WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR
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◈ SSS-Class Revival Hunter ◈
Chapter 394: The Time He Waited, The Time He Walked (7)
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VII.
His master was not a perfect person.
[That's not how you do it. Look closely.]
There was always a hint of excitement in those words.
[Well done. You're quite good.]
Those words were always tinged with a bit of jealousy.
[I have nothing more to teach you in this area. You're better at it than I am.]
And those words were always mixed with a touch of despair.
It wasn't solely because he was particularly perceptive that he could sense these emotions. It was because his master made no effort to hide them.
When he had first joined, his master had made it clear.
[I will treat you exactly as I am.]
[......]
[I will not embellish. I will not hide. I will not deceive. You will always see my bare face. The version of me you see will exactly match how low I truly am.]
The master looked him straight in the eye.
[Therefore, you must become strong.]
[......]
[Sometimes people claim they’re just being 'honest' as an excuse for their behavior. What they forget is that anyone’s heart can be sharp enough to cut through someone else's. Just as there’s no etiquette in carrying an unsheathed sword around, dealing with someone frankly is never just a heartwarming tale.]
The master took hold of both his shoulders and continued in a firm tone:
[Yet despite that, I will be honest with you. Your heart will be cut by me countless times. Be prepared for that. Understand?]
He nodded.
It was as his master said. Raw honesty was indeed a terrifying thing. Through actual combat, he learned that even when the people of Taeeumgul clung to him, even when enemies pointed their swords at him, they were never completely honest.
His master also taught him how to cope with this knowledge.
[Do not show consideration where you cannot afford to. Cut. Do not detour around it. Face it. Do not accept what you cannot accept. Strike back. Face me as if we were sparring with blades in hand. Endure. Stand against me. Grow stronger!]
He did just that.
He didn’t avoid getting hurt. He didn’t try to superficially please. He just treated the person known as his master as they truly were… and his master treated him the same way. There was no misunderstanding to wedge between them, just as there can be no gap between mountains and fields.
Therefore.
[It’s about time for me to leave.]
He couldn’t misunderstand the meaning of those words.
[Master.]
[I’ve lingered for quite some time.]
His master was dying.
The Jinin were a race that lived by taking sunlight through their skin and drinking sap through their mouths. Their bodily proportions changed little from birth to death, but their approximate age could be inferred from the brightness of their skin. The master had already been quite dim when they first met, and now they were fading again and again like a candle whose wick had burned down, with nothing left but to go out.
[I was not strong enough to live forever. That’s all there is to it.]
The master coughed. Their body flashed brightly once, then dimmed.
He learned that having no room to misunderstand could be terrifying and, at the same time, sorrowful.
[I’m glad.]
And also, it could be as painfully joyful.
[That I could meet you before I left.]
In those words were sincere apologies and deep gratitude.
[That I could teach you many things.]
Contained within those words were profound regret and immense relief.
[It was a blessing to be your master.]
Those words held bottomless anxiety and soaring pride.
[Master.]
His master could have said other things.
I'm sorry. I was wrong. I wasn’t enough.
That they couldn't lead the way consistently, that they couldn’t even stand beside him due to their own weakness, they could have asked for forgiveness.
But instead of that, his master chose to express gratitude for their meeting. Instead of apologizing for their shortcomings, they were thankful. And it wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t a fabrication. Despite both being equally true, despite neither choice being false, his master chose that path.
He knew it without any falsehood.
Thud!
He pressed his forehead to the ground.
Thud!
The master, lying on the sickbed, maintained a faint flicker as they watched him.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
These were bows offered to the master.
The master received those bows in silence. The gratitude contained in one bow, the sorrow contained in another, and in yet another... If one soul was said to dwell in each piece of sky shattered by the primordial slash, then surely every bow he offered drew one of those souls down and summoned it to the earth.
There were seventeen bows in total.
The master smiled. Without eyes or a nose, just the movement of their lips could convey a broad smile.
[Thank you.]
The master closed their eyes.
It didn’t take long for the flickering to fade, leaving behind only a pale body. By the time that happened, he no longer had a master.
[......]
Living in a world without his master was not as daunting as one might expect.
His master had taught him. There are problems in the world that exist regardless of one's strength.
A single person's heart could be sharp enough to wound him. The need to face each person with the mindset of crossing swords meant the world was full of adversaries. He could kill every living person in the world, but conversely, he couldn't save even one dying individual.
He was not invincible.
He was just a bit lucky.
He was just born a bit stronger.
That was all.
He was an ordinary person.
And so, at that moment, he realized that he was no longer lonely.
7.
The declaration that the floor had been cleared came as soon as he entered, just as before.
[Key manifestation complete.]
[The fragments of worlds woven by your world are now fully bound to your world.]
[Worlds that were destroyed have been granted another chance in the realm of the dead.]
[The 97th floor has been cleared.]
Yet the one who heard the declaration did not step onto the staircase to the next floor. Instead, he quietly walked through the world.
No, through worlds.
“Once, cruel things happened here.”
That world was a museum.
Its walls were spotless white. The equally white ceiling and floor were connected by pale, gleaming silver conduits. It felt like a hospital. Yet what stood there were not specimens or sickbeds, but statues, paintings, and all manner of implements.
The statues depicted many different subjects, though most shared one trait: they were young children. The paintings showed those implements being used on the children.
And every implement was an instrument of torture.
There were tools for pulling teeth without anesthetic, tools for prying open the spaces beneath fingernails, tools that spewed steam from a hose when filled with water and lit, tools that tore away the scalp when they caught and pulled the hair, and every other instrument capable of inflicting pain.
A woman in a gown spoke as she guided boys and girls who had only just begun wearing school uniforms.
“When this place was ruled by the Constellation called [The Immortal Missionary of Happiness], scapegoats were selected here. Their screams were used as a source of power to produce food, run machinery, and make medicine.”
The boys and girls listened in breathless silence.
“Is it reasonable to sacrifice the few for the many? If so, is it just to sacrifice one person for everyone? Which is more unjust: death delivered in an instant, or suffering prolonged by postponing death again and again?”
“......”
“Many people will offer many different answers. Some may believe that what happened here is humanity's inescapable future, and that every human effort is merely a struggle to look away from it or a futile attempt to postpone it.”
The woman looked over the boys and girls one by one, meeting each student's eyes as she continued.
“It is all right to think that.”
“......”
“No, it is even all right if one of you regards it as an ideal and chooses to pursue it.”
The woman raised her head and looked around at the paintings hanging in the museum.
“Because the tragedy of this world was not simply that it was such a world. It was that everyone had grown [accustomed] to it, until [not even one person remained who questioned it].”
The woman stopped before a statue.
Its subject was not a child. She brushed the back of her hand across the statue of a man standing with his hand resting on a sword.
“An action no one questions becomes routine work, and routine work bears no responsibility. A world where no one takes responsibility has no possibilities left. Where there are no possibilities, there is no future.”
“......”
“And so this world remained destroyed until someone came from outside.”
Few of the students understood the story.
Many were more interested in the provocative paintings. Someone looked up at the man's statue and gave a quiet giggle. One child poked a torture implement with a finger, testing the texture of its metal.
But some of them, very few indeed, sank into deep thought.
“Everyone.”
The woman addressed those few.
“Whatever kind of life you live is all right. Just become someone who takes responsibility for that life.”
“Yes,” the students answered.
The man's statue looked down upon them.
- ......
A man who resembled the statue watched the scene as well.
Undetectable to anyone, he slowly began walking again.
“I'm telling you, there hasn't been any news!”
The next place where the man set foot was a magnificent palace.
A blond girl with a hand trowel tucked at her waist was scowling furiously.
“Damn it! I just want to know! When that damned man is coming back! Whether he's really gone and died somewhere! ...At least you're sure that hasn't happened, right?”
Before the blond girl sat a woman whose long silver hair was tied back. She folded her fan, sighed, and answered.
“Yes. Since my skill has not activated, he is not dead.”
“Are you absolutely sure? There was that incident with Ga-young's previous incarnation. What if he's been sealed away or something...?”
“Then he would have asked for help.”
“Ah! He could have been done in before he had time to ask!”
“That is impossible.”
The silver-haired woman sat with her legs crossed and rested her chin on one hand.
“In any case, he is... my partner.”
The blond girl lowered her head and groaned.
“What a crazy, doting couple...”
“What did you just say?”
“I said you're a crazy, doting couple???”
The silver-haired woman stared at the blond girl. The girl met that stare with an expression that said, What? Why? After about a minute, she cleared her throat and reached into her clothes.
“Anyway, this.”
“You are changing the subject.”
“Ah! Never mind that. Here, take it.”
The silver-haired woman accepted what the girl offered.
Inside was a well-dried pollock. The silver-haired woman's elegant brows drew together.
“What is this?”
“Dried pollock.”
“Why dried pollock?”
“Mr. Pollock told me to bring it. He said he was sorry about one thing and another.”
“That man, honestly...”
The silver-haired woman pressed a hand to her forehead. It was then.
“......”
She stopped short and turned her head. Startled, the blond girl looked in the same direction, then raised one eyebrow.
“...There's nothing there.”
“......”
“What's wrong? Did you see a ghost or something?”
“...Hmm.”
The silver-haired woman smiled faintly without answering.
The sight appeared to send a chill through the blond girl, but the silver-haired woman paid her no mind and reached out to accept the gift properly.
“Tell him I received it well.”
The blond girl's eyes widened.
“Huh? I thought you'd throw it straight to the dog. Have you mellowed out with age?”
“No.”
The silver-haired woman pushed the gift aside and rested her chin on her hand again.
“I felt him growing jealous somewhere. Is that not truly adorable?”
“Ah, you crazy, sickening couple... I'm leaving.”
Even after the blond girl departed with a groan, the silver-haired woman continued smiling at one corner of her room for some time.
The man began walking again.
And so his journey continued.
“As for this Space Iron Knight...”
He walked through a world made up only of points and lines, a world without stars, filled with countless artificial satellites and the massive corridors that connected them.
“This Daybreak Mountain Hut has a terrifying legend.”
"What tale is that?"
"I don't believe in legends..."
"What's with this crazy old coot?"
He wandered through a world where a lone cottage stood atop a dimly lit mountain peak. A world that was nothing more than that cottage.
"Mom! Mom! Look at this!"
"Yes, my child. This is called 'dried pollock'. Where did you find it?"
"Ooh! Uncle Pollock gave it to me!"
A world where a free-spirited girl held the hand of her frail-looking mother, crossing a pedestrian crossing.
In that world, the woman and the man briefly met each other's eyes. Perhaps he met the girl's eyes as well.
It might have been mere coincidence, or they might have genuinely shared a glance. The man himself didn’t know.
In truth, the man did not even know whether he and the silver-haired woman had truly shared some connection in the world before last, or whether that too had been nothing more than an astonishing coincidence.
But he knew he would find out soon.
Very soon.
-......
After traversing several worlds, the man finally stopped in front of a blooming red peony in spring.
Beyond that peony, a sword was embedded in the ground.
There was nothing else. No tower-like tombstone, no mountain-like burial mound. Although it seemed maintained, as there was no rust on the blade, the area was indistinguishable from a flower garden, filled with wildflowers and weeds.
But this place was more than just a flower garden.
It was simply a place where the sword and the peony kept company with the weeds and wildflowers as though they too were flowers.
-......
The man began to bow toward the flower.
-......
In his first bow, the man held a world that had sought immortal happiness through the suffering of one innocent child, and the death and rebirth of that world.
-......
In his second bow, the man held the silver heart fixed in eternity, and the death and rebirth of that world, which had died through duty beyond love and returned to life through love beyond duty.
-......
With the third bow, another world.
The fourth bow, the fifth bow, the sixth bow...
-......
Eventually, in the last, the ninth bow, the man included the peony that bloomed at the end of an eternal winter.
-......
The man bowed deeply.
Then he stepped back until the peony was out of sight before turning around to walk away.
[You are entering the 98th floor.]
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