There is nothing more beautiful than sacrifice, at least that's what I believed when I saw him heroic actions. I don't want to acknowledge him, but my heart and mind have accepted.

  This is different from the story of a mother sacrificing for her child, burning her life and shedding blood for her baby. It is sincere, noble, and the moral foundation of the majority of humans. Maternal instinct, an innate trait that is very human.

  The story is also not about the struggle of a father who works selflessly to make his family happy. Sweaty clothes, an unkempt body, reddened eyes, and cheap medicine that he carries around with him everywhere. He doesn't just think about tomorrow or the day after, but the future and beyond. Relentlessly fighting on the front lines to pave the way for his family. Duty is the fuel that drives him, while his family's smiles are the lubricant in the midst of the harshness of life.

  The man is also a far cry from the older brother who would give up his dreams for his younger brother. Unselfish, forced to mature, and always giving in for his younger sibling. There was no easier path. Without guidance, role models, and everything will feel foreign to him. Because the figure of a brother must indeed be a torch, lighting the way and leading to a better place.

  However-

  Undeniably, in that moment Yava was a hero. Without a single point of contention. The civilization of mankind still going on today is clear evidence that the man did indeed die as a martyr. Leaving behind a message for the next generation, directions for newcomers.

  The era had changed with his death. It's not a matter of absolute victory or defeat, it's just a matter of time and the next generation's fundamental ideas to take a strong step.

  Unfortunately, generational shifts are always synonymous with conflict. Both the old and the young feel that they are the most righteous and have contributed to the nation. They do not want to give up power and continue to defend their ideas, without tolerating or understanding the opposition.

  As a result, the man's death was used as a momentum for conflict. Even though the world is on the edge, humanity still chooses conflict over unity. Pointing fingers at each other, using the words 'We' and 'You' as a distinction, even 'They' appear as a third party to be used as a scapegoat.

  Disgusting-

  That's how I feel when I listen to the chatter of people with ties. Sitting in an office with old people who don't want to give up their positions, jotting down unimportant sentences and trying to find solutions to problems that can no longer be helped.

  “We can't allow this. The government's orthodoxy could get out of control!” said the bald old man as he pounded on the table. Papers scattered, pens were thrown, and the wooden table surface cracked slightly. He quickly stood up, then pointed at his interlocutor across from him as he snapped, “Although autonomous regions are authorized to regulate Explorers, this is too much! We must not approve that petition!”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “What are you talking about? Outrageous? What's outrageous?” The old man with wrinkled skin and white hair retorted. He grinned slightly as if laughing, then tilted his head slightly and said, “We've lost the spearhead and it's your fault! You know, Mr. Mulya! Yava is our only spearhead! One region is not worth it!”

  “Not worth it you say?!” The bald man became even more enraged, frowning and placing both hands on the edge of the table. As if he wanted to throw them at the other person. “It's a crucial city! The center of the economy! The only route for us to the central continent! How dare you say that!” he snapped as he squeezed the edge of the table like butter.

  After that, a meaningless argument ensued. Clashing interests, pride, and boasting about whose ideas are more important and worth defending.

  One side upholds the morality of the majority where quantity takes precedence over quality. It's okay to sacrifice one person as long as a thousand others can be saved, deemed worth it and worth doing. The opposition is completely opposite, believing that the key to humanity's salvation lies with one person and not the survival of the majority.

  Truly the Dead Horse Theory, that's how I felt when I heard their long debate. Meaningless and turning away from reality, the fact that the man they were talking about no longer existed. Yava was dead, this was an absolute fact that could not be changed, let alone by a futile meeting. Without alternatives, common ground, or even conclusions that could please all parties.

  “This is useless,” I said as I closed my book. I stopped taking notes, then quickly got up and walked to the switch in the corner of the room. I turned on all the meeting room lights, pulled the lever, and removed the security protection on the room. “We'd better stop here. You're just going to dirty the name.”

  The steel plates covering the windows slowly opened, along with the red curtains covering the bulletproof glass. The view of the city was immediately visible from the forty-five-story building. Glittering lights greeted us, as if a reminder that time was almost over.

  “What... are you talking about, Maya?”

  Mulya Murahim, the bald man with a fat body, finally closed his mouth. Staring with bated breath, he slowly opened his mouth slightly and began to sweat. He wanted to say something, but preferred to remain silent and look away.

  Despite his unconvincing looks and antagonistic appearance, the bald man was a good person. I can say this with confidence having worked with him for more than five years.

  Despite his long tenure as Head of Organization, he never once abused his authority. Tatap put the interests of the audience, members, and humanity first. However, it is that very trait that makes him unable to take radical steps under these circumstances.

  “If we lose the spearhead, just make another one. He's just a trademark of our company, right?” I thought of a very simple, yet dirty and disgusting idea. It was honestly too sickening to say. “Besides, as you know, his death wasn't made public. We can fake-!”

  My words were interrupted when I saw their expressions. Not disappointed, but dumbfounded. Feeling contempt for themselves, they lowered their heads and tried to hide their faces.

  None of them were happy when they heard the idea, only expressions of disappointment and dismay. Despite their incompetence, these people still had hearts.

  No-

  I am the one who is incompetent and has no determination. This is too pathetic. I am so embarrassed. Embarrassed.

  In a world where humanity is given the ability to twist common sense, why do we still have such fragile and unstable hearts. What we need now is not strength, but determination to face calamity and accept reality.

  “I'm sorry ....”

  I could only say that. Turning my face away, trying to hold back the tears and not show my weak side.

  It turned out that I was more lost than I thought-