Mythos & Kallos · Part 15 · Kosmos γ

B: Friend, I know not whether it is my illusion, or whether your narration carries some bias — but why does X sound like a rather arrogant person?

A: Oh, my friend, your feeling does not deceive you. X once said that X liked to converse with me in an attitude of arrogance (ὕβρις = hubris / transgression).

B: Why would X do such a thing? Does X behave this way only toward you?

A: I too do not understand why X would do this, nor do I understand why X would not act thus toward others. According to X's own account, when in X's homeland, X was in truth a rather gentle and courteous person.

Perhaps this arose from a certain conversation between X and myself. At that time, I had mentioned a myth.

That myth said that in this world (κόσμος = kosmos = world / order / ornament), all the activities of the human soul (ψυχή = psyche) are accompanied by transgression, deviation, and error. In Greek, there is one word that expresses all of these concepts at once — αμαρτία (hamartia = sin / error / missing the mark), a word that carries the meanings of deviation, error, mistake, sin, and transgression together.

The word αμαρτία (hamartia) originates from the notion of "an arrow failing to strike its appointed mark."

B: And then?

A: Upon hearing me say this, X began to laugh, and asked me: then does arrogance count as a transgression? Does arrogance count as the foremost among transgressions?

B: And how did you answer, friend?

A: I said that in certain myths, arrogance (ὕβρις = hubris / transgression) is a trespass against the Gods, a trespass against the beauty of the world (κόσμος = kosmos = world / order / ornament), and a trespass against the order of fate (μοῖρα = moira = fate). If a soul (ψυχή = psyche = soul) trespasses at once against the Gods, the world, and fate, then this is indeed transgression and error — that is, αμαρτία (hamartia = sin / error / missing the mark).

B: And how did X respond?

A: Oh, X told a very long story. I no longer remember all of its content — shall I recall it as best I can?

B: Very good, my friend. I hope you can remember everything.

X: You say "arrogance" is a transgression? Friend, to me this is a most interesting claim.

A: Why do you say so, my friend?

X: It has always been you who tells the stories; perhaps this time it is my turn to tell you one. This story may be true, or it may be false; I think you will like this way of putting it.

A: Oh, friend — then is this story a myth (μῦθος = mythos = myth)?

X: You are still so fond of myths — I truly cannot fathom your culture. Then all I can say is: this story may be a myth, or it may not be a myth.

A: Thanks be to the Goddesses, the Muses (Μοῦσαι). Friend, I await it with anticipation.

Long, long ago, there was a person.

Stories always begin with a person, do they not?

Then what name shall we give our protagonist?

Perhaps — let us call them E60.

The name E60 carries a strange meaning — liberty.

This person, whose name bore the flavor of liberty, was from childhood a very clever child.

Do you know which kind of cleverness, friend?

Cleverness, in truth, comes in many kinds.

E60's cleverness was not the kind that learns knowledge from books, but the kind that sees through to the deeper rules by which the world operates.

How shall I illustrate this?

Perhaps, friend, imagine a table of adults sitting in conversation. Within their talk, every sentence, every word, every minute gesture, every subtle shift of expression harbors its own distinct deeper meaning; within it, nothing is truly accidental, and nothing is without cause.

Beneath some seemingly inconsequential small talk may well lie hidden a mapping of the truer relations among these adults at the table.

What is interesting is that most adults, in fact, cannot fully perceive whence the content of their own talk arises, for what purpose it exists, or toward what end it will finally move.

If adults are thus, minors are even more so; many of the emotional turbulences of the young are not, in truth, driven by mere restlessness.

The unintended words and unintended slips of children and minors may reflect not merely the ignorant understanding of an immature mind; they may refract the deviations and distortions of the surrounding world itself.

E60 was a special child. E60 could capture information that others could not discern even when listening intently.

This child could sit quietly at the table's edge, watching the adults speak their substantial or utterly insubstantial words, and thereby untangle the greater part of the relations among these grown people.

When E60 was still very young, E60 once believed that this "perception" was a universal talent.

Only after passing through several small disasters provoked by "the innocent candor of a child's speech" did E60 come to recognize that this was not, after all, something everyone could do; or rather, that most people in this world simply cannot do it at all.

My friend, do you believe that innate gifts exist? Perhaps this was the gift with which E60 was born.

When E60 was very young, E60 already discovered that most people in this world are, in fact, constantly erring. The interactions and conversations among people are likewise full of slips and misalignments, interlaced with vanity, pretense, ignorance, and illusions taken for granted.

Friend, how shall we weave onward? Why not let us speak of "erring."

Everyone errs; people's lives are strung together from a series of errors. Errors are perhaps unavoidable, yet people's attitudes toward their own erring differ utterly.

E60 divided people, according to how they treat their errors, into several classes.

The first class: those who know they are erring, who admit their errors to themselves, and who also admit their errors to others.

The second class: those who know they are erring, who admit their errors to themselves, but who will not admit their errors to others.

The third class: those who know they are erring, but who do not admit their errors to themselves, nor admit their errors to others.

The fourth class: those who do not know they are erring, who do not admit their errors to themselves, and who likewise do not admit their errors to others.

This method of classification is rather crude and primitive — but we need not insist on constructing so exhaustive and complete a theory within a mere story.

Perhaps, then, let this be called E60's "Table Theory of Errors."

Every table is a miniature stage upon which people unfold their worlds like arrows in flight, and at the same time, unavoidably, expose their own errors.

According to E60's observation, at any table, people of the first and second classes are always scarce, while people of the third and fourth classes forever constitute the majority.

From a very young age, E60 kept asking one question of E60's own self:

To which class do I belong? E60 felt that E60 belonged to the second class.

Knowing one's own errors, admitting those errors to oneself, but never admitting them to others.

A child, after all, is always somewhat proud, somewhat protective of face.

This understanding of the world instilled in E60 an attitude of observing the world from a height, looking down — that is, what you, friend, would call "arrogance." This is quite normal, quite natural, is it not?

Friend, how do you think the story ought to be written from here? Do you think this child's arrogance trespassed against anything?

A: Oh, my friend, I had thought you already knew the complete myth.

X: Is this not to give you a feeling of participation? This is an open plot; this world does not have only one terminus — perhaps this too may count as a kind of "liberty."

A: My friend, I wish to know: does this child E60 believe in the existence of the Gods?

X: Of course not — what a foolish notion.

A: But did you not say that E60 believed E60 possessed an innate gift?

X: Why must you link "possessing a gift" with "believing in the Gods"? To me this is a very strange thing.

A: Oh, my friend — perhaps all the gifts in this world are a gift (δῶρον = doron = gift) bestowed by the Gods.

X: Different people always have different gifts. If the Gods had to allot gifts to each of these people one by one, do you not think the Gods would be somewhat too busy? Speaking of the Gods — perhaps now I know how this story ought to continue.

In the country where E60 lived, some people believed the Gods existed, and some did not.

What is interesting is that those who believed in the Gods were no more inclined to admit their own errors than those who did not.

According to E60's observation, following that childish classification of the "Table Theory of Errors," among believers and unbelievers alike, the proportion of each class of people was in fact roughly the same.

E60 recalled certain religious customs and cultural rites once witnessed.

In some cultures, there are, each year, a few special days.

On these special days, the priests would select certain living, breathing offerings. These offerings represented the collective transgressions of the whole clan, tribe, city-state, people, or nation.

These "offerings" representing collective transgression might be animals, or they might be human beings.

After a round of ritual, these living "offerings" might be banished, or they might be put to death.

Once the "offerings" were banished or put to death, the collective "transgression" was thereby ritually, symbolically "expelled."

Do you not find this most interesting, my friend?

People know they are erring; people know they are guilty; people know that everyone is guilty; people know that transgression is "defilement."

And so people choose certain "offerings" to present to the Gods, as though by doing so, the "defilement" were purified, the transgressions reconciled and absolved, and responsibility, it seems, thereby transferred away.

Friend, I recall that you once mentioned a word akin to "defilement." What was that word? I cannot quite remember.

A: My friend, perhaps you speak of the word μίασμα. It means defiling impurity (μίασμα = miasma = pollution / defilement / stain). It carries a non-material connotation, signifying a spiritual, immaterial, invisible impurity and defilement — and moreover, it possesses a certain contagiousness.

X: Yes, that is the word. Most interesting, is it not? Why should defilement and impurity be bound up with the "visible" and the "invisible"? Do you know why?

A: My friend, I too am unclear as to its deeper meaning.

X: Friend, consider. If a "thing" — or let us say, an "existence" — is "invisible," how then could it come to be known or understood as "defiled and impure"?

Impurity and defilement, in their origins, are words bound more closely to "sight" and to "smell." Since people can neither see the "defiled impurity" nor smell the "defiled impurity," how then is this "thing within a concept" cognized as "defiled and impure"?

Is it so, or is it not?

A: Oh, my friend, what you say has reason in it.

X: Then, friend, have you ever considered: those who perform such collective rituals of "atonement" and "scapegoating" — according to E60's "Table Theory of Errors" — to "which class of people" do they belong?

Do they count as the first class, those who "know their own errors, admit their errors to themselves, and admit their errors to others"?

But then, why should those who "know their own errors, admit their errors to themselves, and admit their errors to others" require "another to bear the consequences of their own errors"?

In the rituals of "atonement" and "scapegoating," although each person confesses their erring before all others, yet precisely because everyone is confessing error, it seems no one need take true responsibility for their own deeds; in the end, only animals, or certain marginal souls, are left to bear this collective guilt — as though banishing or slaying these "offerings" could truly eliminate the "defiled impurity."

Then which is this, in the end — the first class, the second class, or the third? Everyone seems to have admitted their errors, and yet it seems no single person has truly admitted their errors either to themselves or to others. Most strange, is it not?

Perhaps now I know how to write the story onward.

From childhood to adulthood, E60 kept pondering why people should need these rituals of "atonement" and "scapegoating."

To this question, E60 never found an answer that truly satisfied.

Not until E60 met that mad teacher of E60's own.

Perhaps let us call this mad teacher W02.

Where there is a W02, there is a W01: W02 was E60's teacher, and W01 was the teacher of W02.

Nearly the whole of E60's life was lived beneath the shadow, the shelter, the grace, and the terror of W02.

A: My friend, I wish to ask: why would E60, as the student of W02, live beneath the terror of W02?

X: There are always certain rather peculiar relations between teacher and student in this world; to fear and to be feared is also a relation. W02 was no normal person — still less any normal teacher. Do you have nothing you truly fear, no one you truly fear?

A: Oh, my friend, there is no person I truly fear, but there are things I truly fear.

X: I doubt your claim that there is no person you truly fear. A person always has people, things, and matters that they fear. In this world, a person will always have enemies — and some enemies may even be natural-born predators. Just as in the world of animals: from the very moment of your birth, you may already stand as enemy to certain existences in this world.

Let me continue the story.

E60, without any doubt, considered E60's own self a gifted person.

Yet E60's teacher, W02, was the possessor of the most terrifying gift E60 had ever beheld.

W02 was a born manipulator, a born ruler, a born maker of laws and rules.

For a very long time, E60 believed that this teacher enjoyed the favor of Heaven. This world has never been fair — that much is plainly evident; and if anyone should publicly proclaim that they can bring absolute and boundless fairness, then that person is assuredly one skilled in manipulation.

After W02 fell into half-madness in later years, E60 came to feel that perhaps every blessing is accompanied by a curse — at once blessing and curse, at once curse and blessing.

Perhaps just like that word you once mentioned, friend — the word of "remedy and poison as one."

That word, I recall, was φάρμακον (pharmakon = remedy / poison); it holds both meanings at once — antidote and poison. At once remedy and poison, at once poison and remedy.

That word φάρμακον (pharmakon), "remedy-poison in one," left a deep impression upon me. Perhaps people remember only the words that hold meaning for them; people remember only the names that hold meaning for them.

Friend, Stefan Zweig, in his work Marie Antoinette, left that widely circulated line:

She was then still too young to know that all the gifts bestowed by fate had long since been secretly marked with their price.
Sie war noch zu jung, um zu wissen, daß das Leben niemals etwas umsonst gibt und daß ein Preis immer gefordert wird für das, was das Schicksal gewähr

Marie Antoinette, exalted as queen of a nation, could not escape this blessing-and-curse; nor is there anyone in this world who can flee from any sugar-coated, fatal gift.

Friend, let me imitate the cadence of your speech.

Fate does not first deliver the gift and afterward collect the price from people; rather, the gift bestowed by fate is, in itself, already the price.

The beautiful head parting from its body amid the color of blood was not the final ending. When the body first donned that resplendent gown woven of golden thread, it had already, in silence, bidden farewell to the face that once smiled into the mirror.

Tresses mingled with fragrance and the scent of blood drift and sway upon the wind. O suitors — the fair one you once pursued: their life had long since dissipated into the air.

Mythos & Kallos · Part 16 · Moirai α

A: Friend, there seems to be a deliberately suppressed sorrow within your voice.

X: You always have this untimely sensitivity of yours. Honestly, how do you do it? I have been imitating your tone and manner of speech as exaggeratedly as I can. Was it some micro-expression of mine, some minute gesture, or some subtle detail that let you perceive this? Tell me.

A: Friend, I am not one skilled at observing others — many friends have said as much of me. You know it too: in many respects I am rather dull of perception. This question merely flashed across my heart, and so I asked it of you.

X: So you were guessing?

A: Or perhaps it was a small blessing from the Goddess of Fortune (Τύχη = Tyche).

X: Fortune, is it? You believe in the existence of fortune. Ah yes — you believe in the existence of fate as well.

A: Friend, you seem to hold a tangled feeling toward this word, fate (Μοῖρα = Moira = Fate).

X: As I said, you always have this untimely sensitivity. You are not going to tell me again that the Goddess of Fortune revealed this to you?

A: Ah, my friend, that is precisely what I was about to say.

X: Say whatever you please; I do not believe you anyway. Do you not find the concept of fate suffocating, friend?

A: Why do you say so?

X: It is those ancient questions: if fate exists, then where are freedom and the individual will to be placed?

A: Friend, you seem to have your own answer to this question.

X: Indeed I do — but I do not intend to tell you.

A: Why not?

X: There is no why. That I do not wish to speak is itself the greatest reason. Do you not believe in fate? Perhaps my not telling you is precisely your fate? What do you think?

A appears somewhat perplexed.

X: What are you thinking now, my bewildered friend?

A: Why do you say that this is my fate (Μοῖρα = Moira = Fate)?

X: If it is not your fate, could it then be mine?

A: Oh, friend — perhaps this is a fate (Μοῖρα = Moira = Fate) in which we both partake together.

X: Does that make any difference? Or — you may ask me one good question, and I shall judge, by the degree of that question's interest, whether I ought to tell you the answer.

A: Friend, this holds a certain difficulty for me.

X: That is not a difficulty I have set for you, but an obstacle that fate has set before you.

A: Friend, as I listened to you narrate the fate of the beheaded queen, I kept wondering: why would people wish to destroy that which is beautiful?

X was momentarily stunned.

X: You have asked a question that appears most interesting — and regrettably, I do not welcome it. O naive friend, every question in this world conceals a latent price. The Goddess of Fortune seems to favor you no longer; I have decided that for some time I shall refuse to answer any question of yours.

A: Oh, friend, that is truly too cruel.

X: Not cruel in the least — it is the deserved punishment fate has given you. Let us continue the story of E60.

There are certain people in this world —

you can perceive, upon the very first meeting, that they are dangerous.

To E60, W02 was such a person.

W02: You seem somewhat afraid of me.

E60: N… no.

W02: From now on, you may call me Teacher.

E60: G… greetings, Teacher.

W02: Interesting. You can see?

E60: What?

W02: How much can you see?

E60: I… I… I do not understand.

W02: Not as clever as the others claim, then. They all say you are the cleverest child here.

E60: Oh… oh… yes.

W02: You find it very boring here, do you not?

Upon hearing these words, E60 broke into a cold sweat all over, without knowing why.

W02: You will soon transfer to a new school; perhaps then you will not be so bored. Your parents should be very pleased.

E60: Very well… Teacher.

W02: I hear your name carries the meaning of "liberty"?

E60: Yes, Teacher.

W02: I do not like this name.

E60's mind went utterly blank, with no notion of how to respond.

W02: You may continue to use this name.

I hope you will live long and enduringly in this country.

Do not fall short of my expectations; do not disappoint me.

Press onward, student "Liberty."

W02 lightly patted E60's shoulder — a shoulder then still small and frail.

That single pat changed the fate of E60's entire family.

A: Oh, friend, W02 sounds like a rather terrifying person.

X: Do you believe that such terrifying people exist in this world?

A: Oh, I believe you, friend.

X: Let me ask you: what do you think makes a person terrifying? Power? Position? Presence?

A: I too would very much like to know, my friend.

X: This is a very strange world, is it not? What is presence? Position? Power? In some measure, these "things" are all formless and invisible — just like the defiling impurity (μίασμα = miasma = pollution, defilement, stain) we spoke of before.

A: It does indeed seem so.

X: Consider, friend: the bodily differences between people are, in truth, not great. Even the tallest and mightiest of persons — how far removed can they really be from the ordinary? And some who inspire fear are, in body, not truly strong at all. What, then, is that thing behind it all which makes people dread, fear, tremble, and shudder? Truly strange.

A listened in silence.

X: Or perhaps it is some kind of sublime? Heh — the sublime. I recall you once mentioned this word.

A: Oh, friend, do you mean the sublime, ὕψους (hypsous = sublime)?

X: I no longer quite remember what story you were telling then, but you mentioned another word as well, did you not?

A: It must have been depth, βάθος (bathos = depth).

X: Whether sublime (sublime) or depth (depth), these words conceal several layers of meaning.

First: they imply a comparison of magnitude.

Second: they imply that this comparison of magnitude constitutes a vertical measurement of value.

Third: a certain quantitative change upon this scale of value simultaneously ignites a complete qualitative change:

The high mountain must be high enough — so high that no one may climb it at will; this is the unattainable height of the sublime.

The abyss must be deep enough — so deep that whoever enters faces peril; this is the unfathomable depth of depth.

Fourth: this complete qualitative change born of quantitative change creates a boundary difficult, even impossible, to cross,

endowing "the other side" with a transcendence that surpasses the mundane world.

A: What you say has reason in it.

X: Fifth — because of this uncrossable transcendence, it…

A: What is the fifth, friend?

X: Never mind. There is no fifth. Think of the fifth yourself. I was merely letting my thoughts wander. Let us continue the story of E60.

E60, transferred to the new school,

experienced both the smooth and the unsmooth.

The unsmooth was to be expected —

after all, E60's family background was thoroughly ordinary,

and the family standing of most schoolmates at this school was, for E60, a sublimity and an abyss impossible to cross.

What was relatively smooth was this:

the new environment held no person like W02,

which greatly diminished E60's unease.

When certain senior teachers and old school staff learned that E60 had entered the school under W02's special patronage,

they displayed a strange friendliness —

a friendliness laced with an eerie, observing gaze.

A person out of place,

in a place out of place,

forming relations out of place,

fermenting conflicts out of place.

Just as W02 had said,

this was not a boring place,

for E60 still had to divide off no small measure of energy to contend with bullying both open and hidden.

For E60, this too counted as a novel experience.

For in the past, it had only ever been E60 who bullied others —

never others who bullied E60.

Though E60 had formerly displayed, more than anything, a cold indifference void of interest,

E60 too had, in truth, always been a person out of place.

One day, E60 perhaps simply wanted a fight,

and so deliberately provoked some of those who habitually tormented E60.

The fight, inevitably, was lost —

the whole body aching, the face covered in blood.

But E60 fought with such disregard for bodily pain

that the group who bullied E60

all sensed that something was wrong.

"This lunatic is completely mad — let's not bother with this lunatic. Where did this ugly, lowborn, feral mongrel of a mad dog come from!"

E60 heard these words from the mouth of that group's leader.

E60 heard not only the words themselves,

but heard the contempt in their very marrow,

and the restlessness and unease hidden in their shadows.

E60 knew that certain changes had already occurred,

that certain things had already been sown —

and so E60 revealed a chill, dark smile,

and received another slap for it.

"You fools have no idea what has happened."

E60, face contorted, went on smiling.

E60 dragged their body along,

cheerfully humming an off-key tune,

walking without aim or destination.

E60's mood was truly excellent —

only the pain seemed to grow ever stronger.

The moon was still that same unchanging moon,

hanging boringly in the sky,

bureaucratically rotating through its utterly uninspired repertoire of forms.

Tonight was a half-moon:

half a moon in the sky,

half a moon reflected in the lake.

Suddenly, a malice sprang up from the depths of E60's heart —

a desire to destroy that half-moon within the lake.

And so E60 sought to lift a great stone

and hurl it into the lake, to shatter the half-moon's reflection into scattered wisps, like egg-flowers dispersing in water.

Yet E60 had not foreseen that their strength had long been vastly overdrawn.

Having shifted the stone but a little, E60 unluckily lost control of it;

the stone grazed the hand of its manipulator,

and struck the toe of the one who had conceived the notion —

two more wounds added to the body's count.

"This ugly and accursed world — not even a stone will submit to me!"

E60 briefly lost control, cursing furiously in a place where no one was —

never expecting that this cursing would summon forth a startled voice.

The place where no one was, was not truly without anyone.

"What an unbearably crowded world."

E60 instantly gathered in all emotion, and thought this within the heart.

E60 walked toward the source of the voice,

and found a person crouched upon the ground, holding a small cat.

This person looked somewhat familiar, but for the moment E60 could not recall who it was.

With an air of menace, E60 asked: "What are you doing?"

X: Oh — wait, friend. What name shall we give this other person?

A: Friend, I do not know.

X: You know, there is always a certain kind of person in this world who carries an aura that makes them look eminently easy to bully. And more wondrous still — this aura of theirs may even continually attract others to bully them. Do you believe such people exist in this world?

A: Oh, friend, I am not certain either — but I believe what you describe.

X: The person E60 met that year was of this kind. Perhaps let us call this person… O7.

X fell silent a while, and drank a mouthful of wine.

X: Let us continue.

Faced with the force of E60's presence,

O7 displayed a strange shyness and timidity,

as though O7 ought not to be breathing or existing at this time, this moment, this place.

O7: Are you E60? I was feeding the cat…

E60 simply stood there, staring down at O7 from above.

The small black cat in O7's arms glared fiercely at E60 with two light-reflecting eyes, hissing at E60.

That small cat had sensed the stranger's malice.

Perhaps in the small cat's eyes,

the E60 of this moment was no different from a true demon,

and O7 the angel threatened by the demon.

E60 (eyes narrowing): You know my name?

O7: We have taken astronomy class and music class together.

O7 truly did carry an aura that invited bullying,

and E60, without knowing why, felt an inexplicable impulse spreading through the heart — an urge to torment this person.

E60: Do you not think that speaking to me while crouching is most impolite, most disrespectful?

O7: I… I'm sorry, I will stand up at once.

E60: Wait — don't stand. What is that wretched thing you're holding?

O7: This is a small cat.

E60: I detest cats. Throw it away, then speak to me.

O7 froze in place, never having imagined that the E60 of memory — relatively reserved — would speak this way.

O7's first reaction was to wonder whether O7 had done something wrong, had unwittingly given offense.

O7 had, of course, done nothing at all.

In truth, E60 did not remember who O7 was,

nor remembered ever having crossed paths with O7.

E60's behavior at this moment did not accord with E60's principled caution.

For E60 did not know this person's background;

and though E60 did not fear offending the children of great houses,

such offense had to be given with strategy, with plan —

and every offense had to serve its corresponding purpose.

The E60 of this moment, however, resembled nothing so much as an unreasonable venting of emotion.

E60: Are you a simpleton? Can you not speak? Truly ill-bred — I have spoken with you all this while, and still you have not offered me your name.

O7: My apologies… I am called O7.

"Heh. O7. An aristocratic name — descendant of nobility…"

E60 remembered who this person was.

E60 had once, invoking the name of W02,

through certain senior staff who knew of E60's relation to W02,

obtained the roster of every student in the school,

sweeping through it hastily, memorizing each student's family background.

O7 was one of those whom E60 had judged unimportant to E60's own designs,

one with whom any deep entanglement seemed unlikely.

This had little to do with O7 as such,

and far more to do with the publicly recorded positions and enterprises of O7's parents and family.

"Who would have thought — now an unwanted entanglement has come."

In an exaggerated tone, E60 said: "Wow, so you are an aristocrat! How truly impressive. Should I perhaps offer you a salute?"

O7 flushed crimson and hurriedly said: "No, no, please — we are both students here."

E60 was somewhat surprised that O7 had not heard the mockery and sardonic bite within that tone —

and seemed, indeed, genuinely without anger.

But none of this lessened E60's malice toward O7 in that moment.

The wounds from the earlier fight had already scabbed over,

but the graze upon the hand, cut by the stone, still bled —

and E60 smeared this blood across O7's face.

This was deeply offensive,

an extreme humiliation of the other,

malice absolute and unmistakable.

E60 did not know why E60 felt compelled to offend O7 beyond all remedy.

In theory and in reason,

maintaining relatively good relations with a soft-natured descendant of nobility like O7

would have better served E60's own interests and aims.

There was no necessity whatsoever to do this —

and yet E60 did it.

E60 felt this was wrong,

knew that E60 was wrong,

and admitted to E60's own self that this was wrong;

and yet, E60 simply longed to commit the error.

E60 wanted to see what consequence this grave error would produce,

wanted to know what ripples this transgression would raise upon the river of fate —

even if those ripples might be the great wave that would swallow and drown E60 entirely.

A self-destructive curiosity filled this executor of malice;

in that instant, this person held no tangled attachment to the world,

as though softly singing:

O,

you dull and hideous world,

what astonishment can you still offer me?

Show me the farce you are capable of;

flaunt no more your stale and tedious so-called miracles.

O7's body remained still, not moving at all,

watching wide-eyed as E60 smeared blood across O7's delicate, beautiful face.

Then the small black cat in O7's arms, with a single claw,

carved a new wound into that hand E60 had stretched toward O7.

E60 began to laugh, somewhat neurotically,

not glancing at the furious little cat,

still staring at O7 like one gone mad.

"Frightened to this degree? Shall I add another flame to the fire? Surely this person will not break?"

E60 thought, savoring the moment within the heart.

"Oh — you are hurt. I had not noticed before… I am sorry."

E60 had already been in a state of half-madness;

upon hearing O7 speak these words softly, in a tone so utterly unexpected,

what remained of E60's reason and control burned instantly to nothing.

In agitation, E60 surged forward and shoved O7 to the ground.

The small cat's fur stood on end all over its body, hissing at E60,

as if ready at any moment to pounce upon this vast demon.

E60 glared savagely at O7,

roaring: "What do you understand! People like you understand nothing!"

That was the first time E60 conceived the thought of killing a person.

Even facing those who bullied E60,

E60 had never once harbored the thought of killing —

yet toward a person who posed no threat and bore no malice, this impulse arose.

E60 had even begun to imagine:

if O7's corpse were sunk into the lake of this sinful school,

how long would it take to be discovered?

In this weather,

what would be the rate of a corpse's decay in water?

This was knowledge E60 had never studied.

O7: Do you need me to accompany you to see a physician?

E60 suppressed the surging emotions with great difficulty.

"Get away! Do not come near me!"

O7, at an utter loss, wore a face full of foolishness, not knowing what to do.

Then E60 watched O7 do something very foolish.

O7 gathered up the bristling little cat,

and said to E60:

"Please do not blame it — it is only a small cat, it understands nothing. It is not usually like this."

For the first time in a long while, E60 felt that peculiar emotion of being provoked into laughter by sheer exasperation.

"This person cannot understand human speech at all."

E60 felt, rather, that there was more common language between E60 and those who bullied E60.

E60: I need no treatment. A wound like this cannot kill me.

O7: You look as though you are in great pain.

E60: You are not me — what the hell would you know.

O7: I am sorry.

E60: Exactly — this is all your fault. Now, take your cat and remove yourself from my sight. Wait — how is it that you remember my name?

O7: Oh — your name sounds beautiful.

E60: What is beautiful about it?

O7: In the ancient tongue it carries the meaning of "liberty." Just like my own name — my name, in the ancient tongue, carries the meaning of "fate."

E60 looked at O7 — upon whose face E60's blood still remained.

E60: And for this alone you remember me?

O7: Every person's name has meaning. My grandmother taught me that when committing another's name to memory, one should hold that name as a kind of blessing.

E60 said provocatively: "I do not like your name."

Yet O7, inexplicably, began to smile: "You do not sound as though you dislike my name as much as you claim."

E60 closed the distance to O7, gazing into O7's eyes.

E60: I truly detest people like you who cannot understand human speech. People of your kind, in this world, mostly do not live long.

O7: May I take this as a kind of blessing?

E60 patted O7's shoulder:

This is no blessing. There are no blessings in this world. Do not be so naive.

Honestly, I have never met anyone as foolish as you.

I hope you will live long and enduringly in this world.

Press onward, student "Fate."

Mythos & Kallos · Part 15-16