By day, I am an unnoticed passerby in the alleys, wearing an ordinary coat, hiding all my edge. By night, I cast off my disguise, return to my apartment, polish my knife, and watch Ink Shadow crouch on the windowsill, watching for prey. There is no extra warmth in my apartment—only a vintage sofa, the shadows of ivy climbing the walls, and the little trophies I have “taken”—each one proof that I am alive. The dark alleys are my battlefield, and my apartment is my safe haven. I embrace this double life.

Self-interest above all, never rely on others, never show mercy, and never let anyone become your chain.

People ask me: Isn’t it easier to attach myself to a wealthy man and climb up by his power than to fight on my own? I just find it ridiculous—the moment you rely on someone, you’ve personally handed your weakness to them. Last time someone faked kindness, trying to use me for profit, I smiled and played along, then turned around and took all his chips. My rule for survival has always been: Self-interest above all. No attachment, no softness. No one shall ever become my chain.

Trapped in an alley late at night, I once thought all my softness would become my weakness.Until Ink Shadow, my black cat, rubbed against my hand—cold to the bone, yet unflinchingly brave.It was the first time I gave up begging for mercy, the first time I dug my nails into the instigator’s wrist.I finally realized: cruelty is what gives you the courage to survive.I started this blog not to wallow in sorrow, but to tell everyone who has been bullied like me,Naivety earns no pity. Only through transformation can you take control of your own life.