Impossible, impossible, impossible. What’s happening. It doesn’t make any sense. Why am I being persecuted like this? Who do they think I am? I’m the Witch Cult’s Archbishop of Greed, Regu- lus Corneas. The most fulfilled! The most complete individual! A being unwavering in body and spirit! So why must I suffer like this?! This isn’t some joke, you bastards. How the hell do all of you just accept this insanity as if it’s completely normal? What’s going on? All three of you. I show just a little bit of mercy and you start getting ahead of yourselves. There should be a limit to misjudging your own strength. If I had just been serious from the start, you would have been annihilated in the blink of an eye. This is why I hate dealing with other people! How can they not be ashamed of themselves for such a ridiculous misunderstanding?! Bothersome, annoying, pro- vocative, disagreeable, despicable, detestable, disgusting, loathsome dullards, the lot of them. I’ve gotten along just fine all these many, many years. Unlike those other fools, I’ve carried out my role as an Archbishop for over a century now. My father who drowned himself in alcohol despite never earning a proper income, my mother whose only talent was griping day in and day out, and my vulgar brotherswho were always after what was mine-when I was first chosen by the Witch Factor and gained my powers, I killed them all, and then I killed everyone else in the village who had ever looked at me with contempt, and then I killed everyone in the town who had forced me to live in such a pathetic home in such a worthless village, and then I destroyed the country whose incompetent stewardship had left towns and villages like that unaddressed, and once they were all gone, I was finally able to discover a way of life befitting one such as me! I do not need anything. Everything else is just an annoyance. I am content. It is not that I am lacking anything. I do not need any thing. I don’t need anything from you pushy scum. And yet you insist on forcing things upon me, as if I were some poor, pitiful crea- ture who looked lacking, somehow incomplete. If I could live in a world devoid of all those fools trying to foist useless things upon me, in a world where everyone was just silent, that would be enough for me. Each and every one of those useless louts, always running their mouths about whatever they want. Who gave you walking piles of garbage the right to pity me? You think I’m content to just let you do that? I don’t need and never asked for anything. Curse my father who could never earn a proper living and drowned himself in booze but every once in a while bought me a present. Curse my mother whose only talent was grumbling about things day in and day out and who had the nerve to apologize for troubling me every day as if that somehow made it acceptable. Curse my damned brothers who were always after what was mine, but when they heard my stomach growling would try to share some of their own food. Enough with the bullshit! Treating me kindly only when it suits you. Anyone who looks down on someone else is trash, and any subhuman who has the gall to look down on their own family deserves to be held in contempt. They deserve to die. I’m not wrong. I didn’t do any thing wrong. You’re wrong. You’re the ones who pitied me and made me feel all alone. Enjoy a taste of the miserable feeling that comes with someone thinking you are the most pathetic and mis- erable person in the world. I can hear you laughing. You’re look- ing at me, aren’t you? You’re looking at me with a sneer, aren’t you? what’s so funny? What about me do you find so ridiculous? Don’t laugh at me, you trash. My wife didn’t laugh. My first wife didn’t smile no matter what. She just had a beautiful face. She just looked at me with that lovely face that she had since we were young. When I killed my family and her family and everyone who dared approach my wife and the whole time we were alone together, she never once smiled, And that was fine. I don’t need my wives to smile. I never did anything to make her laugh. It’s fine not to laugh. Her face was beautiful without smiling, so she didn’t have to smile. Wait, why are you smiling? Stop-why did you sneer at the very last moment? Don’t. Don’t smirk. Don’t you dare smirk at me. I’m not going to end up alone. You’re my wife, so why are you sneering so pleasantly at me being alone again? Stop that! Don’t pity me! Don’t look down on me! I’m not the pathetic one! All of you are powerless, ignorant, and greedy! You’re the pathetic ones! That pitiful greed that sends all of you scurrying and slithering here and there, frittering away your lives trying to fill the hole in your hearts! I’m different. I’m not like that. I don’t want anything. In my satisfaction and fulfill- ment, I am far superior to all of you mired in your dissatisfaction and discontent. Even though you are all actually hopelessly jeal- ous and envious and aspire and yearn to be like me, you’re just too ashamed to admit that you can’t hope to be like me. Obviously. Of course you all are. Wait, wait, wait. Stop. Don’t look at me. Don’t say my name. Don’t talk about me. I don’t care what you’re saying-just stop it. Don’t focus on me. Just leave me alone. I’m complete and self-contained, meaning I can live without allowing others to tram- ple on my heart, so why do you insist on connecting with me? We can’t possibly understand each other. You and I are different people. It’s illogical and impossible. What’s wrong with your head? It should be obvious if you think about it at all calmly. It’s just that every- one other than me has some odd fever. It should be obvious enough that wanting someone else is the ultimate exercise in futility, idle- ness, and pointlessness. All of you constantly spouting absurdities like love and romance and friendship and trust are just ruining the mood. And reproduction is the most disgusting idea imaginable. It doesn’t make any sense. What exactly is the point? A baby or a child or family or whatever word you want to use to pretty it up-they’re still just one more filthy creature to deal with. What is that supposed to mean to me? Nothing. There can’t be any meaning. Love can’t save anyone. People are alone from the day they’re born until the day they die. The idea of understanding one another is just an illusion. Life is just a stupid game of balancing the scales in an obtuse dance of consideration and compromise. It would be stupid to just let other people look down on me, so I gathered only beautiful women at my side, and I’m not fool enough to take any who would betray me, so I chose only virgins. What else does there need to be? Don’t spout any of that selfish crap at me. Not after infringing on my rights this much. I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m not wrong I’m not wrong I’m not wrong I’m not wrong I’m not wrong I’m not wrong I’m not wrong I’m not wrong I’m not wrong I’m not wrong I’m not wrong I’m not wrong I’m not wrong I’m not I’m not I’m not I’m not I’m not!