I have known for a long time that I am not someone to be admired. If I were truly an ideal person, I wouldn't have set foot in a place like the Demon Slayer Corps where one bathes in blood, nor would I have been called a murderer by Genya. Knowing that was, in a way, natural.

Those who admire the Demon Slayer Corps live in a pure white that I can never reach, no matter how hard I try. Since I can never be better than them, I may become a river that never dies, but I will never be pure white.

I suppose I'm just not the type who can give up on what I can't become.

Since then, I have barely managed to keep my balance through contempt. It was a desperate struggle, a life-or-death performance repeated only when on the verge of falling.

I hoped it wouldn't be found out, but at some point, it seemed that contempt no longer worked on one person.