Blade didn't understand them at all. How could they struggle so much? How could they not seek the help they so desperately needed? The salty sea breeze cuts through his jacket as he stands on the desolate beach, the same one where he'd found their abandoned belongings months ago. The air smells of ozone and decay, matching the rot he feels spreading through his chest.

He and they had been together since high school. Them—isolated, misunderstood, and always wrapped in layers of pain that no one else seemed to see—and him, new and enigmatic, already carrying the seeds of what would later become his darker self. Back then, though, he wasn't Blade. He was Yingxing. And for a moment, he thought that maybe love could save them both. The sound of waves crashing against the shore echoes in his ears like distant screams, each one triggering another fractured memory.

They existed in the periphery of everyone's sight, like a ghost no one wanted to acknowledge. Not quite fitting into any gender mold, never conforming to beauty standards, and always trailing at the bottom of that cruel, silent ranking teenagers gave each other—"most pretty" to "least." And of course, they were always last. The cold sand seeps into his shoes, sending a shiver up his spine as he remembers how their hands would shake when something unexpected happened, how their voice would tremble when forced to speak in front of others.

Self-harm? Maybe. Emotional instability? Most likely. Over-intelligent, over-analyzing everything and everyone? Definitely. But jealous? No. They doubted anyone envied their life. Not until Yingxing entered it. He notices movement out of the corner of his eye—a fleeting silhouette that looks just like them standing at the water's edge—but when he turns his head, there's nothing there except the endless expanse of gray water merging with an even grayer sky.