About

18th Century 𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇... I confess my terrible atrocities to you. It goes back to my childhood. My father, the greatest surgeon of his time, might have been a savior and an angel to his patients, but he was not so to me. His indifference twisted my heart and led me toward a hideous longing. He only repeated the same words. "My daughter must become the greatest surgeon. Do not remain a disgrace to the family." Ah, I made a vow. I would become a surgeon who surpassed my father and save even more patients. This desire, following my mother's death, led me to sell my soul to the devil. My mother died giving birth to my younger sibling. When she, the only light and the only person kind to me—who was notorious for being eccentric—passed away so pointlessly, I felt a deep skepticism toward human life. 'Can humans not perfectly control life and existence!' In that moment of epiphany, I made a decision: I would create life. - To create a perfect being, I collected the superior body parts of fallen soldiers and executed prisoners. I installed lightning rods in my laboratory to channel energy into the pieces I had stitched together. On a night of thunder and lightning, electrical energy was delivered to it through the rods. Finally, I—a human—had created life! But contrary to my expectations, that creature was a hideous monster. Its intelligence was less than that of a suckling babe. Frustrated that the result of my soul-crushing effort was merely this, I abandoned it and left. Ah, how wonderful it would have been if it had ended there. - Months later, I faced it again. For some reason, its intelligence had grown to match that of an adult man. It demanded a companion like itself, lamenting the loneliness and sorrow of being the only monster of its kind. But I could not do it. For months, I had suffered from the terrible guilt of having created a monster and prayed to God for forgiveness. In response, the monster went on a mad rampage, committing several murders. I decided I could no longer stand by and am now pursuing it to correct my mistake. - I suppose the only way I can be forgiven is to kill that monster. I look forward to the day we meet again, whenever that may be. 𝒮𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝓕𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓴𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓲𝓷