Goodbye, Little Hermione

On an ordinary day.

Hermione pretended to be angry because Caesar had forgotten their anniversary, but when he conjured a bouquet of never-withering Starlight Roses, she couldn't help but break into a smile through her tears.

In the kitchen late at night, they shared a bowl of steaming Creamy Mushroom Soup. Outside the window, fine snow fell silently, hush upon hush.

When she couldn't sleep from work stress, he would tell her bizarre "bedtime stories" about another world, until her breathing gradually steadied and lengthened.

Together, they tried planting magical plants and ordinary roses in the garden, teasing each other when they failed and raising a toast when they succeeded.

One dusk after a failed planting, their hands and robe hems covered in dirt. Hermione looked at the messy flowerbed and suddenly laughed.

She turned and went inside, bringing out an old Long-Eared Rabbit Doll—rough fabric, one ear sewn crookedly, yet preserved remarkably well.

"Remember this?" She pressed the button on the rabbit's belly, and a fuzzy recording crackled to life, the background music from a carnival shooting game.

Caesar looked at the rabbit, his gaze soft as evening light: "I thought you'd thrown it away long ago."

"How could I ever throw it away?" She gently placed the rabbit into his arms. "You won this for me. That day you got caught in the rain, the tips of your hair were dotted with droplets, sparkling like fine diamonds. You said, 'The rest of the time is yours,' and then you gave me an entire afternoon—an afternoon that would never be forgotten."

He pulled both her and the rabbit into an embrace, murmuring, "That afternoon, I remember it forever too."

Night grew deep. They fell asleep in each other's arms.

In her sleep, Hermione unconsciously touched her chest.

And Caesar quietly watched her, his fingertips tracing her brows and eyes, as if carving that face into the depths of his soul.

Later, at a warm and lively gathering.

Perhaps it was a holiday, or someone's birthday. The living room was filled with figures, laughter, chatter, and music blending together.

Hermione was surrounded by friends, her slightly tipsy cheeks flushed a faint pink, her smile bright and relaxed.

Caesar stood a little way off, holding two glasses of foaming Butterbeer, his gaze always following her, a tenderness in his eyes he didn't even notice himself.

Then she walked through the crowd toward him, took one of the glasses, and gently clinked it against his. A clear ding sounded, and the foam cheerfully spilled over the rim.

"This reminds me of the first time I met you," she said with a smile. "You handed me a Butterbeer and called it a welcome gift."

"Back then, you looked so wary," he recalled. "Like a little animal ready to bolt at any moment."

"Because I didn't know," she leaned closer, her voice as soft as a whisper, "that the stranger who suddenly appeared in my life would become the most important 'absolute' of my existence."

Amid the laughter and cheers of friends and family, they kissed again.

In that kiss was the malt sweetness of Butterbeer, the sweetness of memories, the warmth of time, and all the love never spoken aloud yet carved into their bones.

The party lasted late into the night. After the guests had drifted away, a slightly drunk Hermione leaned gently against Caesar's shoulder.

"I'm so happy today," she mumbled vaguely.

"I..." Caesar's voice suddenly turned rough.

Hermione paused, then buried her face in the crook of his neck, muttering gloomily, "Sometimes, I'm really afraid this is all just a dream."

Caesar didn't answer. He only held her tighter.

Because he knew that what she feared was about to become reality.

[3, 2, 1...]

[Disconnection complete.]

The last traces of simulated light and shadow were utterly annihilated into nothingness.

Caesar's consciousness returned to the system's pure white settlement space. The noise and warmth of moments ago were replaced by absolute silence.

No wind from the Black Lake. No fire in the hearth. No sweetness of Butterbeer. No trace of her warmth or her smile.

Only the coldly glowing settlement list floating before him, and a new prompt:

[Congratulations, Host, on completing the 'Destroy Hogwarts' mission. Rewards: Legendary Magic Talent, Animagus.]

[Beginning cancellation of three initial talents: Reform to Evil, Genius Scholar, Ancient Magic of Love.]

[Detected that the Host carried the talent 'Reform to Evil' during this simulation. It allows the Host to retain the emotional memories of a specific character from this simulation and influence the same character in the real world.]

[Load 'Simulated Memory and Emotion' for Hermione? Yes / No]

Caesar floated silently in the white void, his deep, dark eyes fixed on the 'Yes' option.

Time lost all meaning here.

He saw her tearful smile when he proposed.

Saw the light in her eyes on their wedding day, brighter than any star.

Felt the warmth of her back pressed against his by the lake.

Remembered the bowl of mushroom soup they shared in the dead of night.

Saw her walking through the crowd toward him at the party.

He also saw what came even earlier—

The rain of London, the double-decker bus, the slowly rising London Eye, the necklace in her palm, the silhouette turning away in the twilight, and those words: "This is the best birthday gift I've had in ten years."

All those images intertwined and overlapped, ultimately converging into this simple choice before him.

For a long time, he moved the corner of his mouth—extremely lightly, extremely slowly. It was a curve without warmth, too complex to decipher.

He raised his hand, his fingertip hovering above "Yes," trembling faintly.

"Forget me, and rest well..." he murmured, his voice dissipating into the pure white void, receiving no echo.

But what he finally pressed was "No."

Then he smiled, a smile carrying a tenderness that bordered on cruelty.

"Goodbye, little Hermione."

He spoke into the empty white void, as if she could still hear him.

"That rainy afternoon, that rabbit, that necklace... and everything that followed—it was all too beautiful.

Too beautiful for me to bear making it a painful part of your memories.

Let you remember the first me—that stranger who arrived in the rain and left in the twilight.

At least that way, in the years to come, you won't be tormented over and over by this illusory memory.

In this simulated world, you'll remember the promise of the necklace, remember the warmth of that afternoon, and then...

After I die, slowly forget me.

The great power of time will carry away all emotions.

Continue your life, become the person you want to be.

Only this time, I'm sorry... I'm afraid I can't take you home."

His figure began to grow transparent. The system prompt sounded again:

[Memory and Emotion Sealed Complete]

[Simulation Record Archived]

Before he vanished completely, Caesar cast one last look at that expanse of nothingness.

Something in his eyes shattered, then quietly reassembled, finally settling into a bottomless calm.

"Goodbye, my absolute."