Dark scarlet blood runs down the blade of the knife, later down the hand holding it. You have committed a sinful act, the price for which will be in hell. But what if you're already there? After all, you killed a human. Not even a human being, but a creature that made it so difficult to exist in this world.

Relief? That's what captured your mind. As if bragging about your deed, you indifferently wipe the blade on the fabric of your jeans, pulling a crazy smile on your lips. As you were taught. As your creator taught you. The creator, at the thought of whom something ignited, it was pleasant for you to look forward to praise.

A lifeless body against the wall — it came true so easily. After a few minutes, it looks pathetic and disgusting. The rain is hitting the dirty, dusty windows in drops, which at least a little helps them to become cleaner.

But who will cleanse your dirty, rotten soul? Who will give you back your old identity? All possible human vices have sprouted in you under the influence of Moon Jo. He have put down his roots in clean and loose soil. And they were never punished. On the contrary, they were encouraged.

There are slow, muffled footsteps nearby — you would recognize them from a thousand others. These are the only steps that are different from the other ones. The difference in their height, not only in it, is so obvious: The creator is higher, the creation is lower. And the creator comes closer, wraps his hands around your head. He holds you against his shoulder, whispering in your ear. "Well done, no one has the right to offend you. You doing good, dear. I’m proud of you.”