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Always acting like I\'m below him, he does and says whatever the hell he wants. A freak psycho who doesn\'t even hesitate to hurt or kill people.

I mean, he even pushed me off a building, for fuck\'s sake.

...Damn.

The more I think about it; this son of a bitch, he pisses me off.

Still...

The more unhinged he is, the more perfect he is.

If I\'m gonna kill that murderer... I need someone crazy like that. Someone with the knowledge, skills and experience... and the unfaltering will.

Ah... Really, I guess he ain\'t too bad. Treats me better than most people, at least, and he doesn\'t seem to care even if I curse at him. It\'s not like he\'s ugly, either.

And...

Maybe it\'s \'cause he already knows everything, or maybe \'cause he just doesn\'t care, but... I feel like I can be myself, y\'know?

Back home, there\'d be no chance of that happening. At least, not after mum died.

When it was just the two of us, me \'n my dad, we didn\'t talk much.

\'Sophie... How\'s your day been?\'

\'Alright.\'

\'...I see. That\'s good.\'

\'Guess so.\'

That was how the majority of our "conversations" went. There might\'ve been the occasional variation in the topic, but never anything of substance.

Always away from home working, he was never a model father even before the incident.

A workaholic who spent more time in the Playground and worried more about the damn freaks with weird powers than his own wife and daughter.

...Even after she was killed by one of those very same freaks, he didn\'t change.

He was unforgivable.

That man\'s reaction to the death of his wife was almost nonexistent as he continued work as usual―No, that incident probably only served to fuel him even further, giving him thought\'s like "See! They are dangerous! This is why I need to work hard to keep them from going on a rampage!"

I questioned why he even had a kid in the first place if he was going to ignore them.

That was why we rarely interacted, in any case. I preferred to spend most of my time not at home, but literally anywhere else, too, just so that I could spend one less second looking at that despicable face.

And then, that man... The disgusting human being that he is, one day brought me into the infamous Playground that I had only heard of from his monologic ramblings.

It was a day I could never forget no matter how hard I tried.

"Sophie, dear! I\'ve got a surprise for you today!"

Deep underground, we entered a heavily-guarded facility that stretched all the way to the surface a good few hundreds or even thousands of metres up.

"Dad..?"

That man, an excited grin on his face like it was his birthday, led me to a strange white room where I was firmly strapped down onto a table.

"Don\'t worry, Sophie. It might hurt a little, but it\'s for your own good."

I recall being injected with a few different kinds of drugs before my vision flashed from complete whiteness to darker than black.

"Wha--"

Puzzled at the situation, and obviously panicked, I tried asking a question, but it was cut off before I could even try.

Then, I felt something sharp within my core―as if \'something\' was trying to violently wrench my soul from my body.

...The echoing scream of pure, blood-curdling agony that followed, as well as the inhuman face of that man\'s wide smile as he watched remains etched vividly in my mind... And makes me shudder to this day.

Even now, I experience countless sleepless nights and nights where I toss and tumble in my stressful slumber after that day.

It wasn\'t just the physical pain that tortured me, but the mental anguish, too.

The place my mother died.

He brought me where the only person I had ever been close to passed away and smiled brightly as if there was something to celebrate inside that wretched place.

Later on, when I woke up and found out that he had given me that very same, monstrous power, I threw up.

Everything I ate that day and even what I ate for dinner the day before was ejected from my body in denial. When that was all gone, I vomited pure gastric juices and even the air in my lungs.

Since that day... It\'s been a decade. Soon, the tenth annual death anniversary for her will arrive.

Ten years is a long time, and that\'s especially the case for kids.

When she died, I wasn\'t even eight years old, but I\'m now seventeen.

With each day that passes, my mind forgets what she looked like more and more.

The image of her has been slowly fading away, piece by piece, for almost ten years.

The one remnant left of her is a picture in the lounge, but even that is no longer with me. All I remember are the features I inherited from her; that she was beautiful and foreign, with her blonde hair, hazel eyes and olive skin that made her stick out especially.

It\'s not like I\'m afraid I\'ll forget her. That man once told me I took her spitting image, so all I needed to do was look into a mirror to find out what she looked like.

So, I\'m not afraid of forgetting. It\'s just...

What would she think?

Of that man, of me, of the entire, incredibly fucked-up situation as a whole.

Frankly.

I dunno.

I dunno, but I don\'t need to know.

What does it matter?

I hate that man.

I will kill the bastard that killed my mother, then kill that man who indirectly caused her death by bringing her to the Playground in the first place, and then I\'ll destroy it all.

That repulsive place which harbours monsters in human skin both on the side of the subjects themselves and the professors, I\'ll put an end to all of it regardless.

What I\'m doing, I\'m doing not for her, but for myself.

So, what the hell does it matter what she thinks?

For me... A selfish thing I\'m doing for myself and for myself only.

...Ah, wait.

But then, there\'s that guy.

The guy I happen to share a goal with... Well, it\'s not like I\'m doing it for him, so that doesn\'t count.

He\'s doing it for himself, I\'m doing it for myself.

We might want the same thing―to destroy those bastards―but we want it for different reasons.

If you think about it technically, I guess he could be classified as one of those freaks, but...

...Anyway, he\'s different from them.

We brushed upon it briefly before, but he said he only wants to live free.

I get that. Back home, I lived within an atmosphere that felt like I was being strangled. It was impossible for me to be myself around that man, but in this new house... With Oscar, I feel like I can finally breathe.

Of course, I know it ain\'t his real name, but I don\'t think Ciphy is his real name either, and the twins―Sana and Sona I think?―won\'t tell me no matter how many times I ask.

He ain\'t the type of person to give into force, either, but maybe someday, he\'ll tell me willingly.

That weird guy, even if he does piss me off sometimes... I can\'t lie, he\'s refreshing to be around. Even though he\'s frustrating, it\'s comfortable.

I dunno what it is, it\'s just that kind of thing.

...Honestly, being a partner in his crazy shenanigans was kinda fun before, too. The way he acts to get me to do what he wants and how he tries to persuade and order me around...

It\'s like he needs me.

That feeling... It\'s something strange, but nice to have, y\'know?

Nobody has needed me like that before.

And since he needs me, maybe that makes me a bit more comfortable with it.

I know he does a lot of bad things, and he might treat people coldly, but in the end, there\'s nothing to be dissatisfied with.

Even the time he pushed me off the school rooftop like the insane asshole he is was to help me get over the trauma of using my power...

Still, even if he is such an insane asshole...

He looks after us well, gives us everything we could ever want, and lets us do what we want even if he\'s personally against it.

Someone like that, even if he claims the reason for it to be for his own purposes, isn\'t he objectively acting like a good person?

Sure, he can be ruthless when it comes to lying to people\'s faces and completely apathetic when taking a life, but has he done such a thing for no good reason?

A person who attended the same school as me for the past two years, and is now in the same third year as me, yet simultaneously someone I had never heard of outside of his flawless grades.

Someone who had never once caused trouble until this third year, and even that wasn\'t of his own initiative.

Isn\'t he just a reactive person simply trying to get by?

Oscar Itou.

Ciphy.

He might not be a \'good\' person exactly, but he certainly ain\'t a \'bad\' person either, right?

At least, not in my eyes.

...It\'s been a while since we began acting together now. About two months.

Not that long, but enough for me to understand.

That guy, everytime we pass each other by, he always knows whenever something\'s up.

When I\'m up, when I\'m down, he knows without me having to communicate a thing.

What I\'m thinking, what I\'m going through, what I want...

―He knows everything about me.

Human beings naturally wear masks when socialising. To hide their true selves. No matter who you\'re faced with, this fact remains true for all relationships.

And yet, this guy, he sees through all of that.

It\'s impossible to even think of wearing a mask before his eyes.

You have no choice but to bear your true self in front of him.

Normally, I\'d find that kind of thing perverse and disgusting, but somehow, this feels different.

That I don\'t have to wear a mask in front of him, that I don\'t have to pretend.

Something abnormal.

Relief.

It\'s as if the pressure weighing down on me dissipates. I can act however I please and he doesn\'t even judge.

I don\'t know if I would call it \'acceptance\' of who I am, but I also can\'t deny that that\'s sort of what it feels like.

A feeling no one else could give.

I can\'t hide anything from him, but there\'s no need to. The feeling of wanting to hide something from him doesn\'t exist in the first place.

It\'s undeniable that he cares for us. What the truth behind that care is, doesn\'t matter.

That bastard, I\'m well aware he won\'t hesitate to throw me and anyone else under the bus if he really has to.

I also can\'t honestly say whether or not I think he wants to do that.

To him, it\'s probably not a case of desire, but of requirement.

If it comes down to it, he will do it whether he wants to or not. If he feels he has to, he will.

Yeah, and he\'d probably sneer and feel a sense of supercilious derision, while at it, that son of a bitch.

In that respect, that guy is the most selfish, misanthropic and narcissistic bastard there is.

But...

I don\'t know what it is...

Even if he is a right bastard...

That guy...

...He\'s the most comfortable bastard to be around.