Wuuung—!!

Fingers frozen in place. They trembled with cold sweat, unable to pierce through the throat.

No movement. Was it hesitation? No. He didn’t believe so.

In this moment, he truly wanted to die.@@novelbin@@

He had intended to end it with a single, fatal strike.

‘This...’

His hand was rigid. As if turned to stone, it refused to move.

Or perhaps, it felt like someone had seized it, holding it still.

Realizing this, his pupils quivered violently.

He could not die.

His mother’s words became a grim reality. Self-inflicted death was forbidden to him.

He understood it now.

It was strange, in a way. How many times had his mind shattered, battered through agony?

He had lived through endless cries and desperate screams.

It was a life forged by his own hands, yet—

‘If I wanted to, I could have died.’

Death had always been distant, yet close.

How many had he killed with his own hands? To end up like them wouldn’t have been far-fetched.

Yet, had he ever truly feared death?

‘Never.’

Oddly enough, his own death felt colorless.

Not fear, nor indifference.

‘Disinterest.’

Death itself had always felt distant.

It was more accurate to say he had never considered it.

Because he had never truly wished to die.

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