Morning sunlight spilled gently across the stone-paved streets, warming the quiet town as it stretched awake. Shops opened their wooden shutters one by one, merchants arranging goods with practiced hands while the scent of fresh bread drifted through the air. It was an ordinary day—peaceful, unremarkable, and utterly unaware of the weight it would soon carry.
Yuan walked down the street with a smile he did not bother to hide.
Beside him was the girl.
She matched his pace effortlessly, her steps light, almost bouncing, as though the ground itself delighted her. Their hands brushed occasionally, never quite holding, yet never pulling away either. Every time their fingers touched, they exchanged glances—quick, shy, and glowing with a warmth that needed no words.
People noticed.
They always did.
Passersby slowed their steps, eyes lingering on the pair longer than necessary. Some smiled knowingly, others sighed softly, while a few stared in open awe. There was something about them—something gentle and pure—that stood out amid the daily bustle.
They looked happy.
Not the loud, fleeting kind of happiness born from excitement, but the quiet kind that settled deep in the heart and stayed there.
Yuan turned his head slightly. "You're smiling again."
The girl blinked, then laughed softly, raising a hand to her lips as if caught doing something mischievous. "Am I?"
"You've been smiling the whole time," Yuan said. "Since we left."
She looked ahead, her cheeks warming. "That's because… today feels nice."
Yuan didn't respond immediately. He simply watched her for a moment—how the sunlight danced through her hair, how her eyes reflected the sky, how every expression she wore felt painfully precious.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "It does."
They wandered through the town without any destination in mind. Sometimes they stopped to look at trinkets displayed on street stalls—hand-carved charms, polished stones, little glass bottles filled with glittering sand. Other times they simply walked, listening to the rhythm of their footsteps and the faint hum of life around them.
At one corner, a group of children ran past them, laughing loudly as they chased one another. The girl watched them with a fond smile.
"Do you think they'll remember days like this?" she asked suddenly.
Yuan tilted his head. "Days like what?"
"Days where nothing bad happens," she said. "Days that are just… happy."
Yuan thought about it.
"I think," he said slowly, "even if they forget the details, they'll remember how it felt."
She nodded, satisfied with the answer.
They continued walking until something bright caught her eye.
She stopped so abruptly that Yuan nearly bumped into her.
"There," she said, pointing excitedly.
Yuan followed her gaze.
A small stall stood by the side of the road, its wooden frame painted green and gold. Hanging from the top were various plush toys—animals, mythical creatures, and strange beings that looked like they had stepped out of a fairy tale.
Among them was a small elven plushie.
It had long pointed ears, soft silver-green hair, and round, embroidered eyes that seemed to sparkle with curiosity. It wore a tiny cloak stitched with leaf patterns, and its smile was gentle and inviting.
The girl's eyes lit up.
"It's so cute," she whispered, already stepping closer.
Yuan watched her kneel slightly to get a better look, her expression open and delighted. He didn't need to ask.
She turned to him, her eyes hopeful but hesitant. "Yuan… can I—"
"I'll buy it," he said without hesitation.
Her eyes widened. "Really?"
He smiled. "Of course."
She beamed.
The shopkeeper, an elderly woman with kind eyes, chuckled softly as Yuan handed over the coins. "For your beloved?" she asked warmly.
Yuan froze for half a second, then nodded. "Yes."
The girl accepted the plushie with both hands, holding it close to her chest as though it were something priceless.
"Thank you," she said, her voice soft. "I'll treasure it."
Yuan felt something warm settle in his chest.
They left the stall, her arms wrapped around the elven plushie. She hummed quietly as they walked, occasionally lifting the plushie to eye level as if introducing it to the world.
"Should we give it a name?" she asked.
"Names are important," Yuan said. "You should choose."
She thought for a moment. "Then… Leaf."
"Leaf?" Yuan smiled. "It suits it."
She hugged the plushie tighter, happiness radiating from her in waves so strong it felt unreal.
For a few precious minutes, the world was perfect.
Then it happened.
They approached a wider road, one used by large transport vehicles that passed through the town. Yuan slowed instinctively, glancing both ways before stepping closer to the crossing.
The girl was still talking—about nothing and everything at once—when her foot caught on a loose stone.
"Ah—!"
Her balance faltered.
Time slowed.
Yuan saw her stumble forward, her grip loosening as the plushie slipped from her arms. He saw the sudden fear in her eyes as her body tilted toward the road.
And he saw the truck.
It was coming fast, its engine roaring, too close to stop in time.
"Watch out!" Yuan shouted.
He moved without thinking.
He grabbed her arm and pulled with all his strength, twisting his body and throwing her toward the side road. She cried out in surprise as she fell onto the pavement, rolling harmlessly away from the road's edge.
Safe.
Yuan turned to run back.
But he was too late.
The truck filled his vision.
There was no pain.
No fear.
Only a brief, strange calm—as if the world had gone silent just for him.
Then everything went dark.
The impact was instantaneous.
Yuan's body was thrown aside, lifeless before it hit the ground.
The truck screeched to a halt, the driver shouting in horror as people nearby screamed and rushed forward.
The girl lay frozen where she had fallen.
Her mind refused to understand what her eyes were seeing.
"Y… Yuan?" she whispered.
She scrambled to her feet and ran.
The world felt distant, muffled, as though she were underwater. She pushed past people, ignoring their voices, their hands reaching out to stop her.
She reached him.
Yuan lay still on the road, his eyes closed, his expression peaceful—almost as if he were merely asleep.
"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "No, no, no…"
She knelt beside him, her hands trembling as she reached for his face. His skin was already cooling.
"Wake up," she pleaded softly. "Yuan… you promised we'd walk more today."
Her voice cracked.
"You said you'd stay."
Tears fell onto his chest, soaking into his clothes.
Someone tried to pull her away.
She screamed and clung to him, her nails digging into the pavement.
"Don't touch him!" she cried. "He's right here—he's not gone!"
But the truth was merciless.
Yuan was dead.
He hadn't even had a second to say goodbye.
The elven plushie lay a short distance away, stained with dust, its stitched smile unchanged.
The girl noticed it then.
She crawled over, picked it up, and pressed it to her chest as she returned to Yuan's side. Her sobs were silent now, her body shaking violently as realization finally crushed her.
The street, once warm and bright, felt unbearably cold.
People watched with heavy hearts, unable to look away.
Above them, the sky remained clear and blue—indifferent to the life it had just taken.
And somewhere beyond sight, beyond understanding, something ancient stirred.
But for the girl kneeling on the road, holding a plushie and the body of the boy she loved, the world had already ended.