CHAPTER 2: THE ILLNESS

“I went to the hospital today,” Claribel told him one night, as she sat on a rock beside him.

“What did they say?”

“They said my body is getting tired. Like a little candle flickering before it goes out.

Mom cried. Dad just stared at the floor.”

The demon listened, as always, in silence.

“Why is this happening to me?” she asked, her voice trembling.

He sighed, even though he didn’t need to breathe.

“Diseases aren’t punishments. They’re part of a world that was never built to last.

Some people get them by chance. Others, by inheritance. No one deserves them—but sometimes, they come anyway.”

“What if I don’t want to die?”

“No one does. But death isn’t the enemy, even though it hurts.

Sometimes… it just comes to embrace those who are tired.”

She looked at him carefully.

“You’re death.”

“No. I’m the one who announces her. Like a lantern keeper in the fog.”

After sitting with that answer for a while, without fully grasping it, she asked again:

“Why doesn’t my mom sing anymore?”

She didn’t hesitate—just tossed a few tiny stones into a puddle as she spoke.

The demon stood beside her, leaning against a crooked lamppost.

“Sometimes, sadness covers the music,” he replied.

“But she used to sing to me, even when I was sick…”

“She thought there would be more time back then.

Now, she’s afraid it might run out. And that… that’s heavy.”

Claribel lowered her head.

“Do they see me as someone who’s going to leave?”

“They love you. But love—when it hurts—can sometimes look like fear.”

“I don’t want them to be afraid… I just want them to laugh again.”

The demon looked at her.

“Maybe you can show them how.”