I was stunned by what I saw—the sheer arrogance and coldness of that person, and the sight of Eilaf’s severed head lying on the table, dripping with blood. What have I done to myself? Am I truly the cause of all this?

Am I just a lonely man who abandoned everything, living in his own delusions, indifferent to reality? No friends, no family—everyone drifted away, leaving me behind with my bleak existence. And now, even the one spark of my happiness bleeds before my eyes, whispering in a voice so faint it barely escapes her lips:

“Save me... Save me...”

Am I truly worthy of the trust given to me? Or am I just a pathetic failure, powerless before the embodiment of my own darkness? That figure sitting across from me, drinking casually, as if nothing had happened—wearing that cursed smile, as if all of this was nothing more than a game he controlled...

I broke my silence, unable to bear it any longer. I screamed with all my might:

"You're just an illusion! Without me, you wouldn't even exist, you fool!"

He smirked coldly and said mockingly:

"It seems you need to see a little scene."

Then, he clapped his hands once...

In an instant, I felt my body being pulled violently, as if I had fallen into a bottomless void. Suddenly, I found myself in a familiar place… my old home.

But something was different. Everything was as I had left it—the walls, the furniture, even the scent lingering in the air—but the atmosphere was thick… suffocating.

Then, I saw her…

My mother.

She was in front of me, pleading, crying out my name, but I… I couldn’t move.

I stood there, frozen, unable to reach out to her, unable to save her, unable to do anything. I was just a spectator, trapped inside my own memories, forced to relive the same agony over and over, powerless to change a single thing.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Then, in the blink of an eye, that man clapped his hands once more…

I was back in my seat, facing him. That emotionless, mocking face. He stared at me with disdain before speaking in a voice dripping with contempt:

"See? You’re just weak… a nobody… so easy to manipulate."

Then, he took a slow sip from his cup as if nothing had happened, while I felt my soul sinking deeper into an endless abyss.

He looked at me with empty, merciless eyes, that cursed smirk never leaving his lips as he spoke coldly:

"Come on, do it… or else, there will be no mercy this time."

Then, with brutal force, he grabbed Ilaf’s head and slammed it against the table. Blood smeared the paper in front of me. My hands trembled, my breath caught in my throat, but his gaze pierced through me—mocking me, forcing me to choose.

"Do it."

His voice was sharp, slicing through the silence with cruelty and scorn.

"I said, do it!"

I screamed at him, my voice desperate and shaking:

"Stop it! Don’t do this!"

But he didn’t care. He only laughed—laughed like a madman, shaking Ilaf’s head violently, slamming it against the table over and over again.

"Come on… do it… do it…!"

He sang the words mockingly, every syllable accompanied by a sickening thud. Each impact sent more blood splattering, each time her pain multiplied. Ilaf’s weak, broken cries filled the room, and I—I could do nothing but scream his name in pure desperation.

"Stop! Stop this! Please!"

But he didn’t stop. He laughed louder, as if my suffering was nothing but entertainment to him, as if my helplessness was exactly what he wanted.

And then—my voice tore through the air, a raw, burning eruption from my throat:

"Fine! I’ll do it! I’ll do it!"