Destiny.

Fate.

The misguided self-deception that humanity has- no, deserves providence. The idea that every action we take has been planned, and every event in our lives has a meaning.

Truly, the most disgusting form of delusion I'd ever seen.

I say disgusting, but perhaps revolting would be the correct word. Seeing as how testimonials from myself and many others agree, that I am in fact disgusting, I'd prefer to at least have something under my current level of existence.

Wait, isn't that sad? Did I just admit that I think I'm a disgusting human being?

Regardless of my own likeness to cockroaches or dead sea animals, I firmly, if perhaps hypocritcally, believe that the idea of fate is below my own classification.

Which is why, with a misguided sense of superiority, I was able to meet the long-nosed man in front of me with confidence.

"Welcome to the Velvet Room.

This is a place between dream and reality. Mind, and matter."

"Most people don't introduce themselves via the setting. And while we're on the topic of setting I'd prefer if you gave me a destination rather than vague bullshit."

Infuriatingly, the Long-Nosed Man was strangely unfazed. That held signs of an experienced kidnapper. Well, of course I wouldn't know, but if I was going to kidnap someone, I sure as hell wouldn't give them leverage in any form, even just conversation.

...What?

Come on, I'm not one to fantasize about kidnapping and torturing people. Okay, maybe I've thought about it once or twice.

"I speak not of destination, but rather state of existence. This world is built upon your interpretation of fate, and the role you play in it. Based on your... appearance, it seems rather fitting that it would take this form."

I glanced around, and was immediately surprised at myself. Getting into long-winded monologues was genuinely going to kill me one day. The fact that they were capable of drawing my attention from something so outrageous was only indicitave of my future as a stab victim. The police will be so confused when they find a teenage kid with nineteen puncture wounds on the street and no signs of a struggle.

The scene so insane, so fundamentally impossible that it caused me to rethink my one self-perceived admirable trait, was perhaps outside of even my comprehension.

I was currently in a cage reminiscient of a prison cell. Only, the door was completely open. There was no barrier keeping me from walking straight out and beating up that Long-Nosed man, except for the nearly invisble, but unbreakable tether that connected the skin on my back to the rear of the cell. It was so hard to remove that it seemed to be surgically implanted inside my chest.

Directly outside the cage is where the fantasticality began to show. A thick fog covered everything around me. Staring into it was nauseating, but when I perservered something strangely familiar greeted me. It was mirrors, but within, were the changing faces of people and places. There were so many that I began to feel suffocated by the sheer density. It looked like those pictures I had seen of American cities at night. Packed to the brim with people laughing, smiling, crying, and each of them changing at imperceptible rates, while also ignoring the ever changing woes of their fellow.

I was never one to easily cave to persuasion. Even with evidence that seemed to be completely unshakeable, the character of Hikigaya Hachiman was just not someone who could accept this, not easily at least. But when faced with this scene, I was almost immediately convinced. This was the world that I lived in, there was no doubt about it. The facades and insincere lies that people wear everyday. It was something I was uncomfortably aware of.

My own self-proclaimed catchphrase has always been "Youth is a lie." But perhaps what I meant was, "Life is a lie."

Free will, was a lie. And, if I were to extend this line of thought further, even the concept of "Genuine" was a lie.

For if there is no way to live without conforming to the life of facades, and anything "Genuine" is crushed and thrown away, then what remains of that concept? If human language is so fundamentally flawed that it does not allow the understanding of another human being to the point of such true acceptance, than how can this concept of "Genuine" even be reached?

And I, surely, am just as foolish as any other. Chasing after a fleeting dream that could never be reached. Just the perfect type of fool to run full speed on a treadmill. Despite the constant warnings from friends and family, despite the countless times I've fallen and been hurt, I still intend to run towards an impossible goal, reaching for an ideal that doesn't exist.

Without a doubt, not only the world, but also the existence of Hikigaya Hachiman was perfectly represented.

Inside a cage wide open, freely able to leave of my own will, yet stubbornly dedicated to my own captivity. Tethered by my own heart.

I would've burst into laughter. I would've cackled at the invisble people responsible for this cruel joke, but if I was anything, it was self-aware. I knew of my own disgusting flaws more than anyone, and I took pride in them. But even then, if finding comfort in the vile reflection of my own traits was conforming to the facades that forced me to adapt in the first place, who could say I was anything but in denial?

Perhaps lost in thought, I hadn't noticed the soft chuckling of the Long-Nosed man. It felt as if he was mocking me. No, I was sure he was.

Like every face hidden in the fog, he was laughing at me for my stubbornness. For my ignorance. For my head-strong self-destructiveness. It didn't matter. If I knew one thing, it was that Hikigaya Hachiman would never change. After all, to change is to deny yourself.

"Why am I here?" I spoke with a start, my voice surprisingly thin, even to myself.

"This world is on a path to ruin. The facade that has attached itself to the face of this world threatens to grow and eventually consume it. In that way, the fate of this world and your own fate are irreversibly intertwined with one another. In the near future, you will meet a series of strange and unexplainable events. You shall also do your best to resolve these problems. In this way, you shall be freed from the shackles of your own heart and this world will be saved from ruin.

Or perhaps, it will not." With his delirious and insane voice, he responded. His tone sounded as if he was perpetually entertained by the state of the world. As if, in some strange way, this were all a game to him.

I am not a smart person, I will be the very first to admit that. If I were intelligent, I'm sure I would never had made the mistakes I have up to this point in my very, very short life. However, one would have to be a bonafide, real life, unbelievably "genuine" fool in order not to recognize that this being was somehow made of something bigger than myself.

"Who, or what, are you? Why can you see or meddle with the "fate" of humans anyways?" I asked somewhat rudely. I'm sure my eyes flared in annoyance as they stared the comically proportioned man down.

"My name is Igor, Master of the Velvet Room. My seemingly audacious behaviour needs no explanation or pretense. I am here to help you, and lead you from ruin. Whether or not you accept my offer is something only you will be able to decide." Despite his delirious sounding voice, the man spoke with unprecedented confidence. His tone left no room for misunderstanding.

"It seems we are out of time. I shall see you again soon." He abruptly cut off any semblance of interpretation that I had been trying to muster, and I found myself lost in a darkness oddly similar to sleep.

Expectedly, His Only Path Led To Ruin