"I want to fulfill everyone's wishes—to stand on a grander stage and deliver hope through song."
On the humble little stage, Robin bared her heart to the two closest to her. Everyone had dreams they longed to realize—that must be the happiest thing in the world.
The halo above her head glowed warmly, and her tiny wings seemed to shimmer with the power to shelter the world.
"You will, Sister!" Sunday clenched his fists.
"It's us," Robin corrected, hopping off the bed to take Anming and Sunday's hands. "We'll let the whole world hear our music."
[Age 6]
You performed in concert halls regularly, hailed as a prodigy on interstellar broadcasts. Robin always dragged Sunday to the front row, cheering louder than anyone.
She never hid her adoration for your piano—your very first fan.
"Robin, I want to play for you."
"I... I'm sorry."
For once, Robin fidgeted, twisting her skirt behind her back. "My singing... isn't worthy of your music yet."
Compared to Anming's masterful playing, her voice felt like a child's game.
"Your voice is hope," Anming insisted, clasping her small hands. "That's why I want to play for you."
"Today's my birthday. I'd love to perform for you—in front of everyone."
"Really?" Robin's eyes sparkled. "Then... yes!"
"Anming!"
Sunday burst into the greenroom, wielding a box of donuts like a weapon. "Are you bullying my sister again?"
"You're overreacting," Anming said, still holding Robin's hand. "We're friends."
"Best friends!" Robin chirped, wings fluttering as she offered Anming a donut.
"Sister, you're too kind. Boys like him grow up to be playboys," Sunday declared, making Robin giggle.
"Brother~ Anming isn't like that." She bit her lip, hiding her joy. "I just... want him to play for me someday."
Children's affections were pure—love was love. From the moment she'd heard his piano in that sunlit room, Robin had been enchanted.
Sunday stood frozen, his world crumbling.
"Come on, don't space out." Anming shoved a guitar into Sunday's arms, his smile bright enough to banish all shadows. "We're doing this together."
He extended his left hand. Robin watched, hopeful.
After a pause, Sunday gripped it tightly.
The curtain rose to reveal three children hand-in-hand—a naive but earnest symbol of friendship.
Anming nodded encouragingly to Robin. As his fingers met the keys, her voice flowed forth, effortless as a spring breeze.
"Our Anming's the romantic type, isn't he?" An whispered to Chen, her smirk saying See? No arranged marriage needed.
"Robin talks about him constantly at home," Gianna chuckled.
"Let them be children," Chen sighed. "Just enjoy the performance."
The piano sang. Robin clutched her lyrics, nervous on this grand stage—but the moment the music began, the world fell away.
By the time she realized, she was already singing.
In that golden melody, she drowned in Anming's gaze—warm as sunlight that didn't burn.
She had found her sun.
No words were needed. Souls intertwined through music. A bird spread its wings, soaring skyward.
Sunday watched Anming, finally understanding.
The piano was their wings, carrying them to a world without sorrow.
The applause came late, as if the audience had forgotten to breathe.
Then—
A dissonant note.
The concert hall's dome shattered.
A cataclysmic strike vaporized a quarter of Kachi-Pei's surface. The roof collapsed in a screech of twisting steel.
"ANMING—!"
Chen's voice cut through the chaos. Anming turned just in time to see his father shove An and Gianna clear—before rubble buried him.
Blood pounded in Anming's skull. The world tinted crimson.
A phantom piano roared in his ears as he grabbed Robin's frozen hand. "RUN!"
Sunday snapped into focus. "Backstage! NOW!"
An scrambled onto the stage, her gown torn. Grief flickered in her eyes as she knelt, kissing Anming's forehead.
"Go forward."
Her lips trembled.
"Don't look back."
The ground split. The dome crashed down.
Beyond the ruin, the sky had turned violet—a Stellaron's death knell, weaving annihilation.
Screams. Cries. The most heartbreaking music of all.
As silence swallowed the world, Anming realized:
He could change nothing.
Familiar hands shoved him away. His mother's eyes were as tender as ever.
This time, she couldn't embrace him.
"I love you."
Time didn't stop. Anming was flung across the fissure, slamming into a wall. Agony stole his voice.
His outstretched hand grasped only air as An vanished into the abyss.
This world was never happy.
Only he had been—because they loved him.