Miracles may......

     Holding the remote control in one hand and the hardcover book in the other, he stared at the Elephante host announcing the results on television.

     "The winner of the Neopian Times Writer Award is……"

     "……" He was so familiar with the name announced by the host.

     For white dwarfs, is the mass-giving companion star benevolent or cruel?

     This puzzling question resurfaced again. Dave stared blankly through the screen in front of him, through the simple room he was in, through the stagnant time around him, and returned to the day when he met him……

     Dave, wearing a black Fedora hat and a dilapidated black overcoat, ignored the notice "No visits without booking" and stepped into the main entrance of the building. The conspicuous attire and ostentatious behaviour did not attract the attention of the guards.

     He successfully bypassed the guards wearing masks, came to the elevator lobby, and followed the doctors and nurses into the elevator.

     It was not the first time he had come to this floor. Many "targets" on the list were staying in a separate room called the peaceful space, waiting for his arrival.

     He walked along the spotless and deserted corridor, stopped in front of the room at the end, and confirmed the name on the name tag.

     Baltoro was his "target" this time.

     Rustles……Rustles……

     After entering the room through the wall, Dave first heard the slight sound of the pen tip rubbing against the paper. He looked at the source of the sound, and there was a little Bori with fine white hair, on the bed.

     With a pair of purple eyes, White Bori sat up with his back against the pillow, holding a quill and writing quickly on the mobile dining table. His Petpet, a White Weewoo, was sitting on his shoulder quietly.

     Dave tilted his head. The "targets" who lived here before were all elders. He originally thought that he had found the wrong pet and planned to leave, but the immature childish voice stopped him and helped him to make sure that he did not find the wrong pet.

     "Hello, Sir." The boy gave a warm smile to Dave who suddenly appeared in the room. Even in the face of this strangely dressed strange visitor, he still spoke to him calmly.

     "It's been a long time since anyone other than doctors and nurses has come. Has the ban on visits been lifted?"

     Dave took off his hat to reveal his light green fur, stared at the boy with lifeless eyes and asked, "……Baltoro……?"

     The boy nodded. The horrific suture scar on the visitor's right face did not frighten him. He asked Dave instead, "Sir?"

     "……Dave……I am the Guide……" Dave revealed his identity directly. He never knew how to lie, and he felt that there was no need to lie.

     "Guide……" Baltoro looked at Dave. Although he was far from the guide he imagined, the appearance of him out of thin air was still convincing. As if talking about someone else, Baltoro asked calmly, "Are you here to bring me to visit Death? I mean, the Baby Ixi spirit summoned by the Oracle."

     "……Not yet……I just want to……give you a preview……"

     Death, the Baby Ixi, would ask its undersigns to appear in front of “targets” sometime before the End, reminding them to fulfil their wishes as soon as possible and set off on the road with peace of mind.

     Generally speaking, when the "targets" sees and knows his identity, they either turn pale with panic or become hysterical. However, Baltoro appeared calm and settled. Dave was so curious about him. He asked, "……Aren't you afraid……?"

     "Every story has an end. When you understand that the End is inevitable, you will not be afraid anymore." The young Bori smiled and spit out the over-age answer. He was so close to visiting Death many times. He was used to it.

     Dave could hear the despair of life hidden behind the easy answer, but the soul of Baltoro did not have the bleakness of self-abandonment.

     "……Cherish your……time……" Dave dropped the last advice, turned around and prepared to go through the wall.

     "Wait a minute, Dave." Baltoro's bright purple met Dave's light green, and asked with some expectation, "Will you come again?"

     "……What's the……meaning……of asking this……?"

     "You can come in, which means that only I can see you, right? If you are free, can you come and accompany me?" Baltoro explained the reason. "Involuntary loneliness is more and more terrible than visiting Death. I am afraid so."

     Dave had worked for Death for a long time. But this was the first time that he has heard such a request from the "target". There was no such situation in the standard operating procedure, so he had to answer, "……I don't know……"

     The ambiguous answer made the child's face stained with loneliness, but he quickly shook his head, apologized, and watched Dave leave.

     Perhaps it was Baltoro's contrast that made him curious, and the rules did not expressly prohibit it, Dave came to the peaceful space again the next day. Baltoro, who was writing, was overjoyed when he saw Dave. He quickly dropped his quill and got off the bed, and took Dave's hand to let him sit on the wooden chair beside the bed.

     "It's a pleasure to see Dave again."

     "……Why are you……so happy……?" Baltoro's words confused him. Is it something to be happy to see the servant of Death?

     Baltoro smiled and said nothing. He touched Dave’s scarred and rough hand, marvelling at his temperature. "Your hands are very cold."

     "……I……am……zombie……"

     "That's true. No wonder many pets say they feel very cold before visiting Death." He pressed his forehead against it, squinted his eyes and continued with a comfortable expression, "It's so cold and comfortable."

     "……You have a fever……"

     Baltoro smiled lightly, and replied nonchalantly, "It doesn’t matter."

     Dave did not intend to delve into it, but instead pointed to the pile of books and notebooks near the bed, changing the subject. "……You enjoy……reading?"

     "And writing. I am writing a fantastic story that I would like to submit to the Neopian Times. The Neopian Times Writer avatar looks so great. Well, I rely on them to relieve my boredom when I often stay here." He took out a book named Secrets of the Universe, handed it to Dave and said, "I like this one the most, Dave can read it."

     Dave looked at Baltoro, then at the book, and took a long time to open it slowly. After successfully keeping Dave, Baltoro nodded with satisfaction, picked up the quill again, and continued writing.

     The visiting time passed quietly amidst the sound of writing and turning pages.

     Visiting Baltoro became Dave's daily routine, and later he simply stayed. The child was happy to have a special roommate. He shared all he had with Dave.

     As the sands of life fell, Baltoro became more and more tired. From being able to get out of bed at the beginning, to gradually staying in bed all day. No matter how tired Baltoro was, or even if his body was fading into the colour of a ghost, Dave was just a witness. Any action to help or save the "target" was against the rules. He would be punished by Death if he did. Besides, Baltoro never asked him for help.

     The only thing Dave could do was to cover his scalding forehead with his icy hands when the sleeping boy was moaning due to high fever, to cool him down.

     Invariably, Baltoro would sit up and continue writing as soon as he had the energy to do so. Obviously, it was hard for him to even hold the quill, but he still insisted on writing. Whenever he immerses himself in constructing the world under his quill with words, his soul is like a red supergiant star in the universe, appearing brighter.

     "……Why……do you keep……writing?……You are tired enough already……"

     "I want to leave something to my family before Death takes me with it. Stories, hopes……"

     He laughed with difficulty.

     "Or should I say... a trace of my past?"

     Dave put the copper pocket watch engraved with the flower pattern back into his pocket, and looked up at the White Bori smiling weakly in his parents' arms. After taking a photo with a polaroid camera, Baltoro hugged his parents and asked them to take away all the books and most of his belongings, leaving only the quill and notebook that was almost finished.

     "It seems that I will meet with Death very soon…… " He muttered to himself while touching the photo. No one knew his physical condition better than him.

     Then, Baltoro flipped the notebook back to where it left off, and put the tip of the quill into ink.

     "……Keep writing?"

     "Well, I have to finish the story."

     Baltoro wrote all night long until dawn. His soul was as dazzling as a star.

     Continue to burn your own life to complete the unfinished story.

     Continuously ignites its own elements, and undergoes nuclear fusion to generate energy.

     Baltoro whimpered. He was so tired and caused the quill in his hand to fall off the table. Ink splattered all over. Staying up all night exhausted his strength, and he could not even pick up the quill.

     He needed a deep sleep. A dark and sweet sleep.

     His breathing became shallow and short, his vision began to dim, and he was still concerned about the ending of the story in a hazy state of consciousness.

     "……It's just a little bit……just……"

     Dave glanced at the surface, and the countdown was over after ten seconds left. He glanced again at the nearly extinguished soul, and took out a Baby Paint Brush from his pocket.

     Restart.

     What he wants to see is not a dim white dwarf.

     He would like to see the birth of a dazzling supernova.

     "Dave?"

     The gentle voice awakened Dave, who was lost in memories. He turned his head, and the sunset outside the door made him squint. The Baby Bori standing against the light was outlined by the twilight, his fine and soft hair was trimmed with gold, shining brightly.

     He was Baltoro. The only difference was his colour changed into Baby.

     "Watching television with the lights off is bad for your eyes." He said so, but the Baby Bori didn't turn on the lights after closing the door. He came to Dave in the dark and realized Dave was holding the posthumous work he wrote.

     "Dave is looking at the video of the award ceremony again? It was a long time ago." He chuckled.

     "……Never tire of watching……I like to watch……"

     "With your kindness, I can finish writing it. Although my body has become so small, I can still keep all my memories." He hugged the expressionless Dave and whispered, "Thank you, Dave."

     Gain quality and break through the limit.

     The nebula born after the supernova explosion is shining with hope.

     The End.