My Instant Death Doomed Firefly to a Lifetime of Regret

Gramr Imperial Academy

To live like a firefly—brief yet radiant.

Liuying feared no death. But now, she yearned to live.

"An Ming, I—"

Words died on her lips. Liuying clutched her chest, gasping as phantom voices echoed:

"Hack Protocol Two: No classified intel shall be disclosed."

Her face paled. Sweat dripped as she pressed her cold palm into An Ming's warm grip.

The familiar heat emboldened her. In this moment, Liuying overrode the Hive's chains. Sunset eyes met his.

"I need to tell you…"

"I'll wait. Rest first."

An Ming's tenderness ached. Patience was his virtue.

Liuying bit her lip, the warmth in her hand blooming into something nameless yet urgent.

She was his swordmaster, his path to becoming a Molten Knight. Yet in humanity's curriculum—names, laughter, longing—he was her teacher.

She pressed a hand to her racing heart. "I'm… inept with words. No one ever listened."

"Actions… are all I have."

Flames engulfed her—gentle, golden. They dissolved her uniform, revealing porcelain skin veined with bioluminescent cracks.

Her back to him, resolve steeled.

"Let me show you… everything."

Gene-Hack Initiative—a byproduct of the Molten Knight Project. Hacks surpassed humans in one trait: adaptability.

A-Type Hacks: Batch 001-100. Born linked to the Hive. Programmed via dream-drills for combat and blind loyalty.

Weapons.

Protocols carved into their DNA. Unbreakable… until Liuying.

A defective unit. 50% Hive sync. Spared only for her adaptability.

Entropy Loss Syndrome—her curse. Fading limbs. Hollow solace.

Disappearing… wouldn't be so bad.

But An Ming fractured the Hive's hold. Her "flaws" grew. Stripped of knighthood, exiled to mentor him—Caesar's cruel joke.

"This… is my truth."

Liuying trembled post-confession. Hacks were tools, lower than insects.

He—the Academy's golden child, sunlight incarnate.

She—a firefly destined to drown in darkness.

"Unfair to share alone." An Ming clasped her wrist, eyes molten. "My turn."

He adjusted her shawl. Titles meant nothing. Souls recognized souls.

Liuying retreated, cheeks blooming. Is this… illness?

Shop windows reflected longing. A cake resembling gnarled roots gathered dust—Oak Log Roll, cheapest in the case.

"Two, please."

An Ming ignored the clerk's puzzled smile. Liuying hid behind him, tugging his sleeve.

"I… never tasted cake."

"First time together, then."

Birthdays died with his parents. Cake meant joy he'd forgotten… until now.

Liuying's eyes sparkled. Her steps danced—a sonata of pure delight.

This was happiness: a crumbling pastry, shared footsteps, and endless road.