Honkai Star Rail: My Death Feeds Their Madness — Chapter 19

Chapter 19: See You Next Time

Clarice subconsciously touched her cheek. Her fingertips came away wet.

“Strange… why am I suddenly crying?”

It was not until she lowered her gaze to the half-eaten soybean cake in her hand that the realization set in.

Kagashi followed her line of sight. “Does it taste bad?”

Clarice’s expression twisted into something deeply complex, as if she were struggling to untangle a sudden, violent knot of emotions in her chest.

“…How should I put it? I cannot find a fitting description. It is like… after swallowing it, all the regrets of my past gathered into a rising tide, suddenly crashing directly into my heart.”

“Is it truly that deep?”

Kagashi himself had no idea that the plum-soaked soybean cakes possessed such an effect. Under the young girl’s watchful gaze, he picked up a piece and placed it in his mouth. As he chewed, his jaw moved slower and slower.

Clarice watched as Kagashi’s eyes lost their focus. His thoughts had clearly drifted somewhere far, far away.

A single, clear tear slipped silently from the corner of his eye.

“Mr. Kagashi…?”

Kagashi gave a soft hum of acknowledgment, pressing the back of his hand against his chin to catch the falling drop. He looked down at the wet mark left on his skin, closing his eyes to savor the quiet weight of the moment.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with the taste. In fact, it was more outstanding than any pastry he had ever crafted, leaving an unforgettable sweetness on the tongue. Yu Qingtu’s request had been met to perfection.

But why did it turn out like this? Kagashi guessed that perhaps, by becoming a consumable Curio, the pastry had gained an unexpected side effect.

‘Forget it. Dwelling on it is meaningless.’

Even if it had become a Curio, at its core, it remained a carefully crafted dessert.

Usage: To be eaten.

That was all.

“Do not mind it,” Kagashi said gently. “Life is full of surprises. Just think of it as an extra gift.”

“Oh, Mr. Kagashi, how did you even develop such a special recipe?”

“Well… it is like reaching out and clenching your fist. I just felt like I could do it. I do not recall actively researching it. If you like the taste, take this plate of plum-soaked soybean cakes with you.”

“…I do like it,” Clarice muttered, staring at the plate. “But if I cry with every single bite, will I get dry eye syndrome?”

“Dry eye syndrome generally has no direct relationship with how much one cries.”

In the end, Clarice carefully packed the plate of pastries away and waved goodbye to the calm young man.

“See you next time, Mr. Kagashi~~”

“…See you next time.”

Kagashi watched the girl’s retreating figure with a faint, peaceful smile.

He could still speak now. But perhaps, at most, he only had one ‘next time’ left. When the day came for her to say that phrase again, he probably would not be able to answer her.

He did not want to break a promise. He would never be vague about things he was one hundred percent certain he could fulfill. If he could not do something, he refused to give others false hope, lest it only deepen their inevitable disappointment.

A soft weight pressed against his ankle. Xiao Ju rubbed its furry head against Kagashi’s foot.

Kagashi bent down, scooping the orange cat up and placing it on his lap. He gently stroked the soft fur along its spine.

“Thank you for your company over these past three years. In a few days, I have to leave. I will not be able to take care of you anymore.”

He scratched behind the cat’s ears. “Go find a new owner. If you want to leave, you can go anytime.”

“Or, if Clarice is willing to adopt you, you can go with her. But either way, you really need to lose some weight…”

“When she comes next time, how about I ask her for you?”

After he finished speaking, Kagashi waited, but he did not hear Xiao Ju’s usual meow of protest. The cat was not asleep. It merely sat there quietly, its eyes narrowed into slits, pressing its round, warm body closer into his chest.

“I see…”

Kagashi seemed to understand the silent answer. He let out a soft, breathy sigh.

Before long, the long, melancholic notes of strings drifted from the Bamboo House. Kagashi sat alone, plucking the strings of the Ruan, the melody faintly tinged with a deep, isolating loneliness.

Winter days were always shorter.

As the evening gloom approached, a sleek spaceship descended silently onto the snowy clearing outside, its thrusters melting the frost. The heavy metallic hatch slowly hissed open.

A man dressed in luxurious, flamboyant attire stepped out into the freezing air, his boots crunching against the snow as he headed straight for the Bamboo House.

Living in the deep mountains and wild forests with entirely inconvenient transportation meant that very few people ever came to disturb Kagashi. The occasional visitors were usually desperate patients suffering from incurable diseases, people who had exhausted all modern medical methods without success. After experiencing total despair, some of them would pin their final hopes on the old saying that true masters were hidden among the common folk.

Kagashi had lived in seclusion within these mountains for over a hundred years. To maintain his peace, he always instructed the few patients who found him to never reveal his existence lightly.

But over the passage of time, it was inevitable that some would leak the secret.

Thus, unconfirmed rumors circulating through the dark alleys of the galaxy would eventually reach the ears of those who were desperate enough to grasp at any fleeting straw.

For those who managed to find this hidden place, Kagashi would treat them if he could. If he could not… well, so far, he had not encountered a single case where he was completely helpless.

In general, having three or four people find their way here in a single year was considered a high number. Except for extremely rare and special cases like Durand, Kagashi could complete the treatment for his patients on the very same day.

Among the remaining, exceptionally rare cases, there was only one person.

“Long time no see, Mr. Kagashi.”

“Nine years. It has been quite a while, Mr. Obsidian.” Kagashi stopped playing and set down his Ruan.

Obsidian. A high-ranking member of the Strategic Investment Department of the Interstellar Peace Corporation, and one of the Ten Stonehearts under the Emanator of Preservation, Diamond.

Of course, that was just a codename. Kagashi did not know the man’s real name, nor did he feel any need to know it.

“I thought your condition had relapsed and you had already passed away,” Kagashi said calmly.

“…Hey, hey, is it really okay to say such harsh things upon a reunion after so long?” Obsidian rolled his eyes in sheer annoyance, walking over and sitting down casually at the table. “I have been your patient for over forty years. Surely we can be considered friends by now?”

“I did not mean to curse you. Nine years ago, the medicine you took was only enough to last for eight years. When you did not show up last year, I naturally assumed the Obsidian of the Ten Stonehearts had been replaced.” Kagashi merely stated the cold facts.

Obsidian was taken aback, a look of sudden realization crossing his sharp features. “Ah. No wonder I did not see you send a shipping request this year.”

Every late autumn, Kagashi would send him a shipping request to deliver an express package to a certain uncivilized planet located in a remote corner of the universe. That was no ordinary mailing service; it was the absolute highest-specification transport from the IPC’s logistics department. It could be said that unless targeted by an Aeon or an Emanator-level opponent, nothing would ever go wrong with that delivery.

So that was why… Wait!

Obsidian suddenly remembered that he had checked the logistics department’s records right before coming here. There was no order from Kagashi this year at all.

“Did you personally go to that planet this year?” Obsidian asked, leaning forward. “…No need to send the package anymore?”

“That is not it. I just asked a senior who was passing by to take it for me,” Kagashi replied smoothly. “A busy man like you did not come all the way here today just for this, did you?”

“That is part of the reason, but not all of it.”

Obsidian reached for the ceramic teapot on the table, but Kagashi reached out a pale hand to stop him.

“…You will not even serve a cup of tea? Is that really necessary?” Obsidian stared, stunned by the rejection.

Kagashi chuckled softly. “Of course not. We are not drinking this coarse tea today.”

As he spoke, he reached into his folding space and withdrew a sealed clay jar of Plum Blossom Wine.

A wisp of an incredibly enticing fragrance wafted from the seal of the jar the moment it appeared, firmly capturing Obsidian’s attention.

“Yo, the sun must have risen from the west today. You are actually willing to bring out this treasure to entertain me…”

“Heh…”

Kagashi did not explain. He calmly brushed away the small teacups, replacing them with large, wide bowls. He then tilted the heavy wine jar, pouring the clear liquid until it splashed against the rim.

This somewhat heroic, uncharacteristic manner made Obsidian even more surprised.

‘Something is not right…’Obsidian narrowed his eyes slightly.’Could it be that he has noticed something?’