13: Maybe he really was a madman?

"I feel like I can't breathe"

"I've Never Felt Like This Before"

"It hurts"

"It hurts so much"

"As if I'm falling apart"

He reached out and grabbed the man's arms tightly. "It hurts so much, it hurts so much.." He kept repeating, as a result of literature and miscommunication abandoned by the fading away of emotions, he could only describe heavy and complex emotions in simple sentences like a child.

What was he so upset about?

After all, he wouldn't have lived 1000 years. He was now in heaven and would never be sent again! This logic was what he knew better than anything. So why was he so bored?!

To your past suffering self? Was this going hard? No, it wasn't the heavy struggle to survive. It was something else. The thing that makes him feel so bad right now..

His sympathy for other people?

In that period when social relations did not develop, when people were hostile to each other. How could he feel pity for those primitive creatures and himself in the same way? Very runway. This look, up to his neck in filth, did not deserve sympathy.

Yes.

He had obviously fallen in a clean, immaculate paradise. But he was afraid when he was here, his filthy self, which had destroyed his soul, unrecognizable from rotting. He felt dejected.

As if it didn't belong in this place. He was jealous. He was envious, but it was as if his soul was also allergic to it. He was slapped against his bruised, bruised face every time he stayed here. He couldn't help but compare it to the future. It was not in his hands.

By now, the feeling that it was a dream was just disappearing. When interest, curiosity and excitement fade, only silence and reality remain.

He was suffering the consequences of a face-to-face confrontation with himself.

go back? He didn't want to. But with the thought that those people were suffering somewhere, the insect felt like it had eaten that insect, not him...

A thousand years... what could a human do?

Same problem again. Same situation again.

In this war, where it was clear from the beginning that you could not win, you were exhausted not only with your energy but with everything else.

And again he was crushed by the same exhaustion, the same thought of helplessness.

All his courage startled him with the tingling of those slap marks that reality leaves behind.

He raised his head.

There was an impulse.

Until now...

The urge to speak. Maybe he should give up everything... after all, he would live happily until his death. Just like everyone who doesn't know anything right now...

He raised his bloodshot eyes. He parted his lips and words spilled from his trembling lips. His "Father-" spirit trembled.

Ah... that address...

He was sincere.

At that moment, he heard the mocking voice of the brain.

"1021, you're forgetting, the body you're in is a body diagnosed with mental illness"

His tongue is locked.

He closed his lips, his teeth clenched together. The soft lip flesh left in between broke apart and bled.

He was breathing even harder.

"Maybe-"

He was just making everything up in his head. He dreamed of the future, but there was no such thing in reality? After all, he was someone who talked to himself, and on top of that, he gave a name to the brain. So, what evidence could prove whether he was Kang Murong or not?

Maybe he was really crazy?

-To be continued-