The Feast's End

Brother, I managed to escape from Alpha's door once again. In this world, where is there a celebration that never ends? This feast, which was named after hope, should have long been over. The delicacies that were once laid before me have now turned into remnants stuck to the bottom of the plate, mixed with spilled wine, unfolding a scene of ruin before my eyes.

The awakened ones have already left quietly, stepping away from the edge of the mess with a satisfied fullness; while you, still clutching that pair of chopsticks that have long since gone cold, are banging on the empty dining table, sounding like a deluded gambler, stubbornly waiting for the next illusory main course. But you have forgotten that the feast never continues out of thin air. When the lights go out and the guests disperse, the last ones left can only face that cold, hefty bill that crushes everything alone—this dream must be paid for by someone with their entire fortune, and you are steadily walking towards that destined end.