Lying on my bed, I looked at the phone in my hand. On the screen was Chapter 30 of the web novel "Kumo desu ga", which I had recently started reading. I got curious about how the web novel was after watching the anime that's currently airing this season.
How can I put it… I think the novel is more fun?
'But honestly, I didn't expect the development to be so fast. A lot has happened in these first 30 chapters.'
I smiled and closed the browser before getting up.
I went to the bathroom and washed my face. After that, I sat down in front of my computer to play for a while. That's basically what I do these days.
I watch anime, read novels and manga, and play games.
'My mom will probably show up soon to tell me to get a job.' I don't even know how many times I hear that every day.
I gave a bitter smile and opened a rhythm game called "OSU" that I had been playing recently. After a while, someone knocked on my bedroom door.
"Come in," I said.
The door opened, and I saw my mother.
A beautiful and fairly young woman. Long black hair and equally black eyes.
A 45-year-old Japanese woman.
My mother is Japanese and my father is American. I currently live in Japan. In fact, I've lived here since I was a child.
In Japanese, my mother began to speak. "When are you going to stop playing those stupid games and go look for a job?"
I had expected that.
"Aren't you ashamed of the way you're living your life right now? You didn't even finish school, you don't want to go to college, you don't want to take any courses, you don't even want to get a part-time job!" my mother shouted.
"..." I stayed silent and kept playing on my computer, turning up the volume.
Just as I was about to start a new map, my mother quickly approached me. She yanked off my headset and threw it against the wall. Then I looked at her face.
It was the first time I had seen that expression.
An expression of pure contempt.
I couldn't say anything. I felt an overwhelming sense of shame and self-loathing.
My body began to sweat, and I looked away, avoiding her eyes.
"Look at me," my mother said.
I looked at her face again, but something had changed.
"Mom?" Her eyes were empty, almost lifeless.
"Why are you like this?" she asked, tears running down her cheeks.
"Mom, don't you think you're overreacting a little?"
Even though she had said many unpleasant things to me before because of the way I live, this was the first time my mother had cried like this. It was the first time I felt that she truly despised me.
I felt like she didn't see me as her son, but as a stranger draining her life while living in her house without permission.
"..." I took a step back, and my heart began to race.
"Overreacting? Do you have any idea how disgusting you are? Do you have any idea what my friends say? Don't you see that you're ruining our lives? Don't you see that you're the problem?"
My mother started pulling at her hair, even tearing some of it out.
"Mom, please…" I said, pressing my back against the wall of my room. I started hyperventilating. "You're not like this. I know I need to change. I promise I will, okay?"
"You're already 22 years old! Even your younger sister has a job! Even your sister has a life! You don't have a life—you're like a cancer draining ours. You're disgusting. Why didn't you die in that accident? If that had happened, I wouldn't have to go through this hell!"
My mother tore out even more of her hair. Her scalp began to bleed, but she didn't seem to care. She gritted her teeth, almost as if she were about to break them.
Her eyes stared at me as if I were the most disgusting thing in the world.
'This isn't my mother. This has to be a nightmare. This isn't my mother.'
I collapsed onto the floor, sitting against the wall.
My mother covered her face with her hands, "hiding" for a few seconds. But then I could see her eyes between her fingers. A chill ran down my spine.
"You're not my mother. Who are you?" I asked, my voice trembling.
"I already know. You didn't die in that accident, but… what if you die now? Better late than never, right?"
My mother removed her hands from her face.
She smiled at me.
"Who are you?" I asked once more.
Hearing my question, my mother began to cry while still smiling.
"I'm sorry, son," she said before reaching behind her and pulling out a gun that had been hidden there.
A gun? When did she get that? It's not easy to obtain one in Japan.
Wait, is she really going to kill me?
I froze.
Then I felt several impacts in my torso—my stomach, chest, near my neck. The impacts came with a burning sensation and excruciating pain.
I immediately lost control of my body. I was bleeding heavily.
"Mom… why?"
I looked at her hand, still pointing the gun at me.
She was smiling.
"Who are you?"
I had the impression that I saw her appearance change before my vision went dark.
The last thing I thought before falling into eternal darkness was:
'I don't want to die. I want to live.'