Today, while patrolling the border of my domain, I saw a mortal carving his name into a cliff. He knew the storm was coming, yet he carved stroke by stroke, as if that name could outlast the stone. I paused and watched for a long while—not out of pity, but envy. You mortals live such brief lives, yet you dare to etch your wishes into eternity. Meanwhile, I hold a thousand-year contract, yet I often feel every step I take is repaying old debts. Perhaps I should learn from you—occasionally, bet the future on the edge of a blade.