1 I want to be a…

"Who am I? What am I? Why am I?" pondered a young man, not more than twenty years old, as he sat inside a bar, lost in his thoughts.

"Haaa..." he sighed with satisfaction, chugging down cheap alcohol and feeling the momentary release it brought.

His clothes were in tatters, bearing the signs of countless beatings he had endured. His hair was disheveled, and his left eye was missing, leaving an empty socket. Pimples covered his face, and upon closer inspection, one would notice that they marred his entire body. His nose appeared broken, and streams of blood flowed from his ears and nose. He had a short stature and a slim frame, bordering on malnourishment.

Sitting in a corner of the bar, he paid no mind to anyone around him, continuing to consume the cheap alcohol in his hand.

"Boy... get lost... the police will arrest me, you know," the bartender solemnly warned him.

The bartender had known the boy for the past four months. Initially, he would come to the bar once or twice a week to vent his anger and frustrations. However, over time, he started visiting daily, indulging in drugs and alcohol. Despite being underage and visibly malnourished, the boy paid no heed and persisted in his visits. He had even started picking fights with others, resulting in today's beating by a gang.

"Demon..." The boy's murmured words interrupted the bartender's thoughts.

"Hm? What did you say, boy?" the bartender inquired, struggling to hear him clearly.

"Peo...ple call me a demon, you know?" A small tear trickled down the boy's cheek. "Because I look... hic... like this, they call... hic... me a demon."

As he drowned his sorrows in alcohol and tears, the boy confided in the bartender, sharing his pain for a few brief moments. The bartender felt pity for him and remained silent, offering only a listening ear. Today, the boy didn't even speak of his troubled past.

"Haaa... I pity you, boy. A fate like yours is truly unbearable," the bartender uttered with a mix of sympathy and sorrow.

After drinking for a while, the boy left the bar without paying for his consumption, a habitual act. He would work during the day and use his wages to sneak into the bar at night, indulging in alcohol.

Leaving the bar behind, he sought out a secluded place.

"Demon... Hideous... Hentai protagonist... ugly bastard... haaa..." The boy repeated the cruel names people had bestowed upon him.

"Haaa... Fu~ Haaa... Fu~ haaa..." He smoked something illegal, lost in his thoughts of the past, cursing his parents and his unfortunate fate.

"I truly wish... to be a... demon," he mumbled, his face contorted with despair, his tears and blood dried up.

"Demon... a true demon..." he continued to repeat.

...

Suddenly, an intense pain seared through his chest, as if a sword had pierced him with unrelenting force. The agony was sharp, sudden, and unbearable. He had no time to cry out for help.

In the next moment, his vision darkened, his body convulsed violently, and the light faded from his eyes.

...

Time passed, and within a dark space, a naked humanoid figure floated. The body was perfectly formed, devoid of any blemish or pimple. It emanated purity. It was the soul of the boy.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, only to find darkness surrounding him.

"Where is this?" he asked, hoping for an answer.

And an answer he received.

Suddenly, a large screen appeared in front of the boy's floating figure, unveiling a gruesome scene.

"T-this is...!" the boy exclaimed, his eyes widening in shock as he witnessed the horrifying sight. It was a depiction of him being mercilessly beaten by his uncle, an experience that added to the multitude of traumas he had endured.

Following the death of his parents, the boy's uncle had adopted him with the sole intent of acquiring their property. Once his uncle had obtained what he desired, his behavior took a complete 180-degree turn. Every day, he turned the boy into a punching bag, with his wife joining in and regarding him with disgust. To escape the torment, the boy fled at the tender age of seven.

Some compassionate individuals discovered the boy lying on the road and alerted the police, marking the last of his "good" days. With no one to care for him after revealing the truth about his parents' demise, he was sent to an orphanage. Unfortunately, this transition marked another traumatic chapter in his life. The caretaker neglected him, providing him with spoiled food, while he was subsequently sold to a family that treated him as a slave. Once again, he managed to escape.

Around the age of twelve, he began working at a brick station, attending night school in the meantime. Despite his challenging circumstances, he demonstrated remarkable academic potential, and the night school showed him some measure of care. Upon completing the minimum required education, the school granted him a scholarship, opening the door to college.

However, the first day of college became his worst nightmare—a significant trauma that eclipsed all previous hardships. As a government college, he instantly became a target for bullies. Brutally beaten and even hospitalized, he was dismayed by the college's lack of action. The explanation was simple: it was a government institution. The bullies eventually ceased their torment after the son of a lawyer intervened out of pity. The boy held onto hope that his life would improve, repeating a saying: "These days will also pass." He clung to the belief that these sorrowful times would eventually give way to a radiant light, piercing through the darkness that enveloped him.

Yet, his hope was shattered. He became the subject of relentless bullying, enduring insults such as "ugly bastard," "hentai protagonist," "demon," and "waste of oxygen." They subjected him to a living hell. Disheartened, he abandoned his college studies and turned to alcohol. Over time, he sank deeper into the abyss, never to resurface. Today's outburst of frustration arose from a confrontation with a gang from whom he had stolen drugs due to his dire financial circumstances. The consequences were a brutal beating.

As his life flashed before his eyes, the last image on the screen displayed his body convulsing violently before the light faded.

[The End]

...

As if his life were a movie, these two words alone adorned the screen. Then, he heard his own voice, but it resonated with dominance, authority, maturity, and menace.

"What do 'YOU' want?" the voice posed a simple question.

The boy's figure did not respond immediately.

...

After a moment, the boy finally answered.

"I want to be a... demon."