In the dim, chaotic dreamscape, she always dreamed of the brightness she had seen in those few days. Thousands of acres of eucalyptus trees swayed gently, and petals fluttered in the breeze. The indigo waves beat against the rocks and turned into scattering white jade. Flying birds spread their silver wings and disappeared into the green bamboo forest.

She always searched for someone else in her dreams, the one who should have enjoyed the scenery with her.

But all she could see was a blurry figure. She remembered clearly the short, silky hair and the eyes like black jade stones, but her memories were faded into a maze constructed by her nervous system, and she always woke up with a start just before seeing the face clearly. In a daze, she touched her prosthetic eye that had caused her so much pain. With the help of the false eye, she no longer needed to piece together a blurry figure by sound, smell, and touch.

“It’s no longer of use,” said the Emanator of the Ruin Author. She heard the sound of the swaying hand fan and the flitting laughter of the Emanator. “Soon, you’ll be able to see everything you want to see — with your own eyes.”

“This is my own eye,” she chuckled, “Besides, never will I have the chance to see the scenery it once witnessed again.”