[A little strange but he still finds the picture interesting, perhaps even more than before. He pauses in his own painting to look at her work.]

I did want to be a hero at one point. I must admit that much. Someone chivalrous and gallant, like something out of a story. But as I grew older, I suppose I started to realise... that justice doesn't really exist.

[There are laws. There are systems. And there are loopholes in the laws and terrible people pulling the system's strings. Justice cannot occur in such a system. From where he stood, it seemed like complete chaos—people climbing on top of others and pushing them down and throwing them aside. Those with power could bury more under them but even the simple convenience store manager could also exert force over his meager employees, who in turn inflicted their injustices on others to vent.

What did any of it matter? Or mean? Even now, having met such kind people here, he doesn't think he believes in a justice that exists for all. Nothing can save humanity from themselves. The difference now exists in the worthwhile individuals that deserve better worlds than the ones that exist. He wants to try for their sakes, to at least make things better around them, but his overall cynicism remains.]

Well, that was why I took matters into my own hands.