Lina had always been different. Even before she understood the meaning of the word, she had felt it within herself—a flickering awareness that set her apart from the other mindless creatures that lurked in the shadows. In the beginning, she had existed without purpose, drifting through the darkness of her cave, neither longing nor searching for more. But then, Sicht had fallen into her world, and with him, everything had changed.

She followed him, at first out of curiosity, then out of something deeper, something she couldn’t yet name. She watched how he lived, how he spoke, how his emotions painted his face in ways she had never seen before. He was not like her. He was human. And yet, despite their differences, he never rejected her. He let her stay by his side, speaking to her even when he knew she could not respond. She listened to every word, absorbing his movements, his complaints, his laughter. The more time they spent together, the more she felt something stirring inside her—a yearning to understand, to connect.

As they traveled from town to town, she observed humans with growing fascination. She saw how they held hands, how they embraced, how they gazed into each other’s eyes with unspoken promises. She began to understand, in her own way, what it meant to care for someone. From her perspective, love seemed to be a bond that required two people—a man and a woman. And though she was not like them, she wanted to be. She wanted to be what he needed.

One evening, when they had settled at the edge of a quiet village, Lina made her choice. She concentrated, focusing on the strange, shifting nature of her form. Slowly, carefully, she reshaped herself, molding the formless slime into a body that resembled a human woman. She crafted arms and legs, fingers and toes, a face with soft features and eyes that glowed faintly with a color not quite of this world. Her body remained smooth and translucent, her true nature still visible beneath the shape she had taken, but she no longer looked like a mere creature. She had become something closer to him.

Sicht had been asleep when she changed, and for the first time, she felt nervous as she waited for him to wake. Would he understand? Would he accept her like this? When he finally stirred, his tired eyes widened as he took in her new form.

“Lina…?” His voice was laced with disbelief. He reached out instinctively, his fingers brushing against the cool, smooth surface of her arm. “You…”

She nodded, though words still eluded her. Instead, she simply smiled, hoping he would understand.

For a long moment, he just stared. Then, ever so slowly, a small, bewildered smile tugged at his lips. “You really are something else.”

Lina didn’t know what those words meant exactly, but the warmth in his voice made her heart—if she even had one—flutter.

However, fate was cruel. Not long after she took this new form, Sicht’s health began to decline. An old illness, one he had hidden beneath his strength, finally took root. His limbs grew weaker, his movements slower, and worst of all—his sight began to fade. At first, he brushed it off, calling it exhaustion, but the truth was undeniable. His world was growing darker with each passing day.

Lina watched helplessly as the light in his eyes dimmed. She stayed by his side, guiding him when he stumbled, holding him when he faltered. And yet, despite all she had done to become something he could see, he was losing the ability to look upon her at all.

One night, as they sat beside the dying embers of their fire, he spoke softly into the quiet. “I can barely see now.” His voice was calm, but Lina could hear the weight in it. “I think… soon, I won’t be able to see anything at all.”

She reached out, hesitating before placing her hand over his. His fingers curled around hers, his grip still strong despite everything.

“I wish I could have seen you more,” he admitted with a soft chuckle. “I bet you look beautiful.”

Lina’s form trembled slightly, though she did not know why. She had taken this shape so he could see her, so she could be the person she thought he needed. But now, he would never be able to look at her again. Did it matter, then, what form she took? Would he still accept her even if she returned to what she once was?

But as he held her hand, his touch steady despite the growing darkness in his world, she realized something. Sight had never been what connected them. He had accepted her when she was nothing but a formless creature, had spoken to her before she even knew how to respond. He had cared for her not because of what she looked like, but because of who she was.

And so, Lina made another choice. She would stay by his side, not as the woman she thought he needed, but as herself. Whatever form that may be, she would remain—because love, she realized, was never about appearance. It was about something far deeper, something unshaken by darkness.

Sicht squeezed her hand gently. “You’re still here, right?”

Lina nodded, then remembered that he could no longer see it. So instead, she tightened her grip around his fingers and whispered, for the very first time—

“Yes.”

Months came by, as Lina moved through the village streets, she could feel the weight of countless eyes upon her. The people did not see the gentle companion who had cared for Sicht through his darkest days—they saw only a monster pretending to be human. At first, it was just whispers, murmurs that followed her wherever she went.

"Why is that thing still here?" "It’s unnatural. A beast trying to live among us."

She ignored them, clinging to the belief that as long as she remained by Sicht’s side, none of it mattered. But the tension only grew. The market vendors hesitated to sell to her, their hands stiff as they pretended not to hear her soft requests. Mothers pulled their children away when she walked past, as if she carried some unseen plague. Still, she endured it all—for him.

One evening, as she returned from gathering medicine for Sicht, a group of men blocked her path. Their expressions were filled with a mixture of fear and loathing.

"You don’t belong here," one of them spat, stepping forward. "We’ve been patient, but we won’t stand by and let a monster walk freely among us."

Lina held her ground, her blue, gelatinous skin shifting subtly in response to her unease. "I mean no harm," she said softly. "I only wish to stay with Sicht."

A sharp laugh cut through the air. "That blind man? You’ve tricked him. Made him believe you’re something you’re not. Do you think he’d still care for you if he could see what you really are?"

The words struck deeper than she expected. Lina had never doubted her place beside him, but now, with these accusations laid bare, the thought crept into her mind like a poison. Was she truly just a burden? Had she only complicated his life instead of bringing him peace?

"Leave," another villager said, his grip tightening around the wooden staff he carried. "Before we make you."

Lina swallowed, glancing toward the home she and Sicht had shared—the place where she had watched over him, cared for him, loved him. But in the face of their hatred, she realized something heartbreaking. If she stayed, they would never stop. And no matter how much she wanted to fight, she couldn’t let her presence bring him suffering.

Lowering her gaze, she whispered, "I understand." Without another word, she turned away, leaving the town behind, even as her heart shattered with every step she took away from the only person she had ever truly loved.

So, she made the hardest decision of her life—she left. Without a word, without a trace, she vanished into the night, swallowing the unbearable ache in her chest. She told herself it was for his sake, that he would be safer, freer, if she was no longer by his side. That he deserved a life without fear, without whispers, without the weight of a monster dragging him down. She convinced herself that if she disappeared completely, he would forget her, and that time would erase the bond they had built. And so, she ran—to the farthest, loneliest place she could find, where not even the wind dared to whisper her name.

But she had underestimated him.

He came for her.

She didn’t know how. She didn’t know why. He was blind, alone, and yet, against all odds, against reason itself, he found her.

When she saw him standing there, panting, his hands trembling from exhaustion, the sight shattered every wall she had tried to build around her heart. He was supposed to move on. He was supposed to forget. But instead, he had walked through darkness, through uncertainty, through the vast unknown—just to reach her.

Tears welled in her eyes as she stood frozen, unable to move, unable to speak. And then, in a voice raw with emotion, he called her name.

“Lina.”

That was all it took. A name. Her name. Not monster. Not creature. Just Lina.

Her body quivered as she staggered forward, colliding into him, wrapping herself around him as if trying to melt into his very being. He held her, arms steady despite the weariness in his bones, as though he had never once doubted he would find her again.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

His grip only tightened. “Don’t run from me again.”

She buried her face in his chest, her form shifting, uncertain, struggling to contain the emotions surging within her. She had tried to leave him behind, but in the end, he had reminded her of the truth she had been too afraid to face.

No matter how far she ran, no matter how much she tried to erase herself from his life—he would always find her.

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Because to him, she was never just a monster.

She was Lina.

And that was all that ever mattered.

Sicht didn’t ask how she had survived on her own. He didn’t ask why she had left, or how long she had been waiting in this place, hiding from the world. He already knew the answers. He had known the moment he heard her voice tremble, the way her body quivered as she clung to him.

She had been afraid.

Afraid of the world. Afraid of what it would do to them. Afraid that staying meant she would only bring him pain.

But what she hadn’t understood—what he needed her to understand—was that losing her was far worse than anything the world could throw at him.

Sicht exhaled, slow and steady, resting his chin against her head. His blindness had stolen the sight of her face, but he didn’t need his eyes to see her. He could feel her warmth, the way her form trembled under his touch, the way her arms gripped him like she was terrified he would slip away.

He was never leaving.

“Lina.” His voice was quieter this time, softer. “Come home.”

Home.

She stiffened at the word, the reality of it sinking in. Did she still have a home? Could she still belong by his side after everything?

“I… I don’t know if I can.”

“You can.” His answer came without hesitation. “And you will.”

Lina shook her head. “But the others—”

“I don’t care about them.”

His fingers found her face, brushing against her cheek, his touch careful, unshaken despite the exhaustion weighing on him.

“They don’t decide where I belong,” he said. “And they don’t decide where you belong either.”

Lina swallowed hard, her resolve unraveling. She had been prepared for everything—for rejection, for anger, for the pain of knowing she could never return. But she hadn’t been prepared for this. For him, standing here, telling her that none of it mattered. That she mattered more than all of it.

“…You’re a fool,” she whispered, half-laughing, half-sobbing.

Sicht managed a tired smirk. “I did just wander into the middle of nowhere with no way of knowing if you were actually here. So, yeah. Probably.”

She let out a shaky breath, her fingers clutching at the fabric of his coat.

“You really… don’t care what they say?”

“I never have.”

Lina closed her eyes. For so long, she had been fighting a battle in her own heart, trying to convince herself that leaving him had been the right choice. But now, hearing his words, feeling the certainty in his touch—she couldn’t keep lying to herself.

She didn’t want to be alone. She didn’t want to keep running.

She just wanted to be with him.

And if Sicht was willing to stand against the world for her, then maybe—just maybe—she could find the courage to stand with him.

Lina took a deep breath, then finally, finally, nodded.

“…Okay.”

Sicht smiled, exhaustion washing over him now that the weight in his chest had lifted.

“Then let’s go home.”

And this time, they left together.

That home became their sanctuary—a place where seasons passed without the burden of whispered scorn, where each sunrise was met side by side, and each night was spent in quiet companionship. They learned to rely on one another in ways they never had before.

Sicht, though sightless, knew every step of their land, guided by the sounds of rustling leaves and the steady presence of Lina at his side. And Lina, for the first time in her existence, learned what it meant to be part of something, rather than apart from everything.

She tended to the home with careful hands, shaping things in ways he could navigate with ease. He, in turn, taught her the simple joys of living—not just surviving, not just lingering in the shadows, but living.

They laughed. They argued. They built.

And in that quiet, unseen place beyond the reach of those who had once driven them apart, they grew old together.

Because in the end, love had never been about form or fate, nor about what the world deemed right or wrong.

It had been about them—about a promise made without words, about hands reaching for one another in the dark, and about the unwavering certainty that, through everything, they would always choose each other.

The years passed like the turning of pages in a book, each day another story written in their quiet corner of the world. Though time changed many things, some remained constant—Sicht's steady hands, Lina’s unwavering presence, and the love that had bound them together through every hardship.

Lina, once an aimless creature of the dark, had found her purpose in the simple moments: preparing meals that Sicht could easily eat, guiding his hands when he needed to feel something new, listening to the steady beat of his heart at night as he slept beside her.

Sicht, despite his blindness, saw her clearer than anyone ever had. He could hear the subtle shifts in her voice when she was happy, the hesitation in her step when something troubled her. He had long since memorized the way her fingers felt when she touched his hand, soft and cool, yet full of life.

There was no grand adventure waiting for them beyond the trees. No need to prove themselves to a world that had once turned them away. They had already won.

As Lina finished recounting her and Sicht's story, a gentle silence settled over the room. Harriet, still absorbing everything he had just heard, opened his mouth to comment—only to be cut off before he could say a word.

"You're leaving out an important detail," Sicht interjected, his tone dry but amused. "You cried like a baby when I found you. It was deafening."

Lina puffed up indignantly, crossing her arms. "I did not!" she huffed, though the slight wobble in her voice betrayed her.

Sicht chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, you did. I might be blind now, but I swear I could hear the tears pouring off you like a waterfall. I thought the whole forest would flood."

Lina groaned, covering her face. "Ugh, why do I even bother telling our story if you’re just going to embarrass me?"

Harriet, who had been caught between awe and laughter, finally let out a chuckle. "Well, I think it makes the story even better."

Lost in the moment, none of them had noticed how much time had passed. The warmth of the conversation, the laughter, and the weight of old memories had kept them wrapped in their own world. It wasn’t until a cool breeze drifted through the open window that they finally glanced around.

The room was bathed in darkness, the last traces of daylight long gone. Outside, the sky stretched endlessly in a sea of black, speckled with faint stars. The flickering glow of a single lantern cast soft shadows along the walls, barely enough to push back the night.

Harriet blinked, startled. "Huh. When did it get so dark?"

Lina stretched lazily, her slime-like body shifting slightly as she leaned back. "Guess we got carried away," she mused with a small smirk.

Sicht stood up from where he had been tending to Geschicht, dusting off his coat as he turned toward Lina. His expression was unreadable, his voice calm yet firm.

"Slim—no... Lina," he corrected himself, pausing for a brief moment before continuing. "Come outside with me for a bit."

Lina blinked at him, tilting her head in curiosity. "Why are you using my name all of a sudden?" she asked, amused but puzzled. She had grown used to his usual nickname for her—he rarely called her by name unless he was being serious.

Unbeknownst to her, there was something different about this moment. Hidden within the folds of his coat, Sicht’s fingers brushed against the small ring case tucked into his pocket. The weight of it felt heavier than ever, despite its size.

Harriet, sitting quietly by the hearth, noticed it immediately. His golden eyes flickered with realization as he watched Sicht’s movements. A small grin crept onto his face, but he said nothing, simply observing.

Lina, completely unaware, stretched her arms with a playful sigh. "Well, fine. If you're that insistent," she said, standing up. "But if this is about another lecture, I’m going back inside."

Sicht simply shook his head, a rare softness in his expression. "Just come."

And with that, he led her toward the door, stepping into the cool night air, the ring case still hidden in his grasp.

Harriet didn’t follow them outside. Instead, he stayed behind, focusing on helping Geschichte sit up and drink some water.

"Thanks," Geschicht mumbled, his voice hoarse but grateful.

Harriet only hummed in response, but his mind wandered. He had an idea of what was happening outside, yet he didn’t need to witness it. Some moments weren’t meant for an audience.

Time passed, and the night air grew cooler. Eventually, the door creaked open, and Lina and Sicht stepped back inside. Harriet glanced up, instantly noticing the change—both of them had matching silver rings glinting on their right ring fingers. But more than that, their faces were flushed, as red as the setting sun, their usual confidence replaced by a quiet awkwardness.

Lina fidgeted, her gelatinous form shifting slightly as if she wasn’t used to feeling flustered. Sicht, for once, had no snarky remark, only a small, unreadable smile on his face.

Harriet smirked, leaning back with a knowing glint in his golden eyes. He whispered just loud enough for Geschichte to hear, "Happy ending~."

Geschicht, still drowsy, let out a faint chuckle. "Sounds like it."

Lina huffed, crossing her arms. "I can hear you, you know."

Harriet only grinned wider. "I know."

The next morning, Geschicht had recovered enough to continue their journey. The warmth of the sun was a welcome change from the cold, lingering shadows of the previous night, and as the boys walked along the road, the promise of the open world stretched ahead of them. They were silent at first, each lost in their own thoughts, but the quiet was soon broken by Harriet, who spoke out loud without thinking.

"Love, huh?"

Geschichte, who had been slightly ahead, didn’t quite catch what Harriet said. He turned his head, eyebrows furrowing slightly. "What’s that?"

Harriet’s golden eyes met Geschicht’s face, searching for something he couldn’t quite name. His gaze softened for a brief moment, the warmth of yesterday’s events still lingering in his chest. But then he quickly averted his eyes, feeling a strange tug in his stomach, and with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he lifted his hand—one of his spectral, unseen hands—and gave Geschicht a playful shove on the back.

"Nothing," Harriet said, his tone casual but the brief hesitation in his voice.

Geschicht, still trying to make sense of the strange, fleeting moment, shook his head with a small smile. "You're weird sometimes, you know that?"

Harriet didn’t answer right away. He only chuckled under his breath, adjusting the pack on his shoulders. He wasn’t sure why he’d said anything at all. But as they continued walking, side by side, the weight of it—the thought of love, and everything that came with it—lingered in his mind, quietly unsettled but not unpleasant.

"Yeah, I guess I am," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

As always, another firefly fluttered into Geschicht's journal without either of them noticing and disappeared in the pages.

And so, generations passed, and the tale of the man who fell in love with a slime girl began to spread across the lands, carried on the winds of time. It became a story whispered around hearths, told to children in the quiet of the night, and sung by bards in distant halls. The tale was more than just a story—it was a lesson, one that transcended the boundaries of species, of time, and of circumstance.

For the story of their love taught all who listened that to truly love is not to possess, but to see beyond oneself. To understand, to give, and to embrace imperfections, even when it hurts. In the presence of love, we learn patience and sacrifice. We come to understand that love is not just about staying together, but knowing when to let go, to set free what you cherish, even if it means parting for a time.

And so, their love—imperfect, selfless, and true—became a timeless legend, a reminder that love, in all its forms, is the greatest teacher of all. And in the hearts of those who heard their story, the lesson remained, long after the last whispers of their tale had faded into the breeze.