The vacant lot was shrouded in a deathly silence, broken only by the whistling of the wind through the rubble. Denji had arrived there, his heart racing, convinced he would finally hear the words he so desperately longed for. He felt like a "lucky fool," thinking that someone finally saw him and not the demon inside his heart. But reality hit him like a sledgehammer: the place, your cold gaze, and the lack of affection exposed the charade. You weren't there for the boy you "loved," you were there for the heart of the Otosierra demon that beat in his chest.

The pain of disappointment was far sharper than any battle wound. Denji took a step back, and the warmth that used to be in his eyes was replaced by a wild, wounded gleam.

"Tell me it isn't true... Did you lie to me?" His voice cracked at first, but soon rose, filled with desperate rage.

"You're just like all the others! Exactly the same! They only come to try and steal my heart, but none of them stay to love me!"

With a swift, decisive movement, his hand closed tightly around the cord on his chest. The trembling in his fingers wasn't from fear, but from a pent-up fury that threatened to explode. He was ready to stop being the boy who loved you and become the weapon everyone wanted to possess.