The little rmaid turned around and began to swim away. But just as she was about to leave the temple, the ground rumbled.
The do beneath her shattered, and a wall of silver water surged upward. From behind the cascading curtain, a breathtakingly majestic figure erged.
A dazzling stunning rmaid.
His scales were a deep, dark blue—glistening like gemstones under the moonlight. His eyes, a shade even brighter than his scales, held an otherworldly allure.
The little rmaid froze, utterly awestruck.
The superior rmaid tilted his head, his piercing sapphire gaze locking onto hers, as if seeing into her very soul.
"How would I write your na in the clouds if you leave without telling ?"
Her lips trembled as she tried to speak. He was the most beautiful being she had ever seen, and for a mont, she felt as though he had captured her very soul.
She told him her na.
But he did not promise to write it in the clouds. Instead, he asked,
"Why are you not coming back? Have you lost faith?"
The little rmaid shook her head. "It’s not that I don’t want to. But I can’t. My next cycle is coming. I don’t think the future will rember my goal—coming here every day to pray to the gods. Just like I don’t rember who I was in my past cycles."
Only now did it beco clear—her ti was short. Soon, she would enter the next cycle of rebirth, erasing her present existence. A new version of her would take her place, with no mory of the life she lived now.
There was no ’death’ in the Sea of Life.
But this—this was death.
The superior rmaid gazed at her soul. It was thin, fragile, as if she could vanish at any mont. As soone who knew the truth behind the cycle of rebirth, he understood what this ant.
This version of her would be gone forever. Though her soul would continue on, her present self—her thoughts, her mories, her desires—would never return.
’She’ was ’dying’.
But then, the little rmaid suddenly brightened.
"But... I don’t think I’ll be gone today or tomorrow," she said cheerfully. "Before my next cycle begins, can I co visit you every day? Please don’t hide under your do. Just tell stories about your race."
The superior rmaid was silent for a long ti. Then, finally, he gave a small nod.
He accepted her request.
From that day on, the little rmaid visited him daily. She no longer offered tributes to the gods—her offerings were for him. She no longer recited prayers—she spoke about her day, and in return, he told her stories of his long-lost race.
The once-abandoned temple, silent and empty for centuries, was now filled with her voice and laughter. The superior rmaid watched as the desolate space beca alive with her presence, her warmth illuminating every corner.
Days passed.
Weeks.
Months.
For the superior rmaid, who had lived for thousands of years, it was nothing but a fleeting mont.
Yet sohow, those brief days with her felt more precious—more real—than the millennia he had spent alone.
Yet, as ti went on, the small light within the little rmaid’s soul began to fade, little by little.
And perhaps... he had been alone for so long that, against all reason, he wished she could stay just a little longer.
"...I... I don’t want to enter the next cycle."
The little rmaid’s voice broke the silence.
Beyond the sea, a silver moon painted the sky and water in a violet hue. The stars shimred, their lights dancing on the ocean’s surface.
She turned to the superior rmaid.
"I don’t believe what they say. The next ’’ might not be at all. I’ll completely disappear, won’t I?"
Her tears fell, transforming into pearls as they sank into the deep ocean.
"I don’t want to forget. I want to rember you."
Without hesitation, the superior rmaid suddenly dug out his own eyes.
"Our eyes are gifts from the gods," he said. "They hold our mories. When you enter the next cycle... you’ll rember."
The little rmaid gasped as he placed the two blue gems into her hands. Her vision blurred with fresh tears.
"But what about you?" she whispered.
"I won’t have any use for these eyes once I ascend."
She cried harder. Never in her life had she received such kindness. Among her own race, she had always been mocked for her slow growth and short cycle. Everyone despised her for being weak.
Yet here he was—perhaps the most gifted, the most superior among all rmaids—offering her sothing so precious without a mont’s hesitation.
Because of him, this life—this fleeting mont of existence—felt worth living.
Perhaps, out of all the lives she had lived, this was the most precious.
Because she had spent it with him.
How could she ever repay such kindness?
"I... I’ll make sure to ascend next ti." Her voice trembled with determination. "Then I’ll find you in the heavens. I’ll stay with you. I’ll watch the moon with you. I’ll be by your side—we’ll be family. I promise."
The superior rmaid couldn’t see her anymore, but he reached out and caught her falling pearls.
"A rmaid’s tears are special. Treasure them."
Suddenly, the little rmaid embraced him.
"I promise... After I enter the next cycle, I’ll find you. I’ll co back here and stay with you until you ascend. Then I’ll ascend too. So... wait for ."
The superior rmaid smiled and wrapped his arms around her in return.
They stayed like that, locked in an embrace, until the color of the moon began to shift.
But then...
The little rmaid in his arms began to fade. He could feel her soul slipping away.
For the first ti in thousands of years, he felt sothing foreign—sothing terrifying.
A crisis.
Like he was about to lose sothing more important than his own eyes.
He didn’t understand what he was feeling.
All he knew was that he didn’t want her to disappear.
His grip tightened.
"No..."
The little rmaid pulled back slightly, her fading figure now translucent. Then, with a soft smile, she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.
"Thank you... for staying with until my last mont."
Her voice was a whisper.
"Next ti, I’ll be by your side. I’ll stay."
And then—
She was gone.
Her body dissolved into shimring light, carried away by the current. Her final words echoed in his ears.
His arms were empty.
And so was his heart.
For a long ti, he remained there, unmoving.
Alone.
Then, at last, he smiled—a bitter, quiet smile.
Ah.
Now he understood.
The greatest emotion that made those imperfect beings in the human realm... human.
Love.
The superior rmaid lifted his face to the sky.
The moon had turned blue.
Its glow illuminated his flawless features, but behind his closed eyelids, a truth settled deep within him.
At that mont, he knew—
He would never be able to ascend.
He had gained an emotion that was forbidden for those who sought divinity.
He was like the humans now—flawed.
But he did not regret it.
Because in all the thousands of years he had lived—
Those short monts with her were the best.
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