He had ignored too many anomalies; its twisted nature was obscured by this unprecedented Talent...
Until one day, he crossed the police tape and entered the wrecked classroom, where he saw six-year-old Luo Xian.
The lonely girl stood among her classmates' corpses, studying her teacher's contorted face in death. She then turned blankly to look at her father.
"Father, have you come to take me home?"
"Why did you kill them, Xiao Xian?"
He squatted down, gazing into his daughter's eyes. Then, he saw the joyful smile on her face, a smile that came from the depths of her heart.
"The teacher said we were going to play a game."
A game.
"..."
From that moment, he realized the source of the abnormalities plaguing the child.
Only in the death of something could she find joy.
Only in killing something could she feel happiness.
Only when she herself was on the verge of death could she feel so-called love...
The Abyss had indeed granted his wish, fulfilling his prayers to the letter and in the way he desired. But the blessings it bestowed were too abundant, too generous.
So generous the human world could not bear it.
From that day on, he taught Luo Xian nothing more. Yet he still couldn't stop her from growing day by day, nor his wishes from being realized.
Like a monster that had come into the world of humans.
No matter how exquisite her appearance, it could not hide the abnormality in her Soul.
She had never grown or learned anything from the life of being human. Rather, to her, everything common to ordinary people was a profound act of pretense—the shackles and chains of a cage.
Eventually, her fleeting childhood would end.
She would answer the call of the Abyss, return to Hell, discard her human shell, and become some kind of monster that even she herself would fear.
But not now, not today.
The old man slowly raised his head, staring at the blank scroll on the wall, finding amidst the void the answer he had long held in his heart.
Perhaps this insincere game of familial love should never have started.
'Love' was too luxurious for people like them.
Thankfully, he still had time to write an ending for this game.
「. . .」
Huai Shi snapped out of his reverie.
The manuscript before him silently transformed into a beam of light. As if its task was complete, it circled twice before vanishing into thin air. Then, the cello in his arms also disappeared into the air.
In the audience, the fire in the Skeleton's eye sockets had extinguished at some unknown point.
Yet, for some reason, its face seemed to retain a serene smile.
Huai Shi was still immersed in the wondrous feeling from moments before.
Within the brief, tranquil melody, he felt as if he had attained liberation and peace, soaring carefree through the sky, gazing down upon distant turmoil and strife.
Silently observing everything that had nothing to do with him.
He glimpsed those insignificant deaths ascending into the sky, vanishing into the Dark World behind the overcast clouds.
Those few minutes felt as long as three or four days; all his Source Substance was completely exhausted.
He was nearly depleted.
Then, inexplicably, he had an epiphany.
When he habitually opened his Book of Fate, he discovered that his long-dormant Cello Performance skill had mysteriously advanced a level—a pleasant surprise.
But what baffled him even more was that the accursed skill, Death Perception, had also inexplicably jumped from Level 1 to Level 2.
What had happened?
He held the Book of Fate, examining it over and over, utterly bewildered.