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墨書 Inktalez
James stared intently at Hunter, a barely perceptible smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He could clearly sense the faint yet intense desire deep within Hunter, like a spark ready to ignite. In that moment, he understood he had successfully piqued Hunter's interest, much like an experienced fisherman feeling the tug on the line.
James's smile grew warmer and more enigmatic, his voice low and soothing, reminiscent of an elder gently guiding a lost child. "Everyone is born with a purpose, Hunter. You may not be without value; perhaps you just lack some guidance. Many people are unaware of their potential, but given the right opportunity, anyone can find their true path."
As Hunter listened to these words, his eyes began to redden slightly, a long-suppressed emotion seemingly on the verge of breaking free. He couldn't recall the last time someone had spoken to him so sincerely—perhaps it had never happened. He yearned to be seen and acknowledged, yet reality had always pressed him down to the lowest rungs of society. His self-loathing and helplessness wrapped around him like thorny vines, tightening around his heart again and again. Tears shimmered in his eyes but were quickly suppressed as he inhaled deeply, striving to keep his voice steady.
"Ha... ha ha... that's easy for you to say, Professor James; those are just fantasies." Hunter's voice trembled with emotional turmoil as he forced a brave facade, self-deprecatingly adding, "Someone like me will never change... I've known since birth that I would always be this pathetic. When I'm old, maybe I'll just become a source of chaos in society, spewing vitriol online and attacking everything in sight, hoping to garner some pitying attention from those bored netizens. It feels like it would prove I’m still alive."
At this point, Hunter suddenly laughed bitterly at himself; the smile was twisted and sorrowful, as if each word was tearing at his insides. "Someone like me will never amount to anything... No wife, no woman; I’ll have to rely on prostitutes for my needs. Honestly, I don’t have any special interests or hobbies; aside from seeking small gains here and there, my friends are all just fellow drifters... We all know there’s no hope in this life; what does it matter if we just eat and wait to die?" His tone grew increasingly intense, each word seeming to rip from the depths of his pain.
James listened quietly, his smile unwavering as a subtle light flickered in his eyes. Each self-deprecating remark and outburst from Hunter only reinforced James's conviction about the fragility and brokenness within him. James knew he had grasped Hunter's deepest vulnerabilities—the loathing for his own existence, the anger at being unable to escape his fate, and the profound yearning for change.
As Hunter recounted his suffering and self-hatred, he lowered his head; his voice gradually became muffled as emotions surged like a flood breaking through a dam. The loneliness, helplessness, and sense of loss that had long been suppressed erupted at that moment. Hunter clenched his teeth, trying to stifle this vulnerability while his shoulders trembled uncontrollably.
Suddenly, James stood up with swift and commanding motion. One hand shot toward Hunter's face, gripping his chubby cheek tightly. Hunter's body froze in surprise; his eyes widened in shock as he instinctively tried to struggle against James's unexpected strength. James's fingers sank deeply into Hunter's flesh, leaving deep red imprints.
"Look at me," James growled, his tone filled with undeniable authority. His face was close to Hunter's now, almost boring into the depths of Hunter's soul with his gaze. James’s eyes were fervent and aggressive, sharp as a hawk’s talon as they locked onto Hunter’s.
Hunter's breath quickened; tears blurred his vision as the flesh quivered in James’s grip, contorted under pressure. He felt James's hand cold and unyielding—like an iron claw gripping his face—imposing an indescribable sense of oppression. What astonished him even more was the fervor etched on James’s face—a near-manic passion that seemed ready to consume him whole.
"See my face clearly," James said in a deep and magnetic voice laced with unwavering confidence and strength as he pressed deeper into Hunter’s skin, forcing him to meet his gaze directly. "Standing before you is someone who has changed everything—a person who has created the impossible! I have done it; Hunter! This kind of person stands right in front of you!"
James’s voice resonated powerfully in the dim light of the room as if every word echoed through the air. His gaze sliced into the softest parts of Hunter’s heart like a blade; at that moment, James’s face radiated immense confidence—almost fanatical reverence—for the power within himself and for that force capable of altering destiny.
Hunter felt his heart racing, completely stunned by James's sudden action. He stared at the face before him, sensing the power in James's words, a nearly arrogant aura that deeply pierced his heart. James's words were like a sharp blade, cutting through the defenses he had built within himself, revealing a possibility he had never considered.
"I..." Hunter's throat was too dry to produce any sound. His hands hung limply under James's pressure, and tears finally escaped from his eyes, sliding down his twisted face. Yet James's cold hand remained tightly gripping him, as if trying to force that belief in destiny-altering change into his mind.
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