Chapter 2
**
I thought I had seen all sorts of filthy sights in this world.
But I realized I had merely skimmed the surface like a watermelon.
Look.
Isn’t true suffering right here?
“Ugh…!”
On the first day, I endured. Sleeping was a struggle, so I just lay there, repeating the act of breathing.
I thought it would get better after a day. But when I woke from my shallow sleep, I realized that thought was wrong.
As morning approached, I couldn’t even scream. I could only flick my tongue, unable to move a single finger.
My throat was dry. Thirst pierced through my entire body.
Instead of blood, black sand filled my veins. It blocked my energy pathways and made my body decay.
I couldn’t even roll my eyes in this reality.
In that state, I reflected on the seven days.
Just lying still wouldn’t change anything.
I had to move. I had to endure this pain and stand tall.
I should.
…I definitely should.
“…….”
My heart breaks.
In a pain I can’t win against.
…
I had a dream.
My younger sister didn’t appear. Neither did my parents.
I was just standing in a white space. No one was in sight, even when I turned around.
So I just stood there, not knowing what to do.
Then I woke up.
Pain rushed in the moment I regained consciousness.
“Ugh…!!”
My voice burst out. Unable to hold it any longer, the air I exhaled was scorching.
Just a groan, yet it felt like my tongue was pierced with thorns.
My lungs felt strange. Was the air this sharp?
I couldn’t breathe. Pain mixed with every inhale and exhale.
I was dying.
Rotting alive.
Is death the only answer? I don’t know. But I instinctively understood it was the closest path.
The path to liberation from this agony.
The path to escape from this wretchedness.
I awaited the Black-clothed Man. I waited for the one called Ilma to come to me and plunge a knife into my heart.
Why does time not move faster?
Kill me.
Please…
Please, just kill me.
…
“Brother.”
“Huh?”
“Can’t we play together today?”
My younger sister tugged at my sleeve. I wanted to smile and respond to her words.
But I couldn’t. If I held her hand and played, I wouldn’t be able to provide her with food afterward.
“…Later. Let’s play later.”
“When?”
“Later…”
Time would surely come. Living on, someday I would have the luxury of taking my sister’s hand and exploring the night streets.
“Let’s play later, okay?”
“…Brother.”
The sleeve that was tugged dropped weakly.
“When are you talking about?”
When, indeed.
I turned around.
There was nothing behind me.
“…Ah.”
Dream and reality.
I thrashed about in that vague boundary. Blood dripped from my bitten tongue.
How far is it until dreams end and reality begins?
I don’t know. It’s simply painful. I wished for it all to end.
Heavenly Demon. Take my life. Ilma. Cut away all my flesh.
I want to die. No, I want to live.
Sister. Where are you? Where am I?
“Welcome to the Huayoung Gate.”
Memories blend.
Words I’ve heard spill out like vomit.
“It’s too late to start anything.”
“You were never supposed to be born with it.”
“Effort is important. It is, but isn’t the effort of a genius more fruitful than that of an ordinary person?”
“Fool.”
“Sophomore. I apologize, but isn’t it better to give up the sword?”
Memories mix.
“Jeok-un. What a foolish name.”
“My son, your sister has died.”
“If you’re a gatekeeper, then be a gatekeeper and open the door.”
“My son, are you planning to starve us to death?”
“Be grateful for the Master’s grace.”
Memories jumble.
“Jeok-un. It can’t be helped. Someone has to do it. If you are a warrior of the Martial Alliance… should you not sacrifice your life for justice?”
“But the salary is more than double. Don’t worry, I’ll send everything to your home.”
“I can’t believe the one who was recommended is such a fool.”
“Come on, we must have the initiation ceremony. I’ll generously spit thick saliva for you. Lick it clean.”
“Did you think you could become anything by throwing a tantrum?”
Memories…
“Jeok-un. I’m sorry.”
“Fool. I know for sure that you will just spend your life as a gatekeeper.”
“Brother. When later?”
“Put down the sword, Sophomore. It won’t do any good.”
“My son, give me money. Are you planning to starve your parents to death?”
All mixed together…
“Jeok-un.”
“Fool.”
“Sophomore.”
“Brother.”
“My son.”
…….
….
…
.
…I…
“Jeok-un.”
…No.
“You were a dog that just spent your life guarding someone else’s door.”
You are.
“Are you satisfied with that?”
—Are you satisfied with that?
“Ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
I hit the ground. I rose.
Blood surged back up from my whole body. Something fell from my eyes. Black, murky blood.
It soaked my cheeks and flooded the floor. The veins that popped up on my skin throbbed as if they were about to burst.
My heart stopped. My rotten blood no longer beat.
But I struggled desperately. Are you satisfied with that?
Are you satisfied with that, Jeok-un?
With such a life, hidden under the clouds.
With a life spent serving others all my life.
Are you really satisfied with that?
—No!
“Right. Exactly that.”
From within the intertwined memories, the voice of the Heavenly Demon echoed, which shouldn’t have been heard.
I reached out in that direction.
I am a dog. A dog that has lived licking someone else’s backside.
I know. I don’t have any talent worth begging for. I was born with nothing.
So I rationalized it. I’ve lived pushed along, thinking I wouldn’t be able to do anything anyway.
The sword of the ordinary.
The life of the ordinary.
The fate of the ordinary.
I spat out rotten blood on top of that.
Ah! Yes! That’s it! Dammit!
I’m an ordinary man! I was born ordinary and nearly died ordinary!
So was that good?
—It was excruciating!
But no, not now. Not anymore. I’ve obtained an opportunity.
Now that I have a chance, I must act. Even if I want to die, I have to endure.
I’ve wanted to die my whole life.
So on the day when I truly must die, should I not live?
Paradoxically. Paradoxically!
I!
I truly!
“The sword…”
—I always wanted to slice through this mundane and pitiful life!
“The sword…!”
I leaned against the wall. I fell once.
But I stood again. I fell again.
Each time I stumbled, I spat blood. Illusions and reality melded, enveloping me.
“Jeok-un.”
Shut up!
“Sophomore.”
Shut up!
“My son.”
Shut up!
“Fool.”
All of you…
Shut up!!!
“Uweeeeeeeeeeek…!!!”
The world is constricting me. I can feel the reversed rotten blood wanting to bring me to my knees.
But it doesn’t matter. I am ordinary. I will shed my skin and become a beast now.
I will not kneel. I will rise and grasp the door.
I walk.
I walk.
I must walk.
I must continue to live…
“Brother.”
“…….”
I turned around.
In the intersecting illusions, I felt my younger sister looking at me.
My sleeve was tugged once more. The pull was weak, making me doubt whether this was an illusion.
A small hand. A painfully thin body.
Yet the whispering voice.
“It’s okay. You can go.”
The only voice that had ever been my ally.
Always…
Always kind voice.
I didn’t respond to that voice. I turned my gaze away from my sister, who had always clung to me.
I looked forward.
I let the falling hand fall.
I… I mean, sister.
I couldn’t always cherish you. Deep within my heart, there was so much selfishness.
I was smiling, yet at the same time, I was crying. I acted like it was nothing, but inside, I was flipped upside-down.
Sister. I thought the world would crumble the moment I heard you were dead.
But what came next wasn’t sadness.
I… I was…
—Feeling liberated from your news.
“…Ah…!”
I howled like a beast.
—Damn this selfishness!
—Damn this ordinary life!
I am not someone who deserves support from others! I pretended to care about you, but that was just because I had no other choice.
I… I always…
—Wanted to live for myself.
“Everyone… get lost…”
I will survive.
I will live.
Not for my family.
Not for my sister.
For selfish, hypocritical me.
To reach the being known as the Heavenly Demon who has captivated me.
For the first time.
For the first time for the dream that I hold.
“…I…”
If it seems unbearable from the pain, smile. If you can’t extend your legs, use your hands to crawl.
Lift up your lips and laugh. If you can’t move your body, deceive yourself with lies.
It’s okay.
It’s okay.
Haven’t I repeated that many times?
“My… mine…”
Though pushed along, it was a life filled with patience. A life of a selfish person who deceived himself.
So if I’m going to do it, keep whispering that lie.
Endure.
Do what you do best.
“My… mine…!”
Grab the sword, Jeok-un.
Seize the escape from the tedious and poor life I always dreamed of.
Walk with any expression.
Walk and walk until what’s at the end is confirmed by my own eyes…
“My sword… to me…!”
And then die.
Because I’m sick of just dreaming.
…
Ilma entered his room, sword in hand, exactly on the seventh night.
But the hand that was supposed to raise the sword to kill him did not move. He froze, watching him sit and write something down.
“…How?”
“Welcome.”
His slightly excited voice. The sitting figure turned around.
His indifferent expression twisted slightly with each movement. Yet he was moving.
“…….”
Ilma saw through the small sense of discomfort. Still, he couldn’t understand and asked.
“Are you… enduring the Pain of Cheongeop?”
“Yes.”
“How…?”
“I’m used to enduring.”
The twisted corners of his mouth smiled.
Ilma involuntarily took a step back from that intensity.
The atmosphere changed.
The man before him…
Is he really the same man from a few days ago?
“I’ve endured my whole life, so how could I not tolerate such pain?”
No.
No way.
Ilma saw those who had fought to obtain Cheongeop.
And he knew what fate had befallen them.
Countless warriors who thrust swords into their own bodies. Among them were even famous masters.
Even those with strong minds could not endure. Hadn’t the 8th generation’s supreme master leapt from his own cliff, driven by his desire for Cheongeop?
It isn’t a pain that a mismatched person can endure. It isn’t something that can be sown with the teeth of an ordinary man.
And yet… What now?
He is enduring it.
Ilma took a bold step forward. He reached out and forcibly opened the man’s mouth.
“…This is.”
His tongue was completely crushed. It was difficult to even recognize its form, given how many times he must have endured pain to reach this state.
Was that all? Ilma saw what the man had written.
Simple characters. The character for “endure” written in blood densely covers the paper. There were stacks of torn papers piled up on the desk.
Self-imposed suggestions. An insane act of biting into his own tongue to distract himself with letters.
Ilma inspected the torn clothes and torn flesh on his thighs. His whole body was a mess. It was hard to find any healthy parts.
All of it… was probably…
What he had bitten himself.
“You… what on earth…”
