"….."
I sat in silence while slowly replaying the events in my mind.
Feeling the knife's subtle resistance as it sank into the killer's chest and recalling the warm blood that splashed across my face, I remained silent.
I…
I had killed someone.
This much became clear to me.
Not the serial killer in the scenario, but an actual person.
While they were probably alive again, it didn't change the fact that I had indeed killed them.
"….."
And yet—
Besides the initial shock of the realization, I didn't feel very much.
'Is it because I've seen too much stuff…? Or is it because of other things? Yes, he was trying to kill me as well. I was just defending myself.'
I really did expect to feel more, but I was a lot more indifferent to it than I initially anticipated.
"…Maybe it's because they don't really die, but even if they did truly die, I doubt I'd feel much."
I didn't know how to feel about this. I was becoming more and more aware of the changes in my body.
