Only One Year Left—I'll Become a Legendary Uma Musume! Chapter 19: Only One Year Left—I’ll Become a Legendary Uma M

March 17th. Sunny. The weather is nice.

Good evening, to whoever’s reading this.

But first, I have to admit sothing embarrassing—I cried myself unconscious in Ardan-neesan’s arms. Ugh, how humiliating.

This filly’s body is still too emotional. Right, that must be it. If only I had an adult’s body, sothing so shaful would never happen.

If only I had an adult’s body.

I’m sorry. I have to apologize because I’ve done sothing terrible.

The first seven or eight entries in this diary were written maliciously—or rather, I wrote them hoping that anyone reading them might feel upset, even if only for a brief second.

Well, how do I put it? Human hearts can be so strange. It genuinely made happy imagining soone reading this and feeling sad or even crying because of —even if only briefly. At least, that’s how I felt right after writing it.

Isn’t that awful? Selfish? Hateful? But before you hate , please at least understand why I felt that way.

Actually, even before arriving here, I’d been terrified. Terrified of what, exactly? Terrified of being forgotten, terrified of dying. Isn’t that natural?

Everyone fears death—absolutely everyone. It’s just that sotis people have sothing even more important than life itself. But I don’t seem to have any of those things.

I pretended to be tough—stubborn, even. Because I’m terrified of death, I desperately wanted to be rembered. Because I’m terrified of death, I wanted fa as a way to achieve so twisted form of immortality. Even though I’d be gone and never know it, the thought alone comforted .

Right. Writing a diary filled with selfishness and malice was my way of capturing your attention. Imagining those reactions gave a twisted kind of joy.

Honestly, I felt happy about it. Imagining how my sisters might cry in grief after I was gone, reading these pages... Of course, I don’t really know how you’d react then. I can only fantasize—fantasize about how it might feel if I could sohow witness it.

But there are no "ifs."

I’m sorry for selfishly wanting to be part of your lives like this. But I’m just so afraid. Terribly, terribly afraid. Afraid enough that just thinking about death makes desperately crave warmth. I want—I really want—to have a long career, running alongside you, and having you by my side.

But there are no "ifs."

Alright, enough sad talk. Anyway, from now on, I’ll record my true feelings carefully—even things you won’t understand at the mont, actions I’ll take in the future.

But if I told you I have less than a year left, you’d probably lock up at ho, wouldn’t you? I don’t want to be caged and wait quietly to die. Such a place could never be a ho for .

It would be a prison.

After coming back from Aqueduct Racetrack, I received my official invitation for the Kentucky Derby—the ticket to the Arican Triple Crown. Their efficiency really surprised .

Then ca... the invitation to the Satsuki Sho.

Funny enough, compared to the Arican Triple Crown invitation, the email from Japan was incredibly plain. I won’t write down its details here.

Even though I agreed to Ramonu-neesan’s advice, I still can’t help but want to run both races.

I know Ramonu-neesan just wants to have a long, healthy career.

But I’m sorry—my career, my life, is down to less than a year. If I could really be healthy, maybe I’d even retire imdiately.

Anyway, I still plan to enter both the Satsuki Sho and the Arican Triple Crown. Hopefully, when I secretly run away and return ho, I won’t be scolded too harshly.

Of course, maybe it would be better if my sisters grew disappointed enough to let leave the jiro family entirely, letting live out my remaining days alone... Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Forgive —I know how horrible I am for making you worry, for hiding this from you, but—

But when I imagine leaving the jiro family, being truly alone with no one at my side... it makes unbearably sad and afraid.

Why did such a cruel fate have to fall upon ? What did I do wrong? I’m sorry. I guess I can’t overco my selfishness. Please let cling just a bit longer.

Ardan-neesan’s embrace is really warm. And Ramonu-neesan’s seemingly stern concern... how could that ever make sad? Please don’t apologize.

Just indulge my selfishness a little longer. My rational mind expects to be cast out and left to my own devices, but... when facing sothing as frightening as death, I really don’t want to be alone.

I’m selfish, aren’t I? A terrible person, right? So please, don’t be sad when you reach this part. If I’m already gone by then, there’s no need to humor the feelings of a corpse.

Haha. What a tasteless joke.

...

Twilight Song closed the diary, sluggishly moving to the edge of her bed. She curled up, leaning against the cold marble wall as she stared at the stars twinkling outside her window.

An unprecedented wave of guilt crept along her spine. Now, in this deep and silent night, with nothing left to distract her and sleep impossible, Twilight Song’s thoughts overflowed uncontrollably.

How would the people reading this diary feel? What would happen after they found out she’d died? Would anyone find strength from her running, from her existence—and then grieve her loss?

Why? Why did sothing so disgusting, terrible, and unfair have to happen to her?

Twilight Song wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, Why ?

Yet ironically, she didn’t even know whom to direct her question to.

This small filly could only curl up on the tiny windowsill, looking out at the vast night sky. Stars blinked overhead, eerily similar to the view she’d seen countless sleepless nights as an overworked corporate employee in a cramped apartnt.

But the person who used to stay awake with her, sharing that view, was forever beyond her reach—separated by an entire world.

Twilight Song was terrified of dying. She knew this clearly—so deeply afraid that she could already sense the hysteria in herself.

If not for that fear, how else could she have made such a reckless decision the mont she saw the Satsuki Sho invitation?

Sorry, but she had to be selfish this one ti. Life with the jiro family was genuinely joyful. She had caring sisters, elders who worried about her, juniors who admired her.

She had warm clothes, plenty of food—every possible luxury of this era—without any worries or stress. No one expected her to wake up at eight and work until nine.

If only this had been a normal reincarnation, without the damned curse of only one year to live. If only she could’ve been an ordinary Uma Musu.

Twilight Song couldn’t help but think...

Since this was transmigration, was she now living as a character in so kind of story?

If that were true...

Then, dear readers, will you rember an Uma Musu nad Twilight Song?

She desperately wanted to live.