People see only the dreadful blackness of the blood-feathered raven, never knowing that inside its chest beats a heart so scorching it burns.
I am Chen Mo, a shadow wandering between the cracks of time. Perhaps I am anchored in this moment, or perhaps I was forgotten long ago in the past.
Countless “pieces” chosen by the spindle of fate, each clinging to an obsession, whether dressed up in noble words or laid bare: the banner of justice, the shackles of victory and defeat. They surge madly against this vast, invisible chessboard spread across heaven and earth. They yearn to overturn it, and dream of rewriting it.
I understand that bone-deep pain. If the most important person in your life turned to cold dust in your arms, anyone would become a beast bent on revenge, tearing at the unseen “culprit.”
They charge through the fog with torches held high, never knowing the true player remains hidden in the shadows behind the curtain. They struggle to paint over and tear apart what they hope to change, but in the end, all they can alter is the blank sheet of paper fate has already laid before them…
I did nothing wrong.
I just… wanted so badly to hold on to that fading light, even if the price was this eternal game of chess, and endless… oblivion.
