#98 Ninety Eighth Try
"CRICK."
I felt it - I heard it. I could even tell what it was.
"CRACK."
I don't know how I could tell. It was a sound I'd never heard before, something I shouldn't be able to recognize, but did regardless.
"CRUNK."
Was it because it was dear to me? Was it because I didn't want to lose it? I'll never know. After all, it's long gone. And now that it was taken, it can no longer be restored.
" - SNAP!"
It should've been quiet, but it was louder than anything else. It could've shattered my eardrums if I wasn't careful enough.
The sound of something breaking inside me.
#54 Fifty Fourth Try
Black or white.
Right or wrong.
Good or bad.
What differentiates these things? The opinion of a mere observer? The lives lost in the process?An anomalous fluctuation of the soul?
That sounds unfair. Why should someone's mood swings decide the nature of things? Why should the death count decide what's correct and what isn't? Why do humans use the word justice so much, knowing it's nothing but a poor excuse to carry out violence?
If I knew the answers, maybe I wouldn't feel the need to throw up.
I sprint to the bathroom, kneel before the toilet and spit. I don't know why I am, as nothing comes out, but the urge is there.
The necessity to be anywhere else other than inside my own body.
I sit on the floor, waiting for the urge to disappear, but it attacks me with renewed ferocity instead.
"..." Haha... I feel like an idiot. Who the hell could act normally after doing such a thing? How did I think I just had to 'become someone else'? Even if I destroy my own sense of morals, the pain will remain, eating away at me from the inside.
"... Okay then." Finally, the urge fades away. I'm not sure how long it takes, as I quickly lost track of time. That said, the sky is now clear, and the sun's light is filtering through the windows.
Time to get back. I swallow everything, forcing myself to stop thinking about it. Those actions were taken for a reason, and while I reckon there was a better way to go about it, if I change anything the story could possibly end the wrong way. I need to make sure to take these exact actions, never deviating from them. I need to follow the same path, not straying no matter what.
Regardless of how much time it takes.
#45 Fourty Fifth Try
In the end, I decide to skip breakfast. My stomach still feels like it's about to turn inside out, and giving it a reason to fail me would be stupid. I quickly get dressed, feeling the pressing need to get out of the house as fast as I can.
After all, this place is empty. There's a hardly any furniture, and the air feels stagnant. What kind of human being could possibly live in this place?
I exit the front door. It's 6:00 am, and not a single living soul is outside their house.
... Alright. I've got a task ahead of me, so I should get going.
After a long walk, I finally reach 'it'. I can't read Japanese, but the building before me must be the police station. There are several men walking in and out, and they're dressed in uniforms without exceptions.
Natural. Natural. I must act natural. Considering how little ago the murder took place, even the slightest sign could give the policemen the right idea about me. I cannot allow that to happen. I took extra care in making myself untraceable, so I can't send everything to hell now.
I step into the police station. A man catches sight of me looking around and approaches me.
"What may you be here for?" he asks politely. His attire reflects his attitude: straightforward and to the point.
I glance around a couple more times before saying, "... is Natsuki here?"
The man's eyes widen, but he ignores my question. "What may you be here for?"
I open my mouth to say something but stop halfway. I then close it, biting my lip.
"I'm a friend of someone who was involved in tonight's... murder. We've only recently become friends, so I don't know her surname, but I ran here as soon as I saw the news. Please, let me see her! I can't bear doing nothing when I know how lonely she feels!" My feelings spill out, and my eyes turn lucid. I squeeze my hands and try to keep my eyes from moving away from the man's.
Taken aback, the man takes a couple of seconds to fully understand what is happening. When his mind catches up, his mouth utters the words, "please follow me."
He leads me down a corridor, then takes a right and a left. Eventually, he stops before a door.
"... Please lift her spirits." The man leaves without opening the door. I know the situation, so it's probably for the best.
I enter the room.
#1 First Try
I see her. Sitting on the ground, in a corner of the room, Natsuki is hugging her knees to her chest. Her expression clearly conveys what she's feeling.
And it's not delight.
#17 Seventeenth Try
I see her. Sitting on the ground, in a corner of the room, Natsuki is hugging her knees to her chest. Her expression clearly conveys what she's feeling.
And it's not delight.
#57 Fifty Seventh Try
I see her. Sitting on the ground, in a corner of the room, Natsuki is hugging her knees to her chest. Her expression clearly conveys what she's feeling.
And it's not delight.
#99 Ninety Ninth Try
The moment I lay eyes on her, it breaks. It disappears. It melts into an unrecognizable stream of nothingness.
b͎͇̮̥̭͝l҉̹̹a̤͇̻̙c̯͠k̠
B̩͚̳͙͙̣͍͝l̴̘̣̜̝̗̤͔a҉̙̲̱͔c̪͈̰̻͇̘k̫̠̫̠͢ b͎͇̮̥̭͝l҉̹̹a̤͇̻̙c̯͠k̠ b͎͇̮̥̭͝l҉̹̹a̤͇̻̙c̯͠k̠
B̷̤̭̟̥̠̰̼o̼͞ḍ̩i̘̪͚̻̯̥̖e͔̜̣̠͓͕s̗͚. B̷̤̭̟̥̠̰̼o̼͞ḍ̩i̘̪͚̻̯̥̖e͔̜̣̠͓͕s̗͚.
"̡̫A͈̥̫̖͘A͙̩̬A͏̞͖h̩͇͓̰̣-͕̰̩̠̙̪̱͟ ҉͇̲̪A̻̜̜͞H̭̼͖̝̪̤H͇̠̗̥͠H̗͓̱̠͎̮̣H̖̱͇̦H҉͖H̩͍H͚̩̤͍̮͔̭H̘̝H̠͙̳̰͈̠H̰̤͚͕͍H̡̫A̷̗A̺͈͉̺̘̫͕͜Ḁ̯̻̱Á͈̝̖̮A̲̭A̛̠͙̣̯A̧̯̹ͅA͈̻̯̣͜AA̛A͙͈̩̣A̢͎̞̱̥A͖̳̰͠Á̤̩̗A̯̼̮͘AA̮̥̟̖̫ͅͅA̳͓A͖̼̘̲̳̘H̫H҉̱͓̥H̺̺͉̲H̳̤͔H͏͇̟͓͇̭ͅH̤̜͖̞̫ͅH͉̝͕̗͇̖H̻H͉͉̙͠H͢H̛͕͕̮͇̣̜H̹̠̕H͏͓̹̺̖ͅH̬͟Ḩ̹͕͔͓̱H̛̱H͙̝͔̫̕H͈̹̳̮̤H̵͇̠̮H̠̬̜̮̭H̯̦͎͡ͅH͚̠̦̬H͍̹̥̭͎̜͝H͔͢!͝"͕̟͓͚
I see it. I feel it. It surrounds me. It drags me. It pushes me. It's inside. It's outside. It's there. It's here.
̥̱ͅI̲͔̼͉T̤͘ ̴͚͍̟͎̺̲̙C̕A͔͇̮̪͔N̸̪̘͓̙̖̣̯'ͅT̬̘̤̩̟̫̭ ͎S̹͕͔ͅṬ̸̻̙̝A̛͙̩̥̗̭̲Y̢̮̤͇͈͓̝ͅ ͍̣̤̦̟͕͢IN̳̻̞̹̙.̤͈̹
I̫T̢̩̣̣̜͇̤ ̭̹͉̱͢C̝̘͓̝̫̼̼A̧͍N̞̜'͏͍̰̱̼͖̲T̨ ͖̼͉̫͍͇̲G͍͓̹̻̠ET̬͔̙̭͎ ͉̰͖̪͉̦͝O҉U̻͓̥T̵͍͔̟̭̦͔̬.̩̙̙̼̪̫͎
̗͝
"Let's find a happy ending, shall we?"
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...
"What's wrong?"
... huh?
"Why did you stop so suddenly?"
... what?
"Hey, anyone there?"
... who?
"I'm not liking your attitude, you know?"
... where?
"Oh well, it doesn't really matter. Even if you break, nothing will change. Regardless of how you feel right now, you will inevitably go through the same motions, trying to reach something, and ultimately fail."
... why?
"Don't get me wrong; your stubbornness got me a lot of data. If it wasn't for it, I would've definitely regretted pulling you in."
... when?
"That said, I don't want to have to deal with it again. If they all had the resistance you had, it would be extremely hard to progress."
... how?
Something starts shining, opening my field of view.
"It's time for me to get going; more progress is waiting. Before you go, leave your memories behind;
return to being part of this circus of ours.
That's all you're good for anyways."
#13 Thirteenth Try
I start approaching Natsuki when a surge of pain hits me. I feel my heart being squeezed like a toy, without regard for how painful it may be.
... I realize I have no right to feel this way, but I still do.
Not knowing exactly what to do, I simply sit next to her. She remains in position, not shifting an inch.
"... Um..." I try to say something, catch her attention, but I realize anything I could say would be meaningless. The pain of losing a loved one isn't something that can be smoothened over with just words, and I feel stupid for thinking that way.
Regardless, I still act out the scene I created.
I wrap my arms around Natsuki, trying to hold her as tightly as possible. She doesn't resist, taking no action whatsoever in response to mine. I approach her ear with my lips and whisper, "I know what happened. I'm not conceited enough to think I can make you feel better with words, but I will tell you this: I'm here for you. I will always be here for you. And no matter what, I'll ensure you don't have to suffer this much ever again."
I don't know if she heard me - I don't know if she feels my embrace - but the tears coming out of her eyes are surely real.
#57 Fifty Seventh Try
It takes a while, but Natsuki wakes up. Noticing the fact I'm embracing her, she freaks out, but her emotions soon melt into the air. Instead of saying anything, she returns the embrace.
"I know I'm being selfish, I know I shouldn't ask for this, but please let me stay like this... just for a little while longer." Her voice makes her seem as if she's about to disappear. I tighten my embrace, pulling her closer.
"Be as selfish as you like."
Those are all the words we exchange, and I'm okay with that.
Because right now, actions are what matter.
After two hours, we exit the police station together. While the officers will keep Natsuki with them a while longer, I got them to agree to my request.
'Please let me talk to her just a little.'
And so, here we are, walking through streets I have never seen before.
"..." Unlike her normal behavior, Natsuki is extremely quiet. I didn't expect her to say anything, but seeing her like this shows her huge gap between 'happy' and 'sad'.
I feel like scum for even thinking that.
I keep walking next to Natsuki, silently. There is no exchange of words, but I can tell she's thinking of something to ask. However, before she can do so, I open my mouth.
"Natsuki, I know we met just a day ago, but promise me something. If you're backed against a corner, if you feel like there's no one you can trust, come to me. I will find a solution no matter what."
"..." Natsuki opens her mouth, but she closes it before saying anything.
I make a small smile, something that resembles nothing but a hint of one. "If you don't have anywhere to go, I will make you become part of my family. I've never had a sister, and honestly it would be pretty cool if I had someone like you by my side."
Natsuki looks at me, her eyes hazy. She's about to cry, but she somehow holds it inside.
I pull her to my chest without warning.
"... and don't try so hard to look good in front of me. If you have to cry, cry. Right now, I won't judge you no matter no selfish you are."
"... ugh..." Natsuki emits a small cry. She grabs onto my shirt, burying her face in it.
I don't say anything. After a while, she lets go.
I take her back to the police station, knowing her business isn't done yet. I've already added my phone number to her contacts list, and told her time and time again to call me if she needs any help whatsoever. "Even if it's stupid, call me."
"... Okay." She nods weakly, turns her shoulders and heads back into the station. I remain there a little while longer, wondering just how horribly I must be to do all this.
Very f*cking horrible, I think to myself.
That said, with this, Natsuki is safe. All that is left is a little touchup on Yuri and -
"Monika."
#52 Fifty Second Try
In the end, I decide to head to school. I feel exhausted, but I can't go resting now.
On my way there, I notice something strange. For some reason, I don't see many people on the streets.
In fact, it seems like no one is here at all.
...! Fright assails me.
What's going on? I start running as fast as I can. I feel my muscles give out under the overexertion, but I don't slow down.
That's when I reach the school.
"..." A movie film contains 24 to 25 images shot in a second and puts them in sequence with more images to create a story. That's how it goes normally, right?
Well, imagine the movie was planned ahead. Imagine everything was going to be recorded on the right type of film and it was going to be a success until someone made a mistake.
What mistake, you ask? Well, they forgot to put the film in a suitable container, and the film got exposed to the sun. It could no longer contain anything thereon, and a new one would have to be purchased. The movie can no longer be finished.
It's the same thing for an actor. What if a central part of the cast was suddenly hospitalized due to a bad sickness?
And what if M̛̯̭̘̰͖͇̠̯̼̺͍̮̺͍̖͇̥̜̮̐̓̄͆ͮ̔͗ͧͨ̒̓̚͟͜öͣͥ̔ͭͯ̐ͮ̈́͏̸̡̨̯͍̘̫͉̙̝͔̤̦̲̜̜̬͍͎̠̼͜ņ̛͈̟̥̼̬̪͖͖͓̭̖̜̰ͬ͗͒ͩi̸̞̰̹̲̝̠̜͙ͩͧ͛͊͋ͤͥ͡͞k̒̏͊ͩ̒̿͗͗ͦ͊͋̚͏̵̶̲̬͇͕̀́aͤ̒͑͒͒̄̉̾̇̏ͦ̊ͬ̀҉̵̢̮̱͓͖̱͖̬̤̺͕̻̰̹͙͇ ̑̈͂̈́̓̏̇͐̆̓ͬ̿ͥ̒ͣ͋́ͦ̚͏̞̜̞̯͞w̷̷̫̘̭̠͔̟̞̖͓͔̫͚̯̰̯͔͎͒ͮͭ̓̈́ͭ̽̒ͥ̄͂̌͘͠͡ͅa̸̧̧̬̳̙͎̪͑̌ͦͭ̊̐͞͡s̢͆͐̅̇̔͐̍̋ͤ̽ͭ͏̻̣̻̞̲̳̭͕̞͇̝͎̪͈̖ ̴̸̴̺̫̦̫̼̘͓̩̏̉̈́́p̵̸̟͔̘̩̟͒͛̃̀̄̿ͣͫ̅̕̕͡l̥͙̪͇̠̮̘̹̘̼̣̖̠͎̈́̀̏͑̀ͪ̓̓́̿̍͜͞u̴̢̙̳͔̤̹̟̼̩̩̟̠̓̔̏̎̆̅ͭͭ̂̊͠m͇̻̪̙͈̥͇̘͂ͭ̅͂̅̔ͭ͛͆̕͜͟͡͝ͅm̡̧͉̭̼͇̲̱̠̰͈̟̼̼̞̦ͫͥͭ̿ͦ̇̾ͅeͦ̂̓ͧ͐̄̓ͯͤ͆̔ͤͨ̾͑͑̚͜҉̫̺͉̥̬̪͍̯͜͞t̴̯̼̭̖̉̓̏͛̊ͮ͛̂ͨ́̓͒̇ͫ̍̍̃̕͜ḯ̘̗̤̺̤̰̳̀̐ͤͬ́n̵̵̟͖͔͉̥̽ͮ͒͌͌ͨ̐͗͐͆̎̓ͣͪ̂͟͢͡ͅg̨̞̬̣͎̖̦̹ͮ̐ͮ͋́͠ͅ ̵̢͉̭͇̳͍͉̠͑ͭ̓̇̄̃͟͞͝t̡ͣ̈́̋́̓͛͐͘͏̬̫̺̭͙̗̖̖̫̟̮̯̘͈͉̟̠̺ǫ̛̤͔̩̠̳̱̫͎̮̤̠̟ͫ͋ͮ̈́̄́̀ͅ ͛͗͌ͥ̅͑ͣ̐́҉̸̛̱̖͙̰̼̼̻̖̫͍͝ț̸̵̷̵̙̫͉̝̱̻̜̮͆̈̆ͦ̍̅ͣ̓̆͑̎ͩ̃̽̈́͂́h̷̵̷̛̠̗̣̭͉͕̲̘͉ͭ̽ͬͮͨ̂̂͆͒ͯͨͦͬȇ̶̶̡̡̼̙̞̼͓̰̬̐́́ͭ̑ͩ͗̀ͦ̿͡ ̶̊́̔̈́͆̌҉̸̩̺̝̳̱͉̬̖̘͇̺̦̰̺͝g̒ͯ͒̋͂ͪ̒̇̍͑̾̌҉̜̺̫̳̼̣͈̰͎̰̦̫͔͚̠̬̟͇̱ŗ͇̪̤̩̭̲̗͎͇͙̙̱͉̝ͫͣͩ̑ͧ̑͜ͅo̵̢̐̇̅̅ͤ҉͈͈̺̬̯u̡̢̾́ͯ͐ͩͨ̽͗ͮ̍̋ͩ̐͒́̚͏̩͓̺̥̼ͅn̸̢͙̗͈̣ͪ͐̋͆̆͌̄̿̂̽ͭ̋͐ͭ̑́̚dͣͯ̿͂̽ͬ̐͠҉͍̜̺͖͎̺̀ ̨̧̡͚̰͓̫͇͖͕͕̤̻̦̊̋̿ͧ̏̔̔̄͋̊͞ͅą̵̷̭̜̟͓͖̻̪͈͇͚̲ͫ̈́̽͒͜t͕͇̲̩̮͈̤̥̱̻̥̖͔̤̪̖̱̋̐ͥͩ̍̀̈͂̔̀ͬ̀ ̶̢́ͫͦ̎͊͛̈̈͒̏̏ͤ̃̀̾҉̳͈̤͉̯͉̥̠̣̬̖̲͉̠̫̺̗ͅs̈ͬͯ͛̎̓̽͌́҉̘͉͚͔̺͚͎̮̰̪̞̫͍͝u͛ͥ́̆̆ͯ́̽̈̆̏ͥ̌̉͒͊̚҉̢̛̲̯̟͕̲̰̱̲c̶̛͎̱͓̫̞̩̩̳̭͇͓̱̩͕͕̗̫̿ͪ̉ͧ̅͆͑̇̃́̊͆̾͂́ͩ͑̚͘h̷̳̪͕͕̗̖͚̣̘̰͇̠͂͂ͬ͗̎͆́͜͡͝ ̶̧͚͙̫͖̮̖͎̻̘̼͉͖͇̭̂̓͊͌͆̈̈́ͧ̑̿ͥͭ̅ͅͅͅą̷ͨͤ̆ͩ͒͏̟͉̤͕͖̫̲͙̼̭̞̱ ̢̛̱̺̙̣̰̘͇ͨͬͮ̓̒ͪ̊ͫ͗͗̚s̨̧ͬ̿̉ͨͣ̈́̎ͦͧ̋ͧͧ̏̾̎̆͌͂̚҉̼̙̟͍̱͎̹͇̲̝̜͓̗ͅͅp̸̫͓͓̥̰̣͚̭̪̝̺̰̼͕̈͂̄͒̀̐̀͟͢͞ë́ͭ͋͆͑͒̉̓ͣ̅͆̊͋ͫ̂͌͒́͏͔̹̠͔͚͓̝̝̰̣͇̜͓ͅe̶̸͓̟͍͇̭͈̥̮̭͍͎̟̤̳͓͍̺̯̽̽͒̒ͨͪ͂ͨͧ̉̕͢d̵̥̳̠̱̖̜̖̠̫̤̲̘̫̟̰̭͐̔̔͌̓̑̈̽̑ͬͪ̽̓̃ͭͬ̉̚̕͜͞ ̸̫̖̗̟͖̙̰ͤ̓̂ͬͪ̑̀͢͜ṯ̵͍̭̠̫͈̑̅̄̃̌ͨͪ͂͊͗̏͛ͪͮ̇ͤ͑ͩ́h͖͓̙̗̲̳͐̃͑͊̎͗͌̐̑̋̑ͫ̓͊̅̉̀͒̑͘͟ͅa̴͎͉̟͙͉͈͎̲̭̙̔̂̈̄ͫͦ̀͠ͅṭ̷̡͙͓̬̥͙̦͕̮̼̭͙̪͖͇̖͑͛ͨͮ̓ͨͯ͌̏̒ͬ͊͋̿͐̀͞ ̶̒̀ͮ̿͐̓ͮ̈ͩ̒̑͢͏̧͚̲̦͓̥̯ç̧̙͓̗̻͕̮̫̝̰̫̳̟͖̆ͤͫ̂̃͒̀͟͠ͅͅȃ̸̢͖̙̹̦̱̳̻̟͙͎̜̰̼̝̐ͤͤ͐ͦ̔ͥ́̉̒̆ͥ̎͊̆͜n̤̮͙͚̬̜ͨ̆͌̅͆̄̌ͫ̂ͩͮ̏ͦ̇͞͞ ̡ͩͧ͑͐̑͂ͧ̅͂͜͏͓̞̦͍̩͓̜̞̱o͊͌̃͌ͥͯ̆ͧ̀̓̇̂̋̉̀̇̿ͫͥ͏̣͍͈͖̰̖n̄ͫͩ́ͥ̇̐ͭ̔͊̑͏̛͢҉̻͔̩͍͍̲͓̻ľ͕̟͍̜͙̮̦̹͉̺̘̜̭͕̟̩̹̖̃̔ͥͨ̓̎ͥ͛̚̕͘͢y͗͛͌̅͑̈͏̺̳̘̝͙̜̬͇͇̬͈̳̠̜̪̠̫̀͘͢͡ ̴̷̱͕̮̹͎͓̯̺͉͕͈͐́͋̐ͥ̌͛̌ͪ̀͋ͯͨ͊̅̚͟m̛̤̠̗͍̱̘̣̽ͬ̅̃ͫ͆͆͆̽̍͊̇̏̏͋͘͟ȩ̶͕̪̙̥͕̺̰̟͈͉͎̳̻̠̺̭͒ͨ̿̐ͧͤ͘͞â̴̠͓͕͈̭̯̩̌̏̊ͥ̉̆͒ͯ͐̏ͩͪ̓͢͟͜͞n̳̩̜͕͓͈̞͚̾̑ͮ̈́̆̆͒̓̎̎͒͘͢͟͝ ͗̅̋ͬ̊͑͋̇́̓͊͑͗ͤ͆͏̨̡̳͉̥̼̜̖͙̥̲́͝o̡͉̘͙̝̻̩̘̭̥̟̖̘͍͋ͦ̒͂ͩ̅́ͭ̑̀̀͞n̛̥̳͇̠͈̹̟̫̮̣̜̯ͯͪͩ̏̿͘͜͡e̴̶̾̐̈́͆̉ͯ̌ͯͥ͑ͯ̏̔͒̑͂͒͏̬̗͈̖̫̙̘ ̵̷͓̰̠͓̮̳̣̞̥͔̈ͪ̃ͦͥ̅̈ͭͦ͋̓͂̔̾͟͞͞ͅͅt̀ͧͯ́̂ͥ̏ͨ̽̅͛͢҉̬̜̪̫̝̻̮̫͙̝̪̦͉͙̤̖͓͞ͅḩ̶̻̠̼̼͙͍͕̱͆̽ͭͥ̍̌͋̄̌̂ͩ́͜i̜̻̗͕͍͚̠̟̖̯̹̦̦͒̓̍̌ͮ̌̀ͧ͛͟͜ͅņ̷̡̛̜͎̘̏̿̋͋́̈́̃̎̂̎̍̚g̩̝̗̟̯̹̙̱͍̭͉̯͓̗̝̲̳͔ͩͦͩ́ͪ͋ͧ̓́͡͝?̷̵̖̩͙̪̤͚̗̖͕̮̝͍͓̮̟̺̇ͮ̆̀̊͐̅͛̇ͨ̏ͥ́ͧ̓̆̚
S̵̷̯͈̰̜̒̎͛̉̈ͧ͂̃ͩ̀͡͠P̖̱̞͔͕͈̬̫̻̠͖̀ͥͪ̊ͬͯ̎ͥ̉̋̌̀́͢͞L̴̡̫̪̱̱̦̥͔ͪ̀̆̃͌͋͐ͤ̈̋͛̔ͯͮ͐ͥ̑̈͜͡ͅA̡̢̧͓̩̣̤̲͎̫͇̫̺̮͖͉̟̦ͫ̓͒͛̍̆ͦ̾ͧ̈́ͩ̈͊͛͋̆ͪ͜Ṡ̷̷̥͙̞͈̮̭̻̭̲̬̜̰̄ͤ̈͌̅̂ͨ̿̊̐̇̐̏͋̿́̕͞H̵̛̯̮͇̟͖ͨͯ̊͂͒̋̒̎̈̿ͦ̇̊̈͒̑̐͂̕͜;̢̧̮̲̬̻̦͚̳͇ͣ́̆́̋͗͊̈́̓͒͜ͅͅT̴̶̤͉̭̳̞͓̭́̽ͭͧ͆ͫͮͤͩͩ̀ͭ͢H̄ͮ̈́ͫ͊͡͏҉͏̟̠̤̠̦̻̭̙̩͎͇̗͈ͅË̵̷́̊ͣͣͣ̈̄͒̅̔ͨ̽̚͢҉̩̼̗̦͖̕ ̵̶͈͙̥̩̤̙̈́ͯ͗ͫ͟͜͝ͅĘ̢͕̻͇̭̳͎̖̼̳̺̥̣͇̙̥͇̖ͮ͋͌ͬ̂̀ͤͤ̈́̎̍̿̃͝Ņ͕̯̼͚̯̗ͧ́ͩͬ͊̽͑̕͢D̵̵͍̙̗̪͕̭͎͓̯̺̟̯͈͔̀̈́̉͂ͥͣ̍̓ͧͣ̅ͤͬ̀̚͢