A Thousand Years of Dreams: the Crazy Criticizing Tyrant Begged Me to Enter the Palace

I thought the worst thing to happen in the apocalyptic wasteland was to be pried out of the coffin and put on display as a living cultural relic. Until that tyrant with red-gold pupils grabbed my chin and called me a "fake" - he said that I was just a specimen, an old relic that he had guarded for a thousand years. But hidden in his chest was a low-quality amulet that I had thrown away, with four words crookedly engraved on the back: Never give up in this life. The date is the day after I fell asleep. He clears his memory and carves my name on his bones every thirty years, fearing that he will go crazy. When the abyss gnawed at his spine, he bit his tongue and refused to take anesthesia - he said, I'm afraid I'll forget you. A madman who lives his life as a broken machine has guarded me for a thousand years. I asked him if it was worth it. He didn't answer, but rested his forehead on my shoulder, like a homeless stray cat under a Gothic spire. The most cruel tyrant in this wasteland is just an orphan who is afraid of being forgotten. And my "specimen" is his only epitaph in his long years.