I Became the Narrow-Eyed Character in the Little Prince Game

Life continued in peace for a time.
The two shared meals together, carefully treated the unsightly scars left on her body, and spent countless sleepless nights as I stayed by her side during her fevers.

As the days passed, a sense of familiarity gradually grew between us.
We became aware of each other’s presence in our respective worlds.
The days we relied on and supported each other had created a new shared world of their own.

Between the boy and the girl, a fragile bond began to take root.
"Winter seems to be ending soon."
The season was quietly moving beyond winter.

When we first met, it had been the onset of winter, but now, I found myself flipping through February’s calendar.
It was a sign of how intense and meaningful our time had been.
I often smiled—a smile meant for the stoic girl.

"What do you think? Are you looking forward to the coming spring?"
"...Not really."
Even our stiff relationship had progressed.

Where she had once barely answered when spoken to, we now engaged in light conversations.
Perhaps it was the power of familiarity.
Her defenses had softened noticeably, and she no longer bristled at me with the same sharp hostility.

Occasionally, in moments of drowsiness, she would even accept a gentle stroke on her head, though in her fully conscious state, she still vehemently avoided it.
"It’s a little disappointing, actually."
Still.

As the distance between us shrank, I learned more about her.
These were observations gathered over the past three months.
"Aren’t you exhausted?"
"Hmm?"

"Staying up every night to take care of me. Isn’t it hard for you? The fevers aren’t just a one-time thing..."
"Should I take that as concern? Or gratitude?"
"...I didn’t say anything like that."

"Some feelings don’t need words to be understood."
"Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything."
"Hehe... Miss Neria, you’re unexpectedly thoughtful."

"Stop saying such frivolous things."
At her core, the girl was kind.
Though she was awkward in dealing with others, she cared.

She simply didn’t know how to express it.
Her inner self was soft and gentle.
She wasn’t a monster.

She was an ordinary nineteen-year-old.
Lonely, sometimes scared, and prone to tears at night—a regular nineteen-year-old.
If there was a reason she had closed her heart to the world, it was undoubtedly her curse.

"No... If I leave."
"If I go outside, someone will get hurt again. That’s why I have to stay here..."
Her avoidance of others wasn’t a means of protecting herself.

Rather, it was a desperate attempt to protect others from her.
Her immense, uncontrollable power.
The monster feared the harm she might cause others more than any harm done to herself.

Perhaps it was the despair born from loss.
"I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me."
She often tossed and turned at night, haunted by guilt.

This trait was evidence of her inherent kindness—a sorrowful testament to a nineteen-year-old girl determined to hold onto her humanity despite being called a monster.
I could never fully fathom the thorny path she had walked.
How many parts of herself had she had to give up over the years?

First, her happiness. Then, her sense of security.
Eventually, in the relentless cycle of misfortune, even her sorrow and anger were abandoned.
At the end of the emotions she had lost, only resentment toward the world remained.

Sometimes, I would recall the girl’s fate in the original story.
"I never wanted this kind of power."
"Why did the stars choose me?"

Her tragic end as a monster.
How much pain must the silver-haired girl have endured to finally fall as a villain who burned the world?
When such thoughts crossed my mind, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity, spurring me to care for her even more.

I had always been soft-hearted toward children.
I devoted myself to helping her recover.
I gave her every form of aid I could provide.

"Another joyous day of treatment begins!"
Of all the challenges, the hardest was undoubtedly her treatment.
Or rather, could it even be called treatment?

The blessing of the stars housed in her fragile body.
To suppress its brutal flow and rampant surges, I had to periodically restrain her power.
This was far from a perfect solution—merely a temporary measure.

"Cough...!"
As I concentrated, holding her hand, she suddenly coughed up blood.
I wiped the crimson streaks from her lips, swallowing my dizziness.

This was always how it went.
Whether it was nosebleeds, internal injuries, or even fainting, the strain of suppressing her power often left me battered.
It was clear my inadequate abilities were being stretched to their limit.

The blessing of the stars was an unreasonably demanding force.
"The blessing of the stars."
A singular axiom of providence.

Its complexity was unparalleled.
Even with all my experience twisting and deceiving natural laws, starlight’s structure was dangerously intricate.
By any metric, it was one of the three most challenging forces to handle in this timeline.

If I mishandled it even slightly, her body—and likely mine, too—would collapse under the paradoxical backlash.
Caution was my only option.
"If only I had enough power... I could fully absorb the starlight."

Unfortunately, with my current abilities, that was impossible.
From my struggles at the bottom to now, the same obstacle haunted me—insufficient power.
Knowing the solution but lacking the means to execute it was a bitter pill to swallow.

"Haa... Another failure."
Repeated failures.
It seemed I would need to spend more time researching ways to strengthen my output.

Each setback reminded me of how overwhelming the original Yuda had been.
He wielded such unstable forces effortlessly, bending the world’s providence to his will with lies.
I sighed.

"Ah, my sleeve is a mess."
"Are you... okay?"
As I cleaned the dark stains on my sleeve, the girl, who had been receiving treatment, cautiously asked.

Her gaze held a hint of concern.
Over the past three months, her responses had subtly changed.
Where she once resisted treatment and avoided contact, she now showed subtle signs of worry.

"It looks like you’re bleeding a lot."
"I may have overexerted myself."
"Doesn’t it hurt?"

"I don’t feel a thing."
"Liar."
"I’m serious."

Kindness lingered in her brief words.
I offered a faint smile—a fragile one, like mist in the early dawn.
The quiet moments seemed to bring clarity to our relationship.

Finally, she murmured.
"I don’t understand."
"Hmm?"

"I don’t know how to understand you. I can’t give you anything, yet you keep giving me so much."
"Didn’t I explain this last time?"
"You said I was precious... but that’s not the answer I wanted."

"True compassion doesn’t require a reason."
"Even when you’re coughing up blood?"
"It’s nothing I can’t handle."

"...You’re a strange person."
She furrowed her brow, her silver eyes clouded with confusion.
I responded to her persistent gaze with a gentle laugh.

"Miss Neria."
I softly called her name and carefully reached out to stroke her silver hair.
The warmth of the touch left a lingering sentiment.

I whispered quietly.
"Everything will be fine."
By now, she had grown accustomed to my touch.

I promised her with a single sentence.
"This time, I’ll be the one to stay by your side."
The Silver-Haired Monster.

Perhaps the first responsibility I had taken on since being thrown into this world.
It was a shackle that bound my heart.
"Hehe... It's getting late. Let's get cleaned up and have dinner?"

"Do as you wish."
The girl nodded.
It felt as though our winter was coming to an end.

And yet—
"...Nothing is okay at all."
The faint murmur that brushed past my ears.

The unusually dark expression she wore that day.
***
The girl lived in a fragile routine.

The comfort she could never grow accustomed to.
For the first time, she had a place to call home, a gift that had arrived unbidden.
The peaceful days were more beautiful than any ideal she had dared to dream.

Days without pain.
But within the monster, an insidious unease began to stir.
Around her slender neck, it felt as though a rope lined with thorns tightened.

"Do I even deserve to be here?"
Recently, her episodes had grown more frequent.
Her control over her powers was slipping.

The nightly fevers worsened, and at times, uncontrolled sparks of fire would escape her.
Watching her deteriorating condition, the monster came to a realization.
The starlight within her was growing more violent, ready to erupt at any moment.

"I hate this..."
Though the boy suppressed her power in the name of treatment, it was no more than holding down a tightly coiled spring.
And every time he did, he coughed up blood.

No matter how much he reassured her that it was fine, the pallor of his face revealed the truth of his lies.
Even as his vitality waned, he smiled.
"Why?"

Unresolved problems ate away at her.
The boy’s bloodied smile, the whisper of memories etched deep in her scars, replayed in her mind.
Fragments of the Lord’s brainwashing resurfaced.

"You are a child of malice."
"You were born to bring misfortune, destined to turn everything around you to ash."
"Do not dare to seek happiness in the outside world."
A cursed child.
Born to harm others, undeserving of happiness, warmth, or even a tomorrow.

As the days passed, the girl’s spirit crumbled further.
In response, the starlight grew even more unruly.
Her body was breaking down.

It was only a matter of time before disaster struck.
Tortured by her own torment, she asked herself:
"What am I even doing?"

She lived as if nothing were wrong, even though her powers might erupt at any moment.
With hands stained by countless sins, she had the audacity to bask in this warmth.
Could she truly continue to live in peace like this?

As the starlight’s rebellion grew stronger, her reason began to falter.
Surely, everything would burn again.
She feared it deeply.

"Miss Neria. Everything will be fine."
No.
Nothing was fine.

She was consumed by dread.
"Strange person."
It was because of him.

Because he existed, she could not erase this fear.
He was the one who had found her in the darkness.
The kindness he had shown, the warmth that melted her frozen heart, the devotion she couldn’t believe—all of it.

Despite receiving these miracles, she was terrified she would harm him.
Terrified she would hurt him.
That fear loomed endlessly.

"This time, I’ll be the one to stay by your side."
And yet—
Even amidst her turmoil, the boy repeated the same reassurances.

His unwavering confidence only made her heart collapse further.
"How could everything possibly be fine?"
She had longed for stability, but now it was killing her.

The reality of this fragile peace hurt more than any torment she had endured.
This first taste of warmth—
It was more than she had ever imagined.

It was so precious she wanted to cry, terrified of losing it.
And just as much, she feared destroying it herself.
"I’m scared."

She feared herself.
She didn’t want to hurt anyone else.
Despite her resolve, she couldn’t escape the inevitable.

She couldn’t stop the starlight from consuming her and turning the world white.
Her fear gnawed at her insides like a parasite.
Her mind teetered on the brink.

Eventually—
"Haa... Haa..."
The girl fled.

To escape the only warmth she had ever known.
To return to the deep, cruel basement she had once called home.
She stumbled out of the mansion into the bitter wind.

The howling gale devoured her silver hair.
Whoosh—!
A fierce scene.

As though winter itself was hurling stones at her retreating figure.
A sudden blizzard swept across the snowy expanse.
The suppressed starlight began to seep out.

Heat radiated from her trembling form.
Drip. Drip.
Droplets of light fell like dew, imbued with the power of the stars.

The girl stumbled, unable to pay it any mind.
"Why am I..."
Her thoughts dissolved into the cold air.

She fell repeatedly on the snow-covered path, her hatred of fate bubbling up with each step.
Sparks danced along her clenched fists.
"Why did it have to be me?"

This power... she had never wanted it.
Why had the stars chosen her?
Why her, of all people?

Born cursed, she had prayed for nothing more than an ordinary life.
A peaceful, mundane existence.
But—

"I didn’t ask for much."
The answer to her prayers was a bitter sneer.
The starlight flickered with resentment.

Tears streaked her cheeks, carrying a warmth she clung to bitterly.
And with a voice filled with resignation, she whispered:
"...Maybe I should just die."

She had carried her curse long enough.
But now, having known warmth, the thought of returning to that cold basement was unbearable.
Better to end it now, while some trace of warmth remained.

The girl stopped walking.
"Yes..."
She decided to die.

There was no point in living if it meant being buried in darkness again.
Her thin fingers gripped something at her waist.
A dagger.

A symbol of her cursed life.
She tightened her hold on its hilt.
"Take it... This is your fate."

"You were born to wield the starlight against others. Never forget that this blade represents your denial."
Since the day the Lord had handed her that dagger, she had carried its curse.
Shing—

Now, it would end everything.
She tested its edge on her cheek.
The starlight within made the blade burn with intense heat.

Sizzle—
The searing pain etched a mark into her pale skin, branding her with the burn.
It was agony.

"Ah... Ugh...!"
Her groans mixed with sobs.
It hurt.

But for the release it promised, she didn’t stop.
She prayed as she raised the blade to her neck.
"Please."

At the end of this pain, let there be rest.
No more hurting others, no more being hurt.
Let this be her final peace.

Tears fell as she prepared to end her cursed existence.
But just before the dagger could fulfill its purpose—
Thunk!

A hand stopped her.
Out of nowhere, a palm grasped the blade, preventing it from reaching her.
The golden-haired boy stood there, steadying her frail body.

Through the swirling blizzard, his dull golden hair was unmistakable.
And then, his voice reached her ears.
"So this is where you were, Miss Neria."

"You...?"
Through her tear-clouded vision, she saw his pale, half-lidded eyes fixed on her.