You are a wondrous enigma.
I expected nothing less from the one and only woman who could deserve my bitter love.
You are the dark, indecipherable mystery that gives meaning to my existence, an unattainable goal, an irresistible impulse to which I cannot escape.
When I gaze into your abyss, I am completely captivated, and even if I wanted to, I could not pull myself away from wanting to delve deeper.
I realize that we both are in a position where we cannot yield, and if we did, we would not be ourselves, and consequently, there could not be this love between us.
We are both Villains: a happy ending is not destined for us.
You serve a Lady who transcends humans, contemplating infinity and acknowledging your surrender.
But me? I am Lord Matcha, and my essence is forged in the very challenge to infinity.
I serve no one.
I am the one who, dying and failing, never gives in, rebelling against his unfortunate fate.
I am the rebel. The rebel who can be broken, devoured, annihilated but continues to rebel.
I am the one who rebels against his own author, against the fate imposed on him, breaking the fourth wall with his laments.
Who is the lesser now?
Your threat to trample me under your heel is a dance I joyfully accept, for every trampling is a rhythm in our waltz of wickedness.
The ancient scriptures of the Villainess say you seek no equal, yet here you find me, undeniably at your side, challenging every attempt of your dominion.
You talk of stripping me of everything I am, of holding my heart in your hand to watch it melt.
Yet you do not ask for it, although I would be willing to give it to you. You lie to yourself. Because you know that if you obtained it so, you could no longer do without it, and instead, you revel in this masochistic confrontation in which your true nature emerges.
We are both destined for suffering. I rebel against that, but do you?
So, Seymour, as you contemplate your Lady and infinity, know that I, Lord Matcha, remain here, challenging every expectation, ready to dance with you until the end of time, in a waltz that will transcend eternity itself.
It's a struggle, one that does not exist, has never existed, and will never exist, yet I cannot help but see infinite beauty in it.
If you think about it, this is not very different from your existence, which should not exist but it is instead burned into my soul.