Suddenly, Hana felt herself lift off the ground and plummet downwards.

At that moment, time seemed to freeze. No sound reached her ears, and no thoughts crossed her mind. She only had enough time to see who had pushed her as her body twisted in the air.

She couldn’t remember the expressions on their faces.

The sensation of falling, time seeming to stop, the silence, and the subsequent overwhelming rush of the fall were horrifyingly vivid. Still, she couldn’t recall the look on the person’s face who had pushed her. She had been too terrified and had likely erased it from her memory.

More dreadful memories covered it up. The dull thud, followed by excruciating pain, shot through her limbs.

Why am I alive? Just kill me. It hurts so much.

Even then, Hana had thought such things. She never lost consciousness until the paramedics arrived and carried her away. She had remained conscious, crying and wishing for death the entire time she lay there, a spectacle for onlookers.

Why are you alive?

She heard that question again when she regained consciousness, but this time, it came from someone else.

Why are you alive? Why didn’t you just die?

Strangely enough, it was her grandmother who said those words. There was no malice in them. It was probably the lament of an old woman, heartbroken to see her granddaughter suffering. She had to live with a disability now, and her grandmother found that unbearable.

The medical bills were high. There were lasting aftereffects requiring ongoing rehabilitation and care, which were also costly.

Even though she needed psychological support, it was her mother who was more severely affected.

After that, Hana lived with her grandmother.

Why did you survive back then?

Why live through all this suffering? Wouldn’t it have been better to die? Her grandmother would sometimes say this when she was still in her right mind. She would say it out of pity while massaging Hana’s aching legs or feet. It wasn’t a wish for her death, it wasn’t malice.

Hana knew there was no malice behind her grandmother’s words and understood why she said them. Yet, occasionally, a lump of emotion would rise within her, overwhelming her. She couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason.

Why does someone like you even exist?

Why didn’t you die instead?

These were the words she heard next on the day of her grandmother’s funeral. She stood there in a daze, not even dressed in mourning clothes, as accusations were hurled at her. They said her grandmother might have contracted the bone disease while taking care of her, and thus, she died.

Hana couldn’t respond.

Her grandmother had needed an organ transplant, but she, not being a blood relative, couldn’t donate. The family members who could have helped had turned their backs on her grandmother. They might have given money or pretended to make decisions, but in truth, they just waited for her to weaken and die.

Hana had so much to say but couldn’t get a word out.

The accusation, that her grandmother had worn herself out taking care of a useless cripple, cut her so deeply that she was left speechless.

All this time, Hana had worked tirelessly to earn money, wanting to repay her grandmother, who had taken her in as family and cared for her. However, it was all for nothing. When she finally came to her senses, she was left with a dried-up spirit and a pile of unused money that was as worthless as paper.

She knew. Why had she lived through all that? Why was she still alive?

What had driven her to cling to life so fiercely?

Fine, she would admit it now.

She had wanted to die for a long time.

When she trembled in fear before her constantly fighting parents, when she was slapped, and her mouth was bleeding, when she scavenged an empty fridge for something to eat and got sick from the spoiled food, when she sat in a corner of the kitchen, staring blankly at the sunset outside, she always wondered if this was truly living.

She questioned whether her life, worse than that of a fly, would be better ended.

It would have been better to die than to keep enduring such pain. Even on sunny days, her entire body ached terribly, and on rainy days, it was even worse. She had become so dependent on medication for the pain that she developed insomnia and anxiety, which further eroded her mental state.

She truly wanted to die. What was the point of living in such a miserable world?

The only reason she hadn’t ended it was because she lacked the courage. There was also an inexplicable sense of attachment holding her back.

So, why was she still alive?

[ I am curious about that as well. ]

Hana focused on the voice echoing in her mind. Was she dreaming again? Void’s voice rang out.

[ You were meant to die. It’s puzzling why you haven’t. ]

“I should have died?”

[ Yes. ]

“I was destined to die?”

[ Yes. ]

“Who decides that? Who decides something like that?”

Hana screamed, something unknown inside her, threatening to burst forth.

[ Who else? You do. ]

Apparently, all the decision-making power was hers.

She had to accept that she was to die as a sacrifice. Only then could this world survive. But why did she feel more alive the longer she stayed in this place? Wasn’t that supposed to be wrong? It seemed incredibly unfair.

Hana cried for a long time in silence. A dreamscape without Void felt like pure emptiness. There was nothing, no sound, no presence.

Her body floated there, her tears scattering into the air as if she were endlessly falling. Just like back then. Why had she survived? If it hadn’t been for the dense tree below the balcony, she would have died. If only that tree hadn’t been there.

The tree. The tree. The tree.

If only the tree hadn’t been there.

She could have died.

“Hana.”

Hana opened her eyes.

The golden eyes that met hers sparkled in the sunlight. Throughout her life, she had felt that being touched by light was a sin. But the light in Weed’s eyes looked at her with warmth and a gentle smile.

The scent of lavender wafted through the air. After waking up, Hana couldn’t get out of bed for several days. She couldn’t eat properly either, so Weed had to feed her. She lost track of how many days had passed.

“I’m sorry for waking you. It seemed like you were having another bad dream…”

Hana’s eyes were wide open. It felt just like that time, endlessly falling with nowhere to anchor her mind, with the biggest tree in the world standing in her way, preventing her death.

Weed’s words came back to her.

Don’t try to die, he had said.

It caused him more pain. Everyone else had told her to die, asking why someone as useless as her was still alive. Still, he alone had begged her to live. He had been the first one to cry so desperately for her to stay alive.

Maybe it was from the moment she heard those words, or perhaps from the moment he had saved her when she was on the brink of death upon arriving here, that she finally felt allowed to live. Maybe that was her salvation.

Why am I still alive?

…She thought the answer might lie with him.

Still drowsy, her voice cracked as she spoke.

“…Weed, I have a question.”

“Yes, Hana?”

“Weed, why do you live? Do you have something important to live for?”

Weed nodded.

“What is it?”

Weed brushed her hair aside, touched her ear, stroked her cheek, and ran his fingers along her nose before placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. Then he repeated the words he had once spoken through tears.

“…It’s to be grateful that you are alive, to see the day when I can think that you being alive and breathing is a blessing.”

“That’s your reason for living?”

“Yes.”

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