I'm having EMO, can you help me die?

There can be no mistakes at this time, absolutely not.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"Wouldn't that be too cruel to the young master?"

The city, bathed in the glow of nightlight, is a dazzling spectacle, but who knows how many shady deals are hidden beneath its surface?

puff-

He twirled his finger, and the cigarette butt went out in the ashtray, the lingering smoke obscuring Fu Ting's expression.

"Some things should end when they are meant to end, while some things should never have existed in the first place."

On the table, there were rows and rows of papers, each showing Fu Jing's life from childhood to adulthood.

From things you like to things you dislike, from physical to mental well-being, from academics to skills, from interpersonal relationships to intimate relationships...

The paper in his hand read: Fu Jing's emotional state.

"Young Master, he..."

Assistant Li put down the documents he was organizing and paused for a moment at the place where Shen Qingqing's name was.

She recalled the scene when the young master first brought Shen Qingqing back.

This is the first time he's ever been so meticulous about anything, from sleep and washing to clothes, shoes, carpets, and television...

The young master didn't express it; he didn't know how to take care of people, so he could only give the girl the best of everything.

It was as if... as if she were a precious treasure, giving her everything.

"That's not love, Assistant Li. Don't I know my son?"

The extinguished cigarette butt stood upright in the ashtray, the ash piled up thickly, as if it hadn't been cleaned in a long time.

Every time... after talking to the young master... he would smoke.

"Just do your job well, and leave the rest to me."

After putting down the documents in his hand, Assistant Li bowed and left, stopping at the door.

"Won't it crash?"

Remembering the look in the young master's eyes when his favorite things were taken away time and time again, he was human... he couldn't help but feel sorry for him...

Snap——

The lighter was lit, and Fu Ting exhaled a puff of white smoke.

That lingering heartache had long since vanished with each passing smoke, and that loving side of him as a father had ceased to exist after his wife's passing.

"Don't you already know that?"

That minute of silence, and then wisps of white smoke rose up, obscuring the expression on his face.

yes......

"I know."

What right does he have to sympathize? He lost his sympathy when he stood by and watched everything unfold. They are the same kind of people.

There's no going back. If we turn back now, everything we did before will be in vain and meaningless.

Fu Jing's encounter with Shen Qingqing was an accident, a change for both the vampires and humans. If used properly, it could eventually become a valuable tool.

creak-

It's closed.

"Where is the young master? Isn't he in his office?"

Wang Ma shook her head without saying a word and began clearing the cold food off the table.

He stared at a room in the distance for a while, then continued what he was doing, occasionally shifting his gaze.

"Young Master... he hasn't left his room for a whole day?"

After he turned ten, the young master stopped exhibiting this behavior and locked himself in his room.

Butler Zhao shook his head. Miss Shen Qingqing didn't come back with him tonight. Young Master...

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

A bustling city, the constant beeping of traffic.

The massive castle in the distance looked dangerous and mysterious under the moonlight.

In contrast, the city is noisy.

Tick-tock—

Water dripped from the tap into the pool. Fu Jing turned off the tap, then nestled against the floor-to-ceiling window, stepping onto the floor.

The ground was crystal clear, and under the moonlight, the luster of the glass created dappled reflections on the ground.

There were specks of blood on it.

Fu Jing was holding a pillow tightly in his arms. He was leaning against the edge of the bed, his hands clenched so tightly that the veins on them were bulging.

Drip...drip...drip... Slowly, liquid dripped from his hand onto the wooden floor. His face was obscured; he was buried in the pillow, silent, not even breathing.

I kind of want to talk to her...

I'm so tired...

The constant urge to kill vampires in his mind was already annoying, even disgusting.

Remembering what Fu Ting said, she couldn't help but convulse.

So annoying... So tired... Why? Am I not good enough...?

Why...why am I asking why...?

The fingernails dug into the flesh, and the blood that flowed out somehow pooled into a puddle of blood.

A quiet space, with no sound around; the outside can't get in, and the inside can't get out.

Am I even alive...?

Why am I so tired?

She can't be by my side...

Ultimately, they won't be on my side...

Am I a good person or a bad person...?

......

Fu Jing thought a lot that night.

He suddenly realized that he had never had this feeling before.

So he gets tired too.

After being trained time and again, Fu Jing's previous emotions were reduced to nothing but pure killing intent, and nothing could stir his emotions anymore.

This time he encountered unprecedented panic, and he could clearly feel his heart pounding.

Unease, panic...

What is the significance?

Looking out the window, you can see the entire city, from its vibrant lights to its muted colors.

Nothing in this world can truly stay with you forever.

Living...

Stepping over the shattered glass, I arrived at the floor-to-ceiling window.

His hand touched the window, and in that instant, the glass shattered, and a gust of wind blew in.

The black curtains were blown up.

Standing on the edge, my whole body swayed precariously.

【who I am?】

What am I supposed to do?

Kill all the vampires.

So tired...

The best solution that popped into my mind was to do as my father said.

Don't think about anything, just do what you're supposed to do and kill all the vampires.

Then it will all be over, and I won't be tired anymore, right? I won't be tired anymore...

I won't get tired... Qingqing, I don't want to kill you...

But I'm so tired...

-

[Host, the situation between humans and vampires is currently at a stalemate.]

The war hasn't even started?

The sound of keyboard tapping.

[No, the peace faction disagrees. So, what do you think, host?]

Shen Qingqing tapped around on her tablet, aiming for a single six.

Go about your business as usual, it's none of my business.

The second task has been nearing zero since the last one, and judging from Shen Qingqing's expression, she doesn't intend to do anything at all.

[Host, you've been playing card games for two days now, aren't you getting tired of it?]

[This game is over.]

Two minutes passed.

Shen Qingqing slid off the sofa, slowly stood up,

【Let’s go. 】

Where to go?

【do not know. 】

Regarding the original owner's character design, Xiao Lan really didn't expect it. The host was practically an Oscar-worthy actress, and it didn't seem like she was acting at all.

She wore a black and purple Lolita dress, and her messy hair was scattered.