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Questioning the morality of my actions was completely worthless. What I had done was completely inhumane in every sense possible, and I had admitted I am an insane person too. I had taken pleasure in committing such an atrocity, and I honestly don't fucking care what others might think about me.
I am a ghost, after all. A resentful spirit filled with hatred fueling my soul and everything else, do you expect me to be an all-forgiving saint? I can't. I really can't! Even by taking into consideration their own actions against my family, what I did might have only made me as worse as them, even more fucked, perhaps. Still, I didn't care. I was okay by being even more monstrous than them, and I actually put in the effort of doing so.
Check "The Protagnist's Sister Is Actually the Strongest"!