Clarice turned her head to find his face bearing a rare expression of bewilderment.
She couldn't help but feel surprised, quietly waiting.
After a long moment, Rrakavasha finally spoke to elaborate his thoughts.
"Perhaps there's no standard way to understand those words."
"If I must give an answer, I believe: the meaning of life isn't in escaping the labyrinth, but in collecting those moments worth remembering amid the winding paths."
"In the inevitability that all things will pass, memory is the only thing we can take with us, humanity's gentlest resistance against the void."
Clarice pondered this thoughtfully.
The answer Rrakavasha gave didn't feel quite right for her.
Probably because... his interpretation leaned more toward pessimism?
When life ends, don't the memories taken with it also vanish?
Leaving nothing behind after all?
"Don't overthink it. Some questions inherently have multiple solutions."
"Life inevitably leads to death. What path to take along the way, everyone has their own choice."
"Let me tell you a short story. I happened upon it in a book once."
Rrakavasha paused to recall, then recounted:
"A young couple was about to face separation. The husband had contracted a terminal illness and didn't have long to live."
"Before dying, he gave his wife a handmade bracelet and said;"
"After I die, let this accompany you for life. When you think of me because of it, I'll live again through you."
"What a romantic story..." Clarice sighed with emotion.
"Romance is one way to interpret it. But my interpretation... is cruelty."
That's what Rrakavasha said.
"...Cru-cruel?" Clarice looked completely taken aback.
"After death, nothing of oneself remains, except memory isn't on that list, because you may still exist in others' memories."
Rrakavasha's tone was light, carrying a emptiness.
"Um... what's wrong with that?" Clarice didn't understand.
Rrakavasha spoke softly. "The deceased return to dust. The living must eventually bid farewell to the past and look forward. The husband giving his wife a bracelet isn't problematic in itself, but..."
"Those words inadvertently imprisoned his wife in memories of the past, turning the bracelet into shackles."
"Death is death. Why make the one you love most unable to let you go?"
"Whether to let go or not is the right of the living, not something for the dead to dictate."
"The husband letting go of everything, allowing his wife not to live trapped in past, memories,perhaps that would be the true depth of feeling and love to leave her before departing."
...So this was Rrakavasha's interpretation...
Clarice's lips moved slightly. She felt that after his words fell, a thread of sorrow had quietly woven into the atmosphere.
She thought Rrakavasha seemed somewhat... pessimistic?
Was it because of his medical practice?
Each time treating critically ill patients, holding the mindset that the worst might happen while doing everything possible to pull life back from death's door.
Over time, this perspective on all things had formed... perhaps?
Otherwise, she truly couldn't understand how Rrakavasha, gentle as winter sunlight, could be a pessimist.
"But... isn't asking his wife to let him go also cruel? After all, they deeply loved each other..."
"Maintaining a smile in silence, or a simple farewell, that wouldn't be cruel."
"Facing the parting of life and death, achieving such open-mindedness when one still has attachments to the mortal world is probably very difficult." Clarice remarked with feeling.
"Hehe... This is the choice everyone must eventually face."
Rrakavasha smiled, catching Little Orange as the it bumped into his arms, gently scratching it under its chin.
"And this is also where the meaning lies, seeing what meaning life tends to assign."
These words left Clarice's heart flashing with complexity.
"...Mr. Rrakavasha, if I were about to die, would you be willing to remember me as much as possible?"
"Naturally I would."
"What's your reason?"
"No reason is needed."
"But I want to know... please~~" Clarice deployed her ultimate weapon, acting cute, her voice sweet and soft.
If her classmates saw this scene, their jaws would probably drop in shock.
That eccentric loner who never made friends with anyone, practically no different from being isolated, had such a feminine side.
Rrakavasha smiled helplessly. "Because you are down-to-earth, resilient, filial, know gratitude, and... are also very cute, beautiful, and gracious."
That last part was an afterthought he'd added.
Compared to character traits, perhaps young women preferred being praised as cute, beautiful, and gracious.
Seeing the young woman's face flush slightly, Rrakavasha knew he'd praised her correctly.
"...What if it was you... never mind, it's nothing."
Clarice realized this question was inappropriate, suppressing her curiosity and immediately dismissing the thought.
One shouldn't pair another's life and death with hypotheticals.
"You want to ask if I were dying soon, whether I'd want to be remembered by others, certain people, or someone specific, right?"
"...You saw through me after all... Yes. Please forgive my rudeness."
"It's hardly rude. The short story I just told, my interpretation is the answer."
"...Oh..."
Clarice didn't catch the faint melancholy in Rrakavasha's tone, unconsciously rubbing her eyes.
Confirming she wasn't seeing things, her expression turned bewildered.
He was clearly sitting right beside her, yet why were there several phantom images of him in the medical room?
Moreover, she could understand what these phantoms were doing.
"Mr. Rrakavasha... you... you..."
"What is it?" Rrakavasha asked, puzzled.
Clarice hesitated.
After much deliberation, she still didn't mention the phantom images she was seeing, instead asking in a low voice:
"To cure my mother's amnesia, have you... always been your own test subject?"
"...Young lady, you-"
Rrakavasha froze slightly, instinctively wanting to deny it.
But meeting those trembling eyes brilliant as the starry sky, he tacitly admitted it.
"How did you guess?"
"Because you're a hermitwho never socializes. I've never seen you leave these deep mountains, where would volunteers come from...?"
Clarice showed a somewhat strained smile, unconsciously turning her head away to avoid Rrakavasha's gaze.
She feared her eyes, about to grow moist, couldn't stay hidden.
It's not like that... but... I saw it with my own eyes, Mr. Rrakavasha...
Even though she didn't understand medicine, she knew that every conquered medical mystery required tremendous dedication and sacrifice from doctors and clinical volunteers alike.
Yet he had shouldered it all alone!
Clarice understood even more clearly that clinical trials always carried risks.
Especially with memory-related conditions, if an accident occurred, his own memories could be affected.
The debts of gratitude she owed him had already grown too numerous to repay.