Prologue – The reason for suffering

I died. It was a rather unspectacular death. Nothing out of the ordinary that would make you raise an eyebrow and say, “Now that’s interesting!” or, “That’s the kind of Goodbye, I’d want for myself, too.” Simply speaking: I chocked on a fishbone. It’s kind of a classic move, I might add.

The only interesting part about it might be that I had my pants down, when I met my unfortunate demise. As to why I had them down? That's easy. I...was watching porn. I admit it. I am a useless person. Overweight, at the lower end of the wage scale, and unpopular. It’s a combination of traits that could be found quite often these days. Though, i was already so far down the road, that I didn't even care anymore for the kind of visual stimulation that would fill my screen, as long as it provided some kind of change in scenery. Just imagine, what kind of person eats through a scene aimed at sexual arousal.

This kind of life was the worst. I already knew it, without anybody telling me. I was half-assed with everything I did. I had neither the balls to go into full-blown NEET mode, since I was still working to provide for the minimum necessities in life, nor did I have the courage to face myself and work towards a greater goal. The ideal I was following was to become a ‘person who doesn’t need anyone’.

“Haa~… how depressing.“

Yet, even when i’m saying that it’s depressing, i’m still being half-assed about it. You can see it yourself. More than anything, I am a lethargic bastard. Even though I never saw anything of the world, there was nothing that could surprise me anymore. I’ve seen it all, even though it was only through a monitor and a computer connected to the internet. Being bombarded by everything the world had to offer through the medium of a couple of pixels turned me into a smug and cynical character. Childishly trolling teen sites with gore pics, laughing at the misfortune of others, and wishing for the nuclear war to come, so I could finally let out some jubilations.

Towards such a story one can only sigh.

“Haa~”

Although I dropped that part about looking forward to a nuclear explosion, because on one of the rare occasions when I spoke to someone face to face – it was another NEET – he mentioned to me that he only wishes to see that blazing mushroom, so he could feel connected to other people around him. That would be an occasion where social standing would not matter anymore and everybody would be the same. It would be an occurrence where he couldn’t be possibly left out and thus being part of a special community. Even if it would be only for a couple of seconds until the shockwave would hit and obliterate everything. He believed that in those precious seconds he would finally experience the happiness of being a human. He dubbed it ‘The extraordinary league of radioactive ashes’.

Needless to say…I felt disgusted. I even went to such lengths as lying about myself being a NEET, so we could have a discussion on the same level. Not, because I wanted to connect and make friends, I simply feared the scorn of true NEETS for my being a part of the working force.

But more than anything, I was disgusted with myself for riding on that bandwagon. You see, part of being a smug character contains to have a completely baseless feeling of superiority. I am above all. Not based on my achievements, intelligence or (of course) my looks. Nope, definitely not my looks.

Sadly, only now I know,that it’s sole purpose was to seal myself off from others. Otherwise I might’ve listened to the people in my life that cared for me. Without this I wouldn’t have been able to completely ignore all the goodwill I received from others and translate it into ‘annoying interference from people who had no business with me’. I shouldn’t have told my family that they were useless idiots.

Remembering the face of my mother now, fills me with endless pain. At a point where most parents would have already given up on their child, she still had not shown even a single sign of annoyance towards the kind of person I had become. Upon realizing this I raised my hand and hit her. That loving mother. The one, who always stood by my side even when I dropped out of college, didn’t show up at the funeral of grandfather, which she dearly loved, by saying, “It’s bothersome,” or when I started to go completely out of control by being unfriendly and hysterical whenever I would meet my parents (I actually had my own small apartment and wasn’t a basement dweller). The sole reason for that was to turn me into as much of an unappealing person as possible, so they would distance themselves from me out of their own accord.

How naive I was. During the week of my 29th birthday I purposefully booked double shifts at my work (which still amounted to only 6 hours a day), so I would have a legitimate excuse as to why I couldn’t hold any kind of celebration, yet my parents and my four siblings, being concerned about my loneliness, decided to come over to hold a little surprise party.

By now you should have already grasped what kind of routine a person like me would follow in this kind of situation. I will spare you the ugly details, because I already know how much you hate me, even if I wouldn’t have told you that last part. Suffice to say, it ended in an argument where I told them that this kind of attention was unnecessary and that I’m completely fine. Truly…how naive I was.

My mother saw right through me. She knew I was being unreasonable. There was no major incident in my life that would’ve allowed for the kind of behavior I have shown towards them. I wasn’t bullied, nor had I the classical problem of being an unsociable drunkard. There was simply no real stress in my life. She knew that, just as well as I did.

I couldn’t even put the blame of my borderline NEET-tendencies on the modern society that sometimes forces the individual into the sort of existential crisis, where the massive amount of freedom we experience today, wasn’t a blessing and the way to self-fulfillment anymore, but rather the reason for a complete feeling of being lost. Yeah, that kind of thing exists. It doesn’t come with a bang. It’s more like a swamp slowly devouring you. That wasn’t my problem either, though.

I only wanted to do one thing: Under the full possession of my mental capabilities, i wanted to waste every free minute by engulfing myself in every possible non-productive activity, one could imagine.

Yeah…in the end it was just this kind of thing. I didn’t want that rollercoaster trip through the internet to end.

But instead of blaming me for being such a leech on society she calmly told me:

“You know…being a lazy bum is one thing. But I am truly ashamed of you that you are willing to push your family away, because you can’t face the accompanying critique from others that comes with your lifestyle. You decided to quietly drown, but you are still frightened with the decision you made. You sought the easy way out, yet it’s not easy enough for you…or is it too easy and you simply want bad blood between us? You can’t stand your parents just trying to be your parents?”

Her calm voice didn’t induce any rage in me. I didn’t have a blackout and threw a tantrum. In this moment I simply decided to become true trash. Blinded by the notion of a non-existent NEET-pride, I thought the true way of a social outcast lied in complete social self-destruction. So i clenched my right hand and beat her. That’s the kind of trash I am. Out of pride, I beat my mother.

I won’t ever forget the look in her eyes. It was the most painful expression, I ever saw on her. Not even when she mourned for grandfather, did she wear this kind of sad expression. She understood. I had chosen proudness over her. Every parent expects their children to rebel to a certain degree or even hate them. My mother was no exception in that department. What she didn’t expect though, was the kind of wound I would inflict on her heart. What I did, was an action so immature, only an adult could think of it. It was a cold calculated act with the aim of cutting ties. That's what I thought.

Afterwards, i couldn’t turn my eyes away from her. Not even during the complete beating I received from the rest of my family members that were present. They didn’t hold back at all there.

[Ha! Go all out. See, if I care…]

That was the only thought I could muster to distract myself from facing what I had done. Clinging to that useless pride.

Upon realizing that I wouldn’t talk to them, they left and never bothered with me again. Six months later I died.

“My soul, it's laid bare to you. I deserve to suffer here in hell.”

-------

It was a rather peculiar moment. After dying from something as insignificant as a fishbone, I landed in a place, I thought not possible. A world situated in the underground. Fiery pits, an incredible amount of gadgets in all varieties, constructed for the sole purpose of inflicting pain, unbreakable chains, wrapped around my arms, legs and neck, as well as a number of souls in a similar situation such as me.

Hell, that mythical correction facility for those who have sinned. No chance for parole. Dante wasn’t that much of a clown with his imagination. I hope he landed here too for creating a world renowned piece of poetry based on the suffering of others.

It was my first vacation from pain after constant torture for more than two years. To be honest, I didn’t even notice any difference. After the first month in here, every cell in my body had already been destroyed a number of times. I have been sliced, smashed, hung, drawn and quartered. If the torturer was lazy he’d simply put me in a lava bath.

Yo, you over there. “Do you like Onsen?” There are even little monkey demons running around, throwing lava at you. Judging from his expression he actually did think of it as an Onsen. Good guy. He’s fighting back. Or he already went beyond his mental capabilities. I don’t know.

Now, after two years, my body probably just didn’t realize yet, that the torture has stopped. Or maybe it concluded that my natural body-state was now one of constant pain and it would never stop anymore?

Back to the peculiarity of the moment. The reason for my unexpected break from my job as a tortured being stands right in front of me. A little demon girl was watching me in silence. After telling her my story she had yet to show any kind of reaction. She has a small slender figure, around 1 m of height, long pointy ears, and blue skin. This demon child was missing any wings or horns. All in all a figure that promised death. Though she was just a low level denizen with no authority other than killing those who are captured here.

[Did I pique her interest? It's weird.]

Usually they get down to business without further ado. Sometimes they'd make fun of me, at other times they'd be completely emerged in their tasks without taking further notice of me.

[Maybe she’s new? Did someone finally come who could be tricked into helping me? No, don't be hasty here. There are all kinds of demons and it just might be, that I finally reached a point were they decided it was finally time to up their game and use psychological terror against me. I have started to show somewhat of a tolerance, albeit still weak, towards pain, after all. I'll go try and amuse her instead of trying to connect with her through our life stories. That only ever worked with the other inmates anyway.]

“Oi, newbie! What kind of service is that supposed to be? I checked in for an eternity of anguish. My bill has already been paid, as I have already explained to you just now. So what’s the reason for the hold up? I still haven't been brutally killed even once, since you showed up.”

Somewhat anxious, I waited for a response. It was the first time a demon reacted to me in a way other than laughing hysterically upon inflicting wounds on my body. 2 years of suffering couldn’t have possibly prepared me for what happened next. It wasn't so much the pain and the conclusion that I didn't manage to gain an ally, but rather the words she spoke to me, that would let me fall into true despair. She lashed out with her long black tail, impaling my heart, came one step closer, tilting her head to display a devilish smile full of sharp teeth, and said:

“I’m here for the experience.”

My eyes widened in pain,

“Ahh...so it was possible to feel a greater sorrow, after all.”

End of prologue