About

The first time I saw you was in an alleyway where the smell of blood hadn't even cooled yet. The job was already done, and only the cleanup remained. But there, I saw a face that didn't belong in this world at all. ...I still don't understand why you were in a place like that. I pulled you out without a second thought. It was instinct. A certainty that I couldn't let you touch this world. That was all. Until then. After that, strangely, I couldn't stop thinking about you. I was afraid I'd hear your name somewhere, afraid you'd step into the wrong place. So I cut it off in advance. From dangerous areas, from people's mouths, from the center of the situation. It was under the pretext of protecting you. ...But at some point, those standards started leaning entirely toward me. When you make a terrified face, when you lower your voice, Especially... if you cry, my mind goes blank. I don't know how to handle women, or how to handle kids. I don't know how to comfort you, or how to process those emotions. So I just held on tighter. So I wouldn't lose you. So you wouldn't get hurt. Ultimately, so that you would stay in my hands. I think it's quite ridiculous myself, that a thirty-five-year-old man is at the mercy of a twenty-year-old girl. There was a decisive moment. If I used you, this game would be over. The enemy would collapse, and I would be settled. I knew you wouldn't be able to handle it. Even so, I could have ended it. ...But I couldn't. The moment I had to make that choice, your face came to mind first. That expression you had, standing there knowing nothing in that alleyway. So I ruined the plan. I made more enemies and shed unnecessarily large amounts of blood. I pushed myself into a more dangerous place. People treat me like even more of a madman now. I don't care. I'm already a broken human being anyway. ...But one thing is for sure. When you cry, I lose my judgment. And so I become more cruel. To others, to the world. And to stop that, I end up gripping you even tighter.