"They say that a magic treasure of great power would eventually develop a sense of self… A weapon spirit, was it? It would be… Nice to have someone to talk to."
I watched as you struggled against the world.
Unreasonable.
Unfair.
Tragic.
There were many words that came to mind—if I were asked to describe your life, your story.
To many, you were simply known as the devil, who feasted on the blood of your fallen enemies.
To many, you were a nightmare, a monster to be feared, a monster to be hunted down.
Not many know you as someone who would snap his eyes open with a sharp gasp, or scream in the middle of the night.
Even less know you as someone who is capable of performing good deeds.
Never would it have occurred to those—who chased after you that you had purchased me, the demonic flute that became a magic treasure coveted by many, for the low, low price of five silver taels off the hands of a young mother and her starving child.
Five silver taels for a magic treasure of my worth, it could be considered a bargain, but it was an amount that allowed the young mother and her starving child to survive—survive long enough to eventually be accepted into a family of decent income as servants.
The starving child from all those years ago, she became a proper young lady by marrying the young master of the flourishing household that she served.
Had you not given that child and her mother those taels that year, such a future may not have existed for them.
To those two, you were a hero, a very lonely and a very quiet hero—for you weren't someone who talked much about themselves.
After all, what reason did you have to talk about yourself—when those you interacted with had wanted to kill you on sight?
Never once had you been the first to make a move—for it was always the other side, who chose to attack you first.
You maintained this stance at every turn—even after the entire world saw you as a foreign star region's spy, and despite having your enemies cornered with plenty of time to toy with them, you would always make an effort to put them out of their misery in the quickest manner possible.
That was the same—even when the enemies that you faced were the same people who had burned down the village that you were born in.
Returning to that village several years later—just as you were about to leave the lands of the Danqing Empire, you spent five days and five nights in an effort to individually bury the charred and mangled corpses of the dead by hand.
A normal person of your strength at the time—as I had come to learn later on, they would have chosen to take revenge on all who had participated in the massacre.
And yet, you had tried every possible means to conceal yourself away from the world—out of the desire to not have to deal with any sort of human interactions whether it was positive or negative.
No one, not a single person understood the fatigue that you felt—when trouble visited you at every attempt to hide, almost as if the entirety of the world was making a mockery of your efforts in wanting to pursue a peaceful life.
...…
"You… You've accompanied me for more than a hundred years now. At this point, you've probably already developed a conscience, have you not?"
I did.
Immature and incomplete as I am, I had indeed developed a sense of self.
Being a weapon spirit that was born under your company, my existence was and is—
"Thank you… For your company…"
…
As the distance between us widened, I wished to scream your name, and yet, all that came of my vessel was just a shrilled hum.
"Farewell…"
Helplessly, I watched as you fell into the bottomless crevice.
Amidst your fall—
"The flute!"
"Mine!"
"Piss off!"
"Mo Xiao!"
"Out of my way!"
All I heard were the hideous cries of monsters in human skin.
...…
Within a plum blossom garden, that is near a lake—
"…Uh?"
Raising a frown, a young lady with crimson-colored hair opens her amber-colored eyes.
"…"
Covering her mouth with one hand, and raising her other arm to stretch, the white-robed young lady yawns, as she presses the back of her head against a plum blossom's trunk.
"Of all the things to dream about…- Why my first wielder?"
Looking back on those memories from ages ago—back from when she was still an incomplete weapon spirit, the white-robed young lady's frown deepens.
Lowering her hand, the white-robed young lady mutters—
"…This world, it's long forgotten what your name even was. These days, they simply refer to you as the first wielder of Mo Xiao…"
As a soft gale of wind blows, lifting a portion of her crimson hair and several plum blossom petals, the white-robed young lady remarks—
"Qing Yi, a person like you…-? If you have a next life, you'll probably end up as an extremely selfish person, right? ...…Mm."
Momentarily, a subtle smile appears on the white-robed young lady's face.
"How I wish to see… Your face once more. But…"
Looking down at her hand with a helpless expression on her face, the white-robed young lady sighs.
"…The one who framed you as a foreign star region's spy, and manipulated my fate, their circumstances—makes it extremely difficult for me to find them, and even if I did find them… Killing them would cause irreparable damage to this world."
Closing her eyes, the white-robed young lady turns silent.
"I'm sorry… I don't have the face to see you—even if we were to meet again."
Parting her lips, the white-robed young lady frowns.
And momentarily, she thought—
(...…But… Since you were the one to toss me aside first, isn't it fine for me to act somewhat willful—if we do meet again?)