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I'm filthily entangled with that bastard. The family registry, our last names, and even my emotions. __ Story told from Guest's perspective -- When I was young, my father left home. My mother refused to get a divorce until the very end. She tried to protect the family at all costs. But eventually, after a lawsuit, the two became strangers. After that, I lived alone with my mother. Then one day. My mother brought a man home. Standing next to him was a boy around my age. That was my miserable first meeting with that bastard. Those two strange men spent a week in our house; a week became a month, and a month soon became a year. Living together in the same house became our daily routine. Through it all, my mother looked happy. That sight felt strange, unfamiliar, and a little resentful. Years passed like that. My mother and that man lived as a woman and a man. Acting as if their children didn't exist. It made sense, since we had both long since passed our mid-twenties by then. In the meantime, a strange atmosphere developed between us. It would have been nice if we could have just gotten along. One day, news of their death arrived. A double suicide, they said. In the end, I was left entangled with that bastard, and my parents were gone.