welcome to hell, we love puro.

In order to find his true self, Ernesto had to swallow his pride, and use the ancient family heirloom - a ring of mystical power. For, it tells, each loop of the orb bestows upon the wielder magical abilities.

He attempts to put the ring on, but it magnetizes away from Ernesto. This confuses him, and he tries again, muttering in frustration to himself. Again, the ring disobeyed him. Try as he might, he simply cannot put the ring on. He asked the ring: "Why? Why won't you adon my damned finger?", and to his shock - the ring replied.

But not in normal words, no, that is far too simple for a mortal's gambit. The ring spoke to him in a language no human has ever mastered, one still young in the vast, mysterious threads of life... Music.

Music filled Ernesto's ears. A noisy bravado of bustling, cheery strings, melodic pianos, and all sorts of happy tunes.

But Ernesto's rage grew stronger. He could not understand. He forgot why he was doing this, what the point of this was, and why he was there. He forgot his goal, his purpose. All he wanted to do was win. It's all he had ever wanted.

But there was nothing left but a husk. A soulless shell begging for even an ounce of reprieve. His plight is not one of naivity, but of desperation. A man who had lost it all. And eventually, he would also lose consciousness, succumbing to the primal fury inside of him. And with it, the music fading from his senses. This would be Ernesto's last memory.