The people I have hurt, those who died tragically, the priests and nuns, believers—I should pay the price for my cruel actions. No one is victorious in this tragedy; I, manipulated by delirium, committed unforgivable crimes, and the noisy residents before the gallows wish for revenge out of pain. I understand them. My only regret is that I have not yet regained my memory; I don't know my past, not even my name.
The repulsive leader holds up the Book of Mold; I guess they are nearing the end beside me, ready to begin the execution. Because this leader is walking towards me, wanting to personally execute this terrifying monster. The gloomy glow of the Book of Mold flickers strangely, and the frenzied blood coursing through my veins beats once more, causing me to hallucinate.
