"The hatred still hasn't dissipated."
It was after the pandemic problem in Barkaley slowly began to recover. Seeking solace, I confided in Bishop Nicholas, laying bare the weight of the burden I carried.
"I am a murderer," I confessed, haunted by the ghosts of those whose lives I had taken. "I tried to help them find acceptance, to make them understand about me and accept my forgiveness, but a sudden weariness overcame me."
Their hateful gaze bore into me, fierce and unyielding, as if I alone bore the blame for the tragedy. As If I am the only one who wrong here. Even though they were the ones who decided to join the raid dungeon, even though they were the ones who tried to attack Mom, but it seemed like the guilt wasn't in them, and I was the one to blame.
Why did I do this?
Why do I have to save them?
