Unable to find me, Valentine slit his wrists, triggering the system to discover the existence of alternate worlds and begin constructing a research laboratory.
The system forbade him from leaving this world, so it brought me back to try and stop all of it. Everything seemed so logical.
And yet, it was so ridiculous.
[I'm just a pawn cleaning up after the system.] I thought silently.
The question from the beginning returned to me:
"Even though my body has changed, how can he still recognize me?"
"He must have discovered some soul-related traits."
The system said, "His research is progressing too quickly. If this continues, this world will inevitably collapse." It sounded frustrated.
For the first time in years, I heard its voice fluctuate, no longer the cold, mechanical tone. I silently cursed, "Good for you!"
Then I remembered the description of Valentine's suicide.
Blood everywhere, a bathtub filled with it, his pale, world-weary face, and his limp, outstretched arm...
I pressed my hand to my heart. It hurt there.
---
When I returned home, Valentine was in his study, going through documents.
I walked over, removed the watch from his right wrist, and saw the grotesque, winding scar that looked like a centipede.
"It won't stay ugly forever."
Valentine pursed his lips. "I'll have surgery to remove the scar in a few days, and it'll be gone."
"Don't dislike me, baby."
He put the watch back on, took my hand, and pulled me to sit on his lap.
"Why did you suddenly decide to take off my watch?"
"Someone said you tried to kill yourself for me."
"Who?"
"The system."
Valentine's eyes instantly turned dangerous. "What else did it say?"
I sniffled and repeated everything the system had told me. Valentine fell silent.
After a long pause, he said in disbelief, "So, if I leave, everyone will die?"
"Valentine, what if—"
"Enough!"
He covered my eyes.
His voice was filled with pain, but also with determination:
"Even if it means this world will be destroyed, that's my karmic debt, and it has nothing to do with you."
"We're just ordinary people. We can't concern ourselves with the lives of so many others."
"The one who should go to the hell is me, and only me, baby. You just need to stay with me."
I stared at him, so shocked I could hardly speak.
I couldn't believe he was the one saying these words.
And I couldn't believe that after hearing this, his first reaction was to stay by my side, even if it meant killing everyone else.
---
Back in college, during an elective course, the teacher told us in a tone reminiscent of reading poetry:
"Love is the closest thing to paradise's asceticism." At the time, I didn't understand.
Only now did I realize, the "love" that connects two people with no blood relation is, in itself, a sacred suffering.
Now, I had to admit: I had driven Valentine to madness.
My "love" was the greatest suffering in his perfect life.
Love had turned him into a reckless madman, even robbing him of his reverence for life.
Was this right? Of course not!
I got off his lap and said seriously:"This isn't the future it should be."
"Valentine, we can find other solutions, instead of disregarding everyone else."
I placed his hand on my chest and spoke, word by word:
"Valentine, we are not demons."
Our love should not stain the lives of innocent beings with blood.
