"I wouldn't call it love, maybe infatuation. He's certainly making me feel something." She said without a trace of shame on her face.

It's been a few months since they started messaging each other. But somehow their conversations became less hostile, more casual. It didn't take long for her to figure out where he was considering the fact he wasn't very good at hiding any information on him. And eventually they did meet, but instead of killing him right there and then, they just kept talking. Like they were two childhood friends that hadn't seen each other in years.

But I could tell.

"That's why it's a good thing I have to kill him specifically," she continues.

I could tell because she never said she was going back on our deal.

"I've been thinking about this a lot. I thought I could make things better if I could just overthrow the ones at the top. One life is a small price to pay for the benefit of millions." She says as she picks up another bug from the metal box, the chirping is getting louder. I'm sure thousands of bugs are in there. "But if I kill someone to gain power and I feel nothing. Then I'll just end up using my power treating others like nothing."

She turns back to me as she crushes the bug between her hand, a dark liquid drips out of it.

"What if your whole deal was a scam? What if the power you give me isn't enough to change things? What if I go mad with power?" she asks.

"Then what?" I ask back, not knowing fully where she's going with this.

"Then I need it to hurt. I need to remember that I killed someone dear to me. And that every single mistake I make can have painful consequences. I want to be better than the assholes that are keeping the status quo because it 'works for them' ". She raises a finger to emphasize her point. "And most importantly. I still want to have empathy at the end of this."

There's an awkward silence after this. I don't know what to say, perhaps because there is nothing to say. Eventually, she breaks the silence again.

"But there's still this silly part of me which wants to take the easy way out. What if I just didn't kill him? What if we could keep hanging out, talking about stupid things. I'd keep getting pissed off at his cheerful 'good morning' even though it's the evening and- and-" She starts to sob. "I just- why does it have to be me anyway? Why does it have to be him? W-why can't I just leave this to someone else! I don't even want that much responsibility! I just wanted my hard work to be at least recognized, I just-" I give her a tight hug as she cries. She doesn't resist. Simply opting to let herself fall in my arms.

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I'm aware of the irony of this situation, I am the one who set this whole thing up after all. But as she said, I still want to have empathy at the end of this.

But this should still be her choice, the most cruel thing to do for her would be to remove the agency she has in this story after all.

I eventually make my way back to his house and face plant on the floor. I usually sleep there actually. It's not that uncomfortable, despite the fact he insists he can make another bed for me if I want to. Of course, he's not there today, he's at his job.

I wonder if he knows? Does he think she's just a great friend and that he's safe now? Or is he aware that it's going to end badly? I think he knows. He's not as stupid as he looks, he might be the type of person that goes with the flow, but I think he's clearly able to pick up on that type of thing.

He eventually comes back home, it's the standard fanfare, "How was your day? I did this and that at work!" in the same cheerful tone he always has. I feel like some housewife welcoming back her husband, except there are no dishes to wash or meals to prepare.

"Hey, if you had infinite power, what would you do?" I blurt out.

"I'd make everyone happy, but..." He puts a finger to his lips as he tilts his head. "I don't think it's that simple, people like different things, and I don't know how I'd be able to make things better for everyone, but she..."

Another silence follows, I know what this is, he knows, of course he knows.

"It would be better if she killed me, right?" he asks.

"Better for whom?" I answer while rolling around on the cold floor.

"Better for everyone. She'd finally get to make the world better like she wanted. I'd be happy about that too."

I hate him.

I hate how passive he is.

Did I ever tell you how charisma works? I don't just hate this stat because it's a living brainwashing weapon. It's because it breaks one moral boundary I refuse to cross. And that's the removal of agency.

Charisma is not inherently bad at a normal level. When you interact with someone, a part of their soul is planted into you, like a parasite. But in exchange, the person you interacted with also gets a soul parasite. They both get new stories and emotions from the other, it's a somewhat consensual equivalent exchange.

However, higher charisma increases the size of that parasite and as a result it will absorb much more than it should, and the infected person's soul will lose much more than it gives. Their agency is taken out, they are no longer the protagonist of their story, they are now nothing but a side character in someone else's tale.

Bad things will happen in life, tragedies, misfortune, love, hate, the unexpected and the mundane. Those are what feeds the soul, and by using charisma you are inadvertently cutting off a soul's food source until they wither and die, leaving nothing but a chunk of meat behind that has nothing to tell. That's why I hate his passivity, because passivity is the death of the soul. And the death of a soul is a terrible thing to witness.

But maybe I'm being too hard on him. There is nothing wrong with being content with your life, there is nothing wrong with wanting the best for others. Maybe he is scared to die, but doesn't let it show as to not worry others.

We will see, the ending draws near.