Without madness, there could be no life.
Compared to the muddled haze of the past, he preferred this lucid madness.
That sense of mission, that longing for the future, fascinated him so deeply, delighted him so greatly. It seemed that only this way was he truly alive.
"Mr. Kane, you are under arrest!"
"Under the special decree, you will be sentenced to no less than fifty years in prison. If the circumstances are especially severe, you may even face the death penalty."
The prosecutor before Kane spoke in a formulaic tone.
"Mr. Prosecutor, may I take that as a personal threat against me?!"
"Save those words for my lawyer!"
"Oh, and one more thing. I believe my lawyer is already applying for my bail."
"I think we'll be saying goodbye very soon. No—never seeing each other again."
Kane was a middle-aged man in his forties. Dressed in a suit and leather shoes, he looked more like a wealthy businessman, a successful man, than the leader of a sect.
"Mr. Prosecutor, do you believe in the existence of the God of the End Times?!"
Kane suddenly smiled.
"I know you definitely don't."
"Actually, neither do I."
"But because someone believes, it becomes a business."
"From beginning to end, I've only ever been a businessman. I didn't really want to tell you all this, but since there's still time!"
"Of course, more importantly, I'm laughing at your ridiculous sense of justice."
"In our country, businessmen like me are beyond counting. It's just that what I sell is different—faith, a sense of security. Their hearts lack something to lean on, so I sell them that support. It's a willing transaction on both sides, not the crime you imagine it to be."
"If you want to prosecute me, all you can prosecute me