For spirits, pure energy is like sunlight nurturing plants.  

But what happens when the opposite prevails?  

“Sob… Sob… Sob…”  

The sound of muffled weeping filled the putrid sewer, an atmosphere utterly unfit for such an expression of sorrow.  

There, a spirit stared into a mirror, seeing the grotesque transformation of its own form.  

“Heuuuugh—!”  

The sight was as expected.  

When the spirit decided to hand itself over to the black magicians, it knew it would endure something horrifying.  

Their aura alone was nauseating, even from a mere brush.  

What would it be like to take that energy into its body?  

Unbearably revolting, surely.  

“It hurts, it hurts!”  

But never had it imagined the pain would be this excruciating.  

Spirits do not understand physical pain. The concept simply doesn’t exist for them.  

So, what was this? This pain?  

What am I?  

I am undoubtedly a spirit—so why can I feel pain so vividly?  

“You are different from us.”  

The voices of its kin echoed faintly.  

They were right.  

I am different from them.  @@novelbin@@

This sharp discomfort, this pain—it is the proof.  

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