"Seino Fugin, have you been satisfied with your life?"
The Human Principles System suddenly asked.
Morning light had already broken. Gentle waves lapped against the golden shore, where flecks of gold rose with the foam, only to quickly sink back again. La Signora was gone, leaving only Seino Fugin lying quietly on the beach.
He had no idea how long he'd slept.
The young man's eyes were half-open, as if in a light doze. Dawn cast its colors across his refined profile, his snow-white hair spread across the sand. Gazing at the sun just emerging over the horizon, he was struck by a sense of having heard these words before.
Seino was often plagued by such illusions.
He opened his eyes wearily; his vital energy seemed nearly stagnant, and his chest felt hollow. He felt like he was trapped in an ice cave, the wear upon him greater than ever before. His soul was being crushed over and over.
He was on the verge of death.
"What does it matter whether I'm satisfied or not?" he suddenly murmured. "I just don't want to keep struggling in vain."
When Seino Reimei was dying, the Human Principles System must have asked him the same question—if he was satisfied with this life, right?
Who could really say they were satisfied with their lives? His entire life seemed to have been rushing toward death, as if countless times people had goaded him—"Hey, why don't you die faster?" Now that he truly was about to die, the Human Principles System started asking if he was satisfied.
He was not satisfied.
But what else could he do?
There were still so many places in Mondstadt he hadn't visited, so many sites from the Teyvat travel guide he hadn't crossed off. They all called him Drowned Corpse, and now he really was about to become a corpse. After he was gone, would they come and loot his body?
He had no money. He was broke his whole life; he couldn't leave much of an inheritance for them. When he was gone, little Klee would probably still be out there blowing up fish. They'd agreed to play together, but now he couldn't keep her company anymore.
What was this all supposed to be?
"In my next life, I don't want it to be like this," Seino said.
"I want to live cheerfully, happily. I don't want to do so many things anymore."
"No worries, just enjoy life. Find a wife, settle down, live out my days in peace."
"You did it on purpose—you lied to me."
The Human Principles System spoke.
"What?"
"You let yourself die before your body matured. You did it on purpose, because you don't want to go on like this."
"All that talk about 'I can't die yet' was just to fool others. If you truly didn't want to die, you would've left a long time ago."
"You deliberately let yourself fail."
"…You got me." Seino chuckled. "So what will happen in my next life?"
"Compared to Rostam's failure, you're much luckier this time. Your destined mission in this life is about to end, and the memories of the past will not haunt you."
"As for what you'll become, I don't know."
Said the Human Principles System.
"But Seino Fugin, you will eventually recall all of this."
"This is your fate. Mortals can never escape fate."
His body was getting colder. Though the orange sunlight bathed him, Seino felt no warmth. Each labored breath was like a knife slicing through his organs.
He had lost everything, as weightless as the wind.
"Now, Seino Fugin, finish what you must do."
"Main Quest: Purify Dvalin."
Rosalyne once lost all her tears, and now Seino Fugin had given up his heart.
How long can a person survive without a heart?
An ordinary person would die in an instant.
How long Seino Fugin could linger, he didn't know.
Nearing death, he could see many visions, many memories of past lives that spanned long ages.
A quarter hour? Half a quarter hour? Maybe the length of a single song.
He still wanted to sing one last song.
"I'm about to die. You can give me that set of memories now," Seino said.
He had no present and no knowledge of the past. All of his past memories had been buried by the Human Principles System. Simply recalling the life of Rostam from five hundred years ago had already been lethal enough. If he were to remember thousands of years' worth of memories, it would kill him on the spot. That was why the Human Principles System had sealed them.
But now, since he was about to die anyway, retrieving them no longer mattered.
The heartless young man braced himself, leaning against a rocky outcrop on the beach. He struggled to keep from collapsing. Before him stretched the boundless blue sea. Sea breezes carried the fresh scent of waves, and shimmering lights played in his eyes.
He raised his hand, and from the distant sky came a clear resonance.
A thousand winds bore the Holy Lyre der Himmel down into his grasp.
The Holy Lyre der Himmel.
It was a lyre.
Its origins traced far back, once the treasure of the Anemo Archon, Barbatos. Legend said Barbatos had inherited it from a friend.
Yet from the very first time Seino Fugin had seen it, he felt an inexplicable closeness, as though he once owned it—was once its master.
While traveling Mondstadt, whenever he climbed to the peak of Cape Oath, he'd be struck by a strange sense of déjà vu, as if he had been there before, so very long ago—before even Rostam was born.
All of this must have meant something.
The clearest evidence of all was how Dvalin, the Wind Dragon, shed tears upon looking at him.
Seino Fugin couldn't forget the expression he'd seen that day—tears glistening in its crimson eyes, an expression of disappointment and betrayal. It felt as if he and the dragon had once been friends.
Did Rostam know the Wind Dragon?
From what he remembered, they had only briefly crossed paths.
Perhaps his life began even earlier, back when he knew Dvalin, back when he played the Holy Lyre der Himmel high above the heavens.
Seino had chosen this day to die, to end his fate with La Signora, and to test his theories by taking those lost memories with him.
"Will it hear me?"
Seino Fugin didn't know. He just wanted to sing one final song.
He had only enough time left for a single tune.
He gently ran his fingers across the harp strings, its lustrous, cool surface like jade. Leaning against the rock, he listened to the whisper of sea winds and waves, and let his fingertips fall upon the strings.
"The west wind bears wine's fragrance away."
A rainy night at Cider Lake—this was a lovely, intriguing ballad.
A husband off to war, and a wife back home; the wind carried the fragrance of wine from their homeland, carried word of victory. The wind told the wife not to worry for her husband's life. The wind told her that he missed her dearly.
If they had used such wind as a messenger, might Rostam and Rosalyne have reached a happier ending?
"The mountain wind brings glad tidings new."
He remembered still more. He had once gazed up at the sky beneath the Tower King's prison. He had once climbed the heights of Dadaupa Gorge in search of a feather. He had once chased after sunsets in Brightcrown Mountains and Starfell Valley. He died the day before dawn arrived.
Blue skies, white clouds, flying birds, poetry—and dragons.
"The breeze from afar tugs at my heart."
"It's singing my longing for you."
With his heart gone, the boy had only one song left to sing. His voice was low, but the wind carried it far.
Just as the song said, the wind was their messenger. The wind would convey his final message.
He heard a beating of wings beside him, accompanied by the rumble of a dragon's cry.
"So you heard me, huh."
Seino Fugin turned his head. Dvalin descended onto the beach.
It regarded Seino Fugin quietly, lowering its head. Seino saw the wound on its neck, barely scabbed over—the place God Cutter had cut.
Seino softly touched that slightly gnarled scar. "I'm sorry…" he said softly.
"Forgive me for forgetting you."
In the dragon's emerald-green eyes, the reflection of the young man trembled.
A dark, twisted aura slowly rose, while the Holy Lyre der Himmel gradually stripped away the dragon's madness. Sorrow gleamed in Dvalin's gaze. It folded its wings and drew its forelegs in, sitting quietly as though it were a gentle cat.
The poisonous blood left behind by Durin dissipated slowly from Dvalin's body. This was the task Rostam had never finished in his previous life. Now, that destiny was complete. The dragon let out a soft cry.
"These scars long have yearned for your tender caress,"
"You flee my dream come the morning,"
"Your scent—berries tart, lilac sweet,"
"On a rainy night at Cider Lake, the wolf I will follow into the storm."
The wind chanted lightly, its hush like a song. It drifted freely, coming and going in ways unknown, known by none.
All the wind did was quietly sing its tune.
Soon, it would fade. Yet there was no need to wonder where it went. Many people heard its song—that was enough.
A single ballad of the wind's lament.
That was everything it had.
The life of Seino Fugin ends here.