Without realizing it, a whole week had slipped by, bringing the relaxing weekend.

For Yue Feather, this week had flown by faster than ever.

Perhaps because his life had grown so full.

It was a typical Saturday morning. Summer’s early hours held little coolness. Cicadas began their chorus early, dragging people from comfortable beds.

Truthfully, summer wasn’t a season for lazy mornings. Without air conditioning, the heat would wake you by seven anyway.

Yue Feather still lay in bed. Though he’d shared it with Silver Bell before, he always kept his distance when conscious.

At heart, he was conservative. Or perhaps he feared getting too close—afraid parting would hurt more later.

Watching from afar was enough.

Like a priceless item in a shop window: even if you couldn’t afford it, glancing at it while passing by brought quiet satisfaction.

The girl on his poster still smiled brightly at him. Vaguely, Yue Feather thought she resembled Silver Bell—especially the tiny mole near her eye.

Today felt hotter than usual. When he sat up, he noticed the old electric fan had stopped. Silver Bell lay curled under the quilt, shivering as if cold.

Asleep, she looked like a fragile kitten—nothing like a girl who handled housework.

In Yue Feather’s mind, girls like her should spend days happily immersed in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. They shouldn’t cook or clean; they should be served.

Yet somehow, she was the one taking care of him.

Silver Bell seemed trapped in a nightmare. Her brows furrowed tightly. Unconscious whimpers escaped her lips—like someone drowning, choking on water.

Yue Feather’s chest ached. He wished he could take her place in that dream.

Her soft gasps flushed his face. He finally leaped up, rushed to the bathroom, and splashed cold water on himself until his heartbeat slowed.

Living with such a beautiful, adorable girl was both bliss and torment.

Staring at his ordinary reflection—dark skin, small eyes—he sighed. His features were merely passable, leaning toward "pleasant if unremarkable."

"Still so far off…" he muttered with a bitter smile, splashing water on the mirror until his blurred reflection vanished.

***

Water surrounded me, swallowing me whole. No matter how hard I kicked upward, the surface never came closer. Suffocation tightened my chest—a fiery ache from oxygen-starved lungs.

Thoughts slowed to a crawl.

Just as my last breath faded, I jolted awake.

*Hah—hah—*

Morning air had never tasted so sweet. Nothing felt more miraculous than breathing oxygen-rich air.

A new day.

I needed to rise early. Today meant a long trip—even within this small city, the final stretch required walking. It’d take nearly as long as visiting neighboring towns.

"Yue Feather, let’s go out today."

"Huh? Out…? Sure." He blinked, then agreed instantly.

*Strange. I used to be the type who never left home.*

The fridge was empty. We’d need groceries on the way back.

But lunch today would be free—and eaten out.

"Where to?" Yue Feather asked later.

"The seaside."

"Eh? The seaside? Then we’d take Bus Eight—"

"No. The other side."

"The other side… Isn’t that beach undeveloped?"

"Mm. We’ll take Bus Thirty-Four, then walk."

"Oh… Wait—Silver Bell, has your memory returned?" His voice dipped low, heavy with unspoken worry.

"No. Just… trivial fragments." I answered quickly, dodging his gaze.

*Before I change his life, he shouldn’t know too much.*

*Dependency would only hurt him later.*

*I’m no Doraemon, armed with magical gadgets to fix everything.*

*Reborn with memories, yes—but I’m still just human.*

The bus to the suburbs was nearly empty. Only two other passengers rode with us.

An unreal quiet settled over the cabin.

As we neared the outskirts, streets and shops vanished. Only roads remained. Occasionally, from higher ground, wisps of cooking smoke rose in the distance—signs of rural homes.

The bus halted at its final stop. Here, traces of city life lingered. But beyond the station stretched an endless forest.

A coastal woodland—part of a national ecological reserve. That explained why this beach remained untouched by tourism.

I’d packed a backpack for Yue Feather: simple tools for the shore, and large bottles of water.

Snacks weren’t an option. Our budget couldn’t stretch that far.

*Life felt tighter now than in my memories.*

Back then, money only grew scarce in senior year—when my adoptive mother reduced my allowance.

I didn’t hate her. She was only my guardian. My birth mother’s entrusted funds had run dry by middle school.

*Inflation was the true thief.*

Those savings were meant to last through high school.

"Cut straight through?" Yue Feather peered into the forest. Even under the blazing sun, shadows pooled thickly where light couldn’t reach.

"Of course not." I led him down a path to a road.

*Wait—this asphalt road… it’s gravel now?*

In my 2004 summer memories, a proper paved road existed here. Narrow, but drivable. This gravel track could barely fit motorcycles.

*Had it just been built when I came?*

*But it’s not even summer break yet…*

Memories blurred with time. Only faint impressions remained—useless for certainty.

"You’ve been there before?" Yue Feather asked curiously.

"Mm. A vast, empty beach." I smiled. "My favorite place."

*And yours too, in the future.*

I kept that thought silent.

"An empty beach…" His eyes lit up. "Let’s hurry through the forest! I’ve never seen one!"

Small-city beaches were always crowded—even at midnight, couples sought romance there.

"Though… there’s a villa by the shore. The only building."

"A villa? Who’d build there?"

"No idea. Must be rich." I shrugged. It was irrelevant—just a stray detail from old memories.

Beyond the trees lay golden sand and sea merging with the sky.

No human pollution tainted this place. The air, filtered by the forest behind us, tasted crisp and pure.

"Truly no one’s here—" Yue Feather’s eyes widened. "Such a huge beach… such a huge sea… A world just for us two—"

I smiled. I’d felt the same awe alone here years ago—but loneliness had shadowed the beauty.

*Such a sight deserved to be shared.*

Now, a small wish was fulfilled.

"Where’s the villa?" Yue Feather scanned the horizon.

"Over there." I pointed where memory placed it. Turning, I saw only empty sand.

"It’s not there?"

"Huh…" I searched the unobstructed shore. A villa couldn’t hide here. Yet only golden dunes met my eyes—no outline, no structure. My certainty wavered. "Maybe… I misremembered."

"Hmm."

The images in my memory grew blurry. After all, it was a memory from so many years ago. Errors were only natural.

Perhaps there really wasn't a villa by this seaside.

Human memories aren't always true. They often blend with beautiful daydreams. This particular memory likely diverged from reality because of that.