“It’s okay. You won’t die.”

“Li…”

“I’m here.”

“Will I starve to death…?”

“I just said you won’t.”

“Oh…”

“You’re just sleepy. Rest a bit. Sleep well, and when you wake, the trial will be done.”

“Mm…”

“Here, a lap pillow from Andor. Though I’m not Andor.”

“Mm, it’s hard. Not like I imagined…”

“Then ask the real him for a lap pillow when you get back!”

“But it’s much better than a rock…”

“Anything else you want to say? I’m Li. All I can do is keep you company and talk.”

“No… no strength…”

“I see.”

“Mm…”

Li set Stini’s head on his thigh, like cradling a bird.

He adjusted her posture to ease her breath, like smoothing wrinkled silk.

He took her left hand—the one still flesh and blood—and placed it on her belly.

“Don’t catch a chill.”

“Mm… Li…”

“I’m here.”

“Li…”

“I’m here.”

“Li…”

“Rest easy. I’ll be here.”

“Ah-ha…”

“...”

Silence took the girl, like snow falling in a closed courtyard.

Her breathing thinned like spider silk. Her blood slowed like a winter river.

Until it stopped.

Li held the lap pillow pose, motionless, like a lantern guarding a sleeper.

“I told you I’d keep you company. Rest easy, though I’m not your prince.”

Gently, he brushed the fallen strands from her face, like clearing dew from a petal.

He waited. He waited for a time without clocks, like watching stars wheel.

At last, the Divine Beings ended their dispute, and radiance rose from the girl’s shed husk like dawn mist.

Dead flesh grew anew and was remade, like spring buds stitching the branch.

It became part of her flawless body again, like a jewel reset in gold.

Light received her and lifted her beyond this world of thought, like a boat guided by lanterns.

It carried her back to the real world.

“Goodbye. And may we never meet again.”

Li smiled and bid the girl farewell, keeping the face she loved until the last, like a mask held till curtain fall.

Then he broke into drifting glyphs of magic, like leaves becoming ash.

He returned to the hall.

He waited for the next Hero to arrive, like a gate standing under the moon.