What She Wished For (6)
The newborn star wished for its own death.
Having deconstructed itself until even the framework of the star that bound its power had been dismantled, the star could no longer fulfill its function.
Just as the sky of Swaepedosi had long since abandoned its role, Yuel’s body abandoned its role as a transcendent. Power without a framework ran wild.
Crimson-black starlight scattered in every direction.
Even newly born, what Yuel possessed was a Calamity Star. It was essentially the same as the star of the Witch of the Abyss—something special that followed a path utterly different from other stars. The moment it ran amok, even the Constellation of Omniscience could not help but panic.
A Calamity Star was, by nature, something incomprehensible.
A star that could neither be analyzed nor predicted, nor even dared to be touched—only feared or worshipped.
“Aaah, aaaaaaah!”
Hermann screamed. The scream held two reasons. One was despair that the masterpiece she had birthed was being ruined; the other was the raw cry of realizing she herself was in danger.
In her final moment, Yuel raised her middle finger at Hermann.
Eat shit, you fucking bitch.
With those last words, the Calamity Star exploded in grand fury. A torrent of light struck Hermann. The tomb where cities lay buried—those who had faced the same situation as Yuel yet failed where she had not—was swept away by the torrent.
Everything returned to nothing.
The ruins of the city disassembled. Everything the torrent of light touched was deconstructed. Hermann tried desperately to flee, but standing at the very heart of the explosion she could not escape in time. By the moment she shoved her body through the dimensional gate she had hastily torn open, half of her body had already crumbled to dust.
Hermann screamed.
All the knowledge and experience the Star of Omniscience had accumulated across a lifetime proved useless in that instant. Human madness devoured the omniscient one’s soul and flesh.
“■■, a■ aa, ■■aaaaaah!”
Hermann had succeeded in obtaining the Calamity Star she had so desperately longed for—only in the form of it devouring her own body. Eroded by the torrent born of the Calamity Star’s explosion, she vanished beyond the dimensional gate.
Even after Hermann disappeared, the torrent did not stop.
The torrent of light stretched far into the distance.
When the explosion of the Calamity Star finally subsided, what remained was a world bleached pure white.
2.
A world reduced entirely to pure white ash. Yuel lay sprawled in its center. She blinked slowly. Her body felt heavy. Her head was dull and thick.
Tick, tididick.
Crimson-black sparks fell across her body. Yuel looked down at her own flesh and let out a hollow laugh. This damned star, it seemed, would not even permit her to die.
The burst heart, the severed limbs, the crumbling flesh—the crimson-black starlight forcibly stitched them back together. It seemed determined to force the lost form into some kind of shape. Of course, piecing together something already ruined could never make it fit properly again.
Yuel did not know what she would become if left like this, but the transcendent watching over this place did. Yuel felt that gaze as well.
“……”
Lying on the pure white ground, Yuel looked up at the sky. A star was shining there. The shape of the constellation, the form of the star itself, was blurred—yet it was unmistakably present.
Yuel asked,
“Are you the Star of Ignorance?”
The star answered,
“Ultimately, that is what I hope to become.”
Having spoken so, the star settled beside Yuel. It gazed at her—dying and, at the same time, trying to live again. Yuel looked back and opened her mouth.
“Then who are you?”
“I have no name. I discarded every element that composed me—just as you did. But others call me this:”
The Star of Oblivion.
“Oblivion……”
Yuel turned the word over on her tongue.
“Were you the one who helped me?”
“Who can say? You already achieved the great feat with your own hands. All I did was give your back a gentle push. Even without me, you would have managed it.”
“Then what about now?”
“Now it looks as though you need my help.”
The star touched Yuel’s heart.
“If left like this, you will revive. A Calamity Star never allows its master to die. You will become something that can neither die nor live. An example of that already exists at the edge of the world.”
“That… I don’t want.”
“But there is a way.”
“A way?”
“Simple. Just as you deconstructed yourself, separate yourself from the Calamity Star. Then bury the Calamity Star here, along with your memories.”
What happens then?
Yuel asked, and the star answered.
“The transcendent dies, and a human is born.”
“……”
“I am interested in you. You wished to be forgotten. You wished for every story you had built to be erased. I cannot ignore that wish. In a sense, only children like you are my kin.”
Her face was too blurred to see. Yet Yuel could tell she was smiling with gentle kindness.
“Let us make a wager.”
“A wager?”
“I will help you. I will help you forget your memories and become human, help you bury the Calamity Star in this land. In exchange, you must prove one thing to me.”
Prove what?
“Whether you can lose every memory and still be happy.”
She said,
“Whether you can live joyfully looking only toward the future, without longing for the lost past, without regret.”
“……”
“In truth, it is fine even if you cannot prove it. I will erase your memories as many times as it takes until you can. If you feel regret, you will be able to recall my form.”
The Star of Oblivion smiled.
“If life becomes so painful, so full of regret that you wish for oblivion, remember me whenever you like. I will appear there for you.”
Yuel had no other choice.
In the end she formed a contract with the Star of Oblivion. A slender finger touched her forehead with a soft tap.
“Please, be happy.”
Leaving those words, the Star of Oblivion vanished. Yuel felt her memories begin to crumble from the tiniest fragments. At the same time she felt fear.
Ah. No.
There were still words she had to say. Words she had to deliver before the memories disappeared. But she could not move her body. Her lips parted. Then, with a bitter smile, she let her hand fall limp.
…Well, when does anything ever go exactly according to plan?
Even reaching this point was already a miracle. To hope for a new miracle on top of one already granted would be shameless. She held a small regret, but even that regret would vanish along with her memories.
Just as Yuel was about to close her eyes—
Thud.
Footsteps sounded from somewhere. They drew nearer and nearer, then stopped right beside her.
Thud.
Someone sank down next to her. With great effort she turned her unmoving head and looked at the person sitting at her side. Before she could even confirm the face, the warmth she felt in that hand gave her certainty.
“…Ah.”
It was him. Najin.
“You kept your promise?”
“Someone said they’d kill me if I didn’t.”
Yuel couldn’t help but laugh.
3.
Najin slowly raised Yuel’s body. He sat her up against him so that she, who could not move, could lean into his frame. With her head resting on Najin’s shoulder, Yuel smiled.
“I… did my best.”
“I know.”
“I really did my best. I fed shit to the crazy bitch who threw my life into the Abyss, and I didn’t become a monster. Wow, how the hell did I manage that? Even I think I’m amazing. Fuck, Yuel, you crazy bastard.”
“Shall I praise you?”
“Please do. At least stroke my head.”
Stroke, stroke. The warmth on her hair made Yuel’s lips tremble. Yes—what more was there to say? It was so frustrating. Only now could she face him with a clear mind, yet the time left to her was so painfully short.
“Hey, Najin.”
“I’m listening.”
“I was actually worried. Inside the city my emotions kept tilting one way, and I wondered if it wasn’t my own will at all—if that damned transcendent was just steering my feelings. If that were true, then everything I felt would be a lie.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. But, well……”
Yuel leaned a little more of her weight against him.
“Apparently it wasn’t.”
“And if it wasn’t?”
“Fuck, do I really have to say it? You gonna keep pushing?”
Yuel chuckled under her breath.
“I like you. So much I can’t do anything about it. I don’t mean as a friend. I mean as a man and a woman—as a partner to walk through life with.”
She was embarrassed. Her heart pounded. But these were memories she would forget entirely anyway. So what reason was there not to speak? Yuel poured out everything inside her.
“Yeah. I love you, you fucking bastard.”
“If you like me, just say you like me—why the cursing?”
“Because I’m embarrassed. Because I’m embarrassed.”
Yuel exhaled a long breath.
“Don’t answer. There’s no point hearing it now. I’m going to lose all the memories anyway—hearing it now would only leave me wanting more, wouldn’t it?”
The memories grew hazy. Little by little, starting from her very beginning, they crumbled away.
“What will I become once I lose my memories? I don’t know. Honestly, there are a lot of memories that feel too precious to bury along with this Calamity Star or whatever it is.”
If she could throw away the horrific memories of Swaepedosi, she would originally have welcomed it with both hands. Yet what flashed through her mind were the memories spent with Najin. Even in that terrible life inside the Closed City, there had been joyful parts.
That was what left Yuel so reluctant.
Because she was reluctant—
she decided to resolve that last regret. Squeezing out her remaining strength, she moved her body, wrapped her arms around Najin’s neck, and pressed her face close.
“……”
A brief silence. Their breaths mixed. Their foreheads, the bridges of their noses, touched.
Press.
Yuel drew back from his lips, touched her own, and smiled.
“Since I’m going to forget it all anyway, this much is fine, right?”
He could have pulled away, yet he hadn’t.
Yuel smiled in satisfaction.
She closed her eyes while leaning into Najin’s arms. As the Calamity Star was torn from her body, a wave of weakness washed over her. Sleepiness surged in.
“I’m going to forget everything. I won’t remember a single thing. I’m sure of it. The words I shared with you just now, the time I spent with you—I’ll forget it all……”
Yuel spoke in a trembling voice.
“So.”
Clasping Najin’s hand, she murmured,
“You remember for me.”
That there was a human named Yuel.
That there was a human who, on the stage created by a transcendent, refused to kneel and finally fed that transcendent shit.
That there was a certain lord who drank with you, chattered with you, and lived leaning on you.
That there was a human—me—who confessed to you, kissed you, and whispered love.
“If you remember for me,”
Yuel smiled,
“then I don’t think I’ll feel regret.”
“…I will remember.”
“That’s a promise. Well, I’ll forget this promise too.”
Everything grew hazy. Amid memories bleached pure white, Yuel closed her eyes. In the final moment before they shut, she smiled toward Najin. At the last instant of her life, she was able to smile.
It was the finale.
With the finale of the story, the curtain fell.
With the exit of the supporting cast, the Tomb of Stars came to an end.
“……”
It should have ended.
“This place……”
Even if the supporting cast exits the stage, the lead remains—and as long as the protagonist remains, the story continues.
“Where…?”
On the pure white land, the Yuel who had lost her memories opened her eyes.
Through the intervention of Najin and the Revelry Emperor, the story had been adapted.
Yet the greater framework remained unchanged.
In the original history as well, Yuel survived to the very end and faced Hermann. Before Hermann she deconstructed herself, detonated the Calamity Star to wound her, and formed a contract with the Star of Oblivion to erase her own memories.
Even without anyone’s intervention, she achieved the great feat.
Then what had changed through Najin’s intervention?
As stated, the greater framework did not change. From the perspective of the entire story, not much was different. But if one focused on the single human named Yuel, a great deal had changed.
“It’s all meaningless… completely useless.”
In the original history, Yuel had no one to support her. She had to support herself alone. Worn away by the waves, she lost herself piece by piece.
An existence that was merely a tool upholding the law.
Eroded and eroded until even her emotions were scraped away, she became a machine. An existence that mechanically processed duties according to the law. Having discarded her own emotions, she had nothing left that could be called a self.
“Erase the memories? Yes, fine.”
And so—
“It’s what I wished for. Please erase them. I have no need for any of it. Erase it all, every last bit.”
When every memory that composed the personality of “the lord” had been wiped from her, nothing remained. Thus Yuel became an empty shell.
Unable to feel emotion.
Unable to understand humans.
An existence that moved solely according to her own rules, like a machine.
Only, from the past in which she had killed humans to ascend to transcendence and from the influence of the Calamity Star’s contamination, an instinctive impulse to kill remained. Yet she could not even become a proper murderer. The habit of binding herself with the Law never fully disappeared.
As a result, a bizarre existence was born: a murderer who kept the Law.
That was the original history.
Then what of the changed present?
“……”
On the pure white land, the Yuel who had opened her eyes pressed a hand firmly against her chest. A sense of longing, of warmth, and something she could not name—a vague expectation toward the future.
Carrying that expectation, she walked.
Why?
She did not know. Yet somehow she felt she might understand.
“I have to meet them.”
She did not know who. She did not know why she had to meet them.
She could not know. She could not recall.
Yet she held certainty. The moment she met that person, they would recognize her. Even if she herself did not recognize them, that person at least would know her and take her hand. That certainty lived in her.
And so Yuel smiled.
She was no longer an empty shell.
Even if the self called “the lord” was erased from her, something still remained there.
However long it might take did not matter.
Yuel walked.
From the end of the Tomb of Stars until the moment she reached the present once more, she walked.
To meet someone.