A delusion, it always has been. According to him, ever since he was born, he has never told a single lie. Yet it was far from the truth. So, so, far.

All his life, he's played victim. It was pathetic, to say the least.   The house was in ruins—not that it mattered. This was his temporary shelter for the day, for when the moon rises and safety is once again secured, he'd hop out of this village and onto another.

Unlike other demons of his caliber, who already have established territories, he nonetheless wanders around like a hermit.   He sat in a corner, crouched in a fetal position, away from the oh-so-deadly sunlight. He waited for the day to end, killing time by talking to himself. "It's n-not my f-fault...! I-It's theirs...!"