Water? Are these my tears? No… who am I even crying for?
Is it for that arrogant girl? I don't know…
Or maybe, I'm crying for myself?
I'm not sure. The world around me is nothing but ruins now. Cracked earth, a bitter wind carrying the scent of destruction, and a sky so heavy it feels like it could collapse at any moment. The air I breathe seems to drain what little life I have left.
My time is almost up.
And in moments like this, my mind drifts to the stories I used to read in novels. It's always the same, isn't it? If this were a novel, there would be a returner—someone who travels back in time with immense power, carrying the burden of a broken world on their shoulders, slowly piecing everything back together.
But this isn't a novel.
Even if a returner did exist, it definitely wouldn't be me. I'm too weak to be a hero.
Still, deep down, I wish… if there's even a sliver of hope, I want it to go to her.
That arrogant, stubborn girl. She's hard to deal with, always set in her ways. But beneath all that, she's kind—someone who believes in doing what's right, no matter how impossible it seems.
I know she could save this world… if only she had a second chance.
But again, this isn't a novel. My hope is nothing more than an empty dream in the midst of destruction.
There's no such thing as going back to the past.