The Lord said, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened.”
My name is a strong tower; those who believe in it come here for refuge.
I am your refuge and strength; I will be a great help in your time of trouble.
Joseph then said to the Lord, “I place my burdens in Your hands, for my faith in You shall never waver; it is truly a joyful thing.”
The Lord does not merely speak, but through the light of all grace, He calls us in Him to make perfect those of us who have suffered.
– Genesis 9:3-7 –
I closed the Bible.
I closed my eyes. Darkness enveloped my sight.
Anxiety and fear, a restless heart, disrespectful emotions threatening my peace: disbelief, betrayal, hatred, anger…and the death of my self.
All was revealed. I thought I had escaped the writhing waves of emotion, but I was swept away, as if stranded on a deserted island. Beyond suffering awaited even greater torment.
…Suffering? What a ridiculous thing to say.
It’s strange. Since when did I perceive this as suffering?
It was not simply painful and difficult. It was something far simpler yet, at the same time, much more complex…something ambiguously in between.
I don’t know. How could I know everything?
I know. Knowledge is power.
No, it was not. Knowing was a curse.
I should not have seen. I should not have heard, touched, or understood.
The corpse covered in blood and flesh. The dying breaths bursting forth with a sputtering gasp. The stench of thick blood that pierced my nose.
…And, I became aware of their circumstances. I became aware of their despair. I became aware of…my own grief.
Everything was something I should not have come to know. Why did I make such a choice?
If I could turn back time, could I fix everything?
No. It would not be possible. I was a stubborn person. I guarantee that even if I turned back time, I would not be able to generate a better outcome than now.
That drives me insane. Even if I were to return to the past, the desperate observation that I would not be able to block the enormous wave called fate drives me to the brink of madness.
The wave of fate wears me down, and the more I try to push it away, the greater the waves coalesce and crash upon me.
And, in the end, what looms before me is…
“……”
I opened my eyes.
My sight was still shrouded in darkness.
The distant laughter of students reached my ears faintly. I threw my gaze towards the tightly drawn curtains of the balcony.
The sound of metal banging against the balcony railing. It came from beyond the firmly closed window. It seemed to be raining.
Come to think of it, it had ultimately not rained that day.
When Helena died, and when…Cesar witnessed the burning.
It felt odd. It seemed like it should have rained; why did it not?
And, once again, reality.
Ultimately, the rainy season had circled back around to me. I lifted my staggering body and slowly made my way to the balcony.
Beyond the open balcony window, it was indeed raining. It was pouring. Water was being dumped from the sky.
‘If I…’
If I had not given my heart a little more.
Then, could I have escaped this binding that ensnares me now? If I had been a little less intricate, could I not have dismissed it as just a bad memory and moved on?
“…Heh.”
No way. Certainty is a sin; I will no longer be certain. Those foolish days of committing the same sin three or four times must be behind me, right?
Thinking that way, this time…well, who knows.
There are hardly anyone who changes the future with the lessons gained from the past.
A person who lost everything in business gathers a fair amount of money again, dreaming of success one more time. If that opportunity, which he made his life’s firewood, fails too, he ultimately finishes his life holding a knife or rope.
Or, those addicted to alcohol or drugs. “This time, I’ll quit; this time, I’ll quit…” Repeating phrases with the realization of dwindling possibilities, only to find themselves repeating the same ritual again that very evening. The cycle of destruction is complete.
That cycle ensnares the person as it ends. The future disappears.
A foolish animal. A weak creature, easily swayed by trivial emotions like a stupid primate.
Life fundamentally proves its existence by wearing itself down.
Like the summer monsoon rains that circle back again, the pest named ‘perhaps’ gnaws at my heart again.
With delusion as fuel, I sink robustly into the depths of an abyss like a caterpillar.
Caterpillar. A caterpillar torn by its skin, struggling to survive as it is bitten by predators. One that cannot move towards a chrysalis and thus cannot hatch into a mature form, I am… a caterpillar.
Devouring myself, living on myself as food, I am a caterpillar.
…A caterpillar.
Damn those birds. The birds flying through the sky incessantly peck at me. Their other name is the past.
I looked up at the cloudy sky. This sky will soon lose its light and darken. The densely packed clouds have no intention of leaving for a while.
A faint light reflecting the gray sky dimly rises, and the sky shines hazily once more… and the darkness arrives.
And, it repeats. Repeats infinitely.
As long as my stamina supports me, like an infinitely turning hamster wheel. Like a caterpillar constantly gnawing on itself. So…like me.
“Heh…”
It hurts. It hurts.
Suddenly, it hurts so much. The pain that emerges from myself, which consumes my life, brings such agony.
So, what I want to say is…
This head is the problem. This head.
Given the vast experience contained in my brain, is it not every one of those countless pins arising from those experiences stabbing me?
I found the source of my pain.
For some reason, I found myself clutching the balcony railing and bending my body.
High floor. The staff dormitory and the room I am using there are unnecessarily high. Is there a reason for this?
There must be. Fate ultimately serves as a helm steering every life along its woven thread.
Thus, the reason for my dormitory room being this elevated must… be guided by fate.
Damn fate. Damn the birds. Damn the sun. Damn the seasons and cursed weather. Everything circles back, returning to me.
And, the memories that are stored in this head are the same.
“Should I die?”
Should I just die right here?
Such thoughts crossed my mind suddenly.
My body was already halfway up on the railing. If I simply released the strength from my hand, I would be free.
In that fleeting moment, like a bird soaring into the sky, I would fly up, only to dive back down to the ground.
If that happens, I might end up as mush.
At least, if I fell starting from my head, which is the root of all problems… I could die without pain.
I constantly endure pain, but the very fact that I cannot grow accustomed to it instead becomes the pain. I still fear pain.
My head hurts. It hurts as if my arms have been severed, and it hurts as if my legs have been broken. The pain feels as if my heart is being gouged out. I hated it.
And, that is phantom pain. The pain of a hallucination that has not actually occurred.
Having experienced them countless times, it is only natural that I could not but be sensitive to pain.
I decided. I’ll fall from my head.
– Knock. Knock.
If it were not for the knocking sound in my ears, which resembled an auditory hallucination… I might have really fallen. I slowly turned to look back.
– “Professor Antorelli. This is Grace Kirk Coverain. May I have a moment of your time?”
That familiar voice jolted my mind, which had been lost in thought, into clarity. I slowly turned my body and muttered.
“…I’m fine.”
Thus, I was able to survive today as well. Let’s not engage in pointless actions.
If living according to the fate that guides me is the destiny of a caterpillar…
– Squeak…
I’m currently struggling to become a chrysalis.
Sofia Sub-priest gazed at the bland door with a tense expression.
‘Beyond this door, the Head Priest…’
She was anxious to see him. She had no idea what he had been through to be holed up in the dormitory, but she felt uneasy.
Leaving behind such a Sofia Sub-priest, Chief Curbin strode toward the front door. There was no hesitation in her gesture.
– Knock. Knock.
“Professor Antorelli. This is Grace Kirk Coverain. May I have a moment of your time?”
Silence. Stillness. Silence.
No sound was heard. The two felt an unease creeping in.
‘Is the professor very ill…? Ugh… so anxious…’
Unaware of anything, Sofia Sub-priest was inwardly worried that he was not seriously ill.
‘Could it be that it’s already too late…? Damn it. I should have visited him sooner.’
Knowing all the reasons he was cooped up in the dormitory, Chief Curbin was consumed by anxiety that he may have made an extreme choice.
The time of not reacting to Chief Curbin’s knocking grew long. Just when Chief Curbin thought about whether or not to forcefully break through and enter…
– Squeak…
The door opened. Both Chief Curbin and Sofia Sub-priest’s eyes widened simultaneously.
It was not only because the door had opened but also because the inside of the opened dormitory was engulfed in sheer darkness as if not a ray of light entered.
“…Pr, Professor.”
“Head Priest…?”
The man who greeted them was Professor Lucio Antorelli…
“Did you call for me?”
To their surprise, he looked far too normal.
As if he had bathed and changed clothes every day, he did not smell and was neatly dressed. His hair was a bit messy, but that was not a concern since he generally kept it scruffy.
Sofia Sub-priest was about to offer him a cheerful greeting.
Yes, she was about to.
“Uh…”
Before she realized that Professor Antorelli was wearing his glasses upside down.
Glasses worn upside down. Unlike his neat attire, his unkempt beard and his vacant, unfocused eyes. Upon seeing that, Sofia Sub-priest froze.
It was due to a sense of dissonance. His eyes, as if detached from reality, bore the kind of expression that suggested he was having a bad dream. A whirlpool of inexplicable emotions was contained in those eyes.
And it was not only Sofia Sub-priest who sensed that. Chief Curbin chastised himself for having briefly let out a sigh of relief.
‘This is… more serious than expected…’
It was grave. If he had appeared terribly disheveled, there might have been some means to treat and restore him.
However, in this state, the situation changed. Professor Antorelli was doing everything he could to look normal on the surface, but parts of his weakened psyche that he could not yet grasp were fully exposed.
And, the fact that he was unaware of his own abnormality…
‘Does he… consider himself to be normal?’
Like those delusional individuals who believe themselves to be sane. Like the emotionless killers who assert themselves to be ordinary people.
Their eyes met. Chief Curbin suddenly could not resist the chill creeping across him.
“So, what brings you here?”
“…Oh.”
At Professor Antorelli’s question, Chief Curbin regained his senses. Sofia Sub-priest still stood frozen, but Chief Curbin cleared his throat once and spoke.
“I came to check on your condition. In addition, I intended to discuss that day’s events…”
It seemed that now was not the right time. Chief Curbin thought to express that.
“Is that so? First, please come in. Sofia Sub-priest… and those behind you as well.”
At Professor Antorelli’s words, she fell silent. It honestly gave her chills.
‘Those behind me…?’
She turned her head to look back. Only one aide followed her, while there was no one else visible. Chief Curbin hesitated to enter Professor Antorelli’s room.
However, she could not simply stand in the hallway to talk. It must have been a remark directed at the aide accompanying her. Chief Curbin placed her hand on the frozen Sofia Sub-priest’s shoulder to shake her out of her trance.
“Sub-priest. Let’s go in.”
“Ah, um… yes…”
They walked into that dark den.
Truly, it was so very dark… in there.
