"Hey, Kuro." After a while of unspoken tranquility between us, I call out Kurokawa's name, whose head is on my shoulder. 

As I glance over her side, a pair of exuberant emerald green eyes calmly observe me. With a quick glance, I can see they are filled with nothing except happiness and joy. Her delicate smile is so pure and bright that it is hard to believe this person once had such deep hatred for herself. From what I can see, she has become one with her heart by letting me see her entire face. 

The uncertainty Kurokawa possessed is long gone. It has perished, turned into tiny fragments that scatter into the wind like ashes of a defeated foe, never to be awakened. Even her dark, beautiful hair seems more radiant than before—like an angelic halo around her head. 

The girl who used to regard herself as pitiful and miserable is now glowing, washed clean by sunshine. Her eyes are not covered by an everlasting shadow but clear and glistening under the sun like the surface of a clear lake. She has finally been freed from the shackles of self-hatred. Her own personal hell has been broken.

I am unsure if I am looking at the same person minutes ago. That is how different the two versions of Kurokawa are to me.

Currently, Kuro's face is close to mine. Very close, in fact, that I can see clearly how long and curvy her black eyelashes really are. And very soon, I can not draw my gaze away from the bookworm, as if she is calling out to me without using words. She is like a little witch that cast a spell on me to keep me mesmerized by her. 

Yet, I do not hate that feeling. I do not hate it one bit.

Kurokawa is not the type to use makeup. As she would hide everything eventually, cosmetics were always out of Kurokawa's point of view. Despite that, the faint reddish color on her cheeks still stands out beautifully. That lush pink lying dormant in the background of Kuro's white skin complements her face like a diamond of a golden ring. The contrast between the two colors is gorgeous, making Kuro prettier than ever.

And her hair, each strand adorned with a resounding black color, gracefully flutters by the gusts that occasionally blow on top of our school, determines to show me its utmost radiance. Although they sometimes run around my neck and tickle the back of my head, causing me to awkwardly scratch the back, I do not find Kuro's hair bothersome. In a way, they come from Kuro. They are a part of her. I can not hate them for as much as I can not hate Kurokawa herself.

The same thing can be said about our bookworm's scar. Truthfully, I do not hate it. No matter how unsightly Kuro thinks her past is and how much she wants to hide her scar, it is a part of her that I never wanted to put aside. In my mind, to deny her old wound is to deny her existence. There is no way for me to do that. Besides, it is the undeniable proof of everything she has been through. 

This world might have implanted the fabricated memories into Kurokawa, but that is only fake to someone with a third-person point of view. For us, who lived here since the beginning, they were real. To me, everything happened and not at the same time. But that is not the reason to not acknowledge Kuro's effort. Our bookworm did live through one hundred percent of the trials thrown at her by this world. She has been through thick and thin, without anyone's support, on her own.

Thus, when I said she was beautiful, I meant it. Every. Single. Word. 

Kurokawa is a wonderful person whose strength is more than meets the eye. Much, much more so than she thinks she has. Her beauty is not only her appearance but her inner nature, too.

Somehow, I feel compelled to put a hand on her hair and pat it lightly. Interestingly, Kuro does not resist my touch. Instead, she quietly comes closer and closes her eyes like a cute cat.

"I am proud of you."

"Thank you." Kuro answers quietly. Her lips curve up a little.

Seeing this graceful lady rests her head on me, my chest feels warm. Even though some shiny droplets of tears are scattered on both sides of Kurokawa's face, she seems happy. Blissful, even. I also love how she clutches on the shirt I am wearing, trying to keep the space between us as small as possible. 

While caressing her hair, I tell the person next to me this in the gentlest way possible: "You are strong, Kuro. Much more so than you think you are." 

"Yes..."

And then, I hear the softest answer I have ever heard from her. It is almost timid. "Thanks to you,... C. If not for you, I wouldn't have been able to say these words."

"No, I don't think it is thanks to me. This one is entirely on you, Kurokawa."  

Before this peaceful moment, I was given a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see Kurokawa letting go of her bang to let it run wild. Seeing her hand slowly moving down and her hair slowly parting due to the lift of the wind, I felt a tingle in my heart. A desire of mine was fulfilled. A wishful thinking that was nearly impossible for anyone except the bookworm to achieve.

In my previous iterations, Kurokawa never showed her face that way. I mean it. The past haunted Kurokawa every waking and dreaming moment. It kept her from revealing her face to anyone, including Kuro herself. She did not dare look into the mirror, covering everything that could make her see her images, even if it was small. Until the day she died, Kurokawa never purposefully showed anyone her face. Not even Han.

It was that depressed Kurokawa who decided to take the first step. 

It was that fragile, self-loathing Kurokawa who decided to change. 

It was that strong, resilient Kurokawa who took my hand, with tears in her eyes, struggling to find a way to pull herself up from the depth of hopelessness.

She was the one beaten by fate. She was also the one who smashed it in the face.

"I don't believe so, C. I know who my benefactor really is." The bookworm squeezes my hand tighter.

Hearing that, I can only smile. With a contented heart, I rest my cheek against Kurokawa's hair, listening to her breathing.

"How about we agree to disagree?" After pondering for a second, I propose a way out for both of us. 

"Nope. I'll only accept one answer." 

"Okay, now you're being unreasonable!"

Kuro does not understand this. No matter how much I wanted to become the hero in her story, the credit did not belong to me. It was hers to begin with. 

"Why can't we compromise?" I ask her once again.

Kurokawa pinches something a little lower in my visual field. "Noooope!"

"Tch! Stubborn!" 

Wait?! Is this a nose? Since when did I have a nose?!

"He he he!" The bookworm chuckles childishly. "I'd like to be stubborn once in a while." She then stops to look at me. "If that's fine with you, of course."

"Then, I guess I'll just have to give up." I sigh dramatically. "Now that you've made me lose hope, I can't do anything. My life will be over."

"He he he! Silly husband! Don't worry. If you can't do anything, I'll support you. Till death do us part!"

Her laughter is like music to my ears. It makes me want to laugh with her. And with eyes like that, what could I do except nodding in agreement? 

Seems a bit unfair to a guy without eyes, no...? She can show me her puppy eyes, while I do not have them from the start...

Nonetheless, I feel delighted witnessing her in this state.

Throughout all time, Kuro already had preservation as a strength, manifested as an eternal shell impossible to penetrate so that she could survive in this lonely world. The good thing is that it protected her. The bad thing is that it kept her away from everyone. As a result, it caused her to suffer.

In the script, Han had gotten Kuro's body but never had access to her heart. To her previous versions, being with Han was only a way for her to atone for what she did to her Mother. She knew Han was not her true love. Still, due to his predetermined nature of being an absolute doormat, he was the only person in this cruel world who accepted her as the daughter who killed her birth-giver, making him the only one who mattered.

After the event, she was mentally broken.

While Han Som did manage to create intimate scenes with Kurokawa, it was not love. No matter how much they did it, she never loved Han nor said 'I love you' to him. She only wanted to be despised and degraded for the horrors she committed. 

Guilt was living rent-free in the bookworm's chest. It crept up, consumed Kurokawa, and finally pushed her off the edge once the timing was right. That was why she chose to die at Han's hands. In Kurokawa's mind, she believed nothing else was left to live for.