Night stared at her, eyes wide. "Ahh... wait, huh?"
Hana chuckled softly. "Would you believe me if I said that?"
Night immediately dismissed it as a blunt, dark joke. She let out a nervous chuckle. "I wouldn't even believe you if you told me you'd killed a bug."
Hana nodded. "I see. Well, he died of natural causes. He lived a long, good life—twelve years. He was such a good boy, loyal and friendly. It's just sad he had to go, but I expected it to happen eventually. I was willing to let go of him, but I couldn't let go of the memories. I had to preserve him to keep those memories intact."
Night smiled gently. "I guess that's what's important. Memories."
"Mh-hmm," Hana hummed in agreement.
No one spoke for a long moment. They both remained under the comfortable embrace of silence until Hana spoke softly.
"Thanks."
"Hmm?" Night looked up.
Hana just met Night's gaze and smiled. "I just felt like saying it."
"Oh... okay... I guess," Night replied, a bit flustered.
Hana chuckled. "You're not so bad after all."
Hana was about to lie down to sleep when Night stopped her immediately, her hand hovering over Hana's shoulder.
"What are you doing?" Night asked.
"I should be the one asking that," Hana replied.
"Don't try to sleep," Night warned.
"And why not?"
"You'll die," Night said plainly. "If it were coming from some average stranger, it might look like a conspiracy. But when a celestial entity is talking, you might want to take it into consideration."
Hana smiled. "Really now? But didn't you say yourself that I still have two weeks left to live?"
"I know I said that," Night admitted. "But just like any other catastrophic event, plans are useless when danger arrives at an inevitable time. Your heart will give up before you do. It's not the nightmare that will pull you away; it's your inner consciousness—the deepest part of you that knows the real you. It knows your values, passions, fears, and traumas. It knows what you want more than you know what you truly desire."
Hana sighed, unable to hide the bitterness of her fate. "You've been reading too much literature. I know what I want, and it doesn't involve you interfering. Wouldn't it be better if you said nothing at all?"
Hana's voice grew sharper as she continued. "Can't you just stop dictating to me? Telling me how much longer I have, what I should do, what I should redeem? Everything feels too noisy when all of you talk at the same time. Don't tell me I'm broken. Don't offer help out of sympathy. Just pretend... pretend you didn't see me. Pretend we never breathed the same air. Pretend we never had this conversation. Just pretend that I'm not aliv—"
That was the last straw for Night. The more Hana spoke, the louder Night's guilt became. She closed the distance and pulled Hana into a tight, yet gentle embrace.
"What do you think you're doing?" Hana asked, stiffening.
"Oh... well," Night began, her voice steady. "What I've learned from the book I was reading is that hugging someone in pain provides psychological and physical relief by triggering the release of oxytocin and endorphins. This lowers stress and pain, improves mood, and creates a sense of safety. This non-verbal communication of empathy is effective because it activates the brain's reward centers and helps regulate the body's stress response, even alleviating the fear of mortality."
Hana went quiet for a second. "You're starting to sound like an AI."
This earned a genuine chuckle from Night.
"Look, I know you already said no," Night said, pulling back slightly but keeping her hands on Hana's arms. "And I completely respect words that are spoken, but I also know you answered without truly considering the options. This time, please... give it a good thought. I'm not doing this just to redeem myself... well, that's not the only reason. I'm doing this because I feel it's the right thing to do."
Night's gaze grew intense. "I'm a felon to the dogmatic martinet, but a friend to a pragmatic prisoner. Accepting your fate is not wrong, but doing nothing when there is something you can actually do... that is no longer acceptable."
Night leaned in. "Look, I know you don't want to die this early. I once heard your heart speak for this. Which is why I'm willing to give you protection for the next three years. I'll keep you alive for that long. Agree, and we'll sign the contract right now. You can do the things you want to accomplish—your visions, your objectives. I promise I won't interfere. Life might have sold you an unreasonably low value, but let's work together and be good partners in business. Let's sell them out until they reach bankruptcy."
Hana chuckled. "Please don't tell me you've been reading business literature as your learning module for communication."
Night let out a snorted laugh. "Well, the previous one I bought didn't work, so I thought this might finally seal the deal."
"If you keep talking like that, I might deny your proposal," Hana teased.
"So... you're finally considering it?"
"It's better than dying in a bland hospital bed," Hana mused. "That has no thrill, no art. It's not a beautiful ending."
Night looked around at the sterile hospital room and nodded in agreement. "I guess it really isn't."
Hana held Night's gaze. The bitterness left her eyes, replaced by a cold, calculating gleam.
Three years of life, Hana thought to herself. Protection from death, and resources to dismantle the corruption that created me. All for the small price of allowing an Angel of Death to babysit my failing heart.
A faint, almost predatory smile touched Hana's lips. "I'd call it an excellent investment."
Three years, Hana's internal monologue continued. That is more than enough time to perfectly preserve my final masterpiece.