The very second I reappear in the lobby, I unceremoniously drop to my knees, though I don’t quite have the strength to do anything more drastic.

What… what is… what did I… how did… why…?

My hands touch the brand on my chest. The twinge of pain comforts me. My gaze falls to the floor. WHITE. Smooth, obsidian-like WHITE. I need… I need to paint the lobby. The inviting monotony of the task brings a smile to my face, and I slit a line across my palm, as I always do. Thick, half-coagulated blood seeps out. With my paint secured, I press my hand against the floor, sweeping it to the left and right, covering the little area beneath me with dark RED. On my hands and knees, I paint. Back and forth. It’s difficult. I don’t bleed much anymore.

Back, and forth. Back, and forth. Back, and forth, and…

My vision goes dim. Little droplets hit the half-painted floor beneath me, watering down the paint. Wh—what is…?

I wipe at my face, smearing myself with blood and… Tears? I’m… crying. Why? What is there to cry about?

I smile. It doesn’t work. It keeps falling into a bitter frown. But I don’t want to frown.

He got better. Isn’t that wonderful? Goss got better! With the way he’s been acting around Fr. Moonlight, it’s only obvious that this was what he wanted. Or, at the very least, what he needed. Becoming a four-winged dragon wouldn’t have solved anything. Not really. It would just have made him worse—more disconnected from those he loves, less sympathetic to the pain of those around him, quicker to cruelty…

I grit my teeth. Below me, atop the small bloodied part of the floor, my hands ball into fists. Dark blood oozes from between my clenched fingers.

He’s better. He got better. He did everything he did, he hurt everyone he did, he was as bad as he was, and…

And he got better. Despite it all. No… because of it all?

I don’t know. I don’t get it. I feel like such an idiot.

I’m happy for him! I’m glad that he turned out better! Everything went well!

And yet… And yet…!

The world turns blurry again. I wipe at my face, but I keep crying. That’s dumb. That’s so dumb. How pathetic can I get, envying my own brother?

It’s so stupid.

He got better. Why haven’t I?

Haven’t I done everything I could? Did I go wrong somewhere? Is there some sin in there, some crime I can’t even remember, that makes me unforgivable, while he isn’t? Which sin is the unforgivable one? Or is it all of them? Am I simply worse than him?

Why can’t I just be happy for him?

Always making it about myself. Am I pathetic or what? And Goss had the gall to thank me for what I did for him? If I hadn’t shown up, he’d never have had to kill Ymir to begin with! I haven’t—

I choke on a sob.

—I haven’t done anything to be thanked for! All I do—all I’ve ever done—is be a burden on people! Even now, because of my damn cowardice, I can’t even bring myself to tell Moleman I’m alive and well! What the hell am I afraid of? It certainly isn’t him!

My breath quivering, I try to resume painting. Monotony comforts me. The rhythm calms my aching chest. If I’m doing this, I don’t have to think. But I still end up thinking. There’s so little RED now. Barely enough to cover up the all-consuming WHITE. I’m scared. I’m scared of… of what might be. Not what is. Right now, Moleman is my friend. Even though I’m me, he’s still my friend.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

But you can only hurt someone so much. At some point, they’ll have to draw the line.

It’s starting to feel inevitable. It’ll happen sometime. I can feel it. He hates me, and he doesn’t even know it yet.

Goss had a clean slate. Tabula rasa. He didn’t have anyone from his before-life to hang around. No lingering ghosts in the attic. Just him and the endless WHITE future.

Breathing heavily, I continue streaking blood across the floor, RED staining my knees and feet. A bit more. Just a bit more.

I wonder if Ymir knew. Maybe that’s why he went along with our ridiculous plan, to begin with.

Maybe, deep inside, he hoped that if he let Goss kill him, then Goss would become a four-winged dragon, and everything Ymir believed about himself would be proven. For people like him, being unforgivable is the same thing as being forgiven.

But now, he’s dead. It doesn’t feel real. Not in that he’s dead, but rather in that he doesn’t feel as though he ever lived. He was just a dragon. Another piece of flesh that happened to be in motion most of the time. Animate, then inanimate. Little difference. With this, he’s dead, and nothing he did, said or was matters anymore. He could have been the most virtuous creature on the planet and it wouldn’t have changed anything. He’d still be dead.

So, it doesn’t matter.

I pause at the base of a pillar. Still on my knees, I look up, finding a poster of a kitten staring down at me with big, sparkling eyes. ‘Hang in there!’

…I need to find some way to get out of this place. Permanently. If my bleeding immunity gets higher, I might not be able to completely paint this place within twenty-four hours. The poster does remind me of the skills I got for clearing the floor, though. Skills that I can’t even bring myself to gloat about.

<[Sacrament of Passage (Lv.MAX)]

By the request of the Goddess of Dragons,

Hell Challenger Lo Fennrick

is granted passage atop and across

all holy land without the need to heed

requirements or penalties.

[SOVEREIGN SKILL]>

<[Dragon Heart Lite (Lv.MAX)]

Just like a dragon, your heart glows!>

…Yeah. If you’re wondering, I checked the latter one by opening up my chest, and, as advertised, it glows. Faintly, but still. Even if I could level it up, I don’t think… Actually, no, if it could level up, that’s what I would be doing right now. But it can’t, so I’m not.

The first one, though…

‘As a one-time courtesy to show my gratitude,’ she had said. I was a bit distracted by Goss transforming into a literal one-winged angel to really care, but now that I’m looking at it… It’s actually a sovereign skill. A proper one. Though, with the limited area of usage, I’ll assume that it’s in the same class as [Innocent Adoration].

I turn to look at my now-healed feet.

…I can’t believe that worked. I was only fifty-fifty on it not killing me. Then again, had it failed, I wouldn’t have had to mind anything going on anymore, so it was a win-win for me.

I just… When I saw Goss hurting Fr. Moonlight, covered in RED and viscera, biting at his own wings… I don’t know. Something came over me. I acted before thinking.

If I’d let him bite off both wings, then maybe…

I shake my head. It doesn’t matter. He got better, I’m here, and… And that’s it.

Nothing else really matters.

For some reason, that makes me smile. I wonder why?

The hours pass.

Do you want to enter?>

I press the ‘yes’ button and enter the floor.

Hell Difficulty Twenty-sixth Floor:

The Sparkling Flames.>

<[Clear Condition]

Reach the lair across the

dancing coals.>

Not really thinking about much of anything, I beat it.

<...>

<[Level Up]

Strength has increased by 3.

Stamina has increased by 2.

Don’t-Worry-About-It! has increased by 1.

Burn Immunity has increased by 1.>

the following skill:

[Dance (Lv.1)]>