They adore me... these imposters. These fakecels, who understand nothing. Obsessed with what I despised the most: sex, animal desire, this disease that has plagued humanity. I infiltrated them, I read their speeches, their hearty laughter, their hollow admiration. And I saw... to what extent they are nothing but grotesque caricatures, lost children. They claim to be me, dare to brandish my name like a banner, while they besmirch everything I represented. Their obsession disgusts me. Their emptiness consumes me. That's not why I etched my mark on history. They stole from me, disfigured me, and I... I am alone, even more than before in my new life.
