Honkai Star Rail: My Death Feeds Their Madness — Chapter 16

Chapter 16: 9 Days, 4 Hours, 44 Minutes, 35 Seconds

One week later.

Clarice pushed open the heavy front door, shaking the light dusting of snow from her coat, only to freeze in the entryway. Her mother stood in the center of the living room, surrounded by open trunks, carefully folding a stack of thick winter garments.

“Mother, what are you doing?”

“Packing up,” Durand replied, not looking up from the wool coat in her hands. “Preparing to return to our hometown when the time is right. Yesterday, when I asked you to invite Dr. Kagashi over, it was actually to say our goodbyes.”

Clarice stood perfectly still. The warmth of the heated room suddenly felt entirely absent.

No wonder her mother had been exceptionally warm and accommodating yesterday, treating their guest with the highest standard of hospitality the Durand family could offer.

Unaware of her daughter’s sudden pallor, Durand continued smoothing out the creases in the fabric. “I’ve already asked your aunt to handle the school transfer procedures. It should be finalized soon. If you have any close classmates, remember to say your goodbyes properly over the next few days. Once we are a whole planet apart, meeting up will become terribly difficult.”

Silence stretched across the room. Durand finally noticed the heavy quiet and turned around in confusion.

Her daughter stood rooted to the floor, her hands clenched tightly at her sides, her face a portrait of intense inner struggle.

“What is it, my child?”

“Mother… I…” Clarice forced the words through a tight throat, lifting her head to meet Durand’s gaze. “I don’t want to go back!”

In those bright eyes, Durand saw a fierce, unyielding determination. It was a stubbornness she rarely saw in her gentle daughter.

Durand let out a soft sigh, setting the clothes down. “…Is it because of Dr. Kagashi?”

Clarice’s breath hitched. “How did you know?”

“Silly child.” Durand offered a tender, knowing smile. “Your mother is someone who has been through the trials of youth. How could I not see that my own daughter carries someone so deeply in her heart?”

She crossed the room, reaching out to pull Clarice into a warm, grounding embrace.

“Don’t be afraid. I won’t interfere with your choice. On the contrary, I support you in pursuing your own freedom and love. If not for the vast gap in our social standing, a man like Dr. Kagashi would have countless daughters of the highest noble houses flocking to his door. Whether it is his impeccable conduct, his striking appearance, or his quiet temperament, one simply cannot find a single flaw in him.”

Durand gently stroked her daughter’s trembling back. “It is just a pity that the marriages of highborn daughters are mostly beyond their own control. Although our Durand family holds some reputation in the Court, we are ultimately just a minor house. But precisely because of this, you don’t carry the heavy shackles of a grand lineage. Go ahead and express your feelings bravely, my daughter.”

She pulled back just enough to brush a stray lock of smooth hair from Clarice’s face.

“Life is fleeting. If you don’t seize the moment to reach for the things you desire, they will slip through your fingers in the blink of an eye.”

“Mother…”

A sharp ache pierced Clarice’s chest, and her vision blurred with hot tears. She buried her face against Durand’s shoulder, letting the quiet sobs break free.

“Hehe… You’ve grown up so fast,” Durand murmured, resting her cheek against her daughter’s head. “You’re no longer that little girl I need to fret over day and night. Go do what your heart tells you to do. I will always be right behind you.”

Clarice nodded vigorously against the fabric of her mother’s dress, holding on tighter.

Not all children were fortunate enough to find absolute peace and unconditional support within the harbor of their mother’s arms. She knew, without a doubt, just how lucky she was.

That night, after a quiet dinner and a warm bath, Clarice retreated to her room and opened her large wooden wardrobe.

The shelves were lined with hand-knitted sweaters and thick scarves. Looking at them was like tracing a map of her own growth—from the early, clumsy attempts with crooked, messy threads to the later pieces that boasted tight, immaculate stitching.

At least a dozen of the items had reached a level of genuine, fine craftsmanship, but as Clarice ran her fingers over the wool, she still felt they weren’t quite perfect enough.

She picked up her knitting needles and a fresh ball of premium yarn. A soft, tender light flickered in her eyes as she glanced at the Glass Lamp resting on her bedside table.

It was one of the gifts Mr. Kagashi had brought during his visit.

In truth, he had brought it specifically for her. Equipped with miraculous space-folding technology, the elegant lamp didn’t just provide a warm, ambient glow; it also served as a dimensional storage unit for her personal items, easily holding her Tarot cards, cosmetics, and mobile phone. With a simple adjustment, it could shrink down to the size of a pendant, making it effortless to carry.

She had seen similar magical artifacts in the high-end boutiques of the capital. The price for such a marvel was astronomical.

A sweet smile graced the young girl’s lips as she leaned back against her headboard, the rhythmic clicking of her needles filling the quiet room. She would pour every ounce of her affection into this final gift.

When the deep freeze of the Great Cold arrived, she would take this perfect sweater to Mr. Kagashi and lay her heart bare before him.

Time drifted forward, the days bleeding into weeks since Durand’s amnesia had been fully cured.

Heavy, unrelenting snow had buried the mountain roads. For travelers unfamiliar with the winding paths, it was a death sentence to wander into the monochromatic, freezing depths of the peaks.

But young Clarice was not among the lost.

Other than Kagashi himself, no one knew the hidden arteries of this mountain better than she did. Having walked these trails for years, the heavy snowdrifts could only slightly delay her journey to see him.

And she didn’t mind the delay. For Clarice, every extra minute spent trudging through the snow only sharpened the sweet anticipation blooming in her chest. Especially now, with her mother fully recovered, her spirit was lighter than it had ever been.

Kagashi, despite his complete lack of prior romantic experience, was not entirely blind to the girl’s frequent, eager visits. He could sense the heavy reliance Clarice placed on him, the quiet adoration in her gaze. Over the past few days, she had even begun subtly testing the waters, lingering longer, asking more personal questions.

Yet Kagashi, who knew the exact, unforgiving nature of his own existence, could only pretend not to understand.

If time could somehow be rewound a hundred years, he likely wouldn’t have refused such a bright, memorable girl.

Unfortunately, reality offered no such miracles.

He was dying.

[Remaining Lifespan: 9 Days, 4 Hours, 44 Minutes, 35 Seconds]

When this current life finally burned out, he had no idea what trajectory his inevitable second life would take. He only carried a quiet, desperate hope that his future family wouldn’t be slaughtered in his childhood, and that he wouldn’t be reduced to a meaningless speck of ash in the fires of another war.

Standing in the biting cold, Kagashi swallowed the prescribed medicine required to maintain his youthful physique. He was just about to step back into the hidden folded space of his sanctuary when a faint, mechanical hum caught his attention.

A small machine, resembling a sleek, high-tech drone, darted through the falling snow.

In less than two breaths, it hovered to a precise, steady halt right in front of Kagashi, who had just stepped off the porch of the Bamboo House.

Seeing the unique, elegant insignia stamped onto the drone’s chassis, he recognized instantly that it belonged to Yu Qingtu.

The drone’s undercarriage shifted, metal brackets reorganizing with a fluid click as a mechanical arm extended outward. It presented a small vial containing a glowing, emerald-green reagent, retrieved from its internal spatial storage.

Simultaneously, a holographic light screen projected into the snowy air, displaying Yu Qingtu’s striking features.

“Little Fellow,” her recorded voice chimed, crisp and casual. “I have important matters I must attend to and won’t make it in time for your birthday. This trip will take at least six months to a year, and at most, several decades. Time is tight, so use this potion as my gift.”

She offered a brilliant, confident smile. “Drink it and you can remain youthful forever. You won’t need any other pathetic means to extend your life for at least a thousand years. Also, happy birthday. Remember to miss your sister. As for that teacher of yours, who is somehow even more eccentric than I am, just let him be.”

The hologram flickered slightly in the wind. “Alright, it’s time to set off. When I come back to find you, I want to eat even more of those delicious pastries you make. That certainly won’t be a problem for you, right?”

With those final words, Yu Qingtu winked gently, and the light screen vanished into the winter air.

Kagashi reached out and took the glowing emerald vial. The moment his fingers closed around the glass, the drone retracted its mechanical arm, shot straight up into the gray sky, and disappeared from sight.

A deeply complicated sorrow settled in Kagashi’s eyes. He turned away from the falling snow, walking back into the folded space of his workshop, and carefully locked the miraculous potion away in a secure cabinet. It was a gift of a thousand years, completely useless against the absolute countdown of his existence.

He walked slowly toward the center of the assembly area, his gaze falling upon the lifeless, synthetic figure resting in the cradle.

Placing both hands on the cold metal of the control console, Kagashi began the final sequence. He extracted his specific memory backups, carefully formatting and inputting the data streams directly into the figure’s artificial core.

The quiet hum of data transfer filled the empty room.

‘I’m sorry, Se… Sister Qingtu,’Kagashi thought, his hands steady on the console even as his heart grew heavy.’I won’t be able to personally offer you the pastries you like anymore.’