I am a serial murderer who was executed. When the cold needle pierced my wrist, I wholeheartedly accepted the outcome that had been decided long ago.
Surviving in another world, to me, is not particularly worthy of joy, nor is it particularly worthy of sadness.
As a child of a famous family, this disgusting status is neither worthy of curse nor worthy of cheering.
All I care about is, my brother, my brother, where are you? Where are you? Do you know how much I miss you?