The Perfect Brute

Failure. That’s the word that defines my entire existence. I was dispensable at my job, betrayed by the person I loved with my own brother, and ignored by my family. Life was an emptiness, a tasteless joke... and I was the only punchline. When I jumped off that building, I felt, for an instant, that I would finally be free from the weight of existing. But instead of an end, I woke up in a place I can’t understand. Cables and wires stretch and connect to my body, now strangely small, and I’m immersed in a thick, cold liquid, like a fetus trapped in an artificial incubator. I don’t know what this is, but strange people around me murmured one word repeatedly: “Brute.”