"If you stare at the devil for too long, at some point it will stare back from within you."
1. Hatred I Forced to Take Root
I have to hate him.
Completely.
Without anything left.
I keep repeating it in my mind, yet forced hatred always feels like lying to my own heartbeat.
My thoughts waver,
filled with visions of a future that may never exist.
Those fears grow wild—
punishing me for things
that haven't even happened yet,
as if today's suffering isn't already enough.
I hesitate.
And that hesitation is shameful.
Just moments ago, I even wondered:
what if all of this is wrong?
That thought is like mud—
sticky,
dragging my feet away from the edge of the cliff
where I should have been standing long ago.
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2. The Fragility I Despise
I am weak.
And that weakness disgusts me.
Guilt clings like a scent that refuses to fade.
Not only toward Hiroshi…
but toward myself.
For a moment I wished to be replaced—
by anyone—
so I wouldn't have to be the one making this decision.
But that is the most cowardly fantasy I've ever nurtured.
No one can replace another person.
And God does not grant a life this long only for it to be handed over to someone else.
This is my life.
This is my mission.
And I alone must finish it.
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3. The Fate We Choose Ourselves
If I am your fate to hate,
then you are the fate I choose to hate.
We stand on intersecting lines of life
only to tear each other apart.
I was once above.
Now I am below.
He once hid in the shadows.
Now he stands under the light.
We traded positions.
But one thing never changed:
we still see each other as enemies who must fall.
Everything becomes clear—
not through light, but through the hatred we both nurture.
We do not live to make peace,
but to remind each other that the wound is real.
Perhaps from the very beginning,
our connection was never meant to save,
only to destroy.
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4. The Final Mistake Called Peace
It means I truly must hate you.
Not merely dislike—
but strip your existence of all worth.
I look down on you.
Not because I am more right,
but because I choose to stand on your ruins.
From a higher place—
a place safe from touch,
where I can breathe without guilt,
even relax while watching your collapse.
And there I realize fully:
I never saw you as an equal opponent.
You are not an enemy.
You are something to be stepped on
so I can remain standing.
Yet inside me, amid all this rot,
there is still a voice tearing at itself—
not mercy,
but the last instinct begging me to stop.
Not because this is wrong,
but because if I continue,
there will be no way back.
And I still had time to dream of the most foolish thing:
making peace with him.
Ending everything cleanly.
Without ruin.
That mindset is disgusting.
Naive.
Unfit for a world like this.
Not every story allows a clean ending.
Some are destined to end stained.
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5. A Monster in Human Skin
Every second with him is a blade.
His face—
revolting, like sin that was never buried.
His voice—
hoarse, cracked by resentment rotting too long in the throat.
His groan—
no longer human,
but the cry of a degraded beast.
What stands before me
doesn't even deserve to be called an enemy.
Lower than trash—
because trash is at least honest about its decay.
By that measure, if I must classify myself today—
I am not a good person.
Not entirely evil either.
I am only this:
a monster in human skin who once learned how to be good.
And this monster…
hates Hiroshi with a clarity that feels almost sacred.
As the saying goes:
The devil makes devils.
Playing with a devil does not teach you how to survive.
It only teaches you
how to become a new one.
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6. A Decision With No Way Back
At my feet lies an empty liquor bottle.
Glass.
Blunt.
But enough to end one life—
or change two lives forever.
My hand trembles.
Not from fear.
But because I know:
once I swing—
whatever remains of me will shatter with it.
But I am not who I used to be.
I no longer overthink.
No longer weigh right and wrong.
I think only one thing:
this is where I stop running.
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7. The Sound That Breaks a World
The bottle rises.
Time stretches itself
as if giving me one last chance to regret.
I don't take it.
When the glass strikes—
the sound is not just the bottle breaking,
but the collapse of who I used to be.
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8. Closing – The Birth of Resolve
Blood.
Shattered glass.
Choking breath.
In the middle of it all, I stand.
Not screaming.
Not crying.
I feel only one thing, now painfully clear:
I am no longer walking into the darkness.
I have become part of it.