The joys felt by different lives were different.
Some rejoiced because they had done a good deed.
Some rejoiced when they saw others rejoice.
Some rejoiced over insignificant little things.
Others rejoiced because they could indulge their desires and do whatever they wanted without restraint.
It was a difference in sensibility, as well as a difference in values.
But Maki belonged to none of the above.
She believed that what someone like her rejoiced over depended entirely on instinct.
At least, that was how she was.
She was a magnanimous person. She would not hate someone simply because they were her enemy, nor would she resent or despise someone merely for standing against her. Even if someone killed her one day, she would not hate them.
To her, it would be far too wasteful if the lives in this world drew such clear boundaries between one another because of differences in position, race, identity, ideals, and so on.
Yes, wasteful.
Once, she had shared this thought with someone who regarded her as an enemy, who had pursued her for her entire life and wanted to eradicate her.
In the end, that person had looked at her as though she were some hopelessly rotten creature.
Maki had felt terribly wronged.
Why did they have to look at her like that?
Why could no one understand her?
Even that person sometimes looked at her as though she were a monster whose construction had gone wrong somewhere. It was too much.
Clearly, she was very magnanimous.
Magnanimous enough to regard every life in this world as something she could toy with.
Wasn't it delightful to watch them cry their eyes out?
Wasn't it delightful to see them despair and tremble in fear?
Wasn't it delightful to watch them kneel and beg for mercy?