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I could not complain about being weak when it was painful.
From that day on, he decided to endure, no matter how miserable or abusive the situation was…
The boy did not know if it was a strength or weakness.
Because he was not allowed to have time to think, to know the answer.
The time he spent thinking, the amount of time he spent missing the miracle, the happiness spilling through the cracks of his fingers.
The sand in the wind would mist up in front of his eyes and disappear in an instant.
So―he decides to kill hope.
If he can’t get what he wants or wishes for, he has no choice but to abandon his ideals and look at reality.
Clinging to the heavens was ludicrous.
He told himself that he had no choice but to hold on to his ruthless heart and bring about a miracle with his own strength.
It was not something that can be given, nor was it something that can be received.
He knew that he had to seize it, take it, and win it himself.
There was nothing left for the losers. Only the winner gets everything. It was because he knew it.
He sought strength. Crawling and slurping muddy water, he continued to pursue reality.
Thinking of the beautiful and shining ideals of these people, he continued to struggle with his muddy dream.
And then he found it.
A blackness darker than darkness―A darkness more dazzling than light.
Squinting at the intense light, the boy continued to walk along the invisible path.
“Oh… I’ll find it at last.”
He believed in what lay ahead.
He believed that there was always something that would satisfy him.
“…There’s nothing.”
Someone said, “There is nothing.” But the boy did not listen.
“There has to be something. The ideal I wanted―”
The boy said, and what came back was a sigh of exasperation.
And then came the words he would never forget.
“You―Do you know despair?”
The world the boy had dreamed of turned jet black.