"By the way, I wanted to ask you something."
Lyxander snapped out of it. His mind, which had been blank for a while, finally returned to reality. He only just realized that Natanael had initiated the conversation. That fact alone was surprising enough for him.
Natanael wasn't the talkative type. She was usually silent, observing, and then acting. So, when she spoke first, it was quite a shock.
"What is it?"
Natanael didn't answer immediately. She lifted a book from her lap and showed it to Lyxander. The cover was simple, predominantly dark, with a small yet striking title.
Little Monster.
The moment he read the title, Lyxander's brain went into overdrive. Old memories resurfaced, like book pages being forced open by the wind. His eyes, which were previously indifferent, were now filled with a flash of admiration he could barely hide.
"Little Monster!" he exclaimed involuntarily.
"You know it?" Natanael pulled back slightly, surprised.
"Of course I know it. This is a novel with an extraordinary opening."
Lyxander began to tell the story.
—
The Little Monster begins with a traffic accident. The streets are slick from the night rain, city lights reflecting on the asphalt like open wounds. A drunk driver loses control—first of himself, then of the wheel in his hands.
The car hurtles wildly.
And there, the little monster sees everything.
He stands on the roadside, not interfering, not helping. He only watches. And from that observation, a question is born.
"Hmm… what would happen if a human truly lost control?"
Driven by a curiosity that is both innocent and repulsive, the little monster approaches a middle-aged man. His face is dull, his eyes empty; life clearly hasn't been kind to him for a long time. The monster offers him strong liquor.
At first, the man seems the same. He laughs, talking more than usual. But with every gulp, a change begins to show. His laughter turns coarse. His hands begin to tremble. Things around him are destroyed one by one.
The little monster keeps watching. He doesn't stop it. He wants to see the end of his experiment.
The night grows late.
The man staggers, laughing to himself, walking aimlessly. Until in the middle of the road, he encounters a beautiful woman. Her face is like a top-tier model—the kind of woman who only appears in expensive magazines or perfume ads.
Admiration turns into an impulse.
In his drunken state, the man loses his boundaries. He pushes the woman, forcing his feelings upon her. And when consciousness begins to return, all that is left is panic.
Fear.
Fear of punishment, fear of consequences.
So, the man kills her.
The woman's body is hidden, buried along with a guilt too heavy to bear. But the world isn't that foolish. Not long after, the man is arrested.
In the distance, the little monster laughs.
He is satisfied. Deeply satisfied.
Witnessing the sheer stupidity of humanity.
—
"Who do you think is at fault?" asked Lyxander, lost in his own storytelling.
He only realized his mistake when he saw Natanael's confused expression. He remembered—Natanael was the one who wanted to ask a question, not him.
"Sorry," he said quickly. "I got a bit carried away. So, what was your question?"
"It's fine," Natanael slowly flipped through the pages of the book, then stopped at a specific one. She pointed to a sentence.
Those who face a cruel life must be careful not to become just as cruel.
"What is the meaning of this sentence?" Natanael asked.
Lyxander went silent. His brain stalled for a moment, like a machine needing time to re-process old data. He needed to find the matching memory.
"It's not actually that deep of a sentence," he said.
"Not that deep?" Natanael repeated softly.
"The author of The Little Monster once said in an interview that this sentence only exists as a reminder for readers not to become as cruel as the Little Monster."
"There is no special meaning other than a reminder." He sighed. "That statement actually disappointed the readers quite a bit, considering it's one of the most iconic lines from the book."
Natanael nodded slightly; she seemed just as disappointed as the readers. After all, that line was one of the best in the entire novel.
A few seconds passed.
Then, Natanael's pupils dilated slightly. She slowly turned toward Lyxander.
"Lyxander, will you become cruel?"
"Become cruel?" Lyxander asked.
"If you face a cruel life, will you become just as cruel?"
Lyxander rested his chin on his hand, recalling his past life.
'In my previous life, I think I was already quite cruel. Perhaps if it weren't for my family, I would have become just as cruel as the Little Monster.'
Just as he was about to open his mouth to answer, the bus arrived, ending their conversation.
•••
The Dam.
Inside the Entity Corporation headquarters, Lyxander was working on a report.
His hands typed rapidly.
Having grown accustomed to filing reports, Lyxander was now able to finish them in just 30 minutes.
In contrast, Quartz looked like a living corpse; his hair was disheveled, and his eyes were bloodshot. His face was filled with agony after having his report revised multiple times.
"Haven't you worked here longer? Why hasn't your skill ever improved?"
A vein popped on Quartz's forehead. He glared at Lyxander and, without warning, grabbed Lyxander's hair.
"So what if my skills don't improve! Besides, why do you guys care so much about every little detail! If you want to write reports, then write them yourselves!"
Lyxander tried to fight back, but Quartz's movements were so agile that his hair began to fall out strand by strand.
"I get it! I get it! So stop!" Lyxander screamed.
The two idiots continued their antics until a woman entered the room.
"Hoho, you two seem to be getting along quite well."
They both stopped. Lyxander looked at the woman—yellow eyes and dark red hair styled with a middle part.
She exuded a mature aura far stronger than Amethyst's. To be honest, Lyxander knew two big reasons for that mature aura.
Poke!
Quartz jabbed Lyxander's eyes with two fingers.
"Uwaagh, my eyes!"
While Lyxander rolled and writhed on the floor, the other Crows began to arrive and greet the woman.
"You're home, Oliv."
'Oliv?!' Lyxander knew that name.
Not because they had met, but because her nameplate was right next to Thomas's desk.
'Olivine Filipus, Thomas's partner and the Vice Captain of Division 5.'
Lyxander immediately remembered. In the past few weeks, he had heard that Olivine had traveled to the headquarters to represent Captain Simon, who was unavailable.
Olivine pulled out a large suitcase and opened it in front of all the Crows. A shimmering light emerged from inside, making every Crow's eyes sparkle. They were souvenirs.
"Alright!" Olivine shouted. "Line up, everyone. I'm handing them out."
One by one, the members received souvenirs—many types, ranging from clothes to food and accessories.
"Come here, newbie," Olivine called out.
"Eh!" Lyxander started. "I get one too?"
Olivine grinned widely. "Of course. Catch!"
Caught off guard, Lyxander quickly caught it. A small keychain in the shape of the national monument of the Accursed Empire.
Lyxander's expression quickly turned sour. He didn't expect much, but he was still disappointed by such a generic gift.
Seeing Lyxander's face, Olivine furrowed her brows. "What's with that face? If you don't smile, I'm going to beat you up."
In the end, Lyxander could only scrunch his face and force a smile.
Olivine seemed satisfied with that fake smile and began to look around.
"By the way, where are the others?"
Most of Division 5 was in the room, while a few were on patrol duty or, like Captain Simon, in their private offices.
"Lyxandeeeer!"
Amethyst leaped from behind the door and hugged Lyxander. Lyxander tried to resist, but he was powerless.
"Weren't you on patrol?" Lyxander asked.
"I was, but Captain Simon ordered all Division 5 members to gather in the room."
"Gather?"
Following that question, other Crows like Peter and Garnet entered. Now, every member of Division 5 was assembled.
Finally, Captain Simon entered the room and began his address.
"Alright, since we are all gathered here, I'll get straight to the point."
Captain Simon wore a dead-serious expression.
"All of you… write your last wills and testaments."