--I'm going to kill anyone who underestimates me, and make them regret it.

　I don't know when I first came up with that idea. Philos-Treit can't quite remember.

　It may have been when my brother-in-law looked at me with greedy eyes, or it may have been the moment I stepped into the Treit household.

　Or maybe it was the moment I stepped into the Treit household.

　The thing that lies deep in the memory of Philos-Treit is the eyes. The eyes that stare at you. If you ask me, I've been exposed to some kind of eyes my whole life.

　Eyes of strangeness, eyes of insult, eyes of lust. All of them, Philos-Treit remembers well, were as if they were assessing him.

　Yes, because the eyes that looked at you were all lurking with a color that seemed to belittle you. Somewhere along the line, he had come to hate the way they looked at him.

　So I decided. I would never let anyone underestimate me or belittle me. If anyone did, I would strangle them with my own hands. I promised myself.

　Then, Philos-Treit asked himself, feeling a numb pain in his cheek.

　How should I treat these citizens who are looking down on me right now? Will I be able to strangle my beloved citizens?

　--I felt a shock.

　What I felt was a shock. Then a dull thud in the back of my skull. The sound popped in my ears and flickered before my eyes like a bolt of lightning. Just as these phenomena were beginning to become familiar to his body, pain finally burned strongly down Philos-Treit's spine.

　Quickly, he bit his back teeth. He closed his eyelids, stiffened his body, and prepared for the pain. He had probably been struck with an iron rod or something. He felt as if the flesh on his back had been cut away.

　The feeling was too painful. Pain is not an adequate word. I could barely stand it, my body shrinking and sobbing.

"----!

　I could tell that someone had called out to me. It was a very dirty word. I don't know the faces of these citizens, but they must know me well. I could hear them cursing and laughing at my misfortune.

　Again, I hear the sound of a stick cutting the wind. With every muscle in his body tensed, Philos-Treit prepared for impact.

　This time, he was struck in the thigh. This time he was struck in the thigh, and it really felt like it could break. The leg bounced as if it had lost all sensation, and the flesh was hot to the touch.

　The pain was so excruciating that it almost knocked me off my feet. I feel like hating these citizens.

　But that's not possible. It's not possible.

　I clench my teeth. Philos-Treit thought his jaw would creak. I am the ruler. I'm the ruler of Philos. A man should never let his rage boil over into hatred of the people. You've decided to love your people more than anyone else and make this city prosper more than anyone else.

　Therefore, even if you are struck with iron, even if you are mocked, even if you are trampled upon, you must never hate the people.

　Of course, they don't know what's in Philos-Treit's heart. The man with the club swung down his weapon, saying.

"Die with regret, enemy of the people!

　The steel struck the girl's body again. In the dungeon, where not even the moonlight penetrates, the faint light of the cantera caresses her cheek.

　She could no longer see anything. Only darkness, not even light, covered Philos-Treit's vision.

　She heard the sound of something cutting through the air. In a few moments, the painful impact would strike him again. I stiffened my body and prepared myself. A slight flicker of darkness was reflected in the edge of my vision.

　--The dungeon echoed not with the sound of blows, but with the ear-splitting, ear-splitting sound of flesh being torn.

　The pain didn't come for however long I stood there. It was strange. The pain always came after the sound.

　Was he going to laugh at the way I slumped and slumped the moment I relaxed a little? I'm sure you'll be able to figure out what's going on. As always, it's night, except for a few lights from the cantera. The surrounding area is no longer dark, but rather looks as if it has been covered with black paint.

　Voices echoed from there. One moaning, the other.

"Don't you dare call me dirty.

　A voice I've heard before. "Don't call me dirty." I'd heard that voice before, rough, throwing.

I'm not a good person, you know. I'm not a good person, after all. Who would point at mud and call it dirty?

　I heard the sound of something massive crashing down. My vision is still poor, there is only darkness in front of me. The only thing I could see was what looked like a pair of eyes. The pupils were as sharp as sharp blades, with a swarthy color.



　There was only one person in Philos-Treit's memory who had eyes like that. He felt the blood pooling in the back of his throat and slowly opened his lips. The action felt like it had been a long time. What came out of his throat was very muffled, but he managed to get the words out.

...... What are you doing here, I wonder?

　He didn't ask how he got here, or how he knew he was being held captive. These things were of no importance to Philos-Treit.

　The only thing he wondered was why someone like him had come to this place.

　He, Lugis the Vicious, said as he intensified the fire of his cantera. I can see his swarthy eyes narrowing slightly.

'Well, if my ally is in jail, I'll at least unlock the door first. There's no need to feel indebted, it's just a matter of time.

　Rougis snapped his neck and said as if it was nothing. Philos-Treit's eyelids blinked involuntarily at his light-hearted remark. A numbing pain ran down his spine.

　Just a thing, by the way. Did he just say that?

　So you're saying that this man has other main goals, but he just happened to be able to help you, so he reached out to you on a whim.

　I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that I'm not the only one who's had to deal with this. It was enough to bring up the pain in his body. But he couldn't help but laugh.

　Oh, I've been made a fool of. Cursed and beaten with sticks by the citizens I was supposed to love and protect, and handed out at whim by the enemies I was supposed to hate. How diminutive and disrespected I have become. It is understandable that we are belittled and underestimated. It's just ridiculous.

　Well, even if I could understand it, there's no way I could accept it. With what little strength he had left in his trembling voice, Philos-Treit said.

"...... I am Philos-Treit, ruler of the city of Philos. I will not accept any mercy from you.

　As he crawled away, his body creaking in pain, he managed to look up and continue speaking. It was as if he was reenacting the battlefield.

　The lights of the cantera grew louder.

I will not live in such disgrace, abandoned by my citizens and pitied by my enemies--kill me here. I'm not on your side.

　She said, staring at her eyes in the darkness, glaring at them. The light from the cantera licked the girl's cheek.