Episode 393 < The time he waited, the time he walked. (6) >
[Our monks are of the right faction. ]
His teacher began his story like this.
[What is a political faction? How will you answer? ]
He was lost in thought at his teacher’s words. Jeong (正), upright, straight.
He answered as he thought.
[I think it literally means pursuing the right thing. ]
[What is right? ]
He thought about it and then answered.
[It is not wrong in its meaning. ]
[What is the difference between what is not wrong and what is wrong? ]
He thought, but could not answer.
The teacher raised his bandaged hand and pointed in one direction.
[What does that look like? ]
He looked in the direction indicated by his teacher. Fleece clouds were floating across the piercingly blue spring sky.
[It looks like a cloud. ]
[ okay. It’s a cloud. ]
The teacher nodded and asked again.
[How does that look? ]
The teacher’s question made him fall into deep thought again.
It was a while later that he answered.
[It looks sad. ]
[why?]
[Because I am using such a vast sky alone. ]
[Hmm. ]
A gap widened across the teacher’s bare face. A smile spread.
The teacher squatted down and spoke.
[What you said at the beginning is ‘correct’. ]
His teacher said that it is not wrong to call a cloud a cloud.
[Seeing heaven and earth as they are. Accepting things as they are. The mindset of the righteous faction is to let a mountain be a mountain, a cloud be a cloud, a wind be a wind, and let water be water. ]
Cuckoo.
The reed that was bitten by the lips that were open and without eyes or nose was crackling like a bear.
[What you said next was ‘misleading.’ ]
The teacher said that it was wrong to put one’s impressions on the clouds.
[Why is the sky so clear? It’s because you don’t know how I feel. Why is the cloud floating alone? It’s because he sympathizes with my situation… This view. In this interpretation, a mountain cannot be a mountain and water cannot be water in the field of view. This is the so-called magic mindset. ]
The teacher elaborated while chewing on a reed.
[ In other words, the righteous faction tries to contain the world by emptying itself, and the demonic faction tries to entangle itself with the world using itself as a rope. ]
[…….]
[Both have clear limitations. In the world of political factions, mountains are just mountains and cannot be related to me. Conversely, in the world of magic, all things cannot exist apart from me. ]
As he listened to his teacher’s explanation, he thought of those who forged him and those he had cut down.
The teacher raised his bandaged fist.
[I hit your head. Because that was the initiation procedure for this monk. Why do you think that procedure came about? ]
[This is to clear my head. ]
He answered that way and continued speaking in a polite manner.
[Because it can only be contained if it is empty. ]
[That is correct. ]
The teacher nodded.
[People are people, so it is difficult to see a mountain as a mountain. You need to cut off the context that has been in your head for a while. You were also born special and needed to be beaten more. ]
[I thought it was because my head was hard. ]
[ Of course, there was a reason for that. ]
There was silence for a moment.
The teacher grinned and took the reed in his mouth between his index and middle fingers and pulled it out.
[That’s how I emptied you, disciple. Don’t misunderstand. Whether it is a political faction or a demonic faction, it has value equal to the limitations of the two. In other words, both are dangerous if taken to extremes. ]
[ Speaking of danger. ]
[For example, imagine a warrior from a certain political faction. This famous warrior has reached the level of immortality, and sees humans as nothing more than humans. A person who mourns the loss of a child he barely had, and a person who was born into a wealthy family and lived his entire life unaware of his shortcomings, are just the same person in his eyes. ]
The teacher sighed.
[If you get used to seeing the world as a world, you will eventually come to regard all things as nothingness. Anyone who truly regards the world as equal is someone who cannot sympathize with anything and is nothing more than a monster who deviates from humanity. ]
After speaking clearly, the teacher looked at him blankly.
[Don’t be like that. ]
[…….]
[I have received you as my disciple. I emptied you. I will teach you, who was forged in the midst of magic, how to see the world correctly. But disciple! That ‘world’ includes the hearts of those who forged you, and even the feelings you feel for them. ]
The teacher spoke while placing the tip of his sword on the floor.
[The loneliness you have been embracing until now is also a part of the world. Just as there is no need to overestimate, there is no need to throw it away. Accept its weight as is. ]
The teacher’s sword pointed to the clouds floating on the other side.
[Accept it! ]
he saw it
[ Accept the world and yourself! ]
He did so.
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[ Woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo… ]
He stood up and took a deep breath. He opened his mouth. he screamed.
A loud roar rang out with the force of killing spring.
It wasn’t on his face. While he was yelling with all his might, his eyebrows were only slightly furrowed. His tears did not flow and therefore there were no sobs.
But that was his scream.
[ okay. ]
The teacher nodded.
[ Throw it up. Cry. Don’t throw away the things you’ve inherited, but make room for other things. Then I will give you— ]
The teacher spoke in a lively tone.
[I will teach you how to smile. ]
The teacher kept his promise.
6.
[Key sculpting completed. ]
TOP’s declaration this time was very quick.
It rang as soon as I entered the 96th floor.
[The number of works depicting your life, the number of people who have seen those works, and the number of people whose lives have been changed by the influence of those works meet the specified figures. ]
[The 96th floor is cleared! ]
Thus, a staircase leading to the 97th floor appeared.
However, the person who heard the tower’s declaration did not take a step toward the stairs. He quietly walked behind the designated tribe cartoonist.
A cartoonist from the designated tribe was confined to his workshop and lamenting his situation.
“f*ck. I don’t have money, do you have Gao? no. okay. If there is no money, Gao will disappear in this world. know. I know, but I really… Oh, should I climb the tower too? Are you going to learn martial arts and become an adventurer?”
Just as beasts make their way where animals come and go, laments, if repeated over and over again, become shiny. The cartoonist’s complaints were familiar and flowed smoothly without the aid of alcohol.
“Why did I grab a pen and not a sword? “Why was it covered in ink instead of blood?”
The cartoonist’s gaze, as he was looking at his manuscript, turned to the cartoon magazine released this month. On the cover was a cartoon character, either Kim Slam or Park Slam, who built a building in paradise.
Lamentation toward oneself quickly turned into resentment toward others.
“i envy you… A dog like a dog. If I draw something I like, it would be nice if other people would also like it. Damn it. Everyone else lives as they please, so why am I the only one who suffers like this? .”
Jealousy weighs on the heart. The designated tribe cartoonist, who was grinding his teeth, eventually got tired of his work and fell down on his work table. His mind became as heavy as water-soaked cotton, and the images of Confucius God, the Black Dragon Lord smiling loudly, and the Tower Lord who was a Hyper Cube, then an old man with a beard, and then a Hyper Cube again, passed by and collapsed.
The sound of snoring echoed loudly in the small workshop.
[You can enter the 97th floor at any time. ]
There were eyes quietly watching the cartoonist who had fallen asleep like that.
The cartoonist couldn’t feel those eyes on him. It’s not just because she fell asleep. This was because it was a gaze that not only the cartoonist but anyone else in this world could feel.
But the gaze was clearly directed at the cartoonist. The owner of the gaze was also clearly in the same position as the cartoonist.
-……
In this world, a disembodied hand touched the cartoonist’s shoulder.
It moved up and down.
The hand was comforting the cartoonist who was asleep.
-……
The owner of the touch pursed his lips slightly.
That voice did not reach the cartoonist. The touch would also not be passed on to the cartoonist.
It was on a different level and could never be conveyed, so it would have had no meaning, and it would have fallen without leaving any trace.
-……
It wasn’t so.
– ……, ……, …………..
There was no specific message handed down as an oracle. There was no sudden awakening of skill by a cartoonist or a return to the mind of a cartoonist with ideas for future hit cartoons.
Every time a hand touched his shoulder, the cartoonist’s breathing became easier.
Jealousy subsided and resentment subsided.
-……
That night, the cartoonist had a dream.
It was a random dream… There was a man… He was a human male… The man was holed up in an alcove smaller than a cartoonist’s studio, venting his dissatisfaction and lamentation about the world… Everything outside the tower was unfair… Everything in the tower was absurd… It seemed like there was no place for men anywhere… .
That insignificant man suddenly received a certain skill.
It was truly a skill suited for a man… It was a skill so perfect that it would be difficult to understand unless it was custom-made for the man, as if someone had prepared it by looking at the man for a long time… If there was something special about that skill, it was only in the sense that it was made just for him… That skill contained his life… .
Perhaps the man was not alone.
Even while he was kneeling and lamenting, even while he was being overcome by evil and venting his resentment towards the world, the man would not have been alone. Someone must have been with the man. The man didn’t feel it at the time, but now he knew it. He knew with utmost clarity.
– to you.
The man pursed his lips while comforting the cartoonist.
– May good luck be with you.
The cartoonist suddenly stood up.
The cartoonist looked around as if he had seen a ghost. Inside the dark workshop, the cartoonist was alone. At least the cartoonist had no choice but to perceive it that way.
“…….”
The cartoonist frowned and thought about the dream he had just had. He thought for a while. The cartoonist imagined a story by desperately weaving together the contents of a dream that was about to dissipate like the sighs of an old woman in the winter wind.
I wasn’t sure at first, but the images gradually became bolder and clearer.
The cartoonist nodded. Then he called somewhere.
“Hello, editor.”
“Writer?”
The voice of a nervous elf who had just woken up came through the receiver.
“What are you doing at this hour?”
“ah.”
The cartoonist blushed. If you think about it, it was early morning.
“sorry… “Is it okay to hang it up later?”
A groaning sound was heard from the other end of the receiver.
“No, not once or twice… Just say it. Author. “What is it?”
The cartoonist blushed and cleared his throat in another way.
“That’s it. “There’s a cartoon.”
“Oh, yes. hmm. I also thought about it a bit, but if the top owner is not a handsome boy but a cute mascot animal with a jewel on its forehead—”
“Can I draw something new?”
There was silence.
The cartoonist waited for the answer with a pounding heart. The answer came only after a while.
“New?”
The facial expression cannot be seen through the receiver. From that answer, the cartoonist couldn’t tell whether the editor was angry, fed up, or just curious.
The cartoonist said in a mood of making excuses.
“Yeah… Well, I think I can draw a better cartoon than the one I showed you… .”
There was silence again.
The cartoonist spoke urgently.
“No, that’s… I kinda… It’s really much better than what I showed you yesterday… .”
“Are you sure?”
This time the cartoonist was silent.
The editor asked gently.
“So, are you sure?”
The cartoonist thought deeply. Are you sure? Are you sure of this path?
Are you sure about this material?
I couldn’t figure it out. assurance? In the first place, I had no confidence in deciding to become an artist. I don’t know if writers who plan their own lives with a clear vision really exist in this world. At least the cartoonist couldn’t know.
but.
nevertheless.
“I can take responsibility.”
The cartoonist answered with his head down.
Long silence.
Eventually, a sigh came from the other end of the phone.
“The writer needs to make some money too… .”
The cartoonist knew well the meaning of that attitude. She spoke in a half shameless, half excited voice.
“I will earn it. You will be able to earn… “Maybe.”
“What is maybe…?” .”
“help.”
said the cartoonist.
“Please help me.”
There was silence for a while with the phone in between us.
In the end, as has always been the case throughout history, the elves raised the white flag first.
“Oh really.”
The editor lamented.
“all right. I’ll wait.”
Color bloomed on the cartoonist’s face.
“thank you!”
“If you really appreciate it, give it a hit. “Please let me get a bonus or something.”
“I’ll try my best… .”
“Yeah. “I’m hanging up.”
That’s how the call ended.
Putting down the phone, the cartoonist nodded. I folded the manuscript I drew last time, placed it in a drawer, and picked up a pen. My fingers, more excited than my heart, tapped the blank manuscript paper while holding the pen.
I still wasn’t sure, but this time it felt good. It was really good.
-……
Someone else was also feeling a similar feeling.
He watched the cartoonist begin his work. The speed of the work was so fast that it seemed like there were six pens running across the paper instead of one, and there seemed to be three faces unconsciously imitating the expressions of the characters instead of just one. The sight of him engrossed in his work as if possessed by a god was reminiscent of Asura, the name of the tribe to which the cartoonist belongs.
Perhaps cartoonists don’t make as much money as expected.
You will be disappointed by people’s reactions and frustrated with your own abilities.
But when I overcame all those hardships, I would at least be able to create a work that would make me feel like I did my best.
The cartoonist himself did not know that fact. The editor won’t know either.
But those who were with them already knew.
-……
Like clouds floating in the spring sky, warm gaze glanced at the cartoonist before turning around.
[Enter on the 97th floor. ]
The end was approaching.
etc,
