Love Comes After Simulation

[The envelope was delivered by the postman. You initially thought it might be some kind of invitation or an invoice. The moment you took the envelope, you realized your assumption was wrong.]

[A central bulge could be felt through the thin envelope, leading you to guess it contained a piece of silk and a thin letter.]

[Chitose Kazumi was not home; she had gone to a senior club an hour ago. These highly educated elderly ladies had suddenly taken an interest in the education of children in the orphanage and often volunteered as teachers. Last month, she had even dragged you along to a music lesson.]

[When Chitose Kazumi was younger, she was rather reserved and often solitary. Now, with her hair turned white, she was enthusiastic about socializing. In contrast, you now only correspond with other influential peers in your field and are too lazy to write or speak to anyone else.]

[Someone like you shouldn’t have received a letter, but it was indeed addressed to you. You suspected Chitose Kazumi had used your name for some activity she attended, and the letter was actually meant for her.]

[After a moment of hesitation, you decided to open it.]

Minami Yuuki closed his eyes, the memory scene appearing beneath his tightly shut eyelids.

In the depth of winter, the faint morning light shone on the bare bushes in the garden. The elderly Minami Yuuki walked slowly to the pavilion, sat by the round table, and tore open the envelope with his wrinkled hands.

Inside the envelope, a transparent sealed bag contained two items: a letter and a handkerchief.

The handkerchief, though white, was heavily worn at the edges.

Having handled many high-end fabrics over the years, Minami Yuuki immediately recognized this as a cheap item.

He couldn’t recognize the handkerchief at first, but when he unfolded it and saw the “Minami” character embroidered in fine blue thread at the corner, he suddenly remembered. This was his childhood handkerchief, the one he had given to a woman over forty years ago.

His hands, still steady enough to press piano keys, pluck strings, and hold a flute level even after sixty years, trembled in the winter sunlight.

Folding the handkerchief back into the sealed bag, he took out the letter and unfolded it.

A slightly messy handwriting appeared before him.

“I’m sorry.”

The sudden, lonely apology at the beginning of the letter did nothing to soften Minami Yuuki’s heart; instead, it made him more resentful.

Having chosen to leave without a word back then, why send a letter now? Why apologize?

“Last week, the power company employees came again, urging me to pay the long-overdue bill. I spent my last money on a blanket. I am destitute.”

Minami Yuuki frowned. He hadn’t expected Asano Nao’s later life to be in such dire straits. In his previous simulated life, her savings had been enough for both of them to live out their old age comfortably. Had she been swindled? Or had she squandered it?

He didn’t mind providing material support for Asano Nao. In fact, he was eager to use it as an excuse to bring her back into his life.

The emotions from forty years ago, buried under forty winters of snow, were well concealed and solid. Yet, the moment he saw the handkerchief, the cold snow accumulated over these many years melted silently away.

He eagerly read on, hoping to find an address or a contact.

“I haven’t bought a new piece of clothing, nor a new piece of furniture. I stopped buying games, comics, and novels forty years ago. I sold my previous belongings, and I sold the things my grandmother left me. I couldn’t sell them piece by piece; you know what kind of torment that was for me. I entrusted a second-hand shop to pack and sell everything.

I don’t have money to pay for electricity. Three days ago, during the tail end of that cold wave, the power company cut off my electricity.

I lit a candle and wrote this letter to you on an ice-cold table. My body is freezing, my temples are throbbing. Writing this letter with such stiff muscles and a sluggish mind is torturous.

But what other option do I have if I don’t write to you? You were everything to me in the past, and you still are now.”

Minami Yuuki turned up the collar of his coat. The cold wave had passed, but the temperature was still very low, especially in the night wind. He couldn’t imagine what kind of bone-chilling cold it must be to endure these days without electricity and no air conditioning.

He wanted to grab Asano Nao by the collar and ask her why she didn’t write earlier.

“I didn’t want to disturb you. Maybe you are full of anger as you read this letter, maybe you don’t care at all, maybe you’ve already forgotten about me. Your anger burns in my heart, your indifference makes me sad, your forgetting denies the meaning of my existence.

But I had to write this letter. You are my last hope. I am floating in a sea of suffering, and only you can pull me out.

I will tell you everything. I won’t explain what you already know. My physical condition doesn’t allow me to write too much. After writing each section, I have to stand up and warm myself.

I still clearly remember that you arrived at the apartment behind my house at 3 p.m. on March 25th. You came alone, carrying a gray travel bag and a silver suitcase.

That day, I was getting a comic book from the study. When I drew the curtains, I unintentionally glanced outside and saw you standing below my window. You were pulling your suitcase with your left hand and shading your eyes with your right hand, looking around for your apartment.

I was attracted to your luggage. You looked like you had just graduated from junior high school, yet you came to this completely unfamiliar city alone with your luggage.

At that time, I had just finished playing a newly released game and was idle. I kept looking for you outside the window. Without realizing it, I stayed by the study window all day.

I was twenty years old then. I had never cared about a boy so much, never observed a boy so meticulously until you passed by my window. I write this to make you understand that my love has belonged entirely to you from the moment it began to sprout.

My pen cannot express my feelings for you, and my body won’t allow me to say much more. My handwriting must be very sloppy, right? I apologize. I beg you to read it to the end.

You may have already noticed that I planned to leave you long ago. I made the plan on an ordinary night. That evening, we went out for a walk and met your bandmates. Their respect for you made my heart ache. I was convinced that staying with you would only drag you into a life of failure.

After leaving you, I returned to the house my late grandmother left behind, and my grandmother came to take care of me. She worked hard all her life, first losing her son and daughter-in-law, then her only granddaughter ended up in this state. She must have suffered greatly, but I couldn’t take care of her.

My grandmother died thirty years ago. A distant relative on my father’s side arranged the funeral, which my grandmother had organized before her death.

I didn’t pay for it, nor did I attend. The funeral was held in my grandmother’s hometown, and I couldn’t go. The funeral was kept simple, using my grandmother’s meager savings. I couldn’t afford to pay; I had calculated everything, and my money was just enough for my expenses.

I didn’t expect what happened later.

Yesterday, the hospital called, asking for the next payment. I can’t come up with the money. All I have left is the house in Misaki City.

I can’t touch that house. You might still go there, use the key to open the door, lie on the sofa you used to sit on, touch the dining table we used to eat at, and gaze at the bed where we were happy. That thought is my solace. Just thinking about that possibility makes my heart tremble with joy.

But I have no money left. My grandmother’s house in her hometown had already been sold by my grandmother, and the money was given to me.

I must pay the hospital fees. I can’t delay it; I can’t let the hospital cut off treatment like the power company cut off electricity—cut off our daughter’s treatment.

My beloved, pitiful daughter. I am sorry to her. Her hair is like mine, her eyes are like mine, her shoulders are like mine, her hands are like mine. Because she resembles me so much, she has ended up in this situation!

Sorry, there are several tear stains on the letter, right? Please forgive me. I don’t have the strength to switch to a new piece of paper, and I don’t have the courage to rewrite it.

Let me continue with our daughter. She is a piece of you that I stole from you.

She looks like me in every way except for her lips, which are like yours. Those warm, sunny lips that curl up when she smiles—I have touched them countless times, kissed them when she was still a child, trying to reach you through them.

Sometimes, I envy her for having those lips. Just because of that, she can be different from me.

I couldn’t bear my own fragility, the loss of my parents, the mockery of my classmates, and I returned home in a daze. Yet she, with a ridiculous mother like me who only brings her ridicule, completed her studies strong and determined.

I didn’t name her Rikka. Partly out of shame for using that name, and partly because I feared you would recognize her if you passed by and heard that familiar name. She is the only piece of you I have left. Not even you can take her from me!

I didn’t use the surname Asano; instead, I used my grandmother’s maiden name—Yumemi.

Our daughter’s name is Yumemi Miu.

You might find the name familiar. Twenty years ago, during summer vacation, Miu came home and told me she was very happy at her academy. A professor named Minami took good care of her.

I was stunned. Miu shook my shoulders to bring me back to reality. I nonchalantly asked about that professor, and she happily told me everything.

I heard your name from her mouth, and my heart was in chaos. For so many years, I deliberately avoided your name. I never looked at news about the music industry. I never expected to hear that name from Miu.

Miu has been a bright child since she was little. When I was in school, my grades were average, but she always ranked first. She must have inherited extraordinary talent from you.

Selfishly and domineeringly, I wanted her to be more like you. I signed her up for music lessons and had her join the wind ensemble. She got into Misaki Arts University, the same school as you.

I didn’t know you were teaching there.

When Miu was young, I always worried that she would meet you somewhere due to the pull of blood ties, hold your hand, and leave my side. After all, she is a piece of you that I stole.

As Miu grew up, those visions faded. I never expected them to resurface now, hitting me hard in reality!

I saw admiration in Miu’s eyes. A daughter should admire her father. I believed that if you beckoned, Miu would leave me and stay by your side!

I tossed and turned. I had envisioned such a scenario before. In those scenarios, I always forcefully took Miu away, escaping to a place you wouldn’t know! In all my visions, without exception!

But then I hesitated. I didn’t know if I should bind Miu so tightly. She had lived eighteen years without a father. Fate brought her to you. Should I separate you two and make her return to a fatherless life?

In my hesitation, a rare beautiful fantasy arose. I thought I could hide myself. As long as Miu didn’t mention me, you might not guess that Miu is your daughter. This way, Miu would still belong to me, and I could get news of you through her.

My heart raced. I stayed up all night, only dozing off at dawn.

It was my fault!

This is the punishment for coveting what I shouldn’t!

I woke up at noon and called for Miu. There was no answer in the empty house. I went to Miu’s room, and my heart sank.

Miu was lying between the bed and the closet, clutching her chest, eyes closed, her lips pale.

If I hadn’t slept so soundly that morning, I would have heard Miu and sent our daughter to the hospital sooner!

Miu had a heart condition since birth. I can’t remember the name the doctor mentioned. My head hurts badly now. I wish I could smash my head open with a hammer, but I can’t. I have to finish this letter.

Our poor daughter has been taking medication since birth. Her small body was filled with white pills and colorful capsules. She grew up enduring the pain and bitterness of medicine.

The savings left by my parents, the compensation from the company, the royalties from that book, most of my grandmother’s savings, and the money from selling the house in the countryside all went towards buying medicine for Miu.

I had it all calculated! I had it all calculated! The remaining money should have been enough for her medication until she was ninety years old!

But now, it’s not enough. My money is gone because I slept so soundly that morning and didn’t hear Miu.

I called an ambulance and took Miu to the hospital. I missed the best time for rescue. Miu is still alive, but the rest of her life will be spent under hospital care.

My money is gone.

This house is already very dilapidated. Wind seeps in from unknown places, pounding on my spine. I can no longer feel my feet, and my teeth are chattering.

I don’t have money to pay the electricity bill. I don’t need to pay the electricity bill, but my Miu, our daughter, needs to pay for medication, care, and hospital stay… I have no money left. What is the temperature like in the hospital? Did Miu receive the blanket I ordered online?

I am a useless person. I can’t earn money. You taught me how to write books, but I can’t write anymore. If I had money, I could rent a place near the hospital and hire a home care team to look after Miu. Then Miu wouldn’t have to stay in the hospital!

I am writing to you to beg you to take care of Miu, to pay the hospital fees. The hospital’s information is written at the bottom.

If possible, please keep this from Kazumi. I am sorry to her. She knows nothing about Miu.

I am sorry to you, sorry to Miu, sorry to my grandmother, sorry to Kazumi…

By the time you receive this letter, I will have surely died in a corner of this house. This dead woman begs you to save your daughter.”

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