Heroic Welding

It makes me uncomfortable to watch someone who has always worked as a maid, and who, after regaining her memories following her amnesia, always seems to be in a precarious, unsavory position.

The novel is truly wonderful, but the ending is still a bit sad. Thankfully, there's Elaine, though it's just Elaine...

The initial assumptions have some margin of error because there are too many details in the book. Snow Will Not Fall Forever The snow gradually subsided. Elaine's hand was still held by those icy hands, the flames flickering silently around her like a heart that refused to be extinguished. She looked down, watching her breath dissipate before Loria's translucent silhouette. "I…" she began, her voice hoarse like sandpaper, "I've been forgetting." Loria didn't answer. She simply held the umbrella quietly, tilting it towards Elaine, snowflakes falling onto her arm, passing through her arm, and landing on the ground. "I've forgotten the details of Falling Moon City, forgotten what you said in the Dangerous Forest, forgotten how you stammered when you first called me 'Little Master'…" Elaine's fingertips began to tremble. "Every time I think about it, it's like pulling a soaking wet cloth out of the water—you can wring water out of it, but the cloth itself keeps rotting." She looked up at Loria's silhouette. Those eyes were transparent, but Elaine knew what they held—all the fragments of her forgotten memories, the ever-blurring images of her as she wandered alone through various worlds. "... You've been trying so hard to make me remember, haven't you?" Loria's lips moved, but she didn't make a sound. Elaine, however, felt the hand holding her tighten a little. Elaine suddenly stood up. The wind and snow lashed her face, her hair was blown into disarray, but her eyes had changed—from that tender recollection of the past to something sharper. "I won't let you disappear again." Loria tilted her head slightly—a gesture she used to make before she stuttered when she spoke. "You've already disappeared once," Elaine said. "That time I wasn't resolute enough, I used 'fear' as an excuse… but it's different now." She crouched down and scooped up a handful of snow from the ground. The snow melted into water in her palm, and then the water leaked through her fingers. "Look, snow melts, water flows, but—" She reached into her bosom and pulled out a notebook warmed by her body heat. The cover was frayed from repeated use, and the corners had been folded and smoothed over. "—I don't know any words." Loria's transparent silhouette swayed slightly. "I wrote it all down," Elaine said, opening her notebook to reveal a dense collection of words. The handwriting had gone from scribbled to neat, and then to large smudges of ink spreading out in the middle. "The things you said to me in Falling Moon City, the expression on your face when you were surrounded by those thugs in Canaan City, the way you stood in front of me despite being scared by the black bear in the dangerous forest… I wrote down everything." She turned to the last page. There was only one line there, written with such force that the pen tip pierced the paper: "Loria is my maid. Always will be." "I have found a way to prevent forgetting," Elaine's voice was steady in the wind and snow. "Not through memory—memories fade. It's through 'records.' As long as there is any corner of this world where evidence of 'Loria's existence' remains, you will not disappear." She looked into Loria's eyes. Something was solidifying again in those transparent eyes. "This time," Elaine said, "I will not let you bear the punishment of being forgotten alone." She reached out—this time not waiting for Loria to take her hand, but taking Loria's wrist herself. With the same force as when she chained her, with the same decisiveness as when she stripped her of her power before the crown. "If you're going to disappear," she whispered, "then let me become transparent with you." In the wind and snow, Loria's outline began to become clearer. It wasn't magic, nor power—it was just that something was re-coalescing within that blurry transparency. She spoke. Her voice was soft and slow, with that long-lost, hesitant pause: "…Little, little master…you're holding on too tightly." Elaine's tears finally fell—they landed on the back of Loria's hand, but this time they didn't penetrate; instead, they were caught. The flame flickered between their clasped hands, and then, amidst the swirling snow, it shone steadily.