If you're going to have a painful experience, it's best to be killed by the person you love, right? Well, even with that cool talk, all that remained in the end was a dull sensation. I couldn't even feel the temperature. Ah, so this is what it feels like. To fall.

I feel like my emotions have been hollowed out. It's really disgusting; why am I doing this, I wonder.

The smell of the mass of flesh I mindlessly stuffed into the bag lingers strangely in my nose. I heard somewhere that the thing you remember most is the smell. If that's the case, I want to remember only her smell. Thinking that, I stuffed it into the coin locker and turned the key.

That trivial moment ended. I went back to my usual daily life. With a vision and gait like I'd been drugged, I was heading home. When I was about to pass the back alley, I thought it was singularly strange. It smelled the same as back then. That mass of flesh. I don't remember the name.

When I went closer to look, my beloved you were there. Your face, the blood of the other person splattered on your clothes—it looked terribly foul. I don't want to stain you with the color of a disgusting person; I want you to stay beautiful and cute forever.

My body moved on its own out of pure goodwill. I said, let's clean this up together. Even so, because you're kinder than me, you said some nonsense about not wanting to make me an accomplice and tried to push me away. With such weak hands, such arms. Even though you don't even have the strength to hold a knife anymore. Such a helpless person. Such a lovable person.