I watched her suffer for years, bound to a body that betrayed her at every turn. I stayed by her side, my heart breaking a little more each day as the illness consumed her. The doctors gave up hope, but I couldn’t. I stayed, watching as the pain became unbearable, as death crept closer.

In those final moments, I whispered to her, trying to offer some comfort as she slipped away. The words I spoke were meant to ease her passing, but they haunt me now, echoing in the emptiness she left behind. "Even in death, you are beautiful," I whispered, knowing I would never see her again.

Why her? Why us? The questions gnawed at me, relentless and unanswerable.

"This happens daily to people better and more innocent than you!" my inner voice responded, harsh and unforgiving.

But why her? I thought.

"To spare her from the suffering of this cursed life, to spare her from who you truly are," the voice answered, a bitter truth that cut deep.

The night after her death, I found myself at my grandfather's old cabin in the woods. The place had been untouched for months, a relic of a happier past. I unlocked the front door, stepping into a space still marked by the time we had spent there before she became permanently hospitalized. Her laughter seemed to echo in the silent rooms, a ghost of what once was.

I looked up and saw my grandfather's famous quote on a golden plaque over the fireplace. The sight of those cursed words filled me with a deep, burning hatred. They mocked me, a reminder of a promise now fulfilled.

The pain of losing her was a constant, gnawing ache. It felt like a part of my soul had been ripped away, leaving a gaping void that nothing could fill. Her absence was a shadow that followed me everywhere, a reminder of what I had lost and would never regain.

Every memory of her was tinged with sorrow. Her laughter, once a source of joy, now felt like a cruel echo of a past that could never be reclaimed. The places we had visited together, the dreams we had shared—they all felt like daggers to my heart, each one twisting the knife a little deeper.

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The world seemed greyer without her. Colours were muted, sounds were dull, and life itself felt like a series of hollow, meaningless motions. My accomplishments, the wealth and success that others envied, felt like ashes in my mouth. What was the point of it all if she wasn't there to share it with me?

I had always thought that love was the most powerful force in the universe, capable of conquering any obstacle. But now, I realized how naive I had been. Love had not saved her. Love had not spared us from the cruel hand of fate. And love could not bring her back.

I walked over to the old cabinet and pulled out the shotgun. It felt heavy in my hands, a tool of finality. I sat down, cradling it, and had one last conversation with myself.

You cursed me.

"You think you are cursed? You, a billionaire, famous CEO of a successful company. People would love to be cursed like you."

It does not matter. I end this here today.

"It was always your choice, your actions. Life is as you wanted."

I looked up at the cursed words above the fireplace. "As I wanted?" The bitter irony of it all washed over me. In that moment of realization, I made my final decision.

Floating text appeared before my eyes, cold and unfeeling:

[Initialization Complete]

LV: 1 Experience: 0/100

Vitality: 8

Endurance: 1

Strength: 1

Agility: 1

Senses: 5

Mind: 27

Magic: 3

Clarity: 1

Skills:

None of it made sense. The pain, the confusion, the loss—they all felt like a twisted joke. I had wanted nothing more than to be rid of that useless, helpless life. And now, I was free of it. But not free of the pain and the suffering it wrought on my soul.

I opened my eyes to find myself in a grand room, lavishly decorated with rich tapestries and intricate carvings. The ceiling soared high above, and the walls were lined with opulent furnishings. It seemed I was reborn into wealth. Yet, the splendour of my new surroundings did nothing to alleviate the hollow ache within me. Wealth hadn't helped me in my previous life, and it certainly couldn't touch the pain I was feeling now. My body wanted to cry, but I refused to give in. I won't cry, I thought to myself.

"The self-pity is suffocating," the inner voice returned, sharper than before.

I should just end this as soon as possible, I thought.

"Be careful what you wish for, remember his words!" the voice warned.

It felt as if the voice had taken on a life of its own. "Don't do anything rash. Not with her soul in the balance. You are here now. Who's to say she's not here as well?"

Even in death, I have to suffer, I thought, the despair wrapping around my heart like a vice.