I found my sister.

She's alone in the innermost room.

My sister hasn't seen sunlight for a year, and her bones shatter at the slightest touch.

My sister is made of sweet flowers and honey, and she melts under high temperatures.

My sister lies in a huge pot, flames blazing, and her body slowly dissolves.

I can't see if her expression is one of pain or happiness. I try hard to distinguish my sister's face, but I can no longer find her nose and mouth, only a pair of wide-open eyes staring at me.

Those are my sister's eyes.

A few hours ago, those eyes couldn't bear to look at me.

That was our final farewell.

"Sister!"

I shout loudly, tears dripping into the pot, dissolving into the ointment.

The ointment in this pot is my dear sister's body.

Finally, I understand why the secret of the ointment is unknown to outsiders, even the village chief.

Finally, I understand why the ointment women are different every year.

And finally, I understand why the ointment women can only consume flower nectar and flower dew within a year, unable to bask in the sun.

Without the sun, the ointment women's bones become fragile, crumbling at the slightest touch.

Consume flower nectar, drink flower dew, and the ointment women's bodies turn into flowers, easily melting under high temperatures.

My sister is alone in a pot because she is the finest and sweetest ointment.

Sister, when you turned into ointment,

were you delighted to become the best ointment woman?

Or did you regret losing your life because of it?