Chapter 336

Gyuben had always felt different. Ever since he was a child, he saw the world as a twisted place, a distortion of truth and morality. Everyone around him wore masks—false faces that hid their true selves.

But to Gyuben, the truth was clear, unyielding, and brutal. His belief was simple: society had betrayed its true nature. People had allowed themselves to be weak, to be manipulated by lies, to conform to the twisted rules that kept them shackled.

For years, he had been silent, watching, observing. But as time passed, he grew frustrated with the growing tide of falsehoods. His mind turned colder, more detached. The need to correct the world grew stronger, more insistent. In the quiet corners of his mind, a plan began to form.

The first victim was a man named Martin. Martin had always been one of those people who wore a smile like armor, pretending everything was fine, even when the world around him crumbled. Gyuben knew Martin was one of the worst kinds—someone who spread lies, not through malicious intent, but out of blind ignorance. His death had to be a message.

It happened late one evening, in the shadows of a quiet street. Gyuben had watched Martin for days, waiting for the right moment. He followed him into an alleyway, his footsteps silent on the damp pavement. There was no one around. Just the faint rustle of leaves in the wind. The time had come.

Gyuben didn't hesitate. He moved quickly, with purpose. His hand, cold and steady, gripped the knife. He had spent hours honing his craft, perfecting the way he would end lives. It wasn't about violence—it was about precision. He wanted to send a message, not just to Martin, but to the world.

The blade sank deep into Martin's chest, and with a single twist, the life drained from him. The man never had a chance to scream. There was no need for screams. His eyes told the story. It was over in seconds.

Gyuben left the body where it lay, undisturbed. No one would find it until morning. The first step had been taken.

But the world didn't change overnight. It never does. The lies continued, the masks stayed in place, and Gyuben's hatred grew. He moved quietly through society, picking his targets with the precision of a predator. Each kill was a statement, each death a reminder of the truth he was bringing to the world. People didn't notice at first. They never do, not until it's too late.

As the weeks passed, Gyuben's confidence grew. He killed without hesitation, without remorse. Each life he took, each person he silenced, was one less mask to confront. The world was starting to become clearer, more honest.

But there were always those who fought back against him, people who didn't understand his vision. They called him a monster, a killer. They didn't see what he saw. They couldn't understand the purity of his purpose.

One of those people was Emily.

Emily was everything Gyuben despised. She smiled too much, laughed too loudly, and acted like everything was perfect when the world was anything but. She wore her happiness like a shield, a way to protect herself from the darkness Gyuben saw creeping at the edges of reality. She believed in the system, in the lies that held society together. She was the last person he needed to deal with.

But as he watched her from the shadows, he saw something else—something different. She wasn't as perfect as she appeared. There was a crack in the facade, something dark lurking beneath the surface.

Gyuben felt a strange pull, an undeniable desire to expose it, to bring it to light. He began following her, just as he had done with the others, watching her every move.

One night, Emily ventured into the woods, as though drawn by some unseen force. Gyuben followed her, keeping to the shadows, careful not to alert her. She walked deeper into the forest, unaware of the predator in her wake. The trees grew thicker, the air colder, until the only sound was the crunch of leaves beneath her feet.

Gyuben approached from behind, his breath steady. She was unaware of his presence, lost in her own thoughts. He reached out, his fingers brushing the back of her neck. Emily froze, her body tensing as she realized someone was there. Slowly, she turned, her face pale under the dim moonlight.

"You," she said, her voice shaking. "What do you want?"

Gyuben smiled, a thin, cruel smile. "I want you to see the truth."

He didn't wait for her response. His hand moved quickly, and before she could scream, the knife was in her chest. It wasn't as quick as the others, but it was clean. He could see the confusion in her eyes, the shock. Emily, the girl who had once stood for everything he hated, was gone. Another lie erased from the world.

But something lingered in his mind. As her body fell to the ground, Gyuben felt something cold, something he had never felt before. Was this what he had wanted? Had her death really brought him closer to the truth?

He had killed for so long, erased so many faces, and yet he felt no closer to understanding the world. He had killed out of hate, out of frustration, but now, standing over Emily's body, he couldn't help but wonder if he was simply another piece of the same broken puzzle.

He shook the thought away. No time for doubts. His work wasn't done.

The killings continued, one after another. There were others like Emily, people who stood in the way of Gyuben's vision. He couldn't stop. He couldn't afford to stop. The world needed to be purged, cleansed of its lies. He had to finish what he started. The more people he killed, the more the world seemed to change.

Each death brought him closer to something—closer to understanding the truth. But with every life he took, he also felt a growing emptiness, a gnawing sense that he had missed something, that there was something more he wasn't seeing.

One night, after another execution, Gyuben stood in front of a mirror, looking at his own reflection. The face staring back at him was unfamiliar, a stranger's face. The bloodstains, the hollow eyes, the twisted smile—it all seemed wrong. He had become something he had once despised, a part of the system he had fought so hard to destroy.

He had killed out of rage, out of a desperate desire to force the world into submission. But now, looking at the reflection, he realized that the world was changing him. The truth wasn't something he could force into being. It wasn't something that could be achieved through violence.

In that moment, Gyuben understood. The truth was not in the deaths. It was in the lies, in the way people had been taught to believe in the falsehoods around them. He had been so focused on destroying society's illusions that he had failed to see that the real enemy was not the people who wore masks—it was the mask itself.

He dropped the knife. The final step was not through more death, but through acceptance. He had brought the truth into the world, not through the bloodshed, but through the realization that the world was already lost. There was nothing left to fight for. The mask would remain, and the people would continue to live in their lies, just as he had once done.

Gyuben smiled, not out of satisfaction, but out of something darker, something more final. He had brought the truth into the world, and now he could let it go.

In the silence, the last piece of the puzzle fell into place.