'Hello.
My name is Sakaboja.
This is not the first time I've spoken to you — but it is the first time you've heard me. So I suppose I should begin by introducing myself.
I know how strange this is. A fictional character speaking directly to you. It's strange for me as well. Accepting that I am not real is not something one enjoys thinking about. But I've grown used to it.
And you will too.
I know you have many questions. But we must step back a little.
The author was not supposed to begin from this point. However, he decided to grant me one more privilege — to let me open this story myself.
He hasn't even described where I am. Or what my face looks like. Or anything at all, has he?
Don't worry. I'll handle that.
Right now, I'm lying on a bed—
No. No, that's not where I should begin.
I'm a twenty-four-year-old man. My height… I don't actually know. Average, I suppose. My weight? Also average. As I told you, I'm lying on my back on a bed, my hands folded beneath my head, staring at the ceiling so I can better imagine you. My eyes are closed as well.
I assume you could guess that part.
There's nothing remarkable about my expression. It's the same as always.
Now that we've settled that, we should move to the real beginning.
Not the beginning of the story.
But the point where the author originally intended to start.
That was about three days ago.'
It was early morning.
The sun had just begun to rise.
In the middle of a wide area littered with rubble and broken stone — the remains of a once massive building — a seventeen-year-old boy was running for his life.
His escape was slow. The scattered debris made every step unstable, and those chasing him were closing in fast.
He knew he couldn't outrun them.
There were six of them. Around his age. Not much different from him.
One of them grew tired of the chase. He bent down, picked up a stone the size of his palm, and hurled it forward.
It struck the boy's foot.
He stumbled and fell, hitting the ground hard before scrambling back up and forcing himself to keep running.
When he turned his head to see how close they were—
They were already beside him.
Panic consumed him.
He began stepping backward, facing them, pleading.
"Please… we can talk about this. I can prove I didn't do anything. Just give me one minute. You'll lose nothing."
One of them stepped forward. He was holding an axe.
"We know you didn't do anything," he said calmly. "When he told us to do this, we didn't want to. Not really. We were forced."
He smiled.
"But I'm enjoying this."
His grip tightened around the axe.
"I've realized something. Doing whatever he tells me to do makes me feel good. And this is the first thing he's asked of us. We can't disappoint him — not if we want him to give us more to do."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Sorry, John. This is the first time in my life I've felt something this incredible. I'm not ready to give it up."
He paused.
"That means there's no escape for you, Jan."
He shrugged.
"Don't be sad. You're just unlucky. That's all. You should be happy. You're going to die a hero. No one gets to die a hero in this era."
As John kept backing away, all six of them picked up stones.
And they began throwing them.
He raised his arms, trying to shield himself. It didn't matter.
The stones kept coming.
Blood began pouring from everywhere — his face, his scalp, his body.
The boy with the axe lifted it high and swung.
John raised his arm to block the blow.
The impact dislocated his elbow — not completely severed, but almost. Everything below the joint hung unnaturally, as though it might fall off at any moment.
John screamed.
He cried.
Each strike forced another broken sound from his throat.
They continued beating him like that until he lost consciousness.
Then the one with the axe stepped forward again.
He drove the blade into John's stomach.
Then his neck.
Then into different parts of his body.
Nothing was cleanly severed.
Nothing fully detached.
Everything remained connected — barely — as though his entire body was on the verge of collapsing apart.
Just like his arm.
They stared down at him to make sure he was dead.
Then they left.
And abandoned him there.