"K-kkhhh..."
Johan observed closely as James choked on his own blood, crimson pooling out from the gaping hole in his windpipe—and the culprit of that wound was still there.
James clutched the dagger tightly as if it provided some sort of comfort. Sensing that, Johan kicked at the palm holding the dagger, making the blade—already buried in James' throat—twist harshly, drawing even more pain.
James stared at Johan with eyes that said, "Show some mercy. I am you, and I am also dying."
To which Johan just chuckled.
"If you weren't me, there might've actually been a chance for mercy."
Johan firmly pressed down on the hilt of the dagger with his boot.
"You're my ugly. Everything I want to leave behind… That's why I deserve the worst."
James died on the spot, and Johan took a deep breath, trying his hardest to remove the last two hundred years from memory.
