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墨書 Inktalez
The judge slowly lowered the gavel, his gaze cold and resolute, as he announced in a deep voice, "Defendant William Conrad, after deliberation, the court finds you guilty of premeditated murder and endangering public safety, resulting in irreversible social panic and severe psychological harm that is irretrievable and unforgivable. According to relevant laws, you are sentenced to death—immediate execution!"
As the judge's final word echoed in the courtroom, an eerie silence fell over the room, as if everyone's breath had been momentarily suspended. This silence lasted less than a second before erupting into deafening cheers and applause. The jurors nearly jumped from their seats in excitement, while the audience surged with energy, every face reflecting a mix of vindication and endless contempt.
"Die! Let this madman die!" someone shouted, waving their arms in fervent agreement. Others joined in, their voices rising in a cacophony of support, as if they could not wait to drag William to the execution ground and see him face justice on the spot.
William was stunned by the sudden verdict. He struggled wildly against the restraints of his straitjacket, which bound him tightly to the stretcher, rendering him completely immobile. The hateful shouts surrounding him pierced his consciousness like daggers, suffocating him. Each curse and mocking laugh seemed to remind him that this world had utterly abandoned him.
"No... no... this isn't real!" he cried out in despair, his eyes filled with madness and hopelessness as he desperately tried to break free from his bonds. His voice grew hoarse from shouting, nearly cracking under the strain. But he was tied down too tightly to move at all. A pallid hue began to spread across his face as all resistance was coldly ignored by those around him.
"Let me out! Are you all blind? He is the real monster!" William screamed with all his might, his voice raw with desperation. His words were drowned out by the indifferent shouts and laughter of the crowd; no one wanted to hear even a single syllable from him, only endless condemnation and coldness responded.
He was trapped in this inferno of reality, his mind and body torn apart by the cacophony of voices praising James and denouncing him. The storm of words swept through his thoughts like a hurricane, leaving him gasping for air. Anger, helplessness, fear, and sorrow swirled together within him, forming an abyss of despair.
He scanned the crowd as if searching for even one person who could understand him or see the truth—just one person willing to stand up and question it all. He hoped and pleaded, but familiar colleagues, students, even former friends wore expressions filled with disdain and reproach. Not a single soul stood by his side; only endless curses and hatred surrounded him.
"I did nothing wrong! It’s you… you blind fools!" he shouted frantically, pain and despair gnawing at his soul as if pushing him toward collapse. All he wanted was to escape this boundless nightmare; every second spent here was an exquisite torture.
His face twisted with rage and despair as he glared at the judge and jury like a beast trapped in a cage making its last stand. In that moment, he loathed this world intensely—hated these ignorant people, hated James, hated this chaotic society.
With a bang of the gavel, the judge signified the end of the proceedings—a finality that also marked William's end in this world.
As William was pushed toward the courthouse exit, the scene outside transformed into a square reminiscent of France during the Reign of Terror in the eighteenth century. The streets were packed with an angry mob; every face bore expressions filled with fervor and hatred as they howled like hungry wolves: "Take him to the guillotine! Chop off his head!" The furious voices surged like a flood toward William's ears, drowning him in a cacophony that left his mind buzzing.
He was bound in a straitjacket, unable to move, as the stretcher was pushed forward unsteadily. At the end of his line of sight stood a massive guillotine. It towered absurdly high into the sky, making it hard to believe it was a real object. The sharp blade glinted in the sunlight, as if ready to fall at any moment and take away the last remnants of his life.
A wave of immense fear surged within William. He thrashed wildly, trying to break free from the straps that held him tightly to the stretcher, desperate to escape this hellish nightmare, but it was futile. His struggles only elicited louder shouts of anger from the crowd.
People began hurling objects at him—stones, rotten tomatoes, and even spitting directly at him. The decaying tomatoes splattered against his face, their sticky juices running down his skin, bringing waves of wetness and disgust. He wanted to wipe away the unbearable stickiness but could only feel more humiliation. Debris and filth rained down upon him incessantly, as if he had become the city’s garbage bin.
William’s eyes darted around, seeing every face filled with contempt and hatred towards him. Men, women, the elderly, young people—even children were led by their parents to join in throwing things at him. Each face and every action plunged him deeper into despair. He couldn’t comprehend why the world had turned so cruel, why everyone harbored such animosity towards him, even these strangers who had never met him before.
A wave of maddening confusion washed over him. Was he truly losing his mind? Was this a nightmare or reality? Perhaps it was all just an absurd dream?
He wanted to wake up, to escape this terrifying scene, but his limbs were tightly bound and immobile. All he could do was listen to the sharp blade buzzing in the distance, like a great beast growling hungrily, waiting for him to be dragged before it for slaughter.
The voices of the crowd grew increasingly frenzied; the square felt like an ancient arena where people were no longer spectators but were eager for his blood to spill beneath the blade. Every action resembled a collective frenzy; William had become their sole outlet for release, their public enemy number one.
“Did I do something wrong? Or has this world gone mad?” William’s mind was a chaotic mess; his world had completely collapsed, blurring the lines between truth and lies, reality and illusion.
He could not accept this reality nor explain how he had fallen so low. Familiar scenes spun wildly in his mind; James's face kept surfacing in his thoughts, that devilish smile deeply etched into his memory. How had that demon gained control over this world? Why couldn’t anyone see through his true nature?
“Perhaps… I am the one who has gone mad?”
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