"This might hurt a little… do you even feel any pain?" I asked before my brain could stop me.

What a stupid question to ask. Of course, he would feel pain.

​​

…

Or does he?

Even if the notion itself is preposterous, it does make some sense.

The ease with which he cauterized his wound after having his left arm sliced off, and the nonchalance with which he blew off his right arm to kill Suraja makes me wonder; what if he really didn't feel any pain?

Heh, that honestly sounded more believable than him feeling the agony of losing both of his arms yet still going about his way like it was just another day.

"What do you think?" Samur scoffed.

"I'm beginning to doubt what I think."

This isn't how a 12-year-old child should be, yet here we are.

Just what exactly did he go through for him to turn out like this?

As far as I know, he had a difficult past. He was ostracised by his own family because of his hair colour.

But was that it?

No matter how I look at it, a simple isolation couldn't have made him this way.

Something had seriously gone wrong in his life, something he wasn't telling us.

In fact, he was adamant about not revealing anything to us, going so far as to ruin his relationship with Noelle.

Just why?

"Well, you are right. I feel absolutely nothing." Samur smiled.

"…What?"

Ah, I see, this is another one of his jokes.

"We have my family to thank for that."

"How?" I found myself asking that question even though I didn't want to.

However, rather than ask me to grow up, he continued, "You know, back when I was little, they subjected me to tortures so great that the pain of losing my arms feels like a tickle. Oh, apparently, they did that to train my pain receptors."

…

Eh?

Skinned?

Without any warning, a scene of a distant past suddenly flashed before my eyes.

It was a dark dungeon.

A cacophony of groans and cries, screams and shouts was assaulting my ears.

As I flinched and took a step back, I was greeted by a quiet splosh at my feet. I looked down and found a pool of blood.

A pool that was formed from all the blood that had poured out of those being skinned alive.

'Please, do it.' HE put a hand on my head and requested, but we both knew that it was a command that I HAD to follow.

'I-I can't do it…' I still tried to resist, perhaps to maintain a semblance of my sanity.

I didn't want to accept such a barbaric act as something normal.

'Yes, you can. You have to.'

'N-no…'

'Because if you don't, they will die.'

The scene vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"Oh my God…" A chill ran down my spine.

For some moments, I couldn't hear, I couldn't see, and I couldn't move.

Why? Why did it come back now? I was finally moving on, and yet…

"I think it first started when I was 5," Samur's words brought me back, "My father took my arm and a blade, and made a small cut. As I started crying from the pain, he made an incision along my entire arm. As I struggled, he deepened the cut and started skinning my arm."

Oh no, Samur's family… what have they done? Just how could they do this to their 5-year-old son?

I couldn't even begin to imagine the pain he felt- I wish I could have said that.

But I could not. Not after being reminded of those days and that scenery of hell.

I still remembered them; the people they had captured solely for my sake. I could still hear their cries full of pain and see their eyes drowned in despair.

How could I forget them? After all, those screams still resounded inside my head whenever I closed my eyes. I was always faced with the mountain of corpses whenever I slept.

They were test subjects, mere targets for me to practice my healing magic.

They had been given a fate much worse than death; they had been thrown into hell solely for my sake.

I was finally beginning to forget about it. I thought I had begun to move on.

Yet here I was, reminded on my crimes in a way I could never have imagined.

"It hurt so much that I thought I'd die." Samur's merciless attack continued. "No, I wanted to die than feel that pain for even a second more. However, the doctor at his side kept from dying or fainting, so my wish was never granted. But that was just the beginning."

No, stop, please stop. Please do not take me back to those days. Please do not remind me of my crimes.

However, the attack had started. Taking advantage of my weakened defences, another vision flashed before my eyes.

It was the same dark dungeon, but this time, there was nary a groan resounding inside it.

Only three people were present there; me, a man I didn't know, and… Samur.

The man wordlessly grabbed Samur's arm and used his knife to peel off his skin.

Samur's deafening cries, his incessant begging, his futile struggles; the mana didn't even bat an eye as he continued his work, but they all resonated in my heart.

I wanted to help him. I wanted to do something, anything, to help him.

But I could not move. I was ordered to prevent Samur from dying, and I couldn't even move a muscle as long as I wasn't ordered to.

The vision vanished and I was faced with the sea of calmness that was Samur's eyes.

However, deep down, very deep down, I could see a slight hint of madness within them.

It had been so long since I was freed of that hell, yet I could never move on from it.

But for Samur, his torture should be a tale of recent past. It hasn't even been a month since he fled from his house, so how could he be so calm while recounting it?

It's simply incomprehensible.

"By the age of 7, I had gotten used to the pain of being skinned alive. I could actually do every day chores from my left hand as my right arm was being skinned. I could run after having both of my legs skinned. I could sleep soundly after having my entire body skinned from head to toe."

…I see.

It wasn't that he simply moved on from his past.

Ha, no, his torture had become such a frequent occurrence that he got used to it.

"Stop…" My vision suddenly turned hazy, and I realised that I was crying.

Just how… even after going through all that, just how could he still live normally?

Just how could he forgive his family after what they did to him?

I can't even imagine the strength it takes to do something like that.

"And that's when the first phase of my training ended."

"W-what…?"

First phase? That was just the first phase?

A training where he was subjected to the pain of being skinned to such an extent that he got used to it was just the first phase?

What followed then? Perhaps…

No, no, no, that's not possible!

That cannot be possible!

It must not be possible!

"Yup. Being skinned alive was just the first phase. What came after that was hell in the truest sense of the word." Samur replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

"No, that can't be…"

"Do you know why I am completely unfazed by absolutely everything, Neia?" Another smile appeared on his face, as if he was finding this interesting.

Interesting; was that all his past amounted to him? Did he find his own story to be entertaining?

If anyone can look back at such a past and think it was amusing, then they are no longer a human.

They are a monster.

"Because I've seen things far worse than what the outside world can show me." I smiled.

"No…" My vision turned even hazier.

"And do you know the best part about this, Neia?"

No, please, stop. I cannot take any more of this.

Does Noelle know about this? Probably not.

And she cannot; she must not. Only God knows the hell would ensue if she came to knew about the hell Samur used to live in.

"I'm just joking."Samur suddenly grinned.

…What?

"…Eh?"

Joking? Just joking? What? No, wait.

"You take things way too seriously, Neia. Just take a step back and relax. Why so serious?" He chuckled.

Was it really just a joke? Even though he sounded so convincing, even though his eyes really told me of the horrors he had gone through?

The entire time he told me that story, the smile on his face never left. However, the serenity in his voice and the depth in his eyes convinced me that he was telling the truth.

And now he's saying that was a joke?

"Um, hello?"