puppet: "The other party refuses to disclose anything."
"It's somewhat concerning... If they won't talk, that's fine, but have that fellow from the Company synchronize the information." Herta rubbed her chin.
"As you wish, Ms. Herta!"
"Also, today is his birthday. I need to return to Azure Star."
"Everything has already been prepared for you."
...
Herta stood before the wardrobe opened by the puppet, her gaze lingering on a certain dress.
That was a gift from Qi Zhimu.
Beside it sat a wizard hat.
That was her gift to Qi Zhimu.
His scent seemed to linger upon it, reflecting the unforgettable and beautiful times of the past.
A genius has countless ways to keep an object from being eroded by time.
But... one of the people most closely associated with this object was the lifelong regret of her life.
"Sigh..."
Herta gave a silent sigh and took down the clothes she often wore in her youth. Without letting the puppet assist, she took off her nightgown and changed into them herself.
She sat before the dressing table, picking up a wooden comb to brush her smooth, long hair, dressing herself meticulously.
After a long while, Herta put down her lipstick. Her hand habitually reached toward a transparent jar nearby, but stopped mid-air.
Staring blankly at the only two candies left inside, the light in her eyes dimmed for a moment.
"Here, ask me for more when you're almost finished. You should like these flavors. It doesn't matter if you can't finish them quickly; they won't expire."
Once, the youth had stuffed a transparent jar full of candies into her bag; he had done so many times.
She remembered every flavor of the candies made by Qi Zhimu's hands.
At first, she didn't like the grape-flavored ones much, but she grew used to them over time.
Now, the person who made candies for her was gone. Once these were finished, she would never be able to eat them again.
Herta turned her gaze back to the small box filled with ornaments. She took out a black hair ribbon and tied it to a lock of hair on each side, finally picking up a purple one.
On many mornings, Qi Zhimu would tirelessly help her dress and do her hair.
She remembered the process, remembered every detail.
She remembered the faint, fresh scent of soap on him, and his warm breath.
After being lost in thought for a while, Herta shook off her daze. With a wave of her hand, she summoned the Fourth Mirror and stepped into it.
...
Azure Star, Fog City.
It was currently the snowy season.
As the birthplace of Ms. Herta, this place had long been a holy land for countless interstellar travelers to visit.
To commemorate her, the entire city's appearance was maintained as it was during her girlhood. Despite years of wind and rain, it had never changed.
Many businesspeople claimed that Ms. Herta had frequently visited the shops they currently operated when she was a child.
But there were so many such claims, and they were difficult to verify, so foreign tourists gradually stopped taking them seriously.
There were even more ridiculous claims.
An owner of a small roasted sweet potato shop on a certain street corner said:
During Ms. Herta's childhood, his ancestor sold sweet potatoes at this very corner and often saw Ms. Herta visiting with a youth.
Countless people scoffed at this claim.
Would the prestigious Genius Society #83 specifically come to such a remote corner to eat sweet potatoes that required no technical skill to make?
They were shameless in fabricating lies for foot traffic, but the name Herta was a golden brand.
Whether people believed it or not, there were always some foreign tourists willing to spend money on it.
At this moment, in front of a milk tea shop a block away.
Absent-minded, her eyes filled with nostalgia and complexity, a girl so beautiful that people couldn't help but look twice lightly picked up a packaging bag from the pickup area.
"...Why does she look a bit familiar?"
Two young women watched the girl's back disappear into the crowd.
"I had the honor of visiting the Herta Space Station; she looks very similar to Ms. Herta's puppet."
"Oh my... could it be—"
"There are no 'could it be's. Although few people dare to get plastic surgery to look like Ms. Herta to draw attention, aren't there plenty of tourists who cosplay as her through makeup? They call it having an 'immersive sense of substitution.' Look, there are two more over there."
"I see. But that girl just now was really beautiful, more than ten times better looking than those two."
"Now that you mention it, indeed... It's rare to meet such a high-quality Ms. Herta fan. Should we go up and take a photo together?"
"Forget it, she's already gone."
...
The roasted sweet potato shop.
"Two portions."
The words had just left her mouth subconsciously when a cold wind blew into her collar.
Herta instinctively lowered her head, staring blankly and motionlessly at the two cups of milk tea in her hands.
She didn't snap out of it until the old man selling roasted sweet potatoes spoke to remind her.
She woodenly took the paper bag containing two portions of roasted sweet potatoes, woodenly paid, and woodenly turned to leave.
The path beneath her feet was all too familiar.
Which floor tile was loose, which corner had an old shop—she remembered it all clearly.
On the path where Qi Zhimu had once carried her, held her hand, or walked side-by-side with her countless times, she was now the only one left.
Herta scanned the scenery preserved in her honor.
But in her heart, was it not also preserved to commemorate Qi Zhimu?
Her brain clearly accepted the fact that he was no longer there, but her body always remembered the habits of those years; no matter what she bought, she would prepare a portion for Qi Zhimu.
Following the familiar path, she walked on, moving away from the hustle and bustle, returning near her home without realizing it.
The United Government guards stationed in the outer area to protect the original site of Ms. Herta's former residence saw the girl walking alone. Just as they were about to stop her, they froze in place upon seeing her face clearly.
The scanners on them, meant only to identify Ms. Herta's identity, all flashed the same signal in unison.
No one dared to make a sound. They suppressed their excitement and bowed their heads respectfully, listening to the sound of footsteps passing before them.
As the movement faded, everyone dared to look over from a distance, witnessing the girl casually open the passcode-protected gate.
The guards stationed here had been replaced time and again over hundreds of years, but very few had the honor of seeing Ms. Herta with their own eyes.
Once they retired, they would have the capital to boast for the rest of their lives.
Herta had no mind to care what the people outside were thinking as she entered the courtyard.
A thin layer of snow had accumulated on the swing. She brushed it away, sat down, and opened the paper bag of roasted sweet potatoes.
The sweet potatoes were still warm.
The milk tea was also still warm.
However, the taste was different from what she had tasted back then.
The swing swayed gently. Herta looked around the empty courtyard, as if seeing two figures playing badminton.
Laughter echoed across time and space; it was hard to distinguish between hallucination and reality.
After a long time, two snowy owls flew over silently.
One landed on Herta's shoulder, and the other on her lap, tilting its head.
Only then did Herta come back to her senses.
The extra cup of warm milk tea in her hand, as well as the remaining roasted sweet potato, had both turned ice-cold.
A massive sense of emptiness washed over her, leaving her overwhelmed and at a loss.
Tears slid down at some point, falling onto the snow and quickly vanishing without a trace.
Temporarily stepping away from the days immersed in the ocean of Erudition to look back at the past, she finally understood deeply—
Yearning does not fade with the erosion of time.
"I am no longer that girl who needs protection; I have become the version of myself you liked most..."
"But, when will you finally respond to my call?"
"Brother Zhimu... Lord Zhimu... Mr. Magician, Mr. Creditor..."
"How must I call you for you to hear me?"
End of Chapter 233PreviousNext ChapterAll chaptersCh. 233 / 582Longing Will Not Fade Away with the Passing of Time