~Something must be discarded… so that something else can stay alive.~
1. What Remains of Me
I live for myself alone.
That sentence now echoes like an epitaph inside my head.
I once never imagined I would say it to myself.
I once believed in hands that hold each other.
In the word friend.
In the idea that one human could be a home for another.
Now, all that remains is me—
and the hollow echo bouncing inside my chest.
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2. Trust That Rots
Realizing that no one can be fully trusted
is the beginning of decay.
Not a decay that smells—
but a silent one.
Slow.
Eating away from within.
I used to be optimistic about friendship.
Hiroshi buried that optimism alive.
Since that day, the world is no longer round.
It is cracked.
Tilted.
Dangerous.
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3. The One Made a Scapegoat
I was merely in the wrong place,
at the wrong time.
But for him,
it was an opportunity.
An opportunity to pour all his depravity onto me.
To copy his sins onto my body.
To turn me into a vessel for his hypocrisy.
I thought we were walking side by side.
In truth, he was walking on my back.
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4. Confession in the Interrogation Room
In that narrow room,
between teachers' summons and the ticking wall clock
that sounded like it was counting down my death,
I asked softly:
"Weren't we friends?"
He turned.
Annoyed.
His eyes empty—like someone who had finally stopped pretending to be human.
"I never considered you a friend."
The words fell one by one,
like needles pressed slowly into my nerves.
From the beginning, he said, I was only a tool.
A shadow he had to destroy
so he could appear radiant.
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5. The Hierarchy That Kills
He was jealous.
Bitter.
He hated every praise that fell on me like rain he never felt.
His parents compared us.
From comparison, poison was born.
I became a mirror he wanted to shatter.
Not because I was cruel—
but because I reflected his failures.
Hierarchy.
That was the new god he worshiped.
And I was sacrificed on its altar.
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6. The Villa Stage
Though every life is created equal, though every person is born with the same right to reach for happiness—
to him, the world never worked that way.
Hierarchy was not structure, but a curse passed from one arrogance to another.
It stains the human heart, blinds the conscience,
until compassion rots before it can grow.
That is how he treated me.
Contradiction became conflict.
Friction grew into discrimination.
And slowly, the word light lost its meaning in my life.
I remembered Shakespeare's line:
"The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose."
(Even evil knows how to wear the costume of light.)
Only then did I understand—
I had been surrounded by something that looked holy,
yet my soul was being eroded,
dragged, pulled, and lowered gently
into a hell disguised as brightness.
Now everything is clear.
The villa was not merely a place.
It was a stage.
Hiroshi was the puppeteer.
I was the puppet.
And the world—
the audience.
The theme of the play was simple:
love twisted into betrayal.
And I lost before the curtain even rose.
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7. The Fracture Inside Me
A week ago, there was still a chance
we would spend our youth side by side—
laughing as friends, growing in the same season.
But that hope was nothing more than a bedtime tale—
beautiful for a moment, gone by morning.
Everything collapsed without warning,
like a dream snapped at the edge of waking.
I never truly saw from his point of view.
But ignorance is not an invitation to be condemned.
I may have failed to understand,
but I never intended to become the villain of a wound I did not carve.
"You're the gifted one, right?"
"The smart one, right?"
He laughed—bitter, venomous.
"I'll tear off that mask in front of everyone.
Let them see how empty you really are.
Let them laugh at your fake brilliance.
You're not special.
You're just like everyone else."
His tone was no longer anger—
but satisfaction ripened by hatred.
Only then did I realize with horror:
my existence—without my awareness—
had become a prison for his soul.
And a question opened inside me like a pit:
Was this born from his ego—
or mine?
My smile, my small help, being liked by others—
was it sincerity,
or a subtle way to feel superior?
The questions gave no answers.
Only a hole.
And from that hole,
something began to crawl out.
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8. The Birth of the Monster
Like a painter who intends to use red to create a beautiful sunset,
only to watch it turn into blood instead of light—
blood that was never meant to be a canvas.
I tried to place myself in his position,
to understand how the monster wearing human skin thought and moved.
But once I saw his true aim—dark and cruel—
I knew: redeeming him was impossible.
I drowned in my own emotional tide—
and control collapsed there.
Something rose inside me.
Scratching from behind the bone.
I wanted to lash out, to collide,
like two wild beasts guided only by instinct.
His words awakened something in me—
not just anger,
not just revenge,
but something more primal.
More honest.
More dark.
I stopped caring about everything.
Something had been released within me—
and no one could cage it again.
When his insult struck my chest,
I knew—
it was my turn.
I punched him.
And for one brief second,
I did not feel like a victim.
I felt alive.
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9. A World That Sides with the Liar
He fell.
Cried.
Screamed for help.
Teachers came.
He was embraced.
I was dragged away.
The world saw my clenched fist—
not his lie.
Irony is the cruelest law in the universe.
And that day I learned:
the loudest voice is not the truest—
only the most convincing.
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10. The Monster Did Not Die
I shouted.
I resisted.
I demanded truth.
But truth is fragile
before collective panic.
And the monster—
awakened by his insults—
never went back to sleep.
It lives in my chest.
Quiet.
Waiting.
Recording.
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11. The Knot That Leads to Misaki
Now I know
why Misaki could step so deep into my soul.
Because she is not afraid of that monster.
She does not judge it.
She does not reject it.
She accepts it—
like a house accepts its shadows.
And perhaps—
for the first time since the villa—
I am no longer alone with my darkness.
Or perhaps…
I have just found someone
who understands better how to keep a monster
than how to kill one.