Eight Years Ago
Inside a humble rural home, two figures lay on the floor, covered in deep gashes and drenched in blood. They appeared to be an adult man and woman, likely between twenty-five and thirty years old. Standing before them, his clothes torn to shreds, was a young boy, paralyzed with agony at the sight.
He was sobbing uncontrollably, mourning their deaths. He was covered in blood, just like the walls and furniture around him. He wiped his face to clear the tears, but it was futile; the crying would not stop. It was too much suffering for a child to bear. He couldn't take it anymore.
The scene cuts back to Bill, writhing in pain. By now, his clothes had completely vanished, leaving him naked.
The tattered remains of fabric lay on the floor as he sweated so profusely that droplets pooled on the ground.
The lights began to flicker as he lashed out against the wall, until they finally failed, plunging the room into darkness.
A slender creature teleported into the mansion, appearing right in Bill's room. It flashed a wide grin and extended its hand toward him.
Six Years Ago
A filthy boy stood alone on the street, consumed by sadness. Some passersby looked at him with contempt, while others felt a flicker of pity. Then, a woman approached.
She had long red hair and wore a red long-sleeved shirt with blue jeans. She reached out to the boy with a soft smile. He took her hand and stood up. Hand in hand, they began to walk together.
Four Years Ago
The boy opened the door to a house. He wore a school uniform and carried a backpack, a bright smile lighting up his face. Sitting at a table, the same woman in the red shirt stood up, approached him, and opened her arms for a hug.
Overjoyed, the boy embraced the woman he now considered his mother. She was raising him alone, and she was doing so effortlessly.
Two Years Ago
The boy had grown into a teenager—cheerful, mischievous, and full of life. His energy was infectious at school, and people always spoke of him fondly.
He was surrounded by friends who truly cared for him. One day, while standing in the school hallway, a girl approached and kissed him. He placed his hands on her waist as they shared that moment of love. But then, the vision shifted—she was dead on the floor, killed as brutally as the two adults from his past. He collapsed, cradling her lifeless body.
At home, his mother comforted him through the loss. As he wept, she held him in a tight, consoling embrace.
Then, suddenly, she too was on the floor... dead, her body mutilated, blood staining the ground.
After that day, the boy fled. He isolated himself from the world, terrified that anyone who got close to him would meet a terrible fate. His solitary life, intended as a refuge, only served to prolong his suffering.
On a night with a full moon, deep in the forest, the boy—dirty and malnourished after days without food—simply stared in awe at the lunar glow.
"People are destined to suffer, regardless of whether their lives are good or bad. Some give up because of their pain; others use it to grow stronger. I do neither."
Present Day
That same boy now possessed only a vast mansion, one guest, and a loyal butler as his only friend. He was in a room with metallic walls, the place he called his "bedroom." The lights were out, and before him stood the slender creature, reaching out its hand.