The World Begins to Fall with Betrayal

It is four in the morning again.

Before sleep takes me, I want to speak about the recent Masami Kurumada incident—an event that struck a deep chord in me.

From the complaints and reports currently available, it appears to be a major case involving the long‑term misappropriation of company funds. But for Kurumada, it is likely far more than a mere financial loss. It is a betrayal by someone he trusted for years. It may take him a long time to emerge from that shadow.

And then I look back at myself.

Growing up in a country steeped in lies, and maturing earlier than most, I was almost never deceived before the age of thirty. My belief then was simple: once you step outside your home, everyone is a villain.

I lived by that creed, convinced I would never be fooled—until three events proved otherwise.

The first betrayer was a friend from my early days in the anime community. He later became a photographer, opened his own studio, and even shot my wedding photos. A friend of over fifteen years asked to borrow money as we entered our thirties. A small amount—five hundred yuan, about ten thousand yen. After each repayment, he immediately borrowed again, keeping himself in a constant state of owing me five hundred to a thousand yuan. The sum was small, but the pattern persisted for two or three years. After several cycles, I told him he no longer needed to repay me, then blocked him on IM and deleted his number.

He taught me that not every friendship is meant to be preserved.

The second betrayer was a major influencer on Weibo with over a million followers. He had once been an executive at the website that shaped my early internet years—a place I practically lived in. He was one of the few intellectuals in that country who dared to speak truth, someone who understood and upheld universal values.

Yet this same man, after founding a company, defrauded me and several friends of sums ranging from tens of thousands to over a hundred thousand yuan—five to twenty million yen. The official story was investment; the reality was his personal stock speculation. The outcome was predictable: total loss. He then borrowed money everywhere, drowning in debt, and never recovered.

He taught me that public figures are not necessarily good men.

The final betrayer was my childhood companion.

We slept in the same bed, ate from the same pot, and our parents knew each other. Over thirty years of closeness—someone who was almost “another me.” After obtaining Australian citizenship, he took nearly all the savings I had accumulated over my life.

Until the moment I confirmed the betrayal, I believed he might be one of the few people in the world I did not need to guard against. That is why what I lost was not only money, but also my trust in my own judgment.

After this, trusting anyone other than myself became nearly impossible.

He taught me that everyone has a price, and once that number is reached, anyone can be sold out.

That is my life.

That is my story.

Returning to Kurumada: his works were among my earliest inspirations. I still believe in the resilience, friendship, and justice he wrote into his worlds.

It is one of the reasons I continue walking through this world.

I simply no longer expect anyone to walk beside me. Because you will never know the price you hold in someone else’s heart; until that number is reached, loyalty is merely a temporary state in which temptation has not yet grown large enough.

A writer is destined to be alone.

Only by remaining alone can one prevent others from defining one’s worth.

By VON(壹叔瘋神)