Honkai, why do you only throw me into high-level battles?

"So, where are your parents?"

Lin Wei paused, glancing back at the scene he loathed. He thought for a moment, then chuckled.

"My father was probably out drinking with friends, or maybe working. I don't remember. He wasn't usually welcome at these family gatherings. As you can see, these are all relatives from my mother's side."

He emphasized the word "relatives," his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"As for my dear mother, she was probably playing mahjong. It was her favorite pastime. She'd play all night. Here, let me show you."

Memory was a strange thing. A chaotic mix of information, yet connected by invisible threads. Even "association" could be a retrieval method.

A memory surfaced in Lin Wei's mind. He smiled, pulling it into focus.

A small, sparsely furnished room—a bed, a sofa, a desk, a water dispenser. No bathroom. Like a prison cell, confining a small boy.

This boy was younger than the one at the birthday party. An earlier memory.

"Let's see… I was about six years old. It was during the May Day holiday. My father was away on business, and my mother was looking after me. And, as you can see, she left me here, at a friend's place, while she went off to play mahjong."

Lin Wei stepped into the memory, looking out the window.

"Whoa, at least six floors up. That's high! And look at that window, no safety bars. Wasn't she afraid I'd climb out and fall to my death?"

He stepped back, pointing at the scene, laughing as if showing a friend a photo album.

"See? No bathroom. I didn't even dare to drink water."

He sped up the flow of time, compressing a long day into a few minutes.

The room was bare. No TV, no computer, not even a phone. The door was locked. Little Lin Wei was trapped. He did his homework, stared into space, slept, woke up, slept again…

The woman who should have been called "mother" appeared only once, bringing him a meal, telling him to do his homework, locking the door behind her as she left. She returned late at night to sleep.

"Tsk, I was so easy to take care of. One meal a day. I even looked after myself. Easier than a cat or a dog, wouldn't you say?"

"You just… obeyed?"

The Herrscher's expression was strange. This wasn't the Lin Wei she knew.

"What else could I do? What grand principles can you expect a six-year-old to understand? Didn't you see him clinging to her when she returned? Tsk, it's not his fault. Children crave their mother's embrace. It's instinct. He probably blamed himself, thought he wasn't being obedient enough."

Lin Wei's voice was laced with sarcasm, detached, as if he were commenting on someone else's life.

A cold, dark aura emanated from him, making the Herrscher wonder if they had the right script.

You seem more like a world-destroying villain than I do.

Lin Wei dispersed the images, including the birthday party.

He didn't look back, continuing his walk, picking up memory fragments, opening doors to the past, like a tourist exploring a new land.

Perhaps his emotions were heightened, or perhaps he'd simply become more proficient. He no longer had to actively search for memories. They surfaced on their own as he and the Herrscher strolled along, like fish leaping from the water.

"Oh, this is my father. Lying in bed… Heh, he was out drinking again, came home drunk, the door was locked, and he broke his leg climbing over the wall."

"This… I don't remember what happened. I think I didn't finish my homework and wanted to go out to play. Look, my father kicked me back inside. Tsk, tsk, such a perfect arc, landed right on the sofa."

Lin Wei winced, the phantom pain returning with the memory.

The Herrscher watched him, amused by his cheerful narration, like a tour guide or an old friend reminiscing.

"Huh? Why is this memory in black and white?"

Lin Wei picked up a monochrome fragment, intrigued.

"Oh, this one." He chuckled. "My father had anger issues and a drinking problem. He was always scowling. A scary figure in my childhood memories."

"This is just one example. I must have been two or three years old. No wonder it's so blurry, and everything looks so big."

"I don't know why, but they were always fighting. Look, my mother is on the floor again, that vacant look in her eyes… heartbreaking. And the little guy is trying to hug her. How naive. Look, my father told him to 'get out,' and he just… obeyed…"

"Your childhood was… fragmented."

The Herrscher couldn't help but comment. Humans were so ugly and predictable. She wasn't interested in his parents, but she found his bitterness towards his younger self intriguing.

He'd been surprisingly polite to her, even at his most hostile.

"Fragmented? I suppose. But it didn't feel that bad back then. My home was a dark place, filled with violence and coldness. I didn't like it there. But at least I was in my mother's hometown. I had other places to go."

They continued walking. The scenes shifted, becoming warmer, filled with love and happiness.

"I had to stay at home during the school week, but every weekend, every holiday, I'd go to my grandparents' place. That was my real home. Look, I'm taking a taxi. We'll be there soon."

"Maybe because of my parents, I was always good at reading people. Or maybe it was because I was young. But at my grandparents' place, with my other relatives, I was always the center of attention. My older cousins doted on me, my uncles and aunts spoiled me, my grandparents adored me. I was happy there."

"See? I was happy. But every Sunday night, every night before school started, I'd cry and cling to my grandparents as my parents dragged me back to that cold, empty house. But it didn't matter. I knew I'd be back soon."

But, there was always a but.

The Herrscher knew this idyllic scene was just a facade. The real Lin Wei was the man beside her, radiating a chilling, demonic aura.

She felt a pang of sympathy for him. She sensed a kindred spirit—not a Herrscher, not Honkai, but the deep, icy despair of someone wounded by the world.

He hadn't lied.

"Children are naive. They have unrealistic expectations of the world."

Lin Wei glanced back. The path behind them was a monochrome ocean, as if nothing had ever happened.

The Herrscher remained silent, her gaze lingering on him.

She knew this was just the prelude. The climax was coming.

They walked on, one speaking, one listening. Memories flickered and faded—some cold, some warm, seemingly disparate, yet all flowing into the same chaotic stream.

"Oh? What's this?"

Something caught his eye, a flicker in his peripheral vision.

He walked towards a dark red desk with a red and white lamp, illuminating a notebook and a pen.

He picked up the notebook, a thoughtful expression on his face, and opened it. A child's handwriting filled the page. The Herrscher leaned in to read—

Today, Mommy was acting strange. She locked herself in her room all day. Is she sick? I tried to go in, but the door was locked. I called her, but she didn't answer. I'm worried.

In the afternoon, Mommy opened the door and asked me to get her a kitchen knife. Strange, what does she need a knife for in her bedroom? Is she cooking something secretly? I don't understand, but she looked so tired, so I got it for her. I didn't ask why.

A little later, it was almost dark, and I'd finished my homework. Mommy opened the door again and gave me some money and a note, asking me to buy her some medicine from the pharmacy. There were so many complicated words, I couldn't read them. But Mommy looked really sick, so I held the note carefully and ran to the pharmacy as fast as I could. I hope she gets better soon…

Lin Wei burst into laughter, a manic, distorted sound, as if he'd just witnessed the funniest joke in the world.

"They say a tigress won't eat her cubs. I never believed that. Making her own son a murderer, a matricide? Hahahaha! How could she be so cruel? She was a head nurse! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Rin, isn't this hilarious? HAHAHAHA! It's so absurd! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

His laughter grew louder, wilder. The Herrscher watched his shoulders shake.

Then, it stopped abruptly. He stood up, smoothed the crumpled pages of the diary, placed it back on the desk, and sat down.

The surroundings rippled, transforming into a familiar scene—Lin Wei's childhood home.

Lin Wei was gone, replaced by a small boy doing his homework under the lamp.

A door creaked open, revealing a disheveled woman standing in the doorway.

"Lin Wei, Mommy isn't feeling well. Get me a kitchen knife from the kitchen."

Her voice was flat, emotionless, like a command.

"Okay."

Little Lin Wei smiled, a chillingly malicious smile, and ran to the kitchen. He didn't look at his mother.

The woman frowned.

He returned quickly, holding the heavy knife, but didn't hand it to her. He stepped back, meticulously wiped the blade and handle, then threw it at her feet, the blade embedding itself in the wooden door.

"Here. Go ahead. Cut yourself. Do it in front of me. Slit your wrists, cut your throat, I don't care. Let me, your son, the murderer you created, watch the show."

His voice was cold, filled with contempt. Then he shouted,

"What are you waiting for? Do it! Are you scared now? You were going to kill yourself, weren't you? I got you the knife. Don't disappoint me!"

"..."

"Tsk, selfish coward."

He watched as the woman collapsed, sobbing and cursing, blaming his father, blaming him, a torrent of insults pouring from her lips. He lost interest, waving a dismissive hand. The woman, and the memory, dissolved like a bubble.

Lin Wei stood alone, staring at the empty space where his mother had been.

"Let's go…"

He spoke softly, then continued his walk, his back to the Herrscher.

She could sense the smile had vanished, replaced by a deep malice, a chilling darkness.

He was on the verge of becoming a demon.

She followed him silently.