Prologue
I used to believe that pain was proof that I was still alive.
When I scraped my knees as a child and watched blood trickle down my skin, I cried.
When someone's words pierced my heart, I felt an ache I couldn't put into words.
When I lost something precious, it left behind an emptiness that settled deep inside my chest.
Back then, I hated every one of those feelings.
I hated pain.
I hated sadness.
I hated the fear that arrived without warning.
But after everything that happened...
I realized something I had never understood before.
Every ounce of that pain was proof that I was still human.
Unfortunately, the world I live in no longer sees humanity as something worth preserving.
Every day, I watch people walk through the streets wearing the same expression.
They smile.
They talk.
They laugh.
Yet their eyes are empty—
as though something inside them had died long ago.
They wake up.
Go to work.
Return home.
Sleep.
Then repeat the same routine the next day, never once asking themselves whether they're truly happy.
I once saw an old man collapse on a crowded sidewalk.
Dozens of people walked past him.
Not one of them stopped.
Not one asked if he was alright.
They simply kept walking...
as if another person's suffering had become nothing more than part of the scenery.
Another time, I saw a little boy crying alone in the corner of a train station.
People glanced at him for a brief moment before returning their eyes to the glowing screens in their hands.
No one cared.
No one wanted to get involved.
At first, it made me furious.
I wanted to scream at the entire world.
I wanted to ask why everyone had become so cold.
Why they could witness sadness without feeling anything.
Why they could watch someone suffer without even flinching.
But the longer I lived...
the more I realized that anger changed nothing.
The world kept turning.
People kept walking.
And little by little...
I grew too tired to care.
At first, I still tried.
I tried to help others.
I tried to believe that kindness still mattered.
I tried to convince myself that the world could become a better place.
But every hand I reached out was met with disappointment.
The people I helped forgot me.
The people I trusted betrayed me.
The people I loved left me behind.
Piece by piece, something inside me began to erode.
I could still laugh.
Still hold conversations.
Still live as though everything was normal.
But deep inside...
I was exhausted.
Exhausted from thinking.
Exhausted from hoping.
Exhausted from feeling.
Nights became the part of each day I dreaded most.
Because when the world finally fell silent...
my mind became unbearably loud.
Memories I wanted to forget kept returning.
Regrets I wished to bury refused to disappear.
Questions without answers haunted every passing hour.
There were nights when I stared at the ceiling until dawn, hoping that one morning I would wake up without the weight pressing against my chest.
That morning never came.
Until someone appeared.
Even now, I still remember the first words they said to me.
"Your pain can be erased."
I laughed.
It sounded like a joke.
After all, no one could simply erase human suffering.
No one could make sadness disappear.
Yet the stranger looked at me with unwavering calm.
Then they told me about something that would change my life forever.
They called it Perfection.
A process designed to remove every emotion deemed inefficient.
Sadness.
Anger.
Fear.
Regret.
Every feeling that had ever been the source of human suffering.
Once the process was complete...
there would be no more sleepless nights.
No more broken hearts.
No more grief.
Only logic.
Only tranquility.
Only perfect order.
I wanted to reject it.
I wanted to call it madness.
To say that emotions are what make us human.
That losing our feelings means losing ourselves.
But the more I thought about it...
the harder it became to refuse.
Because for the first time in my life...
someone wasn't offering me hope.
Or advice.
Or another empty promise.
They were offering me an ending.
An end to the pain I had carried alone for so long.
And that was the most terrifying part.
Not because I feared Perfection...
but because a part of me wanted it.
Now I stand on the edge of a decision that can never be undone.
One more step...
and my entire life will change.
One more step...
and every ounce of this pain will disappear.
But in the final moment, just before everything begins...
a single question echoes through my mind.
If sadness disappears...
If fear disappears...
If loss disappears...
Then what remains of a human being?
I'm not afraid of losing my pain.
I'm afraid that when it's gone...
I won't be able to feel anything at all.
And if you ever happen to find this story...
remember one thing for me.
Being human is painful.
But losing the ability to feel—
is a far quieter kind of destruction.
And that...
is where everything began.
