Chapter 79 – Purgatory (8)

Those who find themselves in Purgatory become trapped in an eternal past, endlessly reliving their most dreadful memories.

However, if one were to escape from Purgatory,

They would become akin to a superhuman, possessing an unbreakable spirit.

Those who had conquered their past could live their remaining days with a more refined and resolute spirit than anyone else.

No longer lost in a mire of idle thoughts, their actions would flow effortlessly.

People who witnessed such superhuman beings collectively referred to the place as a trial ground.

A mysterious realm where, if only one could persevere, they would emerge stronger.

But could it truly be considered a trial?

Cheondo harbored doubts. She could assert with certainty

That those who called the tribulations of this place a trial did not wish to acknowledge the tales of those who failed to escape Purgatory.

Or perhaps, as the dead cannot speak, they simply remained unaware.

“……”

Cheondo closed her eyes and thought.

‘It’s quite a heterogeneous force.’

Her magic, which had escaped through the mistletoe, was already eroding every part of the dungeon.

Even as weakened as she was, she remained a Heavenly Demon. She could vaguely sense the old man’s presence in this place.

The magical power that composes the dungeon and the old man’s authority.

‘I knew of this power, but… as expected.’

It’s a terrifying power.
Having experienced it once before, she could tell that her predictions were correct.

The power wielded by the old man was strikingly similar to what she had endured during her childhood.

Thus, what Lee Si-heon would go through… would undoubtedly be the same as her own experience.

The sensation of being enveloped by the past. It wouldn’t be easy.
No matter how hard one tried to escape, it was more fitting to call it hell than a mere trial.

‘After all, a Heavenly Demon must turn a crisis into an opportunity, as easily as flipping one’s palm.’

Recalling the precious words his master once spoke, Cheondo clasped his hands together as if in prayer.

‘I must succeed.’

To break free from the power of the World Tree. To uproot the loathsome tendrils that had entwined themselves around the core of Lee Si-heon’s soul.

He had to lower the status window.

* * * *

“…Ah.”

He had a nightmare. He had resolved to forget everything, yet why did those memories continue to resurface?

In the tranquil twilight, he awoke with a groan and wiped his face with his sweat-soaked hands.

‘Cell phone.’

Instinctively, he reached for the phone beside his mat.

But then – thud! – his hand knocked over a cola can. The pile of cigarette ash atop the can spilled out.

Undeterred, he found his cell phone and naturally navigated to the online community where he checked the post he had written.

– Is this fun?

└ㅇㅇ Churai.
└How amusing

Reviewing niche games can be quite an enjoyable experience.
I get to play games I like, increase the player base, and help game companies promote their work too. It’s like hitting three birds with one stone.

After briefly checking the comments, I stood up and took a seat in front of the computer.
The disheveled reflection of a degenerate was cast upon the monitor.

– Throb.

Once again, an odd thought flitted through my mind.

It felt as though I was struggling to recall something important, something I shouldn’t forget.

‘Shiba.’

A curse rose unbidden to my thoughts.

‘Cheondo… Se-Young?’

In quick succession, names that seemed vaguely familiar yet unremembered surfaced in my mind.

Who could they be?

I tilted my head and gazed out the window. A gaping hole marred the dark sky.

– Woo-woo-woo!

As if to interrupt my musings, the computer’s main body sprang to life.

Somehow, I reached for the mouse that seemed to exude a nostalgic scent and soon found myself mindlessly browsing the internet.

*Click, click.*

Day by day, I played games or chuckled at a few humor-filled articles online.

It had been quite a while since I began living a life that could be described with a vulgar term.

A social misfit? I didn’t really have any complaints or resentment toward this lifestyle. Even if there was a reason for it, I didn’t particularly want to place blame.

But still, if I were to search for a reason… well.

My mother once told me that, as a child, I was incredibly lively and active.

I would always participate in the children’s games, loudly proclaiming that I would follow in my father’s footsteps. That was something I could only say as a child. Now that I think about it, those words were just ridiculous. It’s funny. Following my father, a member of the National Assembly—did that mean I should go to prison as well?

With a bitter smile forming on my lips, I clicked the mouse.

*Click.*

“…”

Suddenly, an old memory resurfaced.

My unexplained quietness began in the 4th grade of elementary school.

My mother admitted she didn’t understand why, but it was to be expected. After all, I never shared the reason with her.

Fortunately, I had been quick-witted since childhood, which was a blessing.

*A sudden chill.*

To be honest… when I was young, I believed my father to be a virtuous man.

His broad, strong back had always seemed so impressive. I once harbored a naive desire to become like him someday.

And my father generously supported me in that aspiration.

“Observe and learn as much as you can,” he would say.

Broaden your perspective and act with discretion – that was always his advice.

My descent into the hellish world of studying began when I entered elementary school.

My father, who navigated the realm of politics, was a man close to a genius, and as his offspring, I too excelled exceptionally in my studies.

My grades were always at the top, earning the envy of everyone.

If one were to call me a prodigy, it would undoubtedly be accurate.

“That’s how it was.”

Yet, I was excessively precocious.

I had learned from an early age how to conceal the truth behind an air of cheerfulness and playfulness.

It was the first time I peered into my father’s true intentions.

That happened when the parents of my childhood friend, who had lived next door, passed away. That day, I alone could sense that something was off about my father’s demeanor.

The peculiar scent that brushed past the tip of my nose as his damp hair hung down. The furrowed expression on his face, as if he had just orchestrated a grand scheme. The handkerchief, which was always immaculate, disheveled for that one day. The parents of my deceased friend were deeply connected to my father, standing on the opposite side politically – perhaps they should be called enemies.

I was the first to faintly grasp the hidden truth behind the event masqueraded as a suicide.

I was half certain that my father was the one who had killed.

Not long after, I discovered irrefutable evidence in my father’s office, and after much anguish, I decided to let it go. I knew my father’s enraged expression all too well.

It frightened and repulsed me, so I had no choice but to feign ignorance and return to school.

…That day, in a class that was always nothing but joyful.

I couldn’t help but painfully watch my friend, who had lost their parents, crumble.

Even though I could have revealed the truth, I instinctively avoided doing so. Perhaps I hesitated because I thought it might backfire on me, or because I wanted to believe in my father, trying to doubt the possibility.

What I can be certain of now is that I shouldn’t have acted that way back then.

If I truly wanted to live a righteous life, I should have unveiled the truth.

But even though I knew it, I feigned ignorance until the end, too afraid to reveal the truth.

Ultimately, my closest friend, who sat beside me, left my side.

*Thump.*

My index finger, tapping the mouse, tensed up.

Recalling the white flowers placed at my childhood companion’s seat, a heavy emotion welled up in my heart.

Since that day, I hadn’t spoken to anyone. Struggling with overwhelming guilt and self-reproach, it was nearly impossible to converse even with my parents.

Depression and hallucinations. I spent years like that, shuttling between various hospitals.

I could say I ran away. In middle school, I erected a barrier in my relationships, fearing that I might be discovered. Even if someone did engage in conversation with me, we only exchanged pleasantries, never evolving into deeper connections.

Throughout middle school, I led a shameful life, my mind filled with useless fantasies.

It was then that my father lost hope in me, and it was also then that I wasted my time on comics and games.

No matter now… That was the reason I became broken.

Doctors claimed that excessive expectations and rigorous studies had led to my current state, but all of that was nonsense. In truth, it was my own fault for not receiving proper mental therapy due to distorting the facts.

As time went by, my father was imprisoned for various reasons, having made too many enemies.

At school, where my reputation had already suffered due to my reticence, the situation only worsened, and I became labeled as the son of a politician.

I was cursed at, insulted, and even cried once while reading a story about me posted on the internet. I couldn’t help but think that the consequences of mistakes I made in my youth were now catching up to me.

With my fragmented psyche, I sought stability elsewhere.

I expanded my hobbies as much as possible and eagerly engaged in peculiar, spontaneous behaviors. Of course, these escapades were carried out in solitude, away from the prying eyes of others.

Thus, I busied myself with actions others wouldn’t dare attempt, dressing them up as mere curiosity.

In truth, ever since I was young, I had a deep curiosity for the strange and unusual. I used the nonsensical concept of “selective curiosity” as a shield to justify my eccentricities.

Nonetheless, after entering college, my personality transformed significantly, allowing me to form more connections and even enter into romantic relationships. Yet, how could someone who had shied away from communication for six years suddenly engage in meaningful conversations? Ultimately, I found myself in a state of limbo, which led to my breakup and subsequent self-imposed confinement to my room.

‘In reality, I knew.’

I had many issues.

‘I regret it.’

I deeply regret not taking action back then. Being nothing more than a minor player, I was preoccupied with running away.

It was a stark contrast to the person who saw the potential in a man with no discernible talents and risked their life for him.

– Throb.

Once again, a headache came.

Why today, of all days? As if reflecting upon the past I had tried so hard to ignore, my thoughts spiraled backward. Could it be that my remorse was that profound? It was laughable that I was still preoccupied with things that had long since passed.

‘I wish I could go back.’

Yet, in spite of everything, I couldn’t help but harbor such futile thoughts.

A life riddled with errors,
Tightening a screw might make everything seem like it would work properly, but in truth, everything was already entangled.

– Creak.

I opened the drawer next to the desk. Inside, there was a single picture frame that shouldn’t have been there.

In the faded childhood drawing hidden within the frame, a child, depicted with scribbles of circles and lines drawn by unsteady hands, smiled confidently.

‘I am.’

At the very least, I wanted to be like the child in the drawing.

‘I wanted to live a life without shame.’

I turned around. A frigid wind bit sharply into my waist.

“That was always the hardest part.”

Who was I speaking to? I smiled emptily, like a deranged jester.

Life cannot be rewound to the past. I knew that better than anyone.

I sat alone in the chair, bowing my head and curling up.

*Click*.

The final cursor sound echoed hauntingly throughout the room. I blankly stared at the screen reflected on the monitor.

[Tree Daughter’s Review Left]

The title of a familiar humorous piece for some reason. Somehow, it kept catching my eye as I engaged in my escapades, armed with a shield of curiosity.

My fabricated curiosity, which always justified my exploits, stirred.

The moment I hovered the cursor over the title, I felt a connection being made somewhere.

“…?”

I widened my eyes at the fleeting sensation. Goosebumps erupted.

“You’ve lived quite a miserable life.”

-Yes, well, if that’s the case.
-But… still, my eyes weren’t wrong.

An unknown voice. It struck my ears like a sudden blow.

-Certainly, you weren’t a courageous one. But, well, I don’t know what the standards are for people living in your world.

My dry throat tightens.

-In my eyes, you appear to be kind enough.

Not knowing when I had heard it, I placed my hand on my face, feeling disoriented for a while as the words swept away my anguish.

-You don’t try to cover up your mistakes. You continued to suffer, even over matters that many others would have forgotten and moved on from. You distanced yourself from people, fearing the same thing might happen again.
-It’s not like that. I just couldn’t adapt.
-Sometimes, trusting what others say can be helpful for reflection. And don’t interrupt your teacher’s words. I’m speaking now, am I not?

-Lee Siheon.

Why does this person know my name?

After enduring repeated torment, a name brushed through my mind.

-I won’t tell you to forget what you consider a sin. Only you know what lies within. Discussing it would be presumptuous. So, as your mentor, this is all I can say.

Heaven.

-Can’t you just do better from now on?

I huddled at my desk and closed my eyes.
Slowly, my fists clenched tightly around the emotions that blossomed like flowers, trembling.

-There are so many people in the world who cannot even do that.
-Can I still do that?
-Of course.

In the past,

A wretched single room, rotting away while doing nothing.

I used to live there.

Before my eyes was the image of myself, striving not to harm others and desiring no change after that fateful day.

Faded memories returned.

I discovered all the things I hadn’t thought about since I journeyed to another world.

Crime or obsession.

Choices that would not have been made, originally.

-Then ask again. I wish for you to go there and recall my question.

I answered that final inquiry.

-Who are you, truly?

Creaking.

It was the moment a crack formed in the punctured sky.