The gentle fragrance of wildflowers mixed with the scent of grass, carried by the wind, blending with the damp earth. It caressed my face softly. Golden leaves painted the sky, swirling in the breeze, creating a symphony of autumn's final breath.

I lay on a field of grass, my eyes gazing into the deep blue sky. This place—it was always my favorite.

I… am dying.

Six months ago, I was diagnosed with terminal leukemia. Six months of relentless weight loss—over 30 kilograms gone. Six months of exhaustion, of pain so unbearable that at times, I wished for death just to end it. To make it here, I had to take drugs—narcotics, stimulants—anything to dull the agony, just for a little while. I couldn’t even bear to look at myself in the mirror anymore. Maybe because… I don’t want to die.

"Stay positive!"
"Keep fighting!"
"Miracles happen!"
"Tomorrow, you'll wake up as a strong, confident girl again!"

Lies.

I once imagined myself standing before the national broadcast, delivering the news. I remember the taste of salt on my lips, the gentle waves brushing against my skin. I remember stretching my arms after hours of studying alone in the library. I still have things I want to do.

Staring at the vast sky above, I always imagined it as heaven. I want to go to heaven.

But I don’t want to die.

It feels like my blood is drying up, my breath scraping against the walls of my lungs, as if the air itself has turned to ash. Every inhale is a struggle, as if I am begging this world to embrace me once more. This world, which was once so kind to me, now only gives me cold indifference.

My mother, my father—they love me. They will always love me. But I’m terrified… terrified of what will become of them after I’m gone.

Maybe I was never important to the world.

But to them, I know—I was my father’s pride, my mother’s beloved daughter.

I’m sorry. I can’t stay for you to love anymore.

The flood of thoughts made my heart skip a beat. A violent cough racked my body. It hurts, I thought.

Yes.

I did all this—not because of my parents' expectations, but because of my own. I never used their love as an excuse to fail. Their love was my strength, the force that pushed me to live.

But now… I’m just so tired.

Every movement sends pain lancing through my bones, wearing down my spirit day by day.

For six months, I fought.

Every morning started with a whisper: "Just end it."

And that thought repeated itself every second of every day.

I endured for my parents.

But today, perhaps, it’s a tie.

Today, I won’t be the one walking away victorious.

This disease—it dies with me.

I’ve made my peace.

There’s a song my mother used to hum to me when I was little. The melody lingers on my lips, carrying me back to her voice, to her warmth.

Death no longer frightens me.

Thinking of it now, death… feels like going home.

My vision blurs.

I know—my time is up.

A tear slips down my temple.

I whisper my final goodbye.

A gentle breeze suddenly howls into a storm. The trees sway, their branches reaching toward the sky, as if waving farewell.

I smile.

And I take my last breath.

"The suffering of this life is unlike the ones before it. It does not come from past regrets but from the agonizing cries of both body and soul. Strength, however, comes from enduring that pain—for the sake of those we love. Perhaps this life was the happiest I’ve ever lived… and also the most painful, the most hopeless."

"Memories, scarred and broken, like hands desperately clinging to life in the face of despair."

"Thank you… for leading me to this river of suffering, this abyss of agony. I have bathed in it, felt it sear through my flesh and bones, swallowed it, breathed in it, as if a mermaid returning to the sea. And as I step out of it, I see a path. A path I must walk alone. Alone, so nothing can hurt me again. Alone, so I can protect."

"If fate—like this life—is waiting for me at the end of that road…"

"Then I will conquer it."

At this moment, a part of Sandoc awakened.

And a part of Sandoc died.