The world, once known as Earth, a vibrant sphere where humanity flourished, now teetered on the brink. Its once lofty peaks and mighty oceans were slowly being consumed by an encroaching darkness. This wasn't the work of some celestial being or a cataclysmic natural disaster. No, this was man-made. Not by mankind, but by the hands of a single man. His motive wasn't revenge, nor was it destruction. It was, ironically, for peace.
...
My name is Noah, or rather, Noah dan Louise, the name my mother bestowed upon me. From a tender age, I learned a brutal truth: the world wasn't fair. The cruel lesson arrived at the peak of my childhood, a memory seared into my mind. I watched my father, a man I admired, lose his job. The reason? Some privileged child disliked his appearance. I saw him weep, not out of self-pity or anger at the company, but from the crushing weight of a single word: "Fairness." That incident didn't just shatter my father; it shattered me too, marking the beginning of my descent into a personal hell.
In college, I was bright—not a genius, but far beyond average. A promising future lay before me, a job with a good salary almost within reach. But then came that pathetic thing called emotion. I was expelled, not for failure or misdeed, but for defending a girl from harassment. What I didn't know then was that her tormentors were scions of the elite. The girl, instead of gratitude, blamed me, claiming I had ruined her life. At first, I was bewildered, but by the time the agonizing truth dawned on me, my own life was already in ruins. The harassers had offered to pay her tuition if she would accuse me, and that poor, desperate girl agreed. That memory splintered something deep within me.
My life spiraled. I gained nothing, achieved nothing. Day by day, I succumbed to the numbing embrace of alcohol. My mother tried, in her own way, to guide me back, but ultimately, she failed and let me go. I knew she was doing her best, but even that was a delusion.
Then came the ultimate plot twist: I wasn't even my father's son. A dark, twisted joke, wasn't it? My mother, it turned out, had been with countless men before I was born, and after, a pattern that continued until I was ten. How did we find out? Someone posted a video online, and she confessed. But instead of remorse or a plea for forgiveness, she simply left. Not out of shame, but because she had found someone rich.
I had been broken so many times it felt like a running gag, or perhaps I had simply gone mad. And then, a week later, with a final, crushing blow, my father died.