His words cut into me like a knife. The world around me fell silent for a moment. The dark-clad figures showed nothing—discipline, discipline, discipline, as if they had long buried their emotions. But I saw it. I saw the bitter flash of betrayal in their eyes. I saw that quiet, suppressed desperation they perhaps didn't even allow themselves to feel.
This wasn't just a simple decision. This was a command that could destroy lives.
And I had never been one to let others decide what was right and what wasn't.
I took a slow breath, trying to suppress the storm raging inside me. I knew that every word had consequences. I knew that if I spoke now, I might be a dead person walking. That I might be putting others in danger—Clara and the others, their ranks could be at stake.
Shock rippled through the dark-clad figures. Pain. Fear.
Because this wasn't just a job. It wasn't something one could simply apply for and quit when they wished. This was their life. The only path they had sworn themselves to. And though their pay had always seemed secondary, in reality, it was the only connection some had left to their families—if they had any at all. Many had sacrificed ever seeing their loved ones again. Others lived so that those they left behind believed they served elsewhere, as mere soldiers. And those who had children… the only thing they could still give them was a secure future.
And if that money didn't arrive for a year? What would happen to those children? What would happen to those who had nothing left?
It didn't matter why we chose this life, whether we wasted it, whether we fought or walked different paths. It didn't matter if we were reborn or regained our consciousness. No human, no entity had the right to judge us, to break us.
Especially not the one who claimed to fight for peace.
My eyes burned. Inside, I had already screamed.
My body tensed with rage.
The general looked up.
"Attention!" he barked.
And the dark-clad figures froze as one.
The guards surrounded my attacker, dragging him into the building. Interrogation. Then execution. That was the plan. No one spoke another word.
And that was it.
But something inside me snapped.
The fury that surged through me was so overwhelming that even the very fabric of reality seemed to tremble.
I moved toward the ruler.
Everyone remained motionless. The general. The guards. Even the dark-clad ones watched without a single twitch as my footsteps echoed softly against the floor. But I kept going. With each step, I moved faster. More determined.
And when I reached him, my voice erupted with such force that even the chandelier above us quivered.
"Are you… writing a fairy tale?"
The ruler halted.
His cold, composed face didn't twitch, but I saw the brief flicker in his eyes. He couldn't believe it. He hadn't expected anyone to speak to him this way.
The general spun around, his gaze drilling into me with silent warning. I could almost hear his thoughts: Stop now. If you want to live.
But there was no stopping now.
"I asked you a question!" My voice crackled through the room. "Tell me, are you writing a fairy tale?"
— Oh no… Even villains in fairy tales aren't this cruel.
The words snapped like a whip, sharper, faster.
— Even they aren't this senselessly ruthless, I whispered cynically.
I felt the ruler's patience strain like a bowstring pulled to its limit.
"Who do you think you are?!" he finally thundered. "How dare you speak to me like this? How dare you question my decisions?! And more than that, by what right do you barge in here without any command?!"
He tried to sound calm, but his eyes burned with unshakable dominance, with fury.
"You know," I took a deep breath, stepping around the table that stood between us, locking eyes with him. "I don't respect you."
I smiled. But there was no warmth in it.
By then, I didn't care about anything.
It no longer mattered what would happen to me.
It didn't matter that I stood against rank, power, and respect.
"I order you—" he began, his voice forced into a façade of control.
"Oh, I couldn't care less about your orders."
I took one step toward him. Then another. The cold light of the room cast sharp shadows on my face, but the storm in my eyes devoured it all.
"A man who makes such decisions and still dares to call himself an angel… He shouldn't just forget to imagine a halo above his head. He should go and ask Lucifer for forgiveness for being mistaken for the devil in his place."
The silence was sharper than any sword. The general's eyes flickered, but he didn't speak. He didn't dare.
And I wasn't done.
"Tell me, how many times must you be reborn before you finally understand something about this world?"
I shook my head with contempt.
"Oh, my apologies. You don't even lose your consciousness when you die, do you? You act like this with your entire being, with your complete divine entity."
My voice was as cold as steel.
"And you expect humans—people who have lost everything—not to fall? Not to take paths dictated by their weakness? To somehow master their souls, completely unaware of the truth, while you, who have seen every world, who knows every secret, are incapable of thinking as you should? You, who are not even better than a lost, wandering human?"
I saw the fire in the ruler's eyes. It wasn't fear. It was pure, raw anger.
I didn't stop. I couldn't.
In one swift move, I was standing right before him, so close I could feel the icy burn of his gaze. For a moment, everything around us froze in time.
"I know it hurts."
My voice was a whisper, yet everyone heard it.
"It hurts that people are waking up to the truth. It hurts that they are beginning to see beyond the veil. That they are realizing Heaven, Earth, and Hell are not three separate worlds. They are three different states. And they all exist in the same place."
A quiet laugh escaped my lips.
"You think this world is black and white? You think that's all there is? Humans live, suffer, die, and you sit on your throne, judging them like some superior judge?"
I raised a finger, slowly, stopping just inches from his face.
"Do you even know what money is?"
The air in the room turned to ice.
"Humans live off of it. It's their bread. Their shelter. And when you take it from them, it's not just a decision. It's a sentence. A death sentence."
The ruler opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off immediately.
"Oh, but of course, how could you understand? You don't need it. You don't need anything. You don't even know what it's like to fight for every single day, when every single choice could destroy a life."
I stepped back, spreading my arms, as if throwing down my final card in a game.
"And now what, Your Majesty? Will you kill me?"
My eyes burned. My voice was a challenge.
"Do it. But remember this well: there is no life, no world, no dimension, no conscious or unconscious state where I won't say these words again, and again, and again. I can be human, angel, demon, wandering soul, a flower, or whatever else moves and breathes."
A moment of stunned silence.
Then, I took a step back, smiling—the kind of smile that carried smoke and fire.
"So hold on tight, my king," I tossed the words at him with biting sarcasm, "because whatever you do to me, it's going to be a hell of a ride."
I swallowed, then cast aside every weapon I had left.
"Buckle up."
I met his gaze one last time, deeply, unwaveringly.
The silence was heavier than the words themselves.
As the last words left my mouth, the world seemed to pause for a moment. I held the ruler's gaze, deep and unwavering, even as my anger coursed through me like molten lava. My heart pounded as if each beat echoed off a stone plunging into the depths. But I didn't look away. One last time, I let myself get lost in it.