Being someone unique among all the people around you is not easy to achieve…
Yuta Hark was driven by the desire to learn more about life, and he had grasped the most important lesson: he knew that killing was about precision and efficiency. Having gone through the army, he understood that opportunities to end a person's life rarely present themselves twice.
"It's easy to look for occasions and take advantage when a target's guard is down; although fights are very situational, remembering that striking first almost always decides the outcome can be the difference between living and dying."
"If your intent is to kill, aim to do it in a single move and eliminate anyone who poses a threat."
In that context, you can forget nonsense like moral codes, fair duels, or rules that restrain you. Rules don't exist to save your life. Unlike actors, taking a life doesn't require flashy moves.
Living the time you have left as you wish is the only criterion that makes you a predator among this group of bored humans.
Just as his father taught him as a child, Yuta Hark had trained to be a soldier during his service. And today, just when those lessons seemed distant, he received the news that his father had passed away.
Walking with his father's belongings in his hands, Yuta thought about everything that old man had taught him. The only thing he despised was never having received a true gesture of paternal love. He was left with the bitter memory of his father regretting that he hadn't become someone "important" after all.
Yuta looked with disdain at the group of people passing through the streets: so boring, so hypocritical, covering their faces with masks that prevented them from showing who they truly were. That falseness in their gestures, words, and lives filled him with deep disgust.
Without overthinking it, he headed to the train station intending to travel to Tokyo. He carried with him the things that had belonged to his father, toward a home that was now empty…
A place where no one close was waiting for him anymore.
Yuta's eyes scanned the faces in the crowd. In just a fraction of a second, he could decipher what they thought, what they felt, and above all, the burdens they carried. It was as if great words were written above their heads, revealing truths they themselves tried to hide.
"Depression, fear, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, and above all, pain…" Yuta murmured.
As he stopped on the platform to board his train, Yuta couldn't help but reflect. Undoubtedly, the world was wearing down the people in it; but in Japan, everything was faster and harsher. Like a bacteria in the system, like a virus that mutates rapidly, with no cure and no restraint.
That was the Japan Yuta lived in, and he knew for certain that if people weren't so fake, things wouldn't be so bad.
But that problem didn't originate in this era—it came from much earlier, when commoners and nobles were classified.
In both ancient and modern times, the difference between the two was almost nonexistent. Money and property were enormous and important factors that determined whether someone would belong to one social class or the other. Even connections could be useful for climbing the ladder, and lastly—but no less importantly—social class determined whether you could have a family.
A lifelong struggle from youth to adulthood. Forge your path early so that in old age, you could have a home to retire in. Socialize and fit in from the bottom of the food chain to survive the claws of life: debts, tastes, taxes, food… even paying to have a place to rest after death.
If someone lacked either of these two factors—money or connections—they couldn't stay in the upper class for long. Nor could they aspire to a peaceful, comfortable life in their later years. High, middle, or low: every class demanded a fight to survive without sacrificing humanity. It was common to be trampled by someone above, only to later see that same individual licking the feet of someone even nobler and more powerful.
Yuta had also been naive. He truly tried to integrate into society as someone with dreams and goals that would make his father proud. But, unfortunately, something changed one day.
It opened his eyes…
His way of thinking was freed the day he lost his mother. Describing that she took her own life was Yuta's worst experience. His entire world collapsed, and from that collapse arose a question that would torment him forever: how did he not notice?
At that time, he wasn't observant—not enough. He walked among people without looking beyond appearances, without stopping to read gestures, silences, or glances. And so, his mother passed in front of him with a fragile smile, eyes begging for help, pain hidden behind every word… and he didn't see it. He refused to see it.
It was only after her death that he began to truly look. Every face in the crowd became a mirror where he searched for traces of what he had failed to discover in his mother: the anguish behind a forced laugh, the sadness hidden in an everyday gesture, the lies disguised as normalcy. What he hadn't detected in her, he learned too late, when there was nothing left to save.
From then on, Yuta turned observation into an instinct. A punishment and a gift at the same time. Because every person he saw carried in their mind the eternal curse of the question that would never leave him: what if he had been able to see in his mother what he now sees in everyone else?
From that day on, Yuta stopped caring about trivial distractions and focused on improving himself—not just physically, but mentally. He fed his mind with everything that captured his attention, learned to analyze people, to decipher what they thought and how they judged others.
He became stealthy; he could tell quick, convincing lies. In less favorable moments, he could construct lies with logical, benign proportions. He wasn't very good at first, but to develop such skills, he enrolled in acting classes. It was said that the best actors could leave an impression using their faces, dialogues, and gestures to imprint a favorable image in others' minds.
His perceptions and decisions were no longer affected by emotions or prejudice. He liked seeking objective truths, based on facts. Emotional control was key, and it helped him greatly in difficult-to-digest moments.
It wasn't easy at first, but he quickly learned to adapt to different situations to navigate them in the way that best served him.
This way of thinking, seeing, acting, and feeling distanced him from people, and they, in turn, distanced themselves from him. Over time, Yuta stopped wasting time on those not worth it; he could never give a part of himself if that person wasn't willing to give everything.
It could be said that Yuta had stepped out of the system that ruled the world. Nothing distracted him, but nothing propelled him either if a goal didn't satisfy his thirst for knowledge. The last people close to him called him "curious": he could take an interest in things like mushrooms, but completely ignore opportunities to make money.
Nothing could change that anymore. He was like this, after all. Useless people, who only served to fill gaps, made his contempt for society grow stronger. It didn't take a genius to realize that all humans liked being controlled.
But… that was how it was in this world. Surrounded by people of all kinds, Yuta headed to the train that would take him to Tokyo to meet those acquaintances of his father who knew nothing about him. He felt a genuine curiosity to see their reaction when they discovered he hadn't shed a single tear over his father's ashes.
"Pathetic…" Yuta murmured as he stepped onto the train.