Prove it

The man let out a deep, hollow laugh as he slumped in his worn chair, his eyes clouded with a mix of bitterness and resignation. He allowed the sadness to wash over him like a cold wave, settling deep within. His voice, barely above a whisper, carried a heavy weight of defeat.

"Well, well, Max. What a shitty life I had, didn't I?" he muttered, his sad smile hanging loosely on his lips, like a mask he had worn too long. "It would've been better if I hadn't gotten a second chance at all."

[Host, you chose the wrong people to love…] Max's voice came through, devoid of its usual robotic detachment, almost as though he too felt the pain the man was in. [They don't deserve you in their lives. Even now, I'd say just forget them. You can live a wonderful life without love.]

The man chuckled darkly, the sound almost a scoff. "Ha! That's rich, hearing that from you. Aren't you a love system? Weren't you supposed to turn me into some kind of hero of romance, doing love tasks and winning hearts? Don't you think it's a little funny, Max?"

There was silence for a brief moment, as if even the system itself didn't quite know how to respond. Then, after what felt like an eternity, Max's voice came again, quieter this time. [That's why I exist, Host. Believe me when I say this one-sided love isn't a thing in this world. The more effort you put into love, the less you often get in return.]

The man leaned his head back, staring up at the cracked ceiling, his sad smile deepening with an almost bitter amusement. "What a wonderful world we live in, huh? Out of all the billions of people on this planet, I managed to pick the wrong ones to love. Every. Single. Time." He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I wish I didn't have a heart at all, Max. Imagine that… loving someone without the burden of feelings. It would be so much easier, wouldn't it?"

His voice dropped, quieter, softer, like the confession of a man who had long since given up. "The heart… the love that's supposed to make you feel alive, make you feel happy it hurts you the most. People can forget the pain of a broken arm, a deep scar, even being crushed under a boulder. With time, those kinds of wounds heal. But love? It hurts more as time passes. It doesn't fade. It's like a scar that gets deeper the longer you live with it. Isn't that something, Max?"

The man's eyes glistened, though no tears fell. "If someone were to ask me what the most painful torture in the world is, I'd tell them to make someone fall in love. And then… don't love them back. Believe me, Max, they'll remember that pain until the day they die."

He paused, his hands gripping the edges of his chair as if grounding himself in that moment of vulnerability. "So, Max, why don't you go ahead and rate my efforts over this shitty life of mine? Let's take a look at your data panel, huh?"

[On what basis would you like me to rate, Host?] Max asked, its usual robotic tone returning, though there was an undercurrent of something almost… empathetic.

The man's bitter smile widened. "Well, of course. Did I love enough? Did I love in the right way? Did I know how to love?"

There was a brief pause, and then Max answered in that steady, neutral voice. [It's a perfect score, Host. One hundred percent. If it weren't for the people you were bound to the characters of the novel or the plot they would've definitely loved you back. Your love was boundless. Even I, as your system, am honored to have chosen someone like you as my Host.]

The man let out a low, humorless laugh, rubbing his chin as if he were contemplating Max's words. "A hundred out of a hundred, huh? And yet, after all that, I couldn't even get the girl I practically sacrificed my life for. That's rich." He sighed, shaking his head, and then looked up toward the ceiling again. "As for that 'honor,' Max? I think I'm the one who should be honored. You were a big help on this long, torturous journey of mine. More than you know."

His voice grew quieter, more introspective. "You know, you once said they were just characters, part of a plot. That they were bound by something I couldn't control. I still can't believe I was that unlucky. That out of all the possible fates, I was destined to fall in love with people who couldn't love me back, bound by some kind of twisted narrative. It's almost funny… I was a villain in their story all along, wasn't I?"

He smiled again, the sadness heavy in his expression. "Even when you told me about this when I turned eighteen, I didn't believe it. I didn't want to believe in that bullshit. Fate? Plot? No. I didn't believe in any of that. I believed in effort. In how much love you pour into something. I thought one day, maybe one day, they'd see it. They'd see me. See my efforts. See how much I cared."

His voice cracked slightly, betraying the emotions he had been holding back for so long. "I dreamed about that day, Max. I dreamed of the moment they'd finally see me with eyes full of love. But I guess… I was never the protagonist in this story, huh? I wasn't meant to win. I wasn't meant to be loved."

For a long while, there was silence. The man closed his eyes, feeling the weight of his words settle over him like a suffocating blanket. When he opened them again, his gaze was empty, devoid of the fire that had once driven him. "I didn't lose to anyone else, Max. I lost to myself. That's what hurts the most. I fought so hard, and in the end, the one I couldn't beat… was me."

He let out a long, shaky breath, as if releasing the last of the fight he had left in him. "I'm tired, Max. So damn tired. I don't want to care about them anymore. I don't want them. I just want to enjoy what's left of my life. But… I don't think I'm strong enough for that. Not anymore."

[Host,] Max's voice came, quiet and steady, [You're stronger than you think. You're just choosing to let go right now. You still have the strength to live a life beyond this. You have things that could make even the most powerful people in the world bow before you. And yet, you're ready to throw all that away for someone who doesn't deserve it. I'm against it, Host. She doesn't deserve your love. No… not anymore. Never.]

The man closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of those words sink in. When he opened them, his gaze was softer, more resigned. "I knew you'd say that, Max. You always were the practical one." He sighed again, a long, weary exhale. "But there's more to this decision than just her, you know. There are a lot of reasons why I've come to this point."

He paused, letting the silence stretch out between him and the system, as if he were gathering the last bits of courage to voice his final thoughts.

"First of all… I can't do this anymore. I'm tired, Max. I'm so damn tired. My heart… it's broken. It's shattered beyond repair. It can't carry anyone else in there anymore. There's no space left for love. I don't even know if there's any space left for me."

He looked down at his hands, his fingers tracing invisible lines on the armrests of the chair. "You know, in my last life, I used to say my heart was small. Not many people could fit in there, but it was strong. I used to tell myself that small things are hard to break. I thought my heart was stronger than a diamond. That no one could shatter it."

He smiled, the sadness in his expression deepening. "But I was wrong, Max. My heart wasn't strong. It was fragile. And despite everything I did to protect it, to repair it when it cracked… it crumbled. Over and over again. And what's worse… it wasn't my enemies or my rivals who broke it. It was the people I loved most. The ones I would have died for."

His voice dropped to a whisper, as if he were speaking to the ghosts of his past. "The people I couldn't imagine hurting… they were the ones who destroyed me."

He clenched his hands into fists, his knuckles turning white as he tried to keep the raw pain from spilling out. "And third… I need to prove something to her. One last time. I need her to know that I loved her. That I would have given my life for her if she had asked. Maybe it's stupid. Maybe it's pointless. But I have to do this."

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, the finality of his decision settling in. He smiled again, though there was no joy in it, only a deep, aching sorrow. "It's time to prove it, Max. To prove that even after everything, I still would have given everything for her"