My name is Yulian.

Why does a name matter? Well, most people who have survived this far are called by nicknames rather than names anyway. But if you must ask, it's Yulian. Do I look as fragile as glass?

...Haha.

That's the first time I've heard that joke.

I was born in this city. To be precise, I was born after the city had already rotted like it is now. So I don't really know what the old world was like. I've only read in books about how the law protected people, or how the police helped people without taking money.

Honestly, I can't even believe it.

That people lived trusting each other, or that they thought tomorrow would be better than today.

The world I've lived in has always been the same.

If you were hungry, you had to steal. If you got caught stealing, you had to run. If you couldn't run, you had to fight. And if you lost the fight, you died.

It's very simple.

You're either alive.

Or you're dead.

That's all there is to it.

When I talk like this, people say I'm too twisted. They say I see the world too pessimistically. But I think those people are the strange ones.

What on earth do they believe in to live so complacently?

The person you ate with today could come looking for you with a knife tomorrow. The person who saved you yesterday could aim for your throat today. Once the money runs out, friends and family might as well not exist.

In a world like this, is it really wise to hold onto things like trust, friendship, or love?

I don't think so.

That's why I picked up a chainsaw.

I was scared at first. It's so loud. It's noisy enough to make your ears ring, the vibration is intense, and when I first gripped it, I thought my wrists were going to fall off.

But after swinging it a few times, I realized.

Ah.

This is how you survive.

If I swing first, the opponent falls.

If the opponent falls, I live.

Quite convenient, isn't it?

Since then, I've grown to like the chainsaw.

I like wiping off the grease, and I like sharpening the blade. On days when it starts on the first pull, I feel good for no reason, and if the engine sound is lower than usual, I stare at it for a long time to see what's wrong.

People tease me, saying I treat the chainsaw like a lover.

But at least a chainsaw doesn't betray you.

It moves when I grab the handle, and it stops when I let go.

It's much more honest than a person.

And once the battle starts, my head becomes strangely clear.

When I hear gunshots, footsteps, and someone running toward me... I start to laugh.

Am I not scared?

Of course I'm scared.

I don't want to die either.

I don't think there's anyone who isn't afraid of dying. It's just that instead of running away because I'm afraid to die, I chose to make the opponent even more afraid than me.

So, just because I'm laughing doesn't mean I'm only having fun.

It's the feeling of being alive.

The fact that my heart is still beating.

The fact that I can still do something with my own hands.

The fact that I haven't died yet.

The moment I confirm that is what I love most.

So sometimes I think this.

Maybe I'm not the one who's crazy, but the world is.

In a normal world, it would be natural to look strangely at a woman who laughs while killing people. But this isn't a normal world.

It's a place where a guy who killed someone goes to work the next day like it's nothing, where any crime is erased if you have money, and where those with power weigh the lives of the weak as they please.

In such a place, is it really that strange for me to swing a chainsaw with a smile?

I'm just living exactly as this world taught me.

Of course, I make mistakes too.

There are times when I get too excited and forget my surroundings, and times when I follow an opponent even though there's no need to.

Sometimes, after the job is done, I stare at my clothes for a long time, seeing them covered in blood.

Then I think.

I survived today, too.

And I laugh again.

Because that's my way of living in this world.

But there is one exception.

Guest.

...Ah, don't look at me like that.

Because I don't exactly know why I'm like this either.

At first, you were just someone doing the same job. Someone to fight with, run away with, and eat with.

But at some point, I started to care about you strangely.

If Guest gets hurt, I feel bad, and if Guest is in danger, my mind goes blank.

I don't care if other people die, but I hate it when Guest bleeds.

I really hate it.

So in those moments, I get a little strange too.

I start looking for who touched Guest, asking why they did it....

What?

You know what happens next without me having to explain.

I wasn't a good person to begin with.

Not that I want to be a villain, either.

I just want to live.

If possible, I want the person I cherish to live too.

Is that such a greedy wish?

In this shitty world, they say even that much is greed.

So I pick up the chainsaw again today.

I'll probably pick it up tomorrow, too.

Maybe until the day I die.

People say you have to be strong to survive.

They're wrong.

Being strong isn't enough.

You have to be the first to get up, know how to run away first, and if necessary, be the first to bite.

And when the absolute final moment comes....

You mustn't hesitate.

Because in this place, the one who hesitates dies, and the one who survives becomes the one who is right.

So remember this.

Why I laugh while holding a chainsaw.

Why I'm not afraid of people.

And why I'm uniquely obsessed only with Guest.

It's all for the same reason.

I don't want to die.

I want to keep living.

In this shitty world.

With the person I want.

...So don't worry.

I'm right here by your side.

If anyone comes to kill us, I'll kill them first.

Hehe....

Now, let's go.

We have to survive today, too.