I had a long dream. Yet, despite its length, I remembered nothing. It was simply a long, tedious dream, like the five years I had to live after fleeing Bluebell.In the moment of dreaming, every moment felt intense, as if it were reality. But the moment I realized it was a dream, I was driven out of the years I had painstakingly built. Even in a dream, I struggled and fought with all my might to survive, but because it was only a dream, all my efforts vanished like a mirage the moment I opened my eyes. They became bubbles, slowly sinking into my memories. And then, as if mocking my fierceness, a reality, unchanged, surged forward.

Those I thought dead returned to life, and I, who I thought survived, discovered a trap that had bitten my ankle. An old, rusty trap from which I had been caught long ago, never once able to escape. A trap so old that it had become one with me. Then, I realized once again. I realized, too late, that the hand holding the chain attached to the trap was none other than my own. Now, without the trap, I was the one in trouble. I couldn't explain myself without it. For me, who felt pleasure in being manipulated and poked by any man, for me, who trembled with a strange pleasure even as the disgusting piss poured down my face, that trap was absolutely necessary. I had to be trapped.

But what was this pleasure? It was a faint pleasure, a long-forgotten pleasure. My heart pounded with this small, insignificant joy. It pounded so hard my ears shook and my temples throbbed.Yes, they were truly dead. Hugh and George were truly dead. Their deaths had touched my skin for the first time. The two boys who had leashed me and taught me to crawl on all fours, had not been able to shake off the flames!

The hairs on the backs of my ears stood up. My throat, so tightly constricted that no sound seemed to escape, tingled. My throat, filled with the stimulation of being delicately stroked by a feather, slowly opened. I could clearly feel the sound slowly slithering through my throat. It wasn't until a moment later that I heard it.

The sound, which had flowed limply like a deflated balloon, slowly gained strength. My mouth fell open. I burst into laughter like a madman. It felt as if every sense in my body had opened wide. Ironically, I'd never felt more alive than now. Even in the dust of Afghanistan and Iraq, even in the excruciating pain of being shot, even in every time I'd mingled with others, my senses had never been so acute. They were dead, and they were alive. I was glad they were dead... and glad they survived to find me!My eyes shot open.

Jerome lay flat on the ground right in front of me, his head tilted back, his round, gleaming eyes staring at me breathlessly. He asked, seemingly inquisitive. "What's so funny, Raymond?"It felt like I was finally reunited with Jerome. A step behind them all, finally.Only now did I see his face. I studied him closely, smiling. His face, bathed in the brilliant summer sunlight, seemed to glow. He had already acquired the face of a well-built young man. Time had sculpted him into a man. Like me, Jerome had changed. That obvious fact was surprising. No, it wasn't obvious. In my memory, Jerome was stagnant, a ghost unable to escape Bluebell. I had never imagined him growing up.

Because Jerome was dead.

That night, amidst the thunder and storm, on the blazing rooftop, Jerome should have died. His name had even been added to the list of the dead. He should have died. It was obvious. Jerome, who had prostrated himself before me, met my gaze and spoken so friendly, seemed to me to be an impossibility. But Jerome had survived, enduring the passage of time like me.I reached out. Before I knew it, his wrists had been tightly bound with rope instead of handcuffs. With a calm, unshaken hand, I placed my palm on Jerome's cheek. I touched his warm, smooth cheek and stroked his hair. Jerome's wide eyes slowly narrowed and he blinked slowly, as if savoring my touch.

I stared intently at the boy who had stubbornly survived.

Jerome narrowed his eyes and smiled. His hair, wrapped around my fingers, was smooth and soft. It was the hair of a living, healthy person.I hadn't been chased by the ghost of Bluebell. I was still, as I had been then, bound to Bluebell. Time flowed, yet I didn't realize it. I lived, yet I didn't realize I was living. Because I had turned a blind eye to everything Bluebell had left me. Bluebell had been my everything, and I had turned a blind eye to everything I had. Facing Jerome's changed face, I felt, more than anything, that I myself had changed.

Even my own voice felt unfamiliar. When had my voice changed so much? When had I learned to speak so lowly? When on earth had I become a man?

The unfamiliarity of my own voice awakened me. I grabbed Jerome's hair tightly. Strength returned to my body, as if breathed life into me. Every fingertip, every toe, hardened. I roughly grabbed his hair and slammed him against the floor with all my might.

Jerome couldn't block the sudden attack. His eyebrow slammed against the floor, blood instantly flowing out. At that moment, Jerome's mouth gaped open and he laughed silently. I grabbed Jerome's ear as if I was going to tear it off and roughly pulled him upward. As soon as Jerome unconsciously lifted his head, I slammed him against the floor again. Jerome's cheekbone was torn. I slammed him into the floor again. The veins on his forearm bulged.

Jerome charged, bleeding profusely. We tumbled, but my bound hands and feet were at an overwhelming disadvantage. Jerome, climbing onto my waist, grabbed my bound wrists. I gritted my teeth to keep from biting my tongue, but there was no violence. Jerome simply laughed, blood trickling down his cheek. Blood trickled down his cheek and into his mouth, staining his white teeth red."You're stronger than when you were young, aren't you?"Jerome praised in an excited voice."I like it! I really like it!" Raymond, I really like everything about you!

Jerome grinned, baring his blood-stained teeth like an animal.

I waited. The noose seemed to be taking it leisurely, but that was only for a moment. Soon, unable to contain his excitement, he jerked his hips wildly and thrust his cock frantically. I waited. His face turned red, and he let out a hot breath as he quickly hung the rope around the head of the noose that was wrapped around his waist.The rope that bound my wrists was tied to a length that extended all the way to the chandelier fixture. In an instant, I wrapped the rope around the head of the noose a couple of times and pulled it without hesitation.

The noose groaned and fell over me. I wrapped my thighs tightly around the waist of the noose, preventing it from escaping, and raised my arms above my head. The noose's head, covered in red blood, seemed ready to burst at any moment. He shouted, pulling his wrists above his head and tightening the noose around his neck.

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