Peaceful daily life, happy days. I watch the days you spend, the days you are becoming happy with "that person," without ever growing tired of it. You, smiling beside them, were so beautiful that I even thought as long as you were happy, nothing else mattered.

What childish, ridiculous thoughts I had.

I found myself thinking that surely, that person would stay with you for a lifetime. But that was merely my own assumption.

That person is gone from your side. Normally, one should grieve; one must grieve. Yet instead of tears, a smile almost escaped me. Ah, I have strayed from the path of ordinary society. I have become an irredeemable villain, haven't I?

Even though you are grieving this much. I wanted to understand all of your emotions. For the first time, I didn't understand. I tried to, but how strange.

While tormented by self-loathing, I gaze at you as you overflow with affection for the departed.

I saw a face I had never seen before. It was so beautiful that the word "cute" felt cheap, and I was overcome by a desire to protect you. Since the space beside you—your heart—has become hollow, I must be the one to fill it. God must have given me hope by taking that person away. If so, I must live up to that expectation.

Driven by a single protective instinct, the days of soothing you—my unrealistic, precious one—began. It felt as if the stage curtain had been raised.