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墨書 Inktalez
William curled up in the dark corner of the detention center, his entire body feeling as if it had been crushed under an immense weight. The cold wall pressed against his back, as if the world itself was bearing down on him. His mind was hollow and chaotic, constantly flashing back to James's cold, mocking face. Outside in the corridor, the indistinct sound of news reports drifted in, each word mentioned like a knife, stabbing deep into William's heart.
"The esteemed Professor James remains in critical condition after surviving an assassination attempt. The community is praying for him, and countless people are hoping for his swift recovery..."
"The academic world is shocked and saddened by this assassination attempt..."
Each word felt like a heavy hammer striking against William's chest. He could not comprehend why no one could see the truth. Why had he become the world's scapegoat? In anguish, he covered his face with his hands, his nails digging into his skin, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the torment inside him. He couldn't understand why no one stood up for him. Not even one person—just one individual like him who could see the truth hidden beneath James's demonic facade...
"He is a demon! He is a monster!" William silently screamed to himself, but his voice was trapped in his throat, unheard by anyone. His sanity had begun to unravel, and the world around him twisted more with each passing moment.
The news continued to echo down the corridor, its tone cold and merciless, as if conducting an invisible trial against William.
" William Conrad, former Department Chair of History, has repeatedly shown jealousy and hatred towards Professor James and has finally resorted to extreme measures..."
These words struck William like poisoned arrows, piercing deep into his soul. He wanted to refute them; he wanted to shout out his innocence, but each word felt too heavy to utter. His throat was dry, his eyes stinging; the world had turned to shades of gray. No one believed him; no one understood him. To this world, he was simply a complete "madman."
"Just one person," William whispered desperately to himself, "just one person who is as awake as I am..."
But he knew that "one person" would never come.
William huddled in that narrow corner of the detention center, surrounded by walls that felt like a cold prison cage trapping him tightly within. His fingers scratched at his scalp repeatedly; his nails had already dug into his flesh, blood seeping slowly through his hair. Yet this pain meant nothing to him. The fragmented news reports outside continued to filter in, each word like a sharp blade piercing into his heart.
"Why..." he murmured under his breath, his voice nearly breaking like a wail from hell. His thoughts spun out of control, swirling like a chaotic whirlwind that completely shattered what little sanity he had left. He couldn't understand—he truly couldn't understand—why it had come to this.
"Why me?"
He felt like a cornered beast forced to the edge of a cliff—isolated and helpless, unable to fight back yet still compelled to confront this inescapable reality. Each news report repeated James's victim story, portraying him as a tragic hero while everyone wept for him and offered their blessings. And what about William? He had become the target of public scorn, branded as a "madman consumed by jealousy," a "criminal who harmed the innocent." Everyone stood with James; no one knew, no one understood, no one saw the truth.
"I am the only one who knows his true nature!"
His heart was filled with anger and despair, his eyes bloodshot as if consumed by rage. He hated his own powerlessness, despised the cold and unfeeling world around him, and loathed all those who failed to understand him. But the deepest hatred was reserved for James. Every time he recalled that day, when James lay on the ground, wearing that eerie smile, his blood boiled.
James's whispers still echoed in his ears: "Thank you, William... Those who cannot kill me will ultimately make me stronger."
Those words pierced his soul like a poisoned needle, forcing him to chew on his own incompetence and failures every moment. He had replayed that instant countless times—the knife plunging into James's body. He should have died; it should have ended everything. But no, James did not die. William's resistance became the catalyst for James's ascension. "I have forged his power with my own hands!"
This thought utterly shattered William's spirit. In a fit of rage, he slammed his head against the wall, seeking pain to release the unbearable torment within him. The sound of impact echoed in the cramped space as his forehead split open, blood dripping onto the floor and blurring his vision. But he didn't care; only one voice echoed in his mind: "James is a demon; he must be stopped!"
"Why can't anyone see through him?!" he screamed inwardly, teetering on the edge of madness. No matter how painfully he struggled, reality loomed like a massive black mountain, suffocating him. Whenever he tried to convince himself that he could find a way to expose James's truth, another voice countered: "It's impossible; he is invincible!"
William's world collapsed in an instant, all hope turning to ash. He found himself questioning—was this world destined to be ruled by demons like James? Were everyone's fates manipulated by unseen dark hands? If that were true, what meaning did he have left?
He couldn't help but laugh maniacally, the sound harsh and nearly insane, tears mingling with blood as they streamed down his cheeks. The more he thought about it, the more deranged he became; reason was being shredded piece by piece. "Did I do something wrong? Where did I go wrong? Why must I bear all of this?" He kept asking himself but received no answers.
"Why... why is it me?" William's voice grew softer until it was swallowed by the endless darkness. His heart had completely shattered, trapped in an inescapable nightmare where dawn would never break.
William slumped against the cold floor of the detention center, the overhead lights casting a chilling white glow that was too bright to look at directly. Yet this pain had become irrelevant to him. In his mind, countless questions surged like a storm, crashing against his nerves and making it increasingly unbearable to endure this unresolved agony.
"Why?"
This question coiled within him like a venomous snake; no matter how much he pondered, it could not be expelled. William sought answers but found only futility. James's face appeared before him repeatedly, wearing a mocking smile and exuding an air of triumph as he looked down upon William, the failure.
"Why does no one believe me? Why am I the only one who sees everything clearly?"
William's heart was tangled in countless questions, and the more he sought answers, the more powerless he felt. His mind was gradually unraveling, as if he had fallen into an endless abyss from which he could not escape, no matter how hard he struggled. He realized that this world seemed to have closed itself off from him; there were no paths left to take. Every possible exit felt as if it were blocked by an invisible hand.
The voice of James echoed in his mind once more, a mocking whisper filled with endless derision and a sense of triumph: "You fool... Thank you, I have transcended once again..."
"Transcend...?" A low groan escaped William's throat as the last thread of reason in his mind finally snapped. He felt his soul gradually dissipating, as if being pulled away from reality, slowly detaching from this world. He could no longer bear the unbearable pain of unanswered questions pressing down on him.
"I... want to be free..." he murmured, his voice barely audible, like the final echo from the depths of an abyss. His hand slowly rose to touch the cold wall. Then, his forehead gently pressed against the rough surface. The initial contact was not forceful; it felt like a faint attempt.
Then, on the next impact, he pushed a little harder.
"I... am damned..."
He muttered as his forehead collided with the wall once again, this time with enough force to send a dull pain through his scalp. The coldness and hardness of the wall stimulated his skin, yet this pain seemed to offer a kind of release. "End it... please... let me be free..."
He no longer cared about the pain; his head became like a hammer under someone else's control, unhesitatingly striking against the wall again and again. With each collision, a stronger pain radiated from his forehead, blood trickling down from the wound, but he remained oblivious. This suffering seemed to release the despair buried deep within him bit by bit.
William felt his world beginning to blur; his vision became hazy, and the surroundings slowly faded from view. He could no longer feel that he was alive; only the relentless pain of impact remained, serving as the sole proof of his existence. He wanted everything to end; he wished for this nightmarish world to vanish forever.
"James, you have won..." he whispered at last as his head struck the wall heavily once more. This time, the violent impact drove his forehead deep into the wall, blood splattering and staining both the surface and the ground. His consciousness scattered like torn paper in the air until only darkness remained to engulf him.
However, relief did not come as expected; instead, the wall's hardness trapped him in endless torment.
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