Chapter 38: Qinghai / Starlight

Dead silence.

A silence like that of a graveyard.

The air was thick with a nauseating mix of acidic stench and the smell of charred flesh, but Qinghai Starlight seemed to have lost her sense of smell.

Her eyes, which usually sparkled like stars, were now dull and gray as she stared fixedly ahead.

There, a puddle of green sludge was slowly cooling, mixed with murky blood.

In that shapeless mass of flesh and blood, the still vaguely human-shaped body maintained its final embrace, tightly protecting the small, unrecognizable “child” in its arms.

It was as if the last whispered words still lingered in the air.

Clatter—

A crisp sound rang out.

The magic staff slipped from Qinghai Starlight’s hand and smashed heavily onto the ground, rolling far away.

As the closest eyewitness and the one who had delivered the finishing blow, she understood one thing clearly.

The strike she had just unleashed hadn’t pierced a monster.

She… had killed a “person.”

Thud—

Her knees gave out. Qinghai Starlight collapsed straight down onto the ground.

Her skirt soaked in the filthy puddle, but she felt nothing.

She looked like a delicate doll whose soul had been ripped away, on the verge of toppling over.

‘I… What have I done?’

‘I was trying to protect everyone… but I…’

In that instant, the world lost all color. 

The terrified refugees backing away, the crying children, Fei Xia and Bellflower rushing over desperately…

Everything rapidly receded, twisted, and faded…

Qinghai felt the ground vanish beneath her feet as she plummeted into an endless void.

Everything around her darkened, and all sound disappeared.

The ground beneath her turned into a pitch-black, bottomless body of water.

The water’s surface was mirror-like, but what it reflected wasn’t the glamorous magical girl in her ornate dress.

Instead, it showed an ordinary girl wearing casual loungewear, with no makeup, black hair, tear-streaked face, and a look of exhaustion.

That was Xia Qing.

Tap—tap—tap—

Light, elegant footsteps echoed in the deathly silence.

Qinghai—no, another person who looked like Qinghai—slowly approached from behind her.

She was wearing a perfect idol performance outfit, radiating a holy glow that formed a cruel contrast with the disheveled Xia Qing.

She walked barefoot on the water’s surface. With every step, ripples spread across this silent world.

“This isn’t your fault.”

That “Qinghai” stopped in front of her, leaned down, and spoke in a voice as gentle as a mother’s whisper.

Even though Xia Qing had never met her own mother, she could feel the tenderness in it.

“Why blame yourself? If it weren’t for you, they wouldn’t have survived.”

In reality, Qinghai Starlight trembled, desperately wanting to cover her ears, but the voice drilled straight into her mind.

“If it weren’t for you, they would have been devoured by monsters long ago and turned into nutrients for more of them.”

“If it weren’t for you, they would have died from cold and hunger, rotting by the roadside like garbage.”

“If it weren’t for you, they wouldn’t even have a glimpse of hope to keep living.”

“If… it weren’t for you…”

There was no accusation, no insults.

Only infinite tolerance and sympathy.

Yet these words hurt Xia Qing far more than any vicious curse.

They slowly stripped away her reasons for persisting, defining all her “efforts” as nothing more than “a futile delay.”

‘If it weren’t for me, they wouldn’t have had to endure this long wait.’

‘If it weren’t for me, that mother might have already fainted from hunger and wouldn’t have needed to witness this cruel scene.’

‘If it weren’t for me giving them false hope, perhaps despair would have come more quickly…’

Xia Qing slowly raised her head and met the gaze of the glamorous “Qinghai.”

The other’s eyes held no light—only a bottomless darkness.

It felt like a silent judgment:

Look, so-called heroes are nothing but self-satisfied murderers.

“Since it hurts so much, since you’re so tired…”

“Qinghai” smiled faintly, her smile sweet and gentle, as she reached out her hand toward Xia Qing.

“Then just rest. Once you fall asleep, the pain will disappear.”

‘Rest…’

Xia Qing’s eyes gradually lost focus.

‘Yes… I really want to rest.’

No more worrying about the children’s tuition fees, no more facing those stinging malicious comments, no more carrying the crushing weight of the “hero” title that made it hard to breathe.

As if possessed, Xia Qing reached out with a trembling hand, wanting to grasp that cold palm.

The moment their fingertips touched—

Splash—!

The mirror-like water surface shattered instantly.

Xia Qing felt the support beneath her feet vanish.

The familiar, suffocating sensation of drowning engulfed her once again.

It was the weight of guilt, the weight of countless people’s expectations, pressing down on her so she couldn’t rise.

But this time, she didn’t struggle.

She let herself “sink” obediently.

Icy seawater flooded her ears, cutting off the world and the pain.

She watched “Qinghai” standing on the water’s surface, growing farther and farther away, her light growing dimmer.

There was no pain, no suffocation.

Only a strange peace that came from giving up all thought.

‘Sinking like this… might be fine.’

‘After all… I’ve already done enough.’

Her body continued sinking as her consciousness scattered.

On the water’s surface, “Qinghai” looked down at the sinking Xia Qing.

She maintained her faint smile, though it now carried a trace of expected helplessness.

She suddenly spoke, her voice piercing through the deep sea:

“It’s not time yet.”

At that moment—

“Qinghai!”

“Hey! Senior! Wake up!”

Two anxious voices tore through the heavy seawater like a powerful hand, roughly grabbing her by the collar.

“Haah—!!!”

Qinghai Starlight’s eyes snapped open as she forced a breath out of her lungs.

She gasped heavily, as if she had just been pulled out of water. 

Cold sweat had soaked through her clothes.

The harsh white light made her squint.

The smell at the tip of her nose was no longer the salty scent of the deep sea or the rot of the battlefield, but the cheap yet reassuring smell of disinfectant.

She looked around in a daze.

She was lying on a simple camp bed, covered with a coarse but warm military-green blanket.

“You’re awake?”

A cold but familiar voice sounded beside the bed.

Qinghai turned her head, her vision slowly focusing.

She saw Fei Xia sitting on a small folding stool.

The red-haired girl was still wearing that torn black cloak. In her hand was a freshly wrung-out, steaming hot wet towel. 

She looked at Qinghai with an expression that said, “I really don’t know what to do with you.”

Beside her, Amber Flowing Light’s eyes were red as she held a cup of hot water. 

The moment she saw Qinghai wake up, she nearly burst into tears.

“Wuuu… Senior Qinghai! You scared me to death! Why did you suddenly faint? No matter how much we called, you wouldn’t wake up!”

“I…”

Qinghai opened her mouth, her voice hoarse as if filled with gravel.

The memories came flooding back like a tide.

The shelter. The Chimera. Her own breakdown…

She subconsciously clutched the blanket tightly, her knuckles turning white. 

Her body began to tremble uncontrollably.

She was still in this cruel world.

She still had to face that blood-soaked reality.

Suddenly, her eyes stung. She blinked involuntarily as something hot threatened to spill out.

Plop—

A warm, wet towel was placed over her face.

“Don’t move.”

Fei Xia stood up. 

The towel covered Qinghai’s eyes, also hiding the flash of vulnerability and collapse in them.

“Bellflower said it was shock caused by magic power overexertion and excessive mental stress. You need rest.”

The heat from the towel rose, making her eyes sting.

Fei Xia didn’t expose her tears, nor did she offer any empty words of comfort.

She simply turned around, adjusted her cloak, and looked out into the pitch-black night outside the tent. Her tone became meaningful.

“Lie down properly.”

“The mess out there… we haven’t finished cleaning it up yet.”

Qinghai was stunned.

Through the warm towel, she understood.

That “mess” didn’t just refer to the corpses.

It also referred to the people who were still starving, still waiting for hope in the darkness.

Qinghai felt the warmth on her eyelids as a tear silently slid from the corner of her eye, seeping into the pillow along with the towel’s moisture.

Yes, just as the other “Qinghai” had said.

It wasn’t time yet.

She couldn’t sink just yet.

At least… not now.