Chapter 14: Pajamas, Wind Chimes, and Past Lives

Under a starry sky, I lay on my bed, quietly recalling the stories Helle had shared on our way back. Only then did I understand why the Old Mage—whose knowledge and power ran unfathomably deep—chose to stay in this tiny town; why Helle served as a maid in the manor for this grandfather and grandson; and why the lovely Monaluna had such a rotten, shut-in personality.

*Sigh~* Maybe I went too far today! I shouldn’t have provoked her like that—not when she’s feeding and housing me. Tomorrow, I’ll bring a gift to apologize. Ugh, this cursed "auto-translate" function! Even my muttering’s in this world’s language. If I ever meet the Creation Goddess, I’m demanding she makes this cheat optional!

Just as I was pondering life, *Bang! Bang! Bang!* came a knock at the door. Who on earth knocks at this hour? I slipped on my shoes and headed for the door—but before I reached it, Monaluna’s voice rang out.

"Open up! I know you’re in there! Don’t pretend you’re not home! Open the door!"

Seriously? Are you Snow Auntie’s star pupil? With rhythm like that, why not try street dancing? Whatever. I’d already decided to be nice to this kid. I took a deep breath, pasted on a smile, and opened the door.

"Good evening, Mona—" My greeting died mid-sentence as Monaluna swept past me like a whirlwind, rummaging through my drawers and cabinets.

"Hey! I’m right here! What are you digging for in my room? Have some respect for privacy!" I was baffled. What was wrong with her? Wearing thin pajamas, barefoot, barging into a 24-year-old (mentally!) guy’s room at midnight—was this normal where she’s from?!

Failing to find what she wanted, Monaluna stomped over, thrust out her hand, and stared at me with unnerving intensity.

"What do you want?"

"Give it to me! I want it!"

My scalp prickled. A beautiful young lady of the manor, clad only in flimsy sleepwear, barefoot in a foreigner’s room at night, demanding "Give it to me~ I want it~"? I swear on my old laptop’s F-drive folder—labeled "Study Materials: Joystick Drive Principles (T-rated)"—I’d seen this scene before!

*Director! Don’t you dare yell "Cut" now!*

"Just to be clear—give you *what*? What do you want?"

"Don’t play dumb! I saw Helle today. I don’t care—I want jewelry too!"

"There isn’t any left! I only had that pair. I gave it to Helle as a reward for cleaning up *your* mess. Which, technically, was for *you*."

"I never asked you to fix anything! I want pretty jewelry too! I don’t care!"

"If you wanted it so badly, why not ask Helle?" I snapped. I’d resolved to be kind, but this was beyond rude.

"No way! Helle’s like a sister to me—I’d never steal her jewelry! I’m asking *you*!"

*Sigh~* At least she had some principles. Spoiled as she was, her core wasn’t rotten. Given her childhood… she was kind of pitiable.

"I don’t have shiny jewelry," I said, turning toward the attic skylight, "but I *did* prepare a gift for you. For helping with my experiments all these days. If you want it… follow me to the roof."

"Why the roof? Got some scheme?"

"Scared? Then go back to bed." I swung out the skylight and settled onto the villa’s roof.

"Who’s scared?!" Monaluna scrambled out after me, plopping down beside me. "Where’s the gift?"

"Patience. We bicker every day. Tonight, just listen while I tell a story."

"A story? *You* know stories? Fine—I’ll hear what tricks you’re up to."

"Once, there was a little boy living happily with his parents.

On the night of his sixth birthday, his father drove the family to his grandparents’ house to celebrate.

As the carriage rolled along, his parents chatted and laughed. The boy cradled a gift box in his lap, wondering what was inside.

He glanced at his mother beside him and his father driving ahead, feeling a little grumpy. *Why couldn’t he open the gift now? It was right here in his hands.*"

"What was the gift? Like mine?" Monaluna interrupted.

"Yes. The boy was just as curious, itching to peek. But before he could—*CRASH!* A deafening roar filled his ears. He lost consciousness. When he woke, he was in his grandparents’ bed.

Only his grandmother sat beside him, her face drawn and tear-streaked. Seeing him awake, she began to sob—endlessly.

Panicked, the boy wondered why she was so heartbroken. He called for his parents; surely *they* could comfort her.

He shouted for Mom and Dad. They didn’t come. He called for Grandpa. No answer.

Fear gripped him. He started crying too. His grandmother stopped weeping and pulled him into her arms."

"What happened? What about his family?" Monaluna asked, unusually focused. I didn’t answer, continuing instead.

"Days passed. Slowly, the boy learned what happened that night.

A drunken young noble had crashed head-on into their carriage.

His carriage was sturdier. The boy’s father died instantly. His mother shielded him with her body.

The boy survived—but his mother succumbed to her injuries before he woke.

When his grandfather heard the news, his heart gave out. He passed soon after.

Worse, the noble’s wealthy family twisted the truth. They pinned the blame on the boy’s father for drunk driving.

His grandmother lost the lawsuit. Forced to sell their home to pay fines, she fled their hometown with the boy."

"..." Monaluna fell silent, hugging her knees, head bowed.

"The boy was shattered. He didn’t grasp death yet—but he knew he’d never see his family again.

He grew withdrawn. Fearful. He stopped talking to others.

Two years later, his grandmother fell ill from exhaustion. On her deathbed, she whispered: *‘Don’t be afraid. When people die, they become stars. They keep watching over those they love.’*

She gave him the birthday gift box—and passed away. Inside was a beautiful wind chime, its sound clear and sweet. He hung it by the only window in their shabby home."

"You’re going to say he found enlightenment? Let go of his hatred?" Monaluna forced a smile, tears welling. I sighed and went on.

"He gazed at the starry sky. The hatred buried in his heart surged.

He stepped into society. Learned to survive. Mastered a trade. Wore a mask.

For ten years, he gathered evidence of the noble’s crimes and his family’s corruption. When a major political purge began, he handed the proof to the new regime.

With irrefutable evidence, the regime gladly dismantled the noble’s family, seizing their assets.

In exchange, the boy secured one favor: *to speak to the noble moments before his execution.*

On the day of the hanging, the boy—now a young man—stood before the noble.

Smiling brightly at the raging man, he said: *‘I had no grudge against you. I just disliked your face. So I destroyed your family. Killed everyone you loved.’*"

"Why?! Why not tell him it was for the crash? Let him die knowing he deserved it?" Monaluna grabbed my collar, eyes bloodshot. I pried her hands away, grinning.

"Why? *Why* tell him? ‘Deserved it’? ‘Die knowing’?

I wanted him to suffer. To die confused. To choke on regret…

The young man smiled sweetly. *‘I won’t tell you who I am. Or why I did this. So please—die with your eyes wide open.’*"

I lay back on the roof, watching Monaluna’s thin shoulders tremble. "The young man finished his revenge. He was happy. Truly happy.

He finally opened his heart to others. Stopped stealing criminal records. Lived like any normal young adult.

He made friends. Found work he loved.

But he always gazed at the stars—he knew someone watched over him. That was his courage.

And he always kept the wind chime—he knew the world could still be beautiful. That was the life he longed for."

"And then?" Monaluna lay down too, staring at the stars. Her emotions seemed calmer now. *Keep still!* I thought desperately. *You’re flashing me! Are you even wearing anything underneath?!*

"*Ahem.*" I sat up sharply, hunching forward to avoid… complications.

"After? That idiot got struck by lightning and died!!!" I growled.

"What kind of ending is that?! You did that on purpose!" Monaluna yanked my ear, furious.

I wriggled free, rubbing my ear. *Yeah, right—I’d love to brag about dying from lightning.*

"That boy… was it you?"

"Hah! Impossible! I’m fourteen this year—see the mismatch? Besides, do I look like I have a face that attracts lightning?"

Monaluna didn’t reply. She just gazed at the stars.

"Thanks for listening to my messy story. As payment… I have a gift." I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket.

"You’re giving me a handkerchief?"

"Watch closely! My right hand is empty, right?" I held the cloth in my left; my right palm was bare. I covered my right hand with the cloth. "Now—blow."

"*Hoo!*" Monaluna blew. *So fragrant.* I whipped away the cloth. "*Ta-da!*"

A beautifully wrapped box appeared in my right hand. Monaluna gasped, inspecting my palm for hidden Spatial Magic tools.

"Nope—not magic! It’s *magic*!" I winked. "Open it."

Inside lay an exquisite wind chime. I’d crafted it frantically that afternoon. Not only would it sing sweetly in the breeze—it could also activate a Magic Array to purify the air in her room.

"Do you like it?"

"*Sniff*... Nothing special..." Monaluna’s voice cracked. Tears spilled freely despite her stubborn words.

I handed her the handkerchief, watching her cry. She must be remembering her own childhood.

Crescent Town’s obedient goddess? A lazy shut-in? A spoiled brat? A ruthless demoness? Which was the real Monaluna? Probably none of them.

Watching this little girl cry while fighting to hold back her sorrow—I knew. *This* was the real Monaluna.