I've never danced," Lingxi murmured, fanning his face to hide his blush, "but I suppose I just did… off-script."
"You should do it more often~" Kage Ou purred.
"I've said 'be careful' a thousand times," Lingxi sighed.
"Ribbon Prince always steals my baby fox~" Sozai whined dramatically.
"You're the only one who dares mock a Pillar of the Kazomaki Generation!" Kyoren growled.
"I'm not some toy to claim," Yurei snapped—stubborn, flustered.
Sozai just chuckled. Yurei's cheeks flamed.
"Yeah, yeah—nobody even wants you," Sozai teased.
"Shut up!" Yurei hissed, grabbing his collar. Sozai laughed, play-acting choking.
"Hoi! Move, you furballs!" Kirihito shoved between them, dragging Xio by the hair to keep him close. "I'm the main character! Give me space to shine properly!"
"Back off!" Yurei yelled.
"Don't touch me, you cheap snake! Cover yourself!" Kyoren snapped, face crimson.
"Say that again," Kirihito snarled, "and I'll erase your entire existence from my story!"
Sozai crossed his arms, grinning. "Yeah, right. Don't steal the cute snake's spotlight! You all look pale next to him~"
The author stepped forward—and instantly, the chaos stilled.
She smiled. "Alright, my sweet boys… say something to your readers."
"Me last," Kirihito declared. "Because last impressions are the most special… and I—Kirihito, or Wèi Yīlíng—am special."
"Okay, okay," the author laughed softly. "Fine."
"Then me first," Kyoren said, pointing at the audience with sudden seriousness. "Not all gold is real… maybe not even me."
Everyone blinked.
Then burst into laughter.
"What was that?!" Sozai cackled.
"Over-dramatic fox," Kage Ou muttered, licking his lips as Lingxi smiled beside him, clearly amused.
"I was trying to be serious!" Kyoren huffed, then cleared his throat. "Anyway… I'm done. Father'll kill me if I'm late." With a small smirk, he faded into golden mist.
"Now us," Sozai said, linking arms with Yurei. "We'll do it in turns."
"Fine," Yurei sighed.
"Roses are red," Sozai began.
"Sky is blue," Yurei deadpanned, rolling his eyes.
"The more we're read…"
"We'll stick to your heart like glue!"
They grinned—and vanished in lotus green and white mist, waving goodbye.
Kirihito elbowed Xio. "You're boring. Look how much fun they're having."
Xio huffed. "No. You go before me."
After the duo faded, Kage Ou turned to Lingxi. "Now us."
"Hm," Lingxi hummed.
"Nothing is a waste," Kage Ou said—then bit back a laugh, glancing at Lingxi.
"That was my line."
"Yours is mine, and mine is yours. Say mine today~"
Lingxi sighed, searching for words. Finally:
"I'll carry you… like this… forever."
He looked away, fan trembling.
Kage Ou's smirk softened—just for a heartbeat. Then, without a word, they faded into blue and gray.
Xio stepped forward alone. His voice, when it came, was quiet, raw:
"We… the souls of System Tearstone… are truly honored that you love us this much.
Even though we were once rejected—because we didn't move the way others moved.
We moved slower. Deeper. More emotionally.
Our creator is young—yes—but she built us with care.
We're not just characters. We are her tearstones—forged in sleepless nights.
Some born of joy, some of sorrow, some of cruelty.
We never dreamed our raw, fractured world could embrace you…
And yet, you embraced us.
We… we have no words. Only gratitude.
Thank you."
He faded into bluish-gray mist.
"Left me emotional…" Kirihito murmured.
The author gently fixed his hair. He turned to the readers—struggled, then smiled.
"In the end… I just want us to be memorable.
And to find a happy ending on our journey—
so that, like us, you can close your eyes…
and sleep with a heart full of satisfaction."
He, too, faded.
Only the author remained.
She faced the readers, tears glistening.
"We… are moved by your love.
At first, I thought I'd never find a place in your hearts.
That I was writing wrong. Moving wrong.
That I couldn't become who I wanted to be.
But… nothing is wasted.
Effort matters—not just the result—
because effort makes the result beautiful.
And you… you are the most beautiful proof of that.
I love you all."
She waved—softly, tearfully—and faded.
The candlelight snuffed out.
The scene dissolved into silence.
Waiting…
for the story to breathe again,
at its own sacred rhythm.