I sat in the midst of my memories, trapped as if in an eternal prison. The pain haunted me, and the sound of my faint crying from my childhood echoed in my ears—silent tears, no screams, no noise, as if I was too afraid to disturb even the cold walls around me.

I saw my younger self sitting there, curled up in the corner, tears streaming down his face, utterly alone. I couldn’t move, couldn’t reach out to him. I was condemned to merely watch.

Then, suddenly, the scene shifted. I saw my younger self standing in a dark room, a space engulfed in shadows. There was only a dim light, faintly illuminating the faces of others in the room. They were there—the bullies. Their faces were unmistakable, etched in my memory with cruel precision.

I watched as my younger self stood in the center of the room, his eyes burning with fury. There was no fear now. The pain had morphed into pure, unfiltered rage.

He moved swiftly, like a ghost hunting its prey. The first bully fell, screaming as he looked down at his legs, severed brutally. The second was struck with a hammer, his head shattering like fragile glass. And the others? They screamed, tried to run, but the room had no exit.

Every blow, every scream echoed my own pain. I stood there, watching my younger self transform into something unrecognizable. This wasn’t just vengeance—it was something far darker.

I stood frozen in the middle of this bloody spectacle, staring at my younger self, breathing heavily, his hands stained with blood. Yet, there was no fear in his eyes. No remorse.

Suddenly, he turned to look at me and smiled… that smile—it wasn’t innocent. It carried only one meaning:

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“This is what you always wanted, isn’t it?”

My younger self vanished suddenly, as if it had been nothing more than a ghost of the past, leaving behind a heavy silence. I looked around, searching for meaning in what was happening, but then my eyes fell on my hands.

The hammer… it was no longer just a tool. It had become my hands. I felt its weight, its cold surface stained with blood, and the overwhelming power I hadn’t asked for. My hands were enormous, stretched out like arms of vengeance, and every pulse in my body screamed with suppressed rage.

The hammer had become me, and I had become the hammer.

The bullies screamed in terror, their voices trembling with desperation:

"Don't kill us! Please, don't kill us!"

I struggled to understand, to catch my breath, but the scene felt like a nightmare from which there was no escape. Everything around me was engulfed in darkness, except for the wall... There, words were written in blood:

"Kill them! Kill them and prove you are strong!"

I hesitated. The scene was saturated with violence, the stench of fear and blood hanging heavily in the air. But the real battle was within me—a far greater conflict.

I looked at the hammer in my hand, dripping with blood, and then into the tear-streaked, terrified faces of the bullies. They begged, wept, and stared at me as though I was a monster born from their worst nightmares.

In that moment, I knew the answer. This wasn’t what I wanted. I wasn’t the person who sought vengeance by inflicting greater pain. I raised the hammer and let it fall to the ground, its clang reverberating through the room like the proclamation of a battle's end.

I shouted with all the strength I had, louder than I ever thought I could:

"I will not be like this! Calm down... I won't kill you. I am not the person you think I am."

Their cries stopped. Silence descended over the room, as if everyone had been waiting for those words. The atmosphere began to shift, the darkness slowly retreating, and for the first time, I felt a faint sense of peace within me.

Suddenly, I was back in the room filled with mirrors and locked doors. One of the mirrors was now illuminated, and one of the locked doors had changed. Its angry face etched on the lock had softened, gradually transforming into a small smile, as if acknowledging my accomplishment.

I looked into the glowing mirror and saw my reflection—not the same as before. This version of me was smiling, happy, standing in a bright, elegant place. That reflection spoke to me without words:

"You’ve made the right choice."

I still had two puzzles left, but I stepped forward with a lighter heart, as if a piece of the heavy burden I had carried for so long had finally been lifted.