EVENA!!!
I ran.
That day, I ran as far as my leg would carry me. My breath burned. My chest tightened. I didn't know what was chasing me—fear? I just thought one thing:
"Would I die next?"
A scream echoed behind me. I tried to ignore it. I tried to pretend it wasn't real. But everything was wrong.
Why... why did Brother kill everyone?
I reached the temple. The people there looked at me with wide, horrified eyes.
"SHE IS HERE! GRAB HER!"
Then I saw him—Brother's friend. The one who'd killed most of the people already. His eyes locked on me.
Surprise.
Panic.
He moved to grab me.
But the priest reached me first.
"STOP, GODDAMMIT! I DIDN'T MEAN TO HURT THIS CHIL—CHILD! HER PARENTS TOLD ME TO CUT HER LIMB! AND YOU KILLED THEM! WHY ARE YOU KILLING US?"
The man didn't answer.
He just looked at them with the same cold hate that had taken over him. Then he killed more. I covered my eyes, trembling.
The priest ran, holding me tight. His breath was shaky. He muttered something under his breath as we reached the altar.
The snake. The sun. The droplet. The eye.
He screamed. Loud. His voice cracked—something about sacrificing every dead person in the land. I don't remember the exact words. I wish I did.
And then—
Something tore his throat out.
I don't know what it was. I didn't see. I didn't want to see.
I hid in a corner.
Days passed. Maybe weeks. I only knew hunger, darkness, and silence.
When I finally stepped out… the entire island was deserted.
No one in my home.
No one in the temple.
No one.
I found out later—there was a god here. That none of the people here were really "people" anymore.
The ones who remained… tried to help me. But one by one, they were replaced.
Replaced by monsters who wore their faces. Who acted like them. Smiled like them.
The last one to care for me said:
"Don't let anyone leave this place. Kill them."
Kill them.
If I said no, would he hit me?
I didn't want to be hurt.
I'll kill them.
He gave me a coin. Told me to place it on the altar, in the symbol of the eye.
He said, " no one should leave guard the outskirts."
I remember clutching that coin tightly in my fist.
Would I be punished for letting someone escape?
Would I be hurt?
…Is this peace?
Is this what Brother meant?
---
I opened my eyes slowly.
A blade hovered just above me.
I snapped up, arms reacting on instinct, catching the knife with trembling hands.
"Stop… STOP ALREADY, DAMMIT!"
She didn't let go.
She wasn't listening. Or maybe… she couldn't.
"STOP LISTENING TO A PERSON WHO GAVE YOU A COMMAND! HOW LONG DO YOU WANT TO KILL INNOCENTS?!?"
She paused.
Just for a moment.
I could see the cracks forming.
"YOU WANTED PEACE, RIGHT? IS THIS PEACE FOR YOU?"
My voice wasn't loud from rage. It wasn't anger that made me shout.
It was sorrow.
Regret.
I looked down at her leg. Just a stick, strapped where her real one used to be. She was fighting with that. Pushing herself forward with nothing.
And I couldn't hate her.
No child deserved this.
No child is a parent's tool. You're born because they wanted you—but the life you live is yours.
"THEY ARE DEAD. EVERYONE YOU KNOW IS DEAD, EVENA."
"STOP TRYING TO CARRY OUT SOMEONE'S ORDERS. YOU ARE YOUR OWN PERSON, WHO HASN'T EVEN SEEN THIS WORLD."
A tear. Finally. "I don't wanna be hurt…"
"NOBODY IS HURTING YOU. NOT ANYMORE. YOU CAN STOP. YOU CAN LEAVE."
A child—lost before she ever had the chance to be found. Living alone for years. Relying on scraps. Sleeping in silence. Killing because she was told to.
Older than me… yet somehow, still stuck at the moment everything ended.
And me? I had no right to judge her. I had no right to pity her. I only felt her pain—but she lived it. The difference matters.
She may never be okay.
But—
I still hated it. This world.
The visual novel that only showed happiness. The protagonist's paradise. Never once showing the shadows behind the bright life.
That's the nature of stories. They only show the world through one set of eyes. Through the one lucky enough to smile.
But even in paradise, someone is suffering.
Even in heaven, someone is screaming.
And pain? It's not meant to be a comparison. It's meant to be understood—even if we never truly can.
Sometimes, all we can do… is be the shoulder someone leans on.
That's what I'll be.
I stood up.
Reached out my hand.
Smiled.
She stared at it. Slowly… she took it.
She didn't know anything else. Killing was all she knew—because it meant not being hurt.
How ironic. To have the power to destroy pain itself… and yet be so afraid of it.