บท 25: Little Sunshine

It was a night in summer, the half-moon shining alone in the sky. The atmosphere, polluted by humankind, had made it nearly impossible to see the stars, but watching the moon itself had a calming, soothing effect.

In this serene environment, a woman and child were sleeping on the roof terrace of a two-story building, on a warm bedding with a blanket covering them halfway.

"Mom, which story are you going to tell me today?" the child asked, an innocent smile playing on his lips.

The mother paused, considering for a moment. "Hmm... Let me see, what story should I read to my little sunshine today? How about the tale of the little match girl?"

"The match girl?" The boy's eyes lit up with curiosity as he sat up, looking at his mother with excited eyes.

"You want to know? Then let me tell you the story of that misfortunate child," the mother said, a gentle smile gracing her features.

"Alright then, are you ready to hear the story of the little match girl?" the mother asked, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from her son's forehead.

The boy nodded eagerly, snuggling closer to his mother as she began the tale.

"It was a bitterly cold New Year's Eve, and the snow was falling all around. In a dark corner of the streets, there was a poor young girl, bareheaded and barefoot, walking and trying to sell her bundle of matches. But alas, no one had bought a single one from her all day long."

The child's eyes sparkled, already captivated by the story.

"As night fell, the poor girl sought shelter in a dark corner, curled up and shivering from the cold. She dared not go home, for she had not sold a single match and knew she would be beaten by her father."

The mother paused, her gaze softening as she looked upon her son. "Feeling desperate, the girl struck a match to warm herself. And in that flickering flame, she saw a vision - a warm, cozy room with a large, tiled stove and a magnificent Christmas tree before her."

She continued, "The girl was mesmerized! But the match stick ran out and so does the vision!"

The woman turned towards the moon, "The Little girl however didn't give up, she wanted to see the vision again so she lit the match again, and once again she saw a cozy room around her."

She turned to her child who was listening intently to the story and smiled gently, "She didn't stop there. The little match girl began to light one match after another, each time seeing a vision of warmth and comfort. At first, she saw herself sitting by a glowing stove, a beautiful Christmas tree before her. Then, a delicious feast with a roasted goose appeared to her hungry eyes."

The boy listened as his mother recounted the match girl's moments of hope and delusion, each vision fading as the flame died out.

"And so it went, the poor child striking match after match, each time glimpsing a world of light and abundance, only to be plunged back into the cold and darkness when the fire went out."

The woman paused, her expression somber. "Towards morning, the little match girl sat there, motionless, a peaceful smile on her face. The passersby thought she had fallen asleep, not realizing that she had, in fact, frozen to death."

The boy's face fell, his bottom lip trembling. "Oh, no! That's so sad, Mama. What happened to her?"

The mother drew him close, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Nothing, she just died! You know what the moral of this story is, Levi?"

She asked her child before continuing with a serious expression, "We must be wary of the illusions that bring us comfort in our darkest moments. For they are but fleeting, and the reality we face may be far harsher than we imagined."

She looked into his eyes, her own reflecting the weight of her words. "Whenever you feel like you're in a moment of great happiness, remember to look around – that joy may just be an illusion. Don't be a fool to die in those dreams, my dear. The world can be cruel, but we must always keep our eyes open to the truth, no matter how difficult it may be."

The child nodded vigorously. As they both gazed up at the half-moon together, the boy clung to his mother, burying himself in her embrace, and asked in a soft, uncertain voice, "Did she really die, Mama?"

The woman hugged her child tightly, her eyes fixed on the empty sky. "Yeah, she died, just like that."

The boy's heart sank; he had hoped his mother would say otherwise. But before he could dwell on his sadness, his mother asked him another question, her tone gentle yet probing.

"Do you understand the story, Levi?"

The child nodded again, though his heart was heavy with confusion. But instead of comfort, he was met with another, more unsettling question.

"Then what are you doing here still? Isn't it time you wake up?"

Her words struck him like a hammer, and suddenly, everything came rushing back to him. The memories of entering Paradise, making a contract with the demon, becoming a mercenary, and finally—the last thing he remembered before everything went dark.

'The Trait Ability!'

The moment he realized, the illusion around him started to wane, the comforting warmth of his mother's embrace fading away into nothingness.

Levi now understood—he had been trapped in an illusion by his own ability.

But even as the world around him crumbled, he couldn't tear his eyes away from his mother's image. She stood there, her form slowly dissipating into the dark night, yet her face remained soft, and serene, with a warm smile that seemed to hold all the love in the world.

"Be safe, my little sunshine," she whispered, her voice tender and full of love, as the last remnants of the illusion vanished, and Levi was thrust back into reality.

---***---

Sorry for the late releases~