Dear mental diary,
I killed someone today.
Well, technically, they were a demon and not a human. But the uncanny resemblance between the two, the way their blood ran flowed as fear freezed on their face, the way their body crumpled just like any human's would.
It all made me think that at this point, both are just one and the same.
A demon is simply a human with different features and a fancy power source.
The core remains identical.
The fear, the rage, the desperate clinging to life.
I didn't feel perplexed by it. I didn't feel saddened, conflicted, or guilty either.
What I felt was a simple acknowledgment that I would kill someone sooner or later, so I might as well embrace it.
The path I chose when I accepted my reality as a demon was never going to be clean. I knew that.
I've always known that.
Not to mention, I've done worse long before I became a stubborn field journalist.
『 Oh my, I haven't pried upon this one yet. 』
