《Meaning》


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    "I''m a mere drop in this huge sea. I wonder, if I''m separated from it, would I still be a sea or just a part of it? Would my being be different from the sea if I ever go back to it? Am I the sea or a droplet?


    These questions were running in my mind as I was surrounded by dark figures that kept crying and moaning about how cold it was. I noticed that even I was complaining, without my own will.


    I think I''m dead. I always thought there must be a place after death for people like me¡ªpeople who were kind enough to cry for strangers but not kind enough to struggle, change themselves, and take responsibility for others'' tears.


    I wondered if I could help any one of these figures. I kept trying to talk to them, but none of them seemed to hear me. Then I heard a sound. It was loud enough to make everyone fall to their knees and forget the cold for a few moments.


    When I turned to the source of the sound, I saw a pillar rising from the ground. The pillar looked as if it was made from the night sky, and atop it, a barely visible figure was standing. As I kept looking at it, the pillar started moving toward me, pushing away all the dark figures that surrounded it. For some reason, it felt sad to see the figures get hurt."


    Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Why can¡¯t I write when it matters? When there¡¯s no pressure, words flood my mind to the point of irritation, but now, when I need them, they slip away like water. What¡¯s the point of creativity if it fails when it¡¯s most needed?


    There¡¯s no cohesive plot here. It¡¯s just disjointed words and sentences, flipping between a third-rate introspective novel and some afterlife crisis fantasy. This might be the most meaningless thing I¡¯ve ever written.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    What the fuck was the point of the metaphors I used? A pillar made of the night sky? What the fuck does that even mean? And those sea questions¡ªwhat purpose do they even serve?


    I saw him sentence someone to 150 years of skinning because their story wasn¡¯t ¡°original¡± enough. I don¡¯t even want to imagine what he¡¯ll do if he reads this pile of vomited words.


    2 hours later


    He¡¯s coming. I can hear screams two rooms away. If he takes 30 minutes per room, he¡¯ll be here before I¡¯ve written anything meaningful.


    1 hour later


    He¡¯s at my door. I¡¯ve got nothing to show him. If I weren¡¯t already dead, I¡¯d choose death over whatever punishment he¡¯s planning.


    <hr>


    ANDHAKA


    4 hours earlier


    Boredom and blood. That¡¯s all my life is now. Every day feels the same. I was excited when I got the chance to judge people until the king returned from his little war, but I didn¡¯t expect to get bored of fear and blood so quickly. I guess too much of anything is bad.


    Every day feels like a copy of the last¡ªthe same stories, the same judgments, the same fear. Nothing stands out.


    2 hours later


    The screams are the same. You¡¯d think, after all the effort I¡¯ve put into inventing new ways to torture them, they¡¯d at least try to scream differently. But no, they¡¯re selfish. It¡¯s always about their pain, their sadness.


    What about me? Why don¡¯t they pity me when I pity them so much? They¡¯re so selfish. They have nothing left to lose, so why not make an effort to satisfy me? If they did, I might even visit them more often.


    1 hour later


    I feel... strange. I¡¯ve never felt this way before. Is this what it feels like to vomit? I swear, I¡¯ve never read anything so bad.


    I make sure only the best writers have the privilege of crafting stories for me. From what I recall, this one was well-known on Earth, but now? This drivel wouldn¡¯t pass among humans. Is he rebelling?


    Is this mess some pathetic attempt at defiance? If so, it¡¯s amusing¡ªlike a fly trying to kill a human. I¡¯ll let him be. For now.


    <hr>


    Writer 1782718


    Why did he just smile and leave? Was it so bad that it was good? Who am I kidding? He probably smiled because he¡¯s imagining all the ways he is going to torture me.

 Dear Diary

    ANDHAKA


    DEAR DIARY,


    I never really liked violence. It was always just the labor to finally savor the fruits.


    I love the screams and tears when people are scared. I¡¯m not particularly fond of their state during the torture itself, but the moments before and after¡ªthat¡¯s what I savor. There¡¯s something exhilarating about their fear, their despair. It makes me feel like the strongest person alive.


    And I think that¡¯s important¡ªto feel powerful in a world where almost any being could destroy you with a flick of their finger.


    Yours lovingly,


    Andhaka.


    DEAR DIARY,


    I think I love my job. When I look at my peers, it makes me feel so grateful for where I am now. It¡¯s rare to live a life doing work you genuinely enjoy.


    The thought of doing anything else fills me with absolute horror. I can¡¯t imagine myself as a travel guide for lost souls¡ªor worse¡ªjudging punishments for new souls. I heard the last judge threw himself into Nocterris just to escape the job. Imagine How bad it was for him to choose the Land of Dreams over his work.


    But today, I¡¯m feeling especially inspired. I think this might be my best day of work yet.


    Grateful to fate,


    Andhaka.


    DEAR DIARY,


    I¡¯m sorry I¡¯ve been neglecting you. I know I promised to write daily, but sometimes I get lost in my work. The beauty of what I do pulls me in, and it¡¯s hard to resist.


    I get that it might seem like I only come to you when I¡¯m overwhelmed like I¡¯m using you as an emotional garbage bag. But I do care for you. I promise to be better about writing regularly.


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.Now, let me tell you what happened today. I created a method so exquisite, the soul I worked on cried for hours after it ended. He said he was terrified of the future, that he regretted not apologizing to his mother before he died. It was such a satisfying sight.


    I told him everything would be fine, that his punishment was over, and he¡¯d be sent back to Earth. He even thanked me¡ªcan you believe that? Tomorrow, I¡¯ll pay him another visit. It''s going to be so fucking funny to see him shocked. Fresh souls are always the most entertaining.


    But here¡¯s the real highlight: my superior was so impressed by my work that he said I might surpass him in a few hundred years. At first, I thought he was just being encouraging, but his eyes felt so genuine


    The past few days have been very fulfilling. I hope every day is like this.


    Hopeful for the future,


    Andhaka.


    DIARY


    This guy is fucking insane. He is literally a fucking psychopath.


    I was created to heal¡ªto mend broken, pitiful souls¡ªnot to be the emotional garbage dump for fucking sociopaths.It¡¯s a bit better because he doesn¡¯t know I can write back. He just thinks I¡¯m a normal diary, so I don¡¯t really have to write back to him or help him sort his feelings. But fuck, it hurts to not fulfill my purpose¡ªto not do what I¡¯m meant to do. But this fucker doesn''t even need any healing. He doesn¡¯t even have a heart to fix.


    When Master said I¡¯d make someone¡¯s life better, I felt purpose for the first time¡ªeven more than when I was alive. But now? Now I¡¯m just a psychopath¡¯s logbook. I hate my fucking life.


    WRITER 1782718


    It¡¯s been almost a week since that bastard left me alone. I can still hear the cries of people in the cells nearby. It¡¯s only me he hasn¡¯t visited.


    What¡¯s he planning? Is he taking his time to come up with something worse? Or does he enjoy seeing me squirm, terrified of the unknown? Maybe he wants me to relax, only to ambush me.


    I don¡¯t understand how his mind works. But one thing is clear¡ªI need a plan. If I don¡¯t do something soon, it¡¯s only going to get worse.