《The Voice That Saved Me》 Chapter 1: Sixteen Years Of Silence Souta Fujimura stood on the rooftop, staring down at the world below. The city lights blurred together, a mess of colors that had no meaning. His fingers were cold, his body numb. One step. That¡¯s all it would take. No more pain. No more loneliness. No more pretending that tomorrow would be any different. But just as he shifted forward, a voice¡ªcalm, steady¡ªspoke inside his mind. "Is this really how your story ends?" His breath caught. The voice didn¡¯t sound desperate or afraid. It wasn¡¯t begging him to stop. It simply asked, as if it already knew the answer. And suddenly, like a flood breaking through a dam, the memories rushed in. Sixteen years of pain. Sixteen years of being invisible, unwanted. Sixteen years of trying, failing, and falling deeper into the kind of despair that no one saw. He wasn¡¯t standing on this rooftop because of one bad day. He was here because of all of them. --- Age 6 ¨C The First Wound "Hey, Souta, let me see your toy." The boy¡¯s voice was friendly, his smile wide. Souta, hopeful for a friend, handed over the small action figure. A second later, the boy threw it to the ground and stomped on it. Laughter erupted. Souta stared at the broken pieces, his throat tight. ¡°Why¡­?¡± The boy shrugged. "Because I felt like it." That day, Souta learned that some people hurt others just because they can. That was his first lesson in cruelty. --- Age 9 ¨C The Loneliness That Followed He stopped trying to make friends after that. It was easier that way. At lunch, he sat alone. During recess, he wandered the schoolyard, kicking at rocks, pretending it didn¡¯t bother him. But it did. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Because when he looked around, he saw groups of kids laughing, playing, whispering secrets to each other. He wanted that. But every time he tried, he was either ignored or mocked. So, he stopped trying. And that¡¯s when he realized¡ªloneliness doesn¡¯t come from being alone. It comes from wanting not to be. --- Age 12 ¨C Betrayal Hurts More Than Bullying Middle school started, and for the first time in years, he thought things might change. Ren. His first real friend. Or so he thought. They ate lunch together. Walked home together. Talked about stupid things like video games and manga. Souta let himself believe¡ªjust for a moment¡ªthat maybe he wasn¡¯t alone anymore. Then, one day, in front of the whole class, Ren laughed and said, "Did you guys know Souta still sleeps with a stuffed animal?" It wasn¡¯t true. It didn¡¯t matter. The laughter that followed echoed in his head for days. Souta wanted to ask, Why? But he already knew the answer. Some people don¡¯t hurt you because they hate you. They hurt you because they can. --- Age 13 ¨C The Rumors That Never Left He wasn¡¯t a troublemaker. He never broke the rules. But that didn¡¯t stop them from pinning the blame on him. ¡°Fujimura! Principal¡¯s office. NOW.¡± The teacher¡¯s voice was sharp, filled with disappointment. He tried to explain. The cigarette wasn¡¯t his. He didn¡¯t even smoke. But the other boys had laughed, patting his shoulder. "Come on, don¡¯t be a liar, Fujimura." No one believed him. The rumor spread. "Souta''s a delinquent now." He lost the little he had left. Teachers looked at him differently. Students avoided him. His mother barely spoke to him. And it hit him¡ªtruth didn¡¯t matter. People believed whatever they wanted. --- Age 15 ¨C The Breaking Point By now, he had stopped expecting kindness. He moved through life like a ghost, unnoticed unless someone needed a target. Some days, the words didn¡¯t hurt anymore. Other days, they crushed him. "He should just disappear already." That sentence stuck with him. Maybe they were right. Maybe he should. --- Age 16 ¨C The Rooftop And now, here he was. The wind howled around him, tugging at his clothes, whispering the promise of silence. But then¡ª "Souta¡­ is this really all you are?" The voice wasn¡¯t mocking. It wasn¡¯t cruel. It was calm, steady, honest. He squeezed his eyes shut. "I don¡¯t know." His voice cracked. "I don¡¯t know who I am anymore." "Then why are you letting them decide for you?" He froze. "You think jumping will end the pain? Maybe it will. But it won¡¯t erase sixteen years of suffering. It won¡¯t make them regret anything. It won¡¯t change the past. It will only mean that they won." His legs trembled. "Then what am I supposed to do?" "Live." The answer was simple. Too simple. "Live, Souta. Not just exist. Not just survive. Live for yourself, not for them." Tears burned his eyes. "I don¡¯t know how." "Then learn. Start small. Breathe. Get up tomorrow. Eat something you like. Look at the sky. Read a book. And keep listening. Because I¡¯ll be here. No matter what." The cold pressed against him. His body still ached. The pain hadn¡¯t vanished. But for the first time in years, he wanted to step back. And he did. That night, Souta Fujimura left the rooftop. And he took his first step toward something he never thought he¡¯d have. A future. Chapter 2: The Silence Before The Storm Souta lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The world outside carried on, oblivious to the weight pressing down on his chest. The same ceiling, the same room, the same life. Nothing had changed. Except for the voice. It had spoken to him that night on the rooftop, but since then¡ªsilence. As if it had only existed in that moment, only long enough to keep him from taking that final step. Maybe that was all it had been. A delusion. A desperate trick of the mind. But then why did the silence feel heavier than before? --- Sixteen Years of Loneliness Days passed. Souta moved through them as he always had¡ªlike a ghost in his own life. School was the same blur of faces that never turned his way. Home was an empty space filled with voices that spoke around him, never to him. The loneliness wasn¡¯t new. It had been carved into him for years. He remembered being seven, sitting alone in class while the other kids ran outside to play. He remembered being ten, standing outside in the rain, waiting for a mother who had forgotten to pick him up. He remembered being twelve, hearing his name whispered in the hallway, followed by laughter. And then he remembered sixteen¡ªstanding on the edge of that rooftop, wondering if it would all finally stop. It didn¡¯t. Because he was still here. And he didn¡¯t know why. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. --- Drowning in Silence Souta had stopped expecting kindness a long time ago. The world didn¡¯t offer it freely. People only cared when it was convenient. He had learned that lesson well. A teacher once told him, "You should speak up more." A classmate once said, "You should try to fit in." But no one ever asked why he was quiet. No one ever wondered why he never spoke. They only saw the silence, not the weight behind it. And now, even the voice¡ªthe one thing that had broken through that silence¡ªwas gone. Had it abandoned him too? --- The Moment It Returned It happened on a night like any other. Souta sat at his desk, an open textbook in front of him. He hadn¡¯t turned the page in an hour. His thoughts were too loud, and yet, they led nowhere. Then, out of nowhere¡ª "You¡¯re wasting time." Souta¡¯s breath caught. The voice. It was there again, as if it had never left. Calm. Unshaken. A presence that had no weight, yet felt heavier than anything else in the room. He swallowed. "Where¡­ where have you been?" No answer. Of course. It only spoke when it wanted to. When it needed to. And right now, it needed to say that. That simple, cutting truth. "You¡¯re wasting time." Souta looked down at his hands. He had spent days drowning in old wounds, in the past, in the silence. The voice hadn¡¯t spoken because there had been nothing to say. But now, when he was on the verge of sinking again¡ª It had reminded him of the one thing he had never been taught. That his time mattered. That he mattered. Even if he didn¡¯t believe it yet. Chapter 3: The Weight Of Expectations The exam paper sat in front of Souta like a ticking time bomb. His hands trembled slightly as he stared at the questions. The numbers blurred together, symbols twisting into an incomprehensible mess. He had studied. But now, under the weight of the moment, everything had vanished. A deep breath. He tightened his grip on the pencil. "You¡¯re hesitating again." The voice. Calm. Inevitable. "I¡ª" He swallowed. "I can¡¯t mess this up. If I fail¡ª" "Then you fail." "Yeah, and then¡ª" "And then what?" The voice didn¡¯t let up. "The world crumbles? You stop existing?" Souta bit his lip. "If I fail, they¡¯ll think I¡¯m worthless." A pause. Then¡ª "You don¡¯t need them to think you¡¯re worthy." Souta exhaled sharply. The voice made it sound so simple. But it wasn¡¯t. --- The Invisible Chains Since he was a child, Souta had been trapped in an endless loop of expectations. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. "Do your best." "Make us proud." "You¡¯re smart, so don¡¯t waste it." He had learned to measure his worth by his achievements. Good grades meant approval. Bad grades meant failure¡ªnot just in school, but as a person. If he failed, he wasn¡¯t good enough. If he failed, he wasn¡¯t worth anything. But the worst part? No matter how well he did, it was never enough. When he got an 80, they asked why it wasn¡¯t a 90. When he got a 90, they asked why it wasn¡¯t 100. When he got 100, they said, "Well, of course, that¡¯s expected." There was no finish line. No point where he could stop running. And the more he ran, the more exhausted he became. --- The Breaking Point Souta stared at the test, his heart pounding. The minutes ticked away. He felt like he was drowning. "Breathe." The voice was steady. "You don¡¯t have to prove anything to them." "But I¡ª" "Do you even want this? Or do you just not want to disappoint them?" Souta¡¯s hands clenched into fists. He wanted to say it was both. That he wanted to succeed. But was that the truth? Or had he been living his whole life trying to be someone they wanted? The realization hit him like a knife to the chest. He had never been trying to succeed. He had been trying not to fail. A difference so small, yet so soul-crushing. --- A Truth That Hurts "Souta." The voice was quiet now, almost gentle. "If you let the world decide your worth, you will always be worthless." The words settled in his chest like a cold weight. Because they were true. No matter what he did, there would always be someone expecting more. No matter how hard he tried, there would always be another standard to meet. So why was he still running? Why was he still breaking himself for people who would never be satisfied? For the first time, Souta didn¡¯t have an answer. And for the first time, he realized that maybe¡­ He didn¡¯t need one. --- The Riddle of Truth "A tree stands tall, its roots deep, its branches strong. But it bends when the wind commands, sways when the storm demands. Why does it fear the wind, when its roots run deeper than the storm?" Souta closed his eyes. He understood. And for the first time, the weight on his chest felt just a little lighter. Chapter 4: The Mirrors Curse Souta stood in front of the mirror, his grip tightening on the sink¡¯s edge. The dim bathroom light flickered, casting sharp shadows over his face. His reflection stared back at him¡ªjudging, mocking. Every imperfection seemed louder than before. His nose, his skin, his jawline that didn¡¯t look the way it used to. His hair, messy no matter how much he fixed it. His body, neither lean nor muscular¡ªjust¡­ there. He adjusted his glasses. Tilted his head. Pulled at his hoodie. Nothing helped. Nothing ever did. --- The Silent War Inside Souta had lived with this feeling for as long as he could remember. It wasn¡¯t vanity. It wasn¡¯t about wanting to be the best-looking guy in the room. It was deeper. It was the fear of being overlooked. He had seen it¡ªhow people gravitated towards the attractive. How they were treated like they mattered more, even when they didn¡¯t say a word. Meanwhile, those like him¡­ they had to try. Try harder to be noticed. Try harder to be respected. Try harder to not fade into the background. Maybe if he looked better, people would care more. Maybe then, life would be easier. --- Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. The Voice That Never Lies "You¡¯re doing it again." Souta exhaled sharply. "And? Is it wrong to want to improve myself?" "No. But that¡¯s not what you¡¯re doing. You¡¯re searching for something that doesn¡¯t exist." He clenched his jaw. "I just want to look good." "For who?" The words cut through the air like a blade. Souta faltered. "What do you mean? For myself, obviously." "Liar." He tensed. "If it was for yourself, you wouldn¡¯t care this much about how others see you. So tell me, Souta¡ªwho are you really trying to impress?" Souta¡¯s lips parted, but no words came out. --- The Uncomfortable Truth "Is it for girls?" The voice didn¡¯t hesitate. "You think if you looked better, they¡¯d notice you? That they¡¯d like you more?" Souta gritted his teeth. "That¡¯s not¡ª" "Then why does their attention feel like the only proof that you matter?" A lump formed in his throat. "Is that what you want? A life where your worth is measured by how much someone else desires you?" The question hung in the air, suffocating. "You hate what you see because the world taught you to hate it." The voice was calm, unwavering. "You were told that if you don¡¯t fit a certain standard, you¡¯re less. And you believed it." Souta¡¯s fingers curled into fists. "So what? Are you saying I should stop caring? Just let myself go?" "No. Care about yourself. But stop worshipping an illusion." He pressed his lips together. "You don¡¯t need to be perfect to be seen. You need to exist in a way that demands to be seen." --- A Fire Inside Souta looked at his reflection again. Nothing had changed. And yet, everything had. For the first time, he wasn¡¯t just seeing flaws¡ªhe was seeing chains. Chains he had willingly placed on himself, all because he thought they would make him more valuable. But what if¡­ they never did? What if they only made him forget who he was? His shoulders loosened. He let out a slow breath. --- The Riddle That Burns "A lion does not ask the mirror if he is feared. A storm does not wait for the ocean¡¯s approval to rage. So tell me, Souta¡­ Why do you seek permission to be great?" Goosebumps crawled over his skin. And for the first time, when he looked at himself in the mirror¡ª He didn¡¯t see something broken. He saw something waiting to rise. Chapter 5:The Weight Of A Fist Souta tasted blood. It was thick on his tongue, metallic and bitter. His cheek throbbed where the first punch had landed. The sting spread through his jaw, his ribs aching from the kicks that followed. The cold pavement of the schoolyard pressed against his palms as he struggled to push himself up. Laughter echoed around him. "Look at this loser." "Thinks he can just walk around like he matters." "Pathetic." They weren¡¯t just words. They were daggers, sharpened by years of repetition. Souta had heard them before. He had felt them before. But today was different. Today, he had snapped. Today, he had fought back. --- A Battle He Never Stood a Chance In It started with a shove. A foot tripping him from behind. A voice whispering something cruel in his ear. And then, before he could think¡ªbefore the voice in his head could warn him¡ªhe turned and threw a punch. It was wild. Desperate. And it landed. For a moment, just a moment, he saw surprise in their eyes. He saw them hesitate. But then the numbers kicked in. One. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Two. Three. Four against one. He barely managed another hit before a knee drove into his stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs. A fist followed, slamming against his temple. His vision blurred. He collapsed. --- The Truth Hits Harder Than Any Punch Souta coughed, wiping blood from his mouth. "If I had friends¡­" He muttered through gritted teeth. "If I had people to back me up¡­ I wouldn¡¯t have lost." Silence. Then, the voice spoke. "So, you only call someone a friend when they fight for you?" Souta flinched. "That¡¯s not what I¡ª" "Then what are you saying?" The voice was calm. "That you wish you had people who needed you as much as you needed them? That you want loyalty built on nothing but survival?" Souta didn¡¯t respond. "Let me ask you something." The voice grew sharper. "If you had a group of people, just like them, backing you up¡­ What would have stopped you from becoming them?" His breath caught. "Would you really be any different? Or would you be standing on the other side, kicking someone who had no one?" The words burned deeper than the bruises. Souta clenched his fists. "I¡­ I wouldn¡¯t be like them." "Wouldn''t you?" He swallowed hard. --- The Fire That Burns Alone "You think strength is in numbers." The voice continued. "You think you lost because you were alone." Souta didn¡¯t answer. "But tell me, Souta¡ª" The voice lowered, pressing into his mind like a whisper from the abyss. "If your strength only exists when others are with you, was it ever yours to begin with?" Something inside him cracked. "Anyone can throw a punch when they have a crowd cheering them on. Anyone can stand tall when someone else holds them up. But true strength?" The voice paused, letting the weight of the words sink in. "True strength is standing up when no one is there to catch you." Souta¡¯s body ached, but his chest felt tighter for a different reason now. --- The Riddle That Cuts Deeper Than Any Blade "A lone wolf does not seek a pack to become strong. It becomes strong because it was left alone. So tell me, Souta¡­ Are you waiting for someone to lift you¡ª Or are you finally ready to rise on your own?" Goosebumps crawled up his arms. His breath steadied. And this time, when he pushed himself up from the ground¡ª He did it alone. Chapter 6: No Chains, No Kings The air reeked of sweat and blood. The alley behind the school was alive with fists slamming into flesh, grunts of pain, and the sickening sound of someone spitting out a tooth. Souta stopped at the edge of the chaos, his hands in his pockets. It was them. The same bastards who had jumped him yesterday. But now, they were the ones getting torn apart. Poetic, really. For a moment, he just stood there, watching. "What do you feel?" the voice asked. Souta didn¡¯t answer. Because he didn¡¯t know. --- A Lion Among Jackals Then, one of them noticed him. Riku, his face bloodied, looked up from where he was kneeling. He smirked. "Look who decided to show up. Here to watch us suffer?" His voice dripped with mockery, but his eyes held something else. Fear. Souta took a step forward. The fighting slowed. Then stopped. One of the guys who had been winning turned to him, sneering. "What? You wanna take their place?" Souta said nothing. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Another step. The guy scoffed, cracked his knuckles, and lunged¡ªhis fist colliding with Souta¡¯s jaw, snapping his head to the side. Blood splattered onto the pavement. The crowd gasped. Souta¡­ didn¡¯t move. Didn¡¯t flinch. Didn¡¯t even wipe the blood off his lips. His head slowly turned back, his eyes cold, dead. And then¡ª He spoke. "If you''re gonna hit me¡­ at least make it hurt." Silence. The guy¡¯s cocky grin wavered. His fingers twitched. He had the look of a man who just realized he made a mistake. Souta stepped closer. "Tell me¡­ do you feel strong right now?" The guy clenched his jaw. Souta¡¯s voice dropped to a whisper. "Or do you feel like an animal that bit off more than it could chew?" And then¡ª At the same time¡ª He and the voice spoke. "Because right now¡­ the only difference between you and prey¡­ is how long I decide to stand here." A chill ran through the air. The guy stumbled back. The entire alley was silent, the weight of those words crushing the atmosphere. Souta turned his gaze to Riku. Riku, the bastard who had beaten him to the ground just yesterday, looked small now. Like a child who just realized monsters were real. The guys who had been fighting? They weren¡¯t even looking at each other anymore. Because the real fight? It was over. --- What It Means To Be Feared Souta spat out the blood in his mouth, wiped his chin, and turned away. "Are you done?" the voice asked. "Yeah." "And what did you learn?" Souta exhaled through his nose. "That strength isn¡¯t about who throws the first punch. It¡¯s about who walks away knowing they never had to." The voice chuckled. "Good. Because the moment you start chasing fear¡­ is the moment you prove you don¡¯t have it." --- The Riddle That Ends The Fight "A dog barks the loudest be fore it runs. A man shouts the hardest before he begs. And a coward fights the most before he learns to kneel." Chapter 7: The Illusion Of Power I thought I had finally figured it out. The world was garbage. People were selfish, useless, weak. No one deserved my time, my effort, my kindness. And I wasn¡¯t going to waste another second on parasites. I wasn¡¯t some clueless fool anymore. I had evolved. At least¡­ that¡¯s what I told myself. --- Drowning in My Own Reflection I spent hours soaking in those ¡°motivational¡± videos, the ones that screamed about strength, power, dominance. I let them rewrite my thoughts. Turn my past pain into a weapon. Fill me with the idea that I was above everyone else. That being alone was proof of my superiority. That caring was weakness. That emotions were a burden. And soon, I believed it so much¡­ I didn¡¯t even realize I was choking on my own arrogance. But then¡ª Then my ¡°perfect plan¡± collapsed. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. One thing went wrong. Just one thing. And suddenly, the illusion cracked. I clenched my fists. It wasn¡¯t a big deal. It didn¡¯t matter. Because even if everything fell apart, I was still right. I was still better. Right? Then¡ª The voice spoke. And it didn¡¯t just crack the illusion. It shattered it. --- The Words That Tore Me Open "Look at you, Souta." The voice wasn¡¯t angry. It wasn¡¯t mocking. It was cold. Flat. Unimpressed. "You think you''re untouchable. You think you''re some superior being who sees what others can''t. But let''s break this down, shall we?" I exhaled sharply. "Here we go¡ª" "Shut up and listen." I froze. "You talk about strength, yet one failed plan shook you. You act like you don¡¯t care, yet you¡¯re seething inside. You think you¡¯re above emotions, yet your entire mindset is built on pure, fragile ego." I opened my mouth. Then closed it. "You call others weak for seeking validation, yet here you are, following internet voices like some mindless sheep, clinging to their words because they make you feel powerful." My hands curled into fists. "That¡¯s not true¡ª" "Then tell me, genius, what exactly do you gain from this? What has this ''superior mindset'' actually done for you? Are you happier? Are you better? Or have you just built a delusional kingdom where you''re the king of nothing?" The words cut. But the voice didn¡¯t stop. "You¡¯re not wise. You¡¯re not powerful. You¡¯re just another hurt little boy who refuses to heal because being bitter is easier." Something twisted inside me. "You don¡¯t isolate because you¡¯re strong. You isolate because you¡¯re scared." I swallowed hard. "And let¡¯s be real, Souta." The voice finally softened, but the weight of it only crushed me more. "You don¡¯t want to be strong." I sucked in a breath. "You just want to hurt others first so they never get the chance to hurt you again." Silence. A deep, suffocating silence. Because I had no words left to fight back. --- The Riddle That Ends a War "A man who drowns himself in fire will call the world cold. A king who buil ds his throne on sand will blame the wind when it collapses. And a boy who fears being weak will die proving he¡¯s strong." Chapter 8: The Joke That Isnt t Funny I used to laugh. I used to scroll through the comments, the posts, the clips¡ªwhere people took the most horrifying things and twisted them into jokes. I thought it was dark humor. I thought it made me edgy. It made me feel like I was part of something. Like I got it. Like I wasn¡¯t some sensitive loser who took things too seriously. And every time someone got offended, I just laughed harder. "Relax, it¡¯s just a joke." "Dark humor isn¡¯t for everyone." "If you can¡¯t take it, leave." I used to say that. Until the voice slapped me awake. --- When Did We Become This? I was lying in bed, mindlessly scrolling, as usual. Another post. Another comment section filled with the same kind of humor. Some girl had been assaulted. Some guy had lost his life. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. And the replies were filled with laughing emojis. People turning tragedy into entertainment. "She sure had fun before passing away." "Bro suffered before he got to rest in peace." And I smirked. Not because it was funny. But because I had trained myself to think it was. Then¡ª "Souta." The voice came, sharp. Cold. I barely reacted. "What? It¡¯s just dark humor." The voice exhaled. Then, it asked¡ª "Tell me, Souta. Will you still be laughing when it''s your own daughter?" My breath caught. "What?" "I said¡ªwhen you''re a father, when you have a daughter, when she suffers something like this, will you still be sitting here, laughing? Will you comment ¡®she sure had fun before passing away¡¯?" A sick feeling crawled up my spine. "That''s different¡ª" "No, it¡¯s not." The voice cut through me like a knife. "You laugh at it now because it isn¡¯t happening to you. Because the victims are just names on a screen. Because you¡¯ve convinced yourself that nothing is real unless it happens in your world." My throat felt dry. "You say it¡¯s just a joke. But humor isn¡¯t an excuse to turn someone¡¯s suffering into your entertainment." I swallowed hard. "Come on, I¡¯m not the only one who does this¡ª" "Exactly. That¡¯s the problem." The voice¡¯s tone didn¡¯t change. "People like you sit in groups, normalizing this filth. And before you know it, you¡¯re not just laughing at it. You¡¯re excusing it. You¡¯re encouraging it. You¡¯re making the world believe that cruelty is just comedy." I shut my eyes. "One day, Souta, you¡¯ll grow up. One day, you¡¯ll love someone. One day, you¡¯ll see a person you care about in pain. And that day, I want you to remember the things you used to laugh at." My stomach twisted. "I want you to remember how you made fun of someone else¡¯s nightmare. And then, I want you to ask yourself¡ª" The voice leaned in, whispering its final blow. "¡ªif someone else was laughing at your pain, would you still think it was just a joke?" Silence. The screen in my hand felt heavier than ever. --- The Words That Make You Sick "A joke that needs a victim was never a joke. A laugh that costs a life was never a laugh. And a world that mocks pain will one day become the pain it mocks." Chapter 9:What Is A Relationship? "Bro¡­ how does an ugly dude like him have a girlfriend?" "Man, these stinky-ass, broke guys always get girls. What about me?" "Why the hell don¡¯t I have one?" I had these thoughts before. More times than I wanted to admit. Every time I saw someone in a relationship, especially a guy who I thought looked worse than me¡ªmy mind went straight to ¡°what¡¯s wrong with me?¡± Am I not attractive enough? Not rich enough? Not funny enough? The jealousy sat in my chest like poison. I started seeing relationships as a competition. As if getting a girlfriend was some kind of status boost. Like it would prove something about me. That I wasn¡¯t a loser. That I was wanted. That I was somebody. And then, just as that thought settled in¡ª "Souta." The voice. It came quietly. Calmly. And yet, something about its tone made me uneasy. "The question isn¡¯t ¡®why don¡¯t you have a girlfriend when others do?¡¯" A pause. "The real question is¡­what even is a relationship?¡± The words hit. Hard. I opened my mouth to reply¡ªbut nothing came out. --- What Is It Really? The voice continued. "Is it just about having someone to call yours? Someone to show off? Someone to keep you company so you don¡¯t feel lonely?" The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. I clenched my jaw. "Or is it about something else?" I stayed quiet. "Tell me, Souta¡­ What do you even want a girlfriend for?" My mind raced. Companionship? Love? Maybe just someone to talk to? But then I remembered how I saw guys talking about their girlfriends. "My btch."* "Man, I got her wrapped around my finger." "She does everything for me, bro. That¡¯s how you train them." And the worst part? Girls weren¡¯t any better. "I just want a rich guy, lmao." "Men are so easy. Just act cute, and they¡¯ll do whatever you want." "If he ain''t buying me gifts, why would I even stay?" I exhaled. "This¡­ this isn¡¯t love." The voice nodded. "No, it¡¯s not. But it¡¯s what people have turned relationships into." And then, like a hammer slamming down¡ª "People don¡¯t want partners. They want tools to satisfy them." The words stung. "That¡¯s why the world is filled with playboys and playgirls. Gold diggers and manipulators. People who enter relationships not to give, but to take." I clenched my fists. "So you¡¯re saying love doesn¡¯t exist?" "No." The voice was firm. "I¡¯m saying people confuse love with attachment." I swallowed. "What do you mean?" "Love is selfless. Attachment is selfish." "Love is giving, even when you get nothing back. Attachment is taking, even when it hurts the other person." "Love is patient. Attachment is possessive." "Love is about them. Attachment is about you." It was like my brain was rewiring itself. I thought back to the people who called their partners ¡°theirs¡± like they were some kind of property. To the guys who flexed how easily they could cheat and get away with it. To the girls who only dated guys for their wallets. And then, I saw her. --- The Moment the Voice Vanished I saw her in the school hallway. The girl I had a crush on. She wasn¡¯t like the others. She wasn¡¯t the kind of girl who played with people¡¯s hearts or sought attention. She was different. And in that moment, something inside me shifted. I wasn¡¯t thinking about ¡°owning¡± her. I wasn¡¯t thinking about proving something. I just¡­ admired her. And then, the voice vanished. No comment. No deep quote. No harsh truth. Just silence. Like it was waiting. Watching. And somehow, that silence spoke louder than anything else. Because in that moment¡ª I understood. --- Not Everything Is the Same People love to say, ¡°All girls are the same.¡± Or ¡°All men are the same.¡± But that¡¯s a lie. A lazy excuse to justify bitterness. Nothing in this world is the same. Not people. Not experiences. Not even a single pebble. And if you go through life believing everything is the same¡ª You¡¯ll never see the things that are different. You¡¯ll never see her. You¡¯ll never see love. --- The Riddle That Cut Deep "A dog tied to a pole thinks the whole world is a circle. A fish in a tank thinks the ocean is only as big as the glass around it. And a man who only knows pain thinks there is nothing else in life but suffering. But tell me, Souta¡­ Is the world really as small as you think? Or is it just your vision that is?" Chapter 10: Love Is Dead, Right? I used to think love was something sacred. A connection so deep that two souls became one. Then I grew up. And the more I saw, the more I questioned¡ªIs love even real anymore? People cheat on the ones who trusted them the most. They lie, they manipulate, they use. A guy promises a girl the world, then leaves her crying at 2 AM over some text. A girl tells a guy she loves him, but she¡¯s already texting someone else behind his back. I''ve seen it happen. Too many times. But nothing made it hit harder than my own friend. He barely even spoke to this girl. Out of nowhere, he asked, "Wanna date?" And she just said yes. No deep conversations. No late-night talks. No bond. Just like that, they were a couple. I felt something twist inside me. "Am I the one thinking wrong?" I asked myself. "Are they fools? Or does the kind of love I believe in not exist anymore?" The voice inside me stayed quiet for a moment. Then, with a calm yet brutal tone, it spoke. "Nowadays, people blindly get into relationships¡­ just like your so-called friend." I frowned. "So-called friend? What do you mean? He''s my friend." The voice didn''t answer. A strange silence filled my head. And then, as if brushing the topic aside, it continued. "Love isn¡¯t dead, Souta. It¡¯s just not what people think it is anymore. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. People don''t seek connection. They seek validation. They don¡¯t date to love. They date to prove they can get someone. They think a relationship is a trophy. Something to show off, not something to build. That¡¯s why they cheat so easily. That¡¯s why they replace each other so fast. They don¡¯t want love. They want to own someone. To control someone. To have someone at their side, just so they don¡¯t feel alone. But love¡­ love was never meant to be a bandage for loneliness. It was meant to be a bond strong enough to hold two people together even when they¡¯re falling apart inside. Tell me, Souta¡­ If love was just about "having someone," then why do so many people feel lonely inside their own relationships?" I clenched my fists. I didn''t want to admit it, but¡­ the voice was right. People get into relationships without even knowing what a relationship is. They chase after a feeling they don¡¯t understand. That¡¯s why they get bored. That¡¯s why they cheat. That¡¯s why they leave. And the worst part? When it all goes wrong, they blame love itself. "Love isn¡¯t real. All men cheat. All women are gold diggers." No. Love is real. It¡¯s just rare. Because not everyone is ready for it. Not everyone deserves it. And the ones who do? They''re the ones left heartbroken, asking themselves¡ª "Is love even worth it?" I sighed. "Then tell me, Voice. If love is so rare, how do we find it?" "You don¡¯t find love, Souta. Love finds you. When you¡¯re ready. When you understand it. When you deserve it." I exhaled slowly. Maybe I was scared of love, not because it was fake, but because¡­ I didn¡¯t trust people to be loyal anymore. The voice chuckled darkly. "You fear love not because it¡¯s weak, but because you think loyalty is dead. But tell me, Souta¡­ If every castle has a few traitors, does that mean every knight is a liar?" I froze. For once, I had no words. Chapter 11: The People You Call Friends "So-called friend." That¡¯s what the voice said in the last conversation. And I ignored it. But today, those words came back to me like a slap in the face. It happened during lunch. I was sitting at the usual table when I heard them talking. My "friends." Laughing, joking¡­ but something was off. Then I heard my name. "Souta? That guy''s pathetic. Always acting like he¡¯s deep or some sht."* I stopped eating. "Thinks he''s smarter than everyone. It¡¯s hilarious watching him try so hard." Laughter. "Bro, he really thinks girls like guys like him. Nah, they want confidence, not some overthinking loser." I felt my hands clench under the table. These were the same guys I¡¯d sat with for years. The same people I trusted. And here they were¡­ dragging my name through the dirt like I was just another joke to them. I swallowed hard. Maybe they were just messing around. Maybe I was overreacting. Then¡ª This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. "Yeah, but let¡¯s keep him around. Dude always pays for snacks when we ''forget'' our money." Silence. Something inside me snapped. I stood up. The chair screeched against the floor. All eyes turned to me. I walked up to them. Calm. Expressionless. One of them smirked. "Yo, Souta! What¡¯s up, bro?" I just stared at him. "Bro?" My voice came out cold. Too cold. He blinked, confused. "Yeah?" I leaned in slightly. Lowered my voice. "How much do you get paid to act like my friend?" Silence. The smirk disappeared. Another one of them scoffed. "Yo, chill, it was just jokes, man." "Oh, ¡®jokes¡¯? Damn, I must be the funniest clown in your circus then, huh?" I stepped back, shaking my head. "Nah. I get it now." I turned to leave. And just as I did, the voice in my head whispered something. Something that hit me harder than anything before. "You see now, Souta? You were never part of their group. You were their entertainment. Their backup plan. Their wallet. Their punching bag. But never their friend." I felt my stomach tighten. "Friendship isn¡¯t about how long you¡¯ve known someone. It¡¯s about who still stands beside you¡­ when there¡¯s nothing left to take." I walked away, my mind racing. Had I been blind this whole time? Had I really been that desperate to fit in? How many times had I ignored the signs? How many times had I let them use me because I thought¡ªno, they wouldn¡¯t do that to me¡­ right? The voice spoke again, softer this time. "Sometimes, losing people isn¡¯t the real loss. The real loss is keeping people who were never real to begin with." I exhaled. For once, I didn¡¯t feel angry. Just¡­ free. Chapter 12: Do You Love Me, Or The Idea Of Me? I never thought this would happen to me. Not because I believed I was unlovable or anything, but because I knew how the world worked. Girls didn''t just walk up to guys like me and confess. It was always the other way around. Yet here she was. Standing right in front of me, shifting her weight from one foot to another, lips slightly trembling. "Souta¡­ I like you." The hallway was quiet. Just me and her. A normal guy and a nervous girl. I swallowed. I should be happy, right? This is what most people dream of. Someone liking them. Someone choosing them. Yet something about it felt... off. The words were perfect. But the way she said them? It was like she was convincing herself more than she was confessing to me. My heart pounded. And just as I was about to say something¡ª "Ask her why." The voice. It came in sharp, cutting through my thoughts like a blade. "What?" I asked internally. "Ask. Her. Why." Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. I frowned. That felt¡­ wrong. Shouldn¡¯t I just be grateful? Shouldn¡¯t I just accept? Why ruin this moment? But the voice didn¡¯t let up. *"If love has no reason, then it¡¯s not love. It¡¯s a fleeting feeling." I inhaled. Steadied myself. And then I did it. "Why?" She blinked. "Huh?" "Why do you like me?" She looked caught off guard. Her eyes darted around, as if searching for the right answer. I could almost hear the gears turning in her head. "I mean¡­ you''re different. Smart. Kinda mysterious." I didn¡¯t react. I just waited. "And¡­ I don¡¯t know. You just have this cool vibe. I feel like you understand things other guys don¡¯t." The voice laughed. Not a kind laugh. Not a warm laugh. A cold, knowing chuckle. "She doesn¡¯t love you, Souta. She loves the idea of you." A weight settled in my chest. I clenched my fists. I wasn¡¯t a person to her. I was a concept. A mood. An aesthetic. Not someone she loved. Someone she wanted to be fascinated by. I sighed, looking at her again, really looking at her. Her hands were still fidgeting. She was still waiting for my answer. She thought she liked me. But what she really liked¡ªwas her perception of me. And that? That wasn''t love. I exhaled. "Sorry¡­ but no." Her eyes widened. "Wait, what? Why?" I almost laughed at how fast the excitement vanished from her face. "Because you don¡¯t even know who I am." Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to argue¡ªbut she had nothing to say. Because she knew I was right. Silence. That¡¯s when I felt it. The shift. Her crush shattered in real-time. Not because I rejected her. But because she finally realized she had nothing real to hold on to. I stepped back. The air felt lighter now. As I turned to leave, the voice whispered something in my mind. A riddle. "Is it love, or just curiosity wearing a prettier mask?" I didn¡¯t look back. I didn¡¯t need to.