As I sang, memories tied to this lullaby began to surface. I recalled those nights when, nestled against my grandmother, she would hum it softly to lull me to sleep. Like that time, on a warm summer evening, when she sang it to calm my tears after I lost one of my favorite toys. Or another winter night, when I complained of a fever that exhausted me, her voice had been my comfort, soothing the pain and carrying me into deep sleep. This song had always been there, an unbreakable bond between her and me, in both good times and bad.

As the lullaby continued, the cave slowly began to illuminate. The dark walls filled with bluish reflections, as if invisible fireflies floated through the air, casting soft, mysterious glimmers. The rock itself seemed to breathe new life, faintly shimmering under the light. The weeping, which had sounded so sorrowful, had ceased, replaced by an almost calming silence, interrupted only by the gentle sound of water.

Kumo, too, had calmed, curled up against my feet. I could still feel his body tremble slightly, but his breathing had returned to a steady rhythm. Despite the restored calm, I knew it would be risky to stay here. The Guardian would likely find our trail. And now that the cave was lit, it seemed we could move forward.

“Yui, look at all these blue butterflies…”

The butterflies seemed to dance around us, their soft light guiding our gaze toward a deeper passage in the cave.

“Maybe we’ll find the exit if we follow them…”

We stood up hesitantly and began to follow the butterflies. The further we ventured, the more the cave revealed its mysteries. Galleries carved by time emerged before our eyes, the stone glistening faintly, the air growing heavier.

A vast lake gradually came into view at the center of the cave, its water perfectly still, reflecting the dancing lights of the butterflies. At the lake’s edge, silhouettes began to appear—human spirits of all ages. They floated slightly above the ground, their faces marked by sorrow.

“What is this place, nya…”

I couldn’t help but share his astonishment.

“Humans here? These… spirits… Were their cries what we heard?”

When these wandering souls noticed our presence, they quickly approached. The first to reach me was a child of about five years old. He clung to my sweater, tears in his eyes.

“Help me find my mommy and daddy…” he wailed.

No sooner had he spoken than an old man approached.

“Do you know where my wife is…?”

“I must go see my son; he must be worried. Please!” cried a woman, her hands outstretched toward me.

All these spirits crowded around me, each pleading for something, as if I held the answers to their fears. I was unable to respond to their requests, unable to fully grasp the situation. Why were they here? What were human spirits doing in this world? My gaze drifted to the lake, shimmering under the butterflies’ light. It strangely reminded me of the lake I had fallen into.

“Could it be…”

A dark thought crossed my mind—a suspicion I dared not voice.

“It’s exactly what you think.”

A lifeless voice spoke to me from behind. I turned to meet the gaze of a boy. He seemed barely eight years old, his hollow eyes reflecting profound weariness.

“I’ve told them countless times that we’re all dead, but none of them want to believe it. Or rather… they refuse to.”

“No, that’s not true! You’re lying!” cried the boy still clinging to my sweater.

“You’re just trying to scare us!” the woman added.

All the spirits in the gallery began to shout at the boy, rejecting the truth he had just revealed—a truth that terrified them to their core.

“Miss, we’re not dead, are we?” the child asked me, his voice trembling.

Though I wanted to lie to comfort him, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I remained silent, and that silence confirmed the boy’s words. The spirits became agitated, and the weeping resumed—the same cries we had heard moments earlier.

“Yui… I think we should leave, nya…” Kumo suggested anxiously.

“And here they go crying again…” said the boy, as if he was used to this endless cycle.

I approached him, trying to understand the situation.

“Excuse me… Are you all wandering souls?”

“That’s correct.”

“If the reason they’re here is because they deny their deaths… then why are you, who know the truth, still here?”

The boy lowered his gaze. “I’d like to know that too…”

“Yui, what are we going to do? My ears can’t take their cries and wails anymore, nya!”

I turned to the boy.

“Little one…?”

“It’s Ren.”

“Ren, do you know how the spirits’ cries were calmed earlier?”

“They heard a lullaby… probably that. It was rather soothing, I must admit.”

“A lullaby…”

Just as I suspected—it must have been Grandmother’s lullaby. Perhaps it could help calm them again, but after that? How could they move on to the afterlife?

I had no time to think further. Overwhelmed by the cries and wails of these souls, I approached them and began singing the lullaby. Little by little, the crying faded, and a soft light emerged from the lake—a gentle, horizontal light, like a portal.

When I finished my song, I gazed at the light, just as the other souls did, their faces awestruck. Could it be a portal to the afterlife, to freedom?

“Nya, it’s beautiful…”

“That light…” murmured Ren, his once-empty eyes gradually filling with clarity.

The little boy who had clung to me earlier timidly approached the lake but stopped to say in a trembling voice:

“The light is calling me… but I’m scared. I don’t know what awaits me.”

I knelt before him. “You’ll be able to watch over your parents from the other side. I’m sure they’ll always feel your love.”

He nodded, reassured.

The spirits advanced one by one toward the light, toward the portal leading to the afterlife. They all departed—except for one.

Ren, the one who had known all along that they were dead, lingered behind, his once-hollow gaze now filled with an emotion he had not yet expressed.

“Aren’t you leaving…?” I asked gently.

Ren hesitated, tears welling in his eyes.

“I want to… but I can’t…”

I could feel the deep sadness he carried within. He finally broke into sobs, a long-buried pain surfacing suddenly.

“I wronged my brother… I don’t deserve to go to heaven.”

Warm tears rolled down his cheeks, and this child who had seemed so indifferent was now breaking down.

I held him, trying to comfort him.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Ren nodded. Between sobs, he told me his story—how, jealous of his brother whom he saw as perfect, he had taken him to the lake to scare him, but had ended up drowning himself, causing his own death. The guilt had consumed him since, convinced that his brother hated him and that his parents probably resented his brother, holding him responsible for Ren’s death.

“It was an accident, Ren. I’m sure your brother doesn’t blame you. No matter what happened, he would have wanted you to be happy and to hold you in his arms one last time.”

Ren, still crying, looked at me with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“Will he forgive me?”

“He never blamed you, and if he could have told you, he would have forgiven you.”

Ren then approached the portal, his tears gradually subsiding. Before disappearing into the light, he left one final message:

“Tell my brother that I love him and that I’m sorry for everything.”

The lake’s light slowly faded with Ren’s departure, leaving a more peaceful atmosphere in the cave. The cries had ceased, replaced by serene calm.

“Well, that was impressive, nya.”

“I agree. Shall we leave now?”

“Gladly, nya.”