Everywhere I went, I saw the dead staring back at me with condemning eyes. Some of them had hatred mixed with their pupils, while others had their faces calling for my name.
I saw the coachman gawking at me with intense hatred, wishing I was the one lying around the bushes. Every word he spouted rang inside my ears, despite the soundless voice coming from his lips.
Match touched my hands and told me that everything would be alright. However, as I looked below, her lower half was non-existent in my eyes.
The fresh blood stained my hand and became a reminder of who I am. It did not matter if I was the one who killed the NPCs or others when I murdered these people. I became a murderer to achieve my goal. It was far too late to turn back time or alter my ways.
I had to do everything I could to change this world.
