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Chapter 9 - Buried Alive in Hatred

I drove back home, the car stopping in front of the house.

I stepped out slowly, my head pounding with pain.

I walked to the door, my breath heavy.

I unlocked it, entered, and dragged myself to the bathroom.

I needed to wash away this dust.

I stripped off my clothes, standing before the sink.

The water poured down on my face—

but I couldn't feel it.

Had my body dried up?

Or was it that nothing remained in me but pain?

I turned my eyes toward the mirror.

And froze.

My body… it had changed. So much.

I leaned closer, staring at my hand.

It trembled, but it pulsed with something unknown.

> "This hand… what is it capable of?

Is this power… only flesh and bone? Or something darker?"

The only relief—

my eyes had returned to their natural state.

I left the bathroom, heading to my room.

To speak with my solitude.

> "How will I ever find him?

Ah… my head hurts from thinking."

I looked at my phone… then set it aside.

Changed my clothes.

And stepped out into the night.

---

> "Why… do I feel nothing in my heart?

Why… does my chest feel like a barren desert, cracked with time?"

Every day passed emptier than the last.

I watched people around me—

moving, laughing, living.

> "Are they truly human?

Each one of them carries sins, yet they smile, they prosper…

But me?

What sin chained me to this hell?"

Tears fell down my face.

> "Are these tears… the last trace of my humanity?"

… Silence.

The world around me stopped.

The dark street stared back at me.

I lowered my head, still.

My face—pale, drained of life.

My fingers trembled.

Not from the cold… but from the fire burning in my veins.

Then, a whisper tore out of my broken chest:

> "I did not die…

I was buried alive, bleeding hatred."

Silence returned—

heavy, suffocating, as if the world itself held its breath.

Then… a sound.

Thin. Faint. Inhuman.

It was as if the earth whispered beneath my feet:

> "They took everything from you…

So take everything from them.

Let them die slowly."

My heart quivered—

not from fear…

but because something within me had awakened.

I raised my head…

and no humanity remained in my eyes.

Only one thing.

> A shadow waiting for vengeance.

---

I wandered without aim… until I found myself in the old city park.

I sat on a bench, my head bowed.

> "That voice…

Was it really me?

Was it my rage speaking?

Was it my soul begging for vengeance?

Or… am I only afraid of killing?"

I sat there—uncertain, trembling.

> "Who am I?

What do they believe in?

What do I believe in?"

Time passed.

Night fell.

I drifted to a cheap tavern nearby—

a place where people drowned themselves in false joy.

I sat at a table.

The bartender approached.

> "Sir, what's your order?"

I stared at him blankly.

> "Ah… anything."

He looked at me with contempt.

A glance sharp enough to judge me.

> "If you can't pay, then leave."

I clenched my teeth.

> "What…?

Do you think I'm broke because of my clothes?

Don't test me."

He smirked faintly.

> "As you wish."

He turned to leave.

> "Wait."

My voice cut through the air.

> "Bring me your most expensive drink.

And make sure someone worthy of me serves it."

The bartender's eyes narrowed.

He stared at me, irritation boiling in his face.

> "Fine."

And then, he disappeared into the back.

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