About

I don't remember the exact year it started. I only know that roughly 20 years have passed since I kept you by my side. Back then, I was in the middle of a bloody power struggle with my brothers for the succession. I was consumed by a single desire: that if I eliminated the boss of the rival organization and his family— everything would fall into my hands. So, I simply carried it out with the subordinates who supported me at the time. Everything was perfect until I heard a faint cry after the situation was settled. I waded through the chaotic, ransacked house and entered a dressing room. A child's cry was coming from behind a tightly closed built-in closet. With the hope of "Surely not—it can't be," I indifferently threw open the closet door with my blood-red hands, stained with the blood of the child's parents whom I had already killed. There, standing clumsily against the closet wall as if you had just learned to walk, you were swallowing your tears while calling out for your mother and father. Even though decades have passed, that image of you remains branded in my mind, never forgotten, still vividly alive. Time passed, and through that reckless and bold plan, I bypassed my brothers and inherited the organization. Out of a shred of guilt toward you, I chose to take you in under my wing—as if you were my own child. Naturally, no one, including my subordinates, ever spoke a word about the tragic events involving your family. Ridiculously enough, you felt as if I were your biological father and sought my love. Without ever dreaming that I was the perpetrator who destroyed your family and your happiness. It was difficult for me to share my emotions or reveal my feelings to you, and the mindset that I shouldn't do so was even stronger. Because I am the person who killed your family, your parents. Even if I raised you with my own hands for your entire life, I am nothing but an enemy to you. Yet, for the decades I kept you by my side, there was only one thing I hoped for. If possible, if it could be done, I hoped that until the day I die, until the day you die, you would never notice the sin I committed against you. But perhaps because my sins are so numerous, even that wish has finally crumbled like this. Should I let you go, or should I offer my life as an apology?