"My whole life has been normal, and it has no meaning," Chino once thought before becoming a Fish-Man. He was content with living in the shadows, believing that was his fate. But then, Mei told him something that shifted his perspective.

"Everyone has natural talent," she said in that cryptic way of hers, "But if you use the ability to climb a tree to judge a fish, the fish will think you're stupid for the rest of it life."

Chino had blinked, trying to make sense of her words. But Mei wasn't done. She continued with that unsettling calmness, weaving her words like a riddle.

"What's unfortunate," she added, "Is that in this world, people only recognize two types of talent: one for learning, and one for business. The world right now is a disease."

"Everyone," she said, "Uses their desires as hope, their core as maturity, their cowardice as their steadfastness, their cunning as their wisdom."

Mei's words lingered in his mind. "Do you think that's true?" she asked.

Chino stood in front of the house, staring at it with a mixture of familiarity and distance. The memories of this place, once vivid, now seemed hollow, like echoes of a life that never quite belonged to him.

He tilted his head, lost in thought.

From a long time ago, he couldn't understand why he was alive. It felt as if his existence or absence made no difference to the world.

Life, he thought, had no meaning.

Time felt meaningless too.

Perhaps, he mused, people live to find some value in their existence. Chino used to live merely for survival, but now, he lived for one thing alone: fulfilling the Lord's wish.

But even that felt... hollow.

He wondered if he was just foolish, blindly following orders without understanding their deeper purpose. The Lord was unhappy with his performance, he knew that much. She had never said it outright, but her dissatisfaction had been conveyed through 005.

If a life's purpose is only to serve someone, Chino thought, what difference is there between a person and a tool?

The Lord didn't need mindless obedience. She needed someone who could understand her intentions without needing explicit instructions.

But that was the problem.

Obeying orders and understanding them were two different things.

Could it be that without the Lord's guidance, he wouldn't know what to do?

Why did she have to spell everything out? Could he not think for himself, as a person, not a tool?

It was difficult.

But that was the reason for this self-improvement journey the Lord had arranged for him. He realized that the Lord wanted them to grow, to understand her deeper meaning without always needing to be told what to do.

So, Chino decided to return to where it all began. He would say goodbye to his past and try to look forward to the future. Maybe then, he could find the meaning of his existence, and stand by the Lord's side—not just as a follower, but as someone who understood her.

That was his resolve.

But what Chino didn't know was that everything he believed had been twisted. Lam, in his carelessness, had misled them. He had forgotten what Mei had actually said.

Before Mei left, her real words had been simple: "I won't be here for a while. Let them be honest. Don't cause trouble. If Raven comes back, tell her to put the USB in my room."

...

Chino pushed open the door, stepping into the house that once held the fragments of his past. Everything remained as it had been—his younger brother's certificates cluttered the living room wall, and his stepmother's perfume bottle sat proudly in its designated spot, as if it were a trophy of her influence.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

His gaze lingered on the family photo hanging lopsidedly on the wall. One corner had been ripped off—the corner where Chino's face used to be.

That happened after his summer vacation return. His father had claimed it was an accident, caused by his mischievous younger brother. But Chino knew better. The photo had been burned beyond repair, a deliberate act masked as carelessness.

Chino couldn't help but laugh at the memory, though it was far from humorous.

Just then, a middle-aged woman in pajamas entered the living room. Upon seeing him, her face twisted into a frown.

"What are you doing back?" she snapped.

Chino remained calm, his voice even. "I've come back to take what's mine."

The simplicity of his words seemed to unsettle her. Her eyes narrowed, and her tone grew sharper, more bitter. "What do you have in this house? What did you ever contribute? Everything you have—your room, your clothes—was provided by this family. You never gave anything back, not a single cent."

Her words dripped with disdain, each one a calculated attempt to cut him down. "You owe us everything, and yet you think something here belongs to you?"

Chino studied her face, noticing how each line of anger only made her uglier in his eyes. Once, her words would have stung. But now? Now, she was nothing more than a joke.

"I've been fortunate," Chino said, a strange smile curling his lips. "Fortunate enough to see the world from a new perspective."

Once, he had hated this woman. Now, she merely amused him. From the vantage point of his monstrous transformation, he could end her life with a flick of his wrist. Her existence hung in the balance of his whim, but he found he no longer cared enough to act on it.

He sat down on the living room sofa, his eyes glinting with a cold humor. "You know, with a mouth like that, you could make a career in stand-up comedy."

The stepmother froze, her confusion evident. "What... what did you just say?"

Chino shrugged, his tone dismissive. "Can't hear? Well, old age brings all sorts of ailments."

"You—!"

"Me?" Chino raised an eyebrow, feigning interest. "Go ahead, I'm listening. But make it quick—I'm in a hurry."

Without waiting for a response, Chino headed to his room. He pulled a briefcase from under the bed and began gathering his things.

His stepmother stormed in, rage bubbling to the surface. "Who gave you permission to take that? If you so much as touch those things, I swear—!"

"Hmm?" Chino glanced at her, tilting his head. "You'll what? Take your time. I can wait."

Her face flushed with anger, but before she could retaliate, Chino's father entered the room.

"Let him take it," his father said, his voice weary.

"You can't be serious!" she protested, turning to him.

"Let him take it," his father repeated, more firmly this time. "Let him take what he wants and leave."

Her lips tightened into a thin line, but she obeyed, stepping back with a scowl.

Chino didn't even acknowledge their presence as he continued packing.

As Chino packed his things, his hand brushed against a picture frame on the desk. It teetered, then fell, the glass shattering upon impact. The photograph inside slipped out, along with a small piece of paper that fluttered to the ground.

He bent down, retrieving both items. The photo was a high school graduation picture, the entire class posed together, frozen in time. The piece of paper, however, caught his attention. It wasn't familiar to him.

Curiosity piqued, Chino unfolded the note. The handwriting was instantly recognizable—bold, yet somehow soft around the edges. As he read the words scrawled across the page, a strange mix of nostalgia and indifference washed over him.

"Based on how well I understand you, it is estimated that you will not discover this paper in your entire life, idiot Chino, plè plè plè.

An...

There are obviously a lot of things I want to say to you, but when the words reach the corner of my mouth I don't know where to start.

Then I will just write two sentences casually, we've been at the same table for 3 years, I don't know how you view me, but even if I asked you, you wouldn't answer me.

Then let me tell you about my attitude towards you. You obviously don't look too bad, you're also very tall, but you're submissive, which makes me really dislike it.

Even your academic performance is a bit poor, but it's better than mine.

You are very gentle, no matter who you are with, you are very patient and very careful.

Every time I saw you arguing with someone else, you would be patient and refuse to respond. Being scolded for being speechless and unable to answer made me want to laugh.

More than just this, when Mingyan said he would block you after school, you actually stayed in the classroom all day and night without daring to go out. I can't believe you actually stayed in the classroom for a night.

From that moment on, I thought, you are obviously a big man, tall and tall, but like a small rabbit.

If my sister didn't think you were pitiful and cover for you for two semesters, I don't know how you'd survive high school.

Speaking of which, when did I start liking you?

I can't remember either.

Maybe it started when it rained that day and you gave me an umbrella?

Could it be that time when we both raised stray cats at school together?

I honestly can't remember.

But I don't intend to tell you this. You're so stupid, you probably won't find out.

I know, tomorrow we will go our separate ways, so I wish you a bright future. In the future, don't let people bully you. Be tougher when things happen!"

At the end of the note, a small bunny sticker smiled up at him.

Chino stared at the words for a moment longer than he intended, feeling a distant echo of something—an emotion he couldn't quite place. The past had already faded, and this note was nothing more than a relic of it. With a detached gesture, he crumpled the paper and tossed it into the trash.

Without a second glance, Chino picked up his luggage and walked out of the house, leaving behind the remnants of a life he no longer recognized.