Sin's pause, like a pregnant moment of introspection, hung heavy in the air. His words, laced with a tinge of incredulity and skepticism, carried an implicit challenge. As he looked at Sia, he couldn't help but question the softness she seemed to harbor for their enemy. To him, it was an enigma, a perplexing puzzle that begged for an answer.
"Why was she showing a soft corner for her enemy?" Sin's inquiry was not merely rhetorical; it was a reflection of his pragmatic worldview. In his eyes, this world they inhabited was a harsh, unforgiving realm where survival often hinged on the willingness to make ruthless decisions. It was a place where sentiment and mercy were often seen as weaknesses, vulnerabilities that could be exploited by adversaries.
"Is she new in this world?" Sin's second question carried a hint of suspicion. He couldn't help but wonder if Sia's apparent compassion was a result of her relative inexperience in their world. Perhaps, in her naivety, she hadn't yet fully grasped the brutal realities that defined their existence. It was a question that delved into the core of their differences in perspective.
Sin's next statement was a stark proclamation of his worldview. "This world is where you have to finish your enemy if you want to survive." It was a simple, unvarnished truth that he had come to accept as an immutable law of their reality. To him, the act of eliminating an enemy wasn't driven by cruelty or a desire for vengeance; it was a matter of survival. In a world where threats lurked around every corner, leaving an enemy alive was akin to inviting future trouble and danger.
He continued, emphasizing the consequences of leniency. "If you let your enemy go, it will bring you more trouble in the future." These words were laden with the weight of experience, the accumulated knowledge of someone who had navigated the treacherous waters of their world for years. Sin knew from firsthand experience that enemies, once spared, had a way of returning, often with a vengeance, to exact their own brand of retribution.
Sia, on the other hand, found herself at a crossroads, caught between the harsh pragmatism of Sin's words and her own moral compass. She couldn't deny the wisdom in his arguments, nor could she ignore the visceral truth that their world demanded a different set of rules. But deep within her, a flicker of empathy and compassion still burned.
She pondered the complexities of their existence, where survival often meant compromising one's values and principles. It was a world where the line between right and wrong blurred, and every decision carried a heavy moral cost. Sia knew that showing mercy might be perceived as weakness, but she couldn't shake the belief that there had to be another way, a path that allowed for both survival and a measure of humanity.
The room was filled with a heavy silence as Sin's question hung in the air like a shroud of uncertainty. Not only Sia but also Julia and Fatty, the two other members of their group, found themselves at a loss for words. Sin's inquiry had struck a chord deep within them, igniting a sense of bewilderment and introspection.
Julia, the most mature of the trio both in age and temperament, took a moment to collect her thoughts. Her calm and composed demeanor was a source of reassurance to the others in the group. She was the anchor, the voice of reason when things became tumultuous. With a measured tone, she addressed Sin, acknowledging that she was open to the idea of the question but needed an explanation.
Julia's query, "She was okay with it, but why did he do that, it is not wrong to want an explanation," encapsulated the essence of her stance. She recognized that wanting an explanation was a natural human inclination, a quest for understanding in the face of puzzling or unsettling actions. Her words carried an undertone of empathy and a plea for transparency, even in their complex world.
Sin, who had posed the initial question, closed his eyes in response to Julia's inquiry. His decision to do so spoke volumes about his internal struggle and the conflicting emotions that roiled within him. It was as if he needed a moment of respite, a brief escape from the intensity of the situation.
Closing his eyes, Sin sought stability within himself. It was a conscious effort to quell the storm of emotions that had been stirred by his own words and actions. He recognized that Julia's question had touched a nerve, reminding him of the inherent need for communication and understanding, even in their harsh world.
In that fleeting moment, with his eyes closed, Sin was engaged in a silent battle of principles and pragmatism. He grappled with the weight of his choices and the consequences of his actions. It was a testament to his complexity as a character, the inner conflict between his unyielding pragmatism and the yearning for connection and clarity.
The place remained enveloped in a profound silence as Sin contemplated Julia's question. His closed eyes were a physical manifestation of the internal struggle that defined their existence. It was a poignant moment, a reminder that even in a world where survival often depended on ruthless decisions, the human need for explanation and understanding continued to endure.
As the seconds ticked by, it became clear that their journey, fraught with moral dilemmas and uncharted territory, was far from over. Sin's moment of introspection, triggered by Julia's inquiry, was a poignant reminder that their path was marked by complexities and challenges that tested the very core of their beings.
The room felt charged with tension as Sin's anger flared, triggered by the disturbing memory he had just witnessed. It was an overwhelming surge of emotion that coursed through his veins, and in that moment, he couldn't help but act on pure instinct. The intensity of his anger was palpable, like a storm brewing within him.