Chapter 45 - The Girl Wants to Be M*rdered

〈 Chapter 45 〉 Journey * * * ** Hate the sin, but do not hate the sinner. In the endless cycle of reincarnation, the words often murmured in unison by the radiant saints whom I have encountered enough to fill my hands. Well, of course, their manner of speaking varied, but the substance was largely similar to what was just stated. Indeed, it is undeniably, a wise saying. But when the one committing the sin is none other than a person, how could you loathe the sin without hating the person? Sin is merely defined and exists as a victim that commits nothing of its own volition, does it not? Perhaps it is the sins that should not be hated. Yet people continue to hate others. Because sins lack a tangible form, they are hard to hate. People, existing right before your eyes, are all too easy to detest. Even though the cost of hating others ultimately returns as a diminished love for oneself. Even when, at the end of the self-consuming, burning hatred, nothing but emptiness remains. Managing the growing hatred within people is simply not permitted. They strive to erase the unerasable. They endeavor to forget the unforgettable. Aren't these people truly pitiful? Frequently. No, perhaps always. We hate others because we do not understand them, and we do not understand them because we hate. We must grasp why they chose their actions, why they felt compelled, and what drove them. If not, the cycle of hatred will endlessly bite its own tail, circulating infinitely. Like an Ouroboros, the hatred will not die, residing beside us eternally. Even if the end is to devour oneself, it will persist relentlessly. Living stubbornly to the bitter end, tormenting us. Thus, I have decided to stop. "―Underst,ood." "...Ah..!" "...Let us, return...to our, home..." Truly, everyone. It cannot be helped, I suppose. ** It arrived like an unforeseen accident neither expected by anyone. Like a disaster that sweeps away everything without warning. A day that should have ended enjoyably and happily, layered with bodies snugly sharing heartbeats and creating new memories, one perfectly describing “ordinary.” That day became unforgettable in an entirely different sense. The sight of those whose necks were first torn asunder, writhing in pain, unable even to scream as, piece by piece, their flesh was mercilessly stripped by beaks and teeth while they were still alive. Grim scenes that extended life just to bestow more agony, casting out any dignity of life to the ground. It was, without a doubt, a hell descended upon this world. The only sounds that pierced through the chaos were the painful harmonies of breaking bones and tearing flesh. Amidst this frenzy, some brave, perhaps reckless, ten or so souls attempted to penetrate the encirclement to flee, seizing the moment when a few were distracted. There was no twist in their fate; they swiftly became cold slabs of meat right before our eyes. The hundred or so villagers who could only look on in stupefaction, akin to pigs awaiting slaughter, hoped only that their demise would come without suffering. Yes, indeed. In a place absent of any remorse or apology for the death of Alice whom they pushed to death. Only sinners concerned with protecting their own safety existed. The final destination for betrayers, Cocytus. The deepest pit of hell, it was. "...Hahn, are you listening to me?" ".........." "...If you are, could you please open the door?" Thunk, thunk, thunk. A soft yet firm knocking resonated, reflecting the demeanor of the giver. A crudely made door, patched aimlessly with thin planks, faltered like me, swayed by indecision, unable to make a choice. The gap between the door and the wall widened and narrowed with its movements, and the beam of light—the room's only illumination—followed suit, growing thicker and thinner. The light imbued with a crimson hue, signaling morning or evening, lengthened over time, stretching enough to be touched. Dust particles floated freely in the light, indifferent to the events that had transpired, exhibiting a carefree existence. Blissfully unaware. Brazenly. Even this slight extravagance overwhelmed me, forcing me to cover my eyes with both arms. Only then did complete darkness embrace me. It felt as though this was where I was meant to exist, as if the brightly lit places were not for me, as if speaking so, it gently engulfed me. The realization was utterly wretched. "...It's been two days now, Hahn. If you keep this up, you’ll really die." ".........." "...Would you please come out?" The voice of Lumiere, worry tinging her words as if concerned for my well-being. Upon hearing it, my first thought was a wish—to die as if slipping into sleep. Yet, even that was perhaps too luxurious for me. Pathetically, more disgracefully than anything, in utmost pain. Thus, I must die. "...I left some potatoes out front, so be aware of that...I'll be going now." "........." Her footsteps, uncharacteristically dragging, slowly faded away from the door she stood behind. Expectations for a new life soared high like buildings stretching up to the sky. And the pain and shock upon falling from such a height were indescribably excruciating. It was akin to a domino effect. The relationships I believed I had built solidly were often ready to collapse from the start, crumbling with the slightest nudge. Even if I spread my arms wide to protect them from anyone's touch, anxiously watching each one like a hawk, they always seemed to break down right before my eyes. Crumbling to the ground, like a house of cards. The pieces of art I had painstakingly assembled over the years. Yet, compared to that effort, it took remarkably short for my dominoes to fall. Nevertheless, it was all right. Because I could endure. Even though I no longer hoped for any relationships with others to last, watching them consistently fall apart. Because I had a refuge—a perfect excuse in the form of the other party, a scapegoat for the destruction of a relationship spiraling into ruin. I did nothing wrong. It's entirely their fault. If only I hadn't been born into this crazy world, everything would have turned out fine. I would have made friends, enjoyed trips with family, met someone I love and fallen deeply in love. That’s what I believed. And so, when I realized the arrow I had shot was returning, aimed at none other than myself— When I faced the truth that I was the one who broke the relationships and hurt the other party— —I fell into despair. '...Sister...' ".......ㅡ!!!" Rustle. At the sound brushing past my mind, I buried my head deep into the straw scattered before me. Curling up to hear nothing, closing my eyes, covering my ears, rejecting everything. Yet the fingers I had forcefully pressed against my ears, trying to deny any sound, could not block out the frail voice within my mind. On the contrary, the more I covered my ears, the louder it seemed to grow, reaffirming its presence with every shout I made. Ah... Ah... Yes. I am a sinner. I am a traitor! I am trash!! I opened my mouth and shouted. I mumbled continuously about my sins, trying to escape the suffocating weight of guilt. Desperately wanting a moment of forgiveness for my sins. Yet in a place with not a single victim to receive my apologies, what meaning did my nonsensical utterances hold? Apologies, repentance, are meant to be given to the victim. "...Alice..." Slowly, from within the straw, I lifted my head. The red sunlight slipping through the narrow gaps had long vanished, leaving nothing but darkness reflected in my dilated pupils. With trembling hands, I struggled with the door. A sharp and irritating creak, typical of unoiled hinges, sounded in response. Thud. As my foot moved forward, it hit something, and a tumbling sound followed. ".......Ah." Potatoes, seemingly boiled, scattered haphazardly from an overturned basket, rolling around. The potatoes rolled here and there over the dirt floor. I picked up one heavily coated in dirt and brought it to my mouth. The tasteless cold spud, masked in the ashen hardships of dirt, left no flavor in my mouth. "...I must go..." Yes. I had to go. I tossed away the half-eaten potato. A dog from the neighboring house barked excitedly as it nibbled on something delicious—it ate well. If Lumiere was right, it had been two days, or perhaps now into the third night. Though I hadn’t budged during this stretch of void, sitting still, never having left the village, my trembling legs already bemoaned their limits before entering the forest. I picked up a suitably long stick nearby, using it as a crutch to move forward. Step, step. I walked, leaning on the stick for support, step by step. Crossing the village border, the wooden fence. Wading through the knee-high swamp filled with rotting leaves. Moving past withered raspberry vines stiffened by the cold. Leaving behind the charred remains of an oak, perhaps struck by lightning. Step, step. Facing the biting wind head-on, gripping the stick with blood-stained hands, I pressed onward, one laborious step at a time. Endured, endured, and endured again. This pain, compared to the sorrows of past, was but a ticklish itch. This injury couldn't even begin to encompass the wounds I inflicted upon Alice. How long did I walk? "...Ah." I recognized a familiar tree. I approached and slumped against it, once a sunlit haven where I loved to nap, now permeated by the biting cold. Staring at the cloud-covered moon, I closed my eyes. Naturally, I saw nothing. ".......Haha." Gently, my eyelids began to close. Ah, I truly dislike it. I despise it. Perhaps to die like this might be better. Slowly, painfully, in the cold— To me... Truly... Most fitting in the... Darkness... "...Really... Sis, you'll catch a cold if you sleep hereㅡ" Just like that time. A small voice awoke within me. ** * * *