Parting was unbearably heavy.
It was like a boulder.
Like a mountain.
It presses down on the heart, stealing breath and crushing the soul.
When the moment of farewell finally arrives, it becomes clear that no amount of preparation can lessen its weight. All the imagined rehearsals seem insignificant, as fragile as feathers, not even a fraction of what’s needed.
Krisha braced herself for a scolding.
She had defied her master’s decision. As an object, this act was unforgivable.
The moment the words left her lips, guilt and regret consumed her. Yet, she still couldn’t accept Xu Xi’s instructions.
As if it could anchor the sun in the sky, keep its light shining forever.
“Please…” she murmured, her delicate face brushed by his thin, frail hand. Her voice trembled as she continued, “Stop saying these things. I won’t accept them.”
Her rejection stunned Xu Xi.
His expression shifted—first surprise, then confusion, before softening into tenderness and relief. There was no trace of the scolding Krisha had feared.
“Hahaha… ahahaha…”
His laugh was weak but genuine. Yet, his body couldn’t endure it. A violent coughing fit wracked his fragile frame, his face contorting in pain.
“Master!”
Krisha quickly cast life magic, her trembling hands working frantically to ease his suffering.
Each ragged breath, each pained expression, was a blade slicing into her heart. She was desperate, helplessly casting the strongest healing spells she knew.
Soon, Xu Xi’s coughing subsided.
“I’m fine, Krisha… I’m just so happy,” he said weakly, his voice barely a whisper.
His heavy eyelids drooped further, exhaustion clouding his vision. He reached out, grasping her hand lightly, signaling her to stop the magic.
“This is the first time,” he murmured, looking into her eyes. “The first time you’ve disagreed with me.”
“Krisha, it’s wonderful… you’ve found your own will.”
An object doesn’t have its own thoughts or the courage to object. By standing against him, the witch had proven something profound—she had become…
[human].
Xu Xi’s blurry eyes could barely see. Drowsiness washed over him like a tide, pulling at the last threads of his consciousness.
“Krisha…” he said softly, his voice warm despite its weakness. “You’ve graduated.”
The room fell silent.
The words hung in the air, heavy and incomprehensible to the witch.
“No…” Krisha’s voice trembled.
Tears she didn’t understand burned her throat. Her face, still calm and expressionless, was a mask for the storm within.
“I still need you to teach me so much. Without you, I’m nothing.”
Her words were hoarse, breaking under the weight of her grief. She clung desperately to her identity as his student, as his object—anything to deny the inevitable separation.
Xu Xi said nothing.
Instead, he reached out, his frail hand trembling as it rested gently on her head, stroking her soft, silvery-gray hair.
Gradually, her words faded.
The room grew still, the sunlight from the window illuminating her anguish.
True despair isn’t a sudden calamity. It’s the slow, crushing realization that a disaster is inevitable, no matter how hard you fight.
“Please…” her voice cracked, breaking under the weight of her sorrow. “Don’t leave me. Or… let me go with you.”
Her plea was soft, almost a whisper, but it carried a deep, unyielding sadness.
Krisha was ready to die with him.
She didn’t care about the world or her own life. To her, nothing mattered more than staying by Xu Xi’s side.
But his response was gentle, firm.
“Krisha, you know I won’t allow that.”
His voice, though faint, was resolute.
Each breath grew weaker, each word a struggle. Yet, he smiled—his face old and worn, but in the sunlight, it carried a shadow of his youth.
“Live well, Krisha,” he whispered. “That’s my request.”
“There’s no need to mourn me. This isn’t goodbye, only a long separation.”
“One day, we’ll meet again.”
His frail hand, which had rested on her head, fell limp.
The light in his eyes dimmed, the shadow of death descending.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his final words barely audible. “I never made you truly smile.”
For a moment, Xu Xi’s fading gaze sharpened as if caught off guard.
“Master…”
“Please look…”
“This is my smile…”
In the golden sunlight, her gray-silver hair flowing like a waterfall, Krisha sat by the bed. Her hands trembled as she raised them to her face.
She bent her fingers, using her index fingers to pull the corners of her mouth upward, forcing a smile.
The expression was stiff and unnatural.
Tears streamed from her hollow eyes, soaking her hands as they quivered.
It was a smile made of sorrow.
“What a beautiful smile…” Xu Xi whispered.
In the calm of the afternoon breeze, his breathing stopped. His eyes closed.
This time, he would never wake again.
[You are dead]
[End of simulation]