The sky wasn’t entirely dark. But it no longer knew what light was.

  Gray clouds loomed low over the city, unmoving, as if too tired to float. The rain had stopped falling, but its remnants lingered on the streets—small puddles reflecting a world barely moving.

  I sat on an old bench in the middle of a park.

  A park that had never blossomed.

  The swing beside me swayed gently without any wind. Its chains creaked with each movement, like the weeping of abandoned iron. The park was surrounded by gaping buildings. Their walls were covered in mold, their windows cracked. The sounds of the world... never reached here.

  Here I was now—a body that could still move, but no longer felt alive.

  I used to be happy in this park.

  At least... that's what my memory said.

  "You used to love playing there, Knnight,"

  my mother's faint voice once whispered in my mind.

  "You laughed the first time you sat on the swing."

  I don't know if it’s true.

  But the memory exists.

  And that memory is the only source of feeling I have left.

  I don't truly feel.

  But I can still choose to summon the memory of feeling—

  like opening a dusty drawer and pulling out old, blurry photographs.

  I... am not a monster.

  But I am no longer human, either.

  Not after everything that happened.

  "How many times have you sat here?"

  A strange voice suddenly asked.

  I turned slowly.

  No one.

  Or maybe there was.

  Maybe I just couldn’t tell reality apart from the flicker of memory anymore.

  I'm used to voices.

  Some spoke like old friends.

  Others... like judges inside my skull.

  But today, they were all silent.

  No one spoke. No one whispered.

  Only this park, this bench, and the gray sky overhead—

  watching.

  I once believed in the law.

  I lived by it, honored it.

  I even refused bribes when working as a legal administrator in the eastern district.

  And what did I get in return?

  A curse.

  Déjà vu.

  Fragments of time looping endlessly like shards of glass stabbing into my eyes.

  I remember a child once ran toward me, crying, lost from her mother.

  I wanted to help.

  But I hesitated.

  I feared what would happen.

  They would accuse me of kidnapping.

  They would look at me like a criminal.

  And the worst part wasn't the accusation—

  It was that I had already seen it happen.

  Again and again.

  The same hateful eyes.

  The same shouted words.

  The same thick air heavy with distrust.

  Nothing ever changed.

  I was trapped in the recording of my own life.

  And every time I tried to break free...

  the world simply repeated.

  Law of Remnant.

  That’s the name of my power.

  I didn't choose it—the words simply appeared in my mind.

  When this power awoke, I knew immediately:

  It wasn’t magic.

  It wasn’t a blessing.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  It was a second form of curse.

  I couldn't create.

  I could only destroy.

  This power wasn't fueled by my body.

  It was fueled by a bank of emotions inside my memories.

  Every pain, every shame, every fear, every disappointment—

  even unreturned love—

  all became fuel.

  I could choose an emotion, ignite it in my mind—

  and instantly... the world would crack.

  But why would I?

  "Because that feeling is the only thing that reminds you you're alive,"

  a voice inside me answered.

  I looked down at my hands.

  Cold.

  Not from the air, but from the absence of my soul inside this body.

  I could feel the pulse in my veins—

  but it felt like watching someone else breathe for me.

  I summoned a memory.

  My little sister's smile, when I gave her a cheap stuffed toy from the night market.

  It felt warm.

  But it was too brief.

  So I tried another.

  The sound of people laughing—

  laughing as they accused me of stealing public funds.

  When all I had done... was refuse to join their corruption.

  Heat surged. My eyes trembled. My hands shook.

  Remnanctum: Type Despair.

  The ground beneath the bench cracked slowly.

  The grass withered.

  The air grew heavy.

  I quickly shut it down.

  Not yet.

  Not now.

  I still had control.

  I stood up.

  My steps carried me away from the park.

  But the park didn’t disappear.

  It stayed in my mind—replaying.

  Like every place I'd ever touched.

  This place would never bloom.

  Because I carried ruin wherever I went.

  And somewhere along the way...

  I stopped caring whether this world deserved to be saved or not.

  I saw an old building standing at the end of the street.

  No sign.

  No paint left on its walls.

  Only dust and the smell of rust clinging to every crevice.

  It was a shell.

  A hollow space too large for one person…

  but perfect for someone who wanted to disappear.

  I pushed the door open.

  The hinges screeched.

  Sunlight never entered here.

  I didn’t turn on the lights.

  I didn’t need them.

  I wasn’t even sure light meant anything to me anymore.

  My footsteps echoed alone.

  This used to be a small legal office.

  I worked here once—

  filing documents, organizing records, handling reports.

  All carefully.

  All with good intentions.

  Now... just piles of empty folders.

  Some slashed with red ink: "CANCELLED," "INVALID," "TRAITOR."

  I didn't regret upholding the law.

  I was only... disappointed.

  The desk at the far end still stood.

  I sat down, pulled open a drawer, and took out an old book.

  Not a diary.

  Not a law book.

  Not a strategy manual.

  Just... a collection of memories.

  I called it that because the book was filled with scribbles—

  an emotional log of sorts.

  On the first page, I had written:

  "If I can no longer feel, then let me at least remember."

  Each page after contained a single emotion.

  "Fear – when they looked at me like I was a beast."

  "Happiness – when she gave me a piece of cake and said I deserved something sweet."

  "Anger – when they accused me of hiding evidence, even though I was the only one who stayed honest."

  "Love – when she said I was strange, but stayed with me that night."

  I don't know who "she" was anymore.

  Maybe just a memory I built from desperation.

  Law of Remnant worked like a reflection.

  The stronger the emotion I drew from memory,

  the greater its manifestation into the world.

  But there was a price.

  Each time I pulled from that emotional bank,

  I lost a little more of my sanity.

  I felt... alien.

  Not just toward the world—

  but toward myself.

  One night, I cried.

  But I didn’t know why.

  When I looked into the mirror,

  I didn’t know who was staring back.

  I started realizing...

  the "me" who existed now was no longer the "me" from before.

  And worse...

  I was getting used to it.

  "Why don’t you talk to people?"

  That question often echoed—

  from inside my head,

  from the few people I still crossed paths with.

  The answer was simple.

  I was afraid.

  Not afraid of being rejected—

  but afraid they would destroy me without meaning to.

  Someone once gave me a smile.

  I remembered it.

  I kept it close.

  But when that person returned...

  they laughed with someone else.

  They said things that cut deep, whether they meant to or not.

  And, as always...

  I kept those memories too.

  My emotional bank made no distinction—

  whether it was love or wounds.

  It hoarded everything.

  And when it overflowed...

  the world became a mirror of my broken mind.

  Today, I heard footsteps outside the building.

  Soft. Hesitant.

  But approaching.

  I waited.

  One... two... three knocks at the door.

  I didn’t answer.

  Then, the door creaked open.

  Someone stood there.

  A girl.

  Young.

  Long hair tied carelessly.

  Sharp eyes, but uncertain.

  Maybe she was lost.

  Or...

  Maybe she was sent.

  "Sorry, I..." she hesitated.

  "I'm just looking for a place to shelter... may I?"

  I stared at her in silence.

  One second.

  Two seconds.

  Memories started to flow in.

  Her eyes reminded me of someone.

  The way she stood—

  like someone I once tried to protect.

  "You..."

  my voice croaked.

  "Aren't you afraid... this place is cursed?"

  She paused.

  Then gave a small, weary smile.

  "Sometimes... the most terrifying places are more honest than people."

  That smile triggered a memory.

  I pulled at it.

  Warmth spread faintly in my chest.

  But at the same time, the sky outside began to tremble.

  Remnanctum was responding.

  I quickly turned my face away, fighting the surge of emotions trying to erupt.

  "You should leave," I said hoarsely.

  "Before something comes."

  The sky rumbled.

  The building shuddered.

  The emotions inside me overflowed—

  a mixture of joy, fear, and a nameless sense of loss.

  I needed control.

  You’re not a monster, Knnight, I whispered to myself.

  Don't destroy something again.

  But the world never understood warnings.

  And the Law of Remnant had no mercy.

  My power could only affect the environment—

  so when I longed for destruction,

  nature itself would bite back.

  It would slice, rip, punish anyone who became a mirror to my fractured soul.