I am a ghost.
I've forgotten how long I've been here. From the moment I opened my eyes to a world of endless yellow sand, to now, surrounded by lush greenery—it feels like just a blink, yet also like countless cycles of stars shifting in the sky.
Humans call this... what was it? Ah... "vicissitudes of life"?
As for me, I don't know my name, where I came from, or who I was... I only know I'm a ghost, and from the moment I awoke, I've been unable to leave this three-inch patch of ground beneath my feet.
Oh, right—and I'm not exactly cultured.
I chewed on a leaf, crossed my legs leisurely, enjoying the gentle breeze as it blew past, lost in aimless thoughts.
Actually, it's pretty pitiful—not knowing anything, unable to die again, just watching the world change around me, with no connection to any of it. I can't even scare a single human!
It's turned me into a world-weary ghost.
I hadn't finished my melancholy musings when a vine suddenly wrapped around my ankle and hoisted me upside down.
"...You damned thing, put me down!!"
If ghosts exist in this world, then a dead tree demon isn't so strange, right?
The one dangling the noble me right now is this annoying tree demon.
"You TM plucked my leaves again!! Are you trying to die?!"
"You have so many leaves; what's one less? Stingy demon."
I leisurely untangled myself and punched the trunk for good measure.
Ghosts don't feel pain anyway.
When I first became a ghost, I was still dazed, without much self-awareness.
Back then, this place was a desert. I can't remember it clearly now, only that the wind howled fiercely, the air thick with sand and a heavy, bloody scent—but oddly stale, as if the tragedy had happened long ago.
Maybe I died in a sandstorm?
How ridiculous—a ghost dying without knowing how, having to puzzle out my own cause of death.
Later, I slowly came to, and sitting around doing nothing felt pointless, so I tried to wander. But I discovered I couldn't leave that circle, like a dog chained invisibly in place.
No choice then—wait.
I waited for many years, watching grass and trees grow and wither, people settle and leave...
I saw so many lives: meetings and partings, separations and reunions; some fell in love while others left, joyful smiles rising as sorrowful tears fell. In the same moment, wildly different lives played out on stage—tragic or joyful, babbling endlessly, fascinating yet mesmerizing.
But the more I watched, the more silent I became.
What was I waiting for?
Whether fortunate or unfortunate, everyone had something to pursue, to long for, waiting for some event or person. Whether they got it or not, there was a clear answer. It seemed only I would never get mine.
Sometimes I'd panic thinking about it: Did I piss off the heavens in my past life?! Is that why they're treating me like this?
But it wasn't all bad.
At least the heavens left me a tree.
Yes, this tree demon.
Honestly, I feel like I could be his dad—I witnessed him from sprouting roots to growing into this towering form.
He had it rough too. Back then, this place was barren, nothing but desolate sand for miles. He pushed through the soil bit by bit, nearly dying under the scorching sun, but he survived.
For a long time, my way to pass the boredom was watching him grow—
Hey, it's sprouting!
Grew a bit taller today.
Damn, it looks like it's dying, all yellow and wilted...
Whoa, it's flowering? Amazing.
Then one day, while I was leaning against his trunk for shade, he suddenly spoke.
"I said, if you're cooling off, fine, but next time don't pluck my leaves?!"
It startled me.
I quickly accepted that the tree had become a demon, and under his sharp-tongued attacks, I involuntarily became an even fouler-mouthed ghost.
This demon is truly baffling— he never wins arguments, yet he keeps coming back for more, always starting fights, needing 200 rounds a day to settle down.
Using a term I learned from humans, he's definitely a masochist.
But no choice—I can't leave, and his roots are stuck in this cursed circle chaining me, so we just muddle through together.