Chapter 35
Marcus POV.
Death—how magnificent, how utterly artistic.
Is death itself not a form of art?
Death is the one who adorns stories; a tale without death is dreadfully dull.
From childhood, I've had a bond with death.
I fell in love with death itself and turned it into a hobby: hunting.
Watching animals die or writhe in agony—it always made me happy.
People deem killing humans wrong, but my instincts demanded it.
I couldn't stop those urges, so I learned…
Using the system's loophole, I decided to kill those who murdered others.
If killing a killer makes me one too, then before I die, I'll drag every killer with me and end myself.
The police found bodies but no evidence—it was thrilling.
Even that was artistic.
Death, my love, how sweet you are—a dream I never wanted to end.
Yet it felt like waking at the dream's climax.
I joined the police force, became a detective.
That way, I could select more victims, gain more access to information.
