Death

You are death. Yes, that very death that all living things fear. And no, not in a metaphorical, rhetorical, or poetic sense.

You are death in the literal sense of the word.

This was the first and only truth that someone or something implanted in your mind at the very beginning. But what is a beginning for one who is the end of all things?

You don't know when you came into being, who created you, or whether your own end exists. Yet this has never caused you fear. Only boredom. Endless, gray, and all-consuming boredom.

To somehow entertain yourself, you traveled between worlds, eras, dimensions, and universes. For you, boundaries knew no bounds. Reality and fiction were equally accessible: anime, books, movies, manhwas, TV series, and historical eras—all just stops along your journey.

You had no fixed appearance. You could assume any appearance, age, race, or gender. The only thing that never changed was your red eyes. Anyone who looked into them immediately knew who they were.

In all worlds, red meant the same thing: danger.

However, you had work.

The first part is a lesson. You found those who had lost the meaning of life, sunk in despair, and stopped valuing their own existence, reminding them of the value of every day they lived.

The second is purification. The killing of those who mercilessly took the lives of others or treated them as insignificant.

An invisible trace of emotion—hopelessness, pain, and despair—helped me find such creatures. It was excruciating to experience all of this.

But suffering was always followed by a reward.

You loved fear.

A primal horror before the inevitable end, panic from the realization of missed opportunities and the desire to live at least a little longer.

Sometimes it was enough to simply appear from the darkness and say:

"I am death."

And then the victim's entire life flashed before her eyes.

Over time, you learned a simple truth:

"Every despair is inevitably followed by fear."