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In the middle of the night, the outside world remained in darkness and silence, and Qiluo Ling was once again awakened by the sound of the piano. She groggily opened her eyes, returning from a state of oblivion to the reality of the world.
Qiluo Ling's head felt heavy, like a lump of clay. She was very sleepy, and her eyelids felt heavy. She tried to wake herself up, but it was still somewhat difficult.
With no other choice, Qiluo Ling slightly closed her eyes and groped her way forward in the darkness. Guided by her faint awareness, she got out of bed, walked out of her room, went downstairs, and arrived at the Piano Room on the second floor.
As she pushed open the door, the clear piano piece acted like a refreshing medicine, gradually awakening her drowsy consciousness. In that corner of the Piano Room sat a familiar figure at the Steinway grand piano, leisurely playing beautiful music. What music was he playing?
Qiluo Ling listened carefully; he was playing Chopin's Farewell Song, no longer the music of The Sorrow of the Demon, which was quite unusual. A sense of unease swept through Qiluo Ling's heart. What did Farewell Song signify? Did it mean she was about to die?
In the darkness, his figure and posture while playing the piano were familiar yet strange. He had appeared numerous times in Qiluo Ling's dreams, seemingly becoming an indispensable part of her life. He was that Polish Man, her Great-Grandfather.
As Qiluo Ling approached the piano, the shadow stopped playing, and the music abruptly ceased, yet he kept his fingers gently resting on the piano keys without leaving.
"Don't ask me if he is truly dead," the shadow said.
"Are you not him?" Qiluo Ling asked.
"As you knew before, he has long been killed. You see me resembling him, but I am not him. What you see is merely a scene your subconscious wants to perceive after I lost my soul for love."
"Since he is already dead, why are there no remains in his grave, only a preserved Severed Hand?" Qiluo Ling summoned her courage to ask again.
"The soul is dead, yet the mark of Demonic Music endures. The dead soul wanders in darkness; what is immortal is Demonic Music. In other words, if he has severed himself from that arm marked by Demonic Music, then he is indeed dead."
Qiluo Ling thought for a moment and said, "No, he hasn't died. I have a strange feeling; I can sense his presence in you, including the tone of his voice and the way he played music. I feel an indescribable kinship with you that comes from blood."
"That's your illusion; I am not him," the shadow replied in a dismissive tone.
"I don't believe that. There's one more thing: the witch keeps saying that if I can't gather the complete score, I will die on the next full moon. But I feel that you are secretly manipulating everything, pushing me away from death. These actions are abnormal. How do you explain that?"
The shadow remained silent for a long time, not speaking.
Qiluo Ling stared at him and asked, "If you are not him, then who are you? Who is the demon?"
"Who am I? Am I the soulless demon? Or the dead you? Or perhaps the living him?" The shadow smiled bitterly, sometimes murmuring to himself, sometimes shaking his head.
The darkness in the room deepened like ink in water, gradually darkening the color of the night.
"As for who I am now, it no longer matters. Because after tonight, we will not meet again. So this is our last meeting."
Qiluo Ling was stunned and after a long while asked, "Why?"
"The real world and the illusory world are two completely different realms; no one can remain forever detached from both. Let this Farewell Song serve as our final memory," said the shadow.
"Are you saying we won't see each other again? The demon Second Movement has turned to ashes, and the whereabouts of the third movement are still unknown. Does this mean everything is over?"
"Ending signifies a new beginning; the soul may vanish, but Demonic Music will not. The search may just be a formality; responsibility and mission are the true purposes. The scores and melodies of the first movement and Second Movement are deeply engraved in your soul. Material things do not last, but music is eternal. I hope you understand this. As for Demonic Music's third movement, its clues are hidden within those few sheets of paper."
Qiluo Ling seemed to understand, nodding slightly.
At that moment, the shadow once again played the Farewell Song, seemingly hinting that the time for final separation was within reach. Even in the illusory scene, Qiluo Ling felt the sadness in the melody of the music, falling into the silent reality like a droplet of water hitting a lake, creating ripples that, though hard to notice in the vast world, still left traces behind.
An indescribable sense of loss surged within Qiluo Ling. This illusory soul had existed countless times in her dreams; she had grown accustomed to his presence, accustomed to this absurd existence. Now that he had truly vanished from her life, she felt an overwhelming loneliness and sorrow. She listened to the farewell music, played repeatedly from beginning to end.
"Before I completely disappear from this world, there is one thing I want to remind you," the shadow said.
"What is it?"
"When you obtain all the musical scores, I hope you can give up on saving your lover."
"Why? Everything I do is for his sake. The reason I have persevered until now is because of him. I will never give up."
"There is no reason; this is not my request but your only choice in the future. It is the choice of fate."
"I still don't understand. Can you clarify?"
"You will understand when the time comes. My final request is for you to take care of your own body; this is also a request from your future self."
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