“It’s not right.” I kept saying these ridiculous things. “Don’t say you’re going to die.”

All the words sounded artificial.

Deciding to rely on force, I stepped toward Misaki, who was still swinging the box cutter around. She backed up. Ignoring her wild movements, I lunged forward and reached out my right hand. Just before my hand touched Misaki’s body, the blade of the box cutter sliced open my palm. A second later, blood began to flow. It soaked into the snow.

It hurt, but the pain was wonderful.

Misaki stared at the bloody box cutter, a dreamy expression on her face. I gave her a smile.

Misaki looked as though she were also about to smile.

The wind blew, and powdered snow danced upward.

Finally, I understood. I knew what I needed to do: I would keep this girl alive. I would save her.

How? Does a hikikomori like me have the power to do things for others? Wasn’t that kind of thing impossible? Shouldn’t I know my place? Well?

Yet somewhere, there had to be a wonderful solution. I truly believed this. There had to be a way for everything to work out. There had to be a way to fulfill Misaki’s wishes and my own hopes. Surely, I already knew the answer.

I would erase her pain and make it possible for her to live on, laughing and happy. I would give her the vitality to make it until tomorrow, give her the strength to live. The method—I had to know it already, somehow.

Once, shed said to me, “If that type of bad God did exist, then we could go on living in good health. If we could push the responsibility for our misery onto God, then we would have that much more peace of mind, wouldn’t we?

“If I could believe in God, I could become happy. Even if God is a bad guy, I know I could become happy. The problem is… the problem is I have a poor imagination, so I can’t believe in God very easily. Look, couldn’t He create some really showy miracle for me, just like He does in the Bible?”

She wanted to believe in a God, but her God was a villain. He was the main instigator of all evil. If she could believe in the existence of someone so evil, Misaki had said that she could keep on living. If a miracle occurred in front of her, it would prove the existence of this villain. She had said that, in that case, she would be able to keep on living. I’ll grant your wish!

The method was unfathomably difficult, terrible, and likely would require an enormous sacrifice. That, itself, however, was what I desired. To sacrifice myself to save the heroine would be the noblest act I could perform.