The tyrant has a secret crush on the target!

On the eighth year since 'her' death...

The man lit a cigar and blew smoke over a grave. His expression was haughty, his tone arrogant, but the muddled mess in his eyes was deeper compared to the previous year.

"You're rotting well, I suppose?" His voice was somewhat rough as he exhaled a puff of smoke.

"Aren't you getting bored of staying there? In all these past years, I've been your only visitor. You must be feeling quite lonely." The man smirked. "This ending suits you well."

A harsh wind blew, tousling his hair.

"Are you angry? You should be. After reaching the pinnacle, what have you become? You've ended up as bones, all alone...." The man gritted his teeth. He tossed his cigarette butt on the ground and crushed it with force.

As if putting out the fire was not enough, he started stomping on the ground.

"...You act so mighty and proud, but you're just as broken as me!"

The man's yell echoed through the desolate graveyard.