Unwritten Mythos

As Mei observed the seven directors, disappointment flickered across her face. They all seemed ordinary, devoid of the exceptional qualities she sought. "Looks like I can't let…" she began to withdraw her gaze when something caught her attention.

A teenager appeared before her eyes—a fair-skinned girl sitting in a wheelchair, her demeanor somewhat frail. A middle-aged man approached her, gently patting her shoulder. "When you return, pay attention to safety. It hasn't been peaceful recently," he advised.

The girl nodded, her voice soft yet steady. "Okay, you also have to pay attention to your safety."

If Mei remembered correctly, this man was the director responsible for Asia among the seven GPA leaders. He seemed ordinary enough, but his daughter…

Mei's expression shifted as she became acutely aware of the girl's fate. She had personally touched the thread of the girl's life—a fateline that was remarkably resilient. Was this truly a patient?

The scene shifted as the girl was escorted home in a car, taken to a villa where twilight descended. As the sun dipped into the sea, the girl reached for a pair of headphones and opened a video on her phone.

Curiosity piqued, Mei leaned closer, her perspective merging with the girl's.

The video displayed a graphic surgical procedure, the operation performed by someone clearly lacking expertise. Blood spattered across the screen, and yet, instead of recoiling in horror, the girl watched with an intense fascination, a smile dancing on her lips.

Mei's own lips curled into a smile that mirrored the girl's excitement. "It seems that the Angel has been chosen," she murmured.

...

In a seaside villa, a girl sat in a wheelchair, sweat glistening on her palms. As the video on her cell phone ended, she turned to find an unexpected presence on the sofa in the living room.

The figure was clad in a flowing black dress, black mist swirling around her form, her face obscured by a hood.

"Who are you?" the girl asked, pushing her wheelchair closer.

Mei remained silent, her presence unyielding.

Undeterred, the girl wheeled herself toward the kitchen. She prepared two cups of tea and set one in front of Mei before seating herself on the other side of the sofa. "Poor tea reception," she remarked lightly.

Mei lifted her cup, the steam rising from it, though she felt no warmth.

"What is your name?" she asked, her voice soft yet probing.

The girl mirrored her action, blowing gently over her own cup before replying, "Moon."

Mei placed her cup down, her interest piqued. "You're the only one who isn't afraid after seeing me."

Moon offered a small smile. "I'm scared, but people often kidnap me. Compared to them, you're already quite polite."

"Can you talk to me for a bit?" Mei inquired, tilting her head slightly.

"Sure," Moon replied. "As long as you don't come to kidnap me, I could talk with you all day."

"The saying goes, 'Near lipstick is red; near ink is black.' Very few are willing to converse with me, not even my biological father."

"'Near ink is black?'" Mei echoed. "You're aware that getting close to me may lead to death."

Moon's smile faltered for just a moment. "It seems you have a profound understanding of death. Let's discuss it a bit, shall we?"

"What do you think death is?" Mei asked.

"Life, from birth to end, is a journey toward death," Mei said, her voice steady. "We struggle for our desires for hundreds of years, crying along the way."

Moon paused, contemplating. "So, does life hold no meaning?"

"Meaning?" Mei responded. "If you're seeking the meaning of life, I must ask you one thing: what does it mean for you to be alive?"

Moon's gaze drifted to her legs. "Chasing the slim hope of healing them, I suppose."

"My father once told me about a type of candy in this world. As long as I have a strong will, it would respond to me. If I want to restore my legs, that candy can fix them. But I think that's impossible. It feels like a fairy tale meant to lull a child to sleep."

Mei's flaming eyes sparkled with intrigue. "Do you truly believe it's just a fairy tale?"

Moon raised her head, her brow furrowed. "Did you come to shatter my common sense?"

With a subtle motion of her wrist, Mei conjured a bottle of cloudy white potion, the black flame flickering in her hand. "If I told you this potion could cure your legs, how would you react?"

Moon hesitated, her hand instinctively reaching out before Mei retracted the vial. "Of course, this isn't free."

"Free is the most expensive thing there is," Moon replied, skepticism lacing her words.

Deep down, she questioned the authenticity of the potion. After all, when someone presents an unbelievable offer, suspicion is natural. Especially when faced with a being so extraordinary.

"What price would I need to pay for this potion?" she asked, masking her anxiety.

Mei pondered for a moment. "Belief."

"Belief?" Moon echoed, bewildered. "How much?"

"All of it," Mei replied, placing the potion on the table. In an instant, she turned to ash and vanished before Moon's eyes.

Staring at the empty space where Mei had been, sweat trickled down Moon's forehead and palms. Had she really just disappeared?

After ten long minutes of silence, Moon's curiosity battled with her fear. "…What's the worst that could happen?"

After a moment's hesitation, she picked up the potion, feeling its weight in her palm. With resolve, she dipped her finger into the liquid and tasted it—an unusual flavor reminiscent of egg flower soup.

Crack!

The instant the potion touched her tongue, a sudden distortion coursed through her legs. "Perception? Feeling?!"

As sensation surged back into her limbs, Moon wasted no time and downed the rest of the potion in one swift gulp.

Ugh, gulp.

A strange itch rippled across her back, as if something was awakening within her.

Poof!

In an instant, two enormous white wings burst forth from her back, enveloping her in a cocoon of feathers.