Regret, Decay, Obsession (6)

Humans are unhappy because, unlike beasts, they have endless greed. Beasts hunt just enough food for the day and stockpile a little when they have spare time—that's it. But human greed knows no bounds; it even evolves into outright avarice. Humans are the kind of greedy animals that won't stop until they've devoured everything around them and digested it all.

I've experienced the raw ugliness of human greed and desire since childhood. People swarmed like piranhas to snatch even a scrap of the assets from an orphan household where the parents vanished in an instant. They even clawed away the meager government stipend meant for orphans. Living among those people for nearly ten years, I started questioning just how ugly humans could get—and whether some god could really save them.

And why not? The greatness of God I learned at church as a kid turned out to be disappointingly underwhelming. He toppled the Tower of Babel that humans built to challenge his domain, literally incinerated Sodom and Gomorrah, then unleashed the Great Flood that forced Noah to build the ark, and rained down colossal disasters on Egypt during the Exodus—not to mention parting the Red Sea. The church drilled into us that God's power was so immense it hurt just to list it all; I even doubted if it was real.

But if all that was possible, why didn't humans straighten up right away? Even after sending his firstborn son Jesus down in human form to atone for everyone's sins once and for all. If an omnipotent God can't change humanity's fundamental nature, let alone their tendencies—if the world is still this fucked up—does that mean the humans he made are infinitely flawed and evil?

Irredeemable vermin that can only barely scrape into heaven by believing and repenting, and those are the works of a perfect, flawless God? Why give free will in the first place? And if you're guaranteeing free will, why punish humans so harshly with your divine power multiple times? If God loves every part of humanity and respects free will, holding off judgment until the final day, then why did he flip the world upside down so many times?

On the flip side, if God has no choice but to intervene inevitably, using every means to wreck the world, then why is it still such a mess despite his almighty power? It doesn't add up. It's absurdly contradictory.

So my life is just as contradictory and shitty, I guess.

"Tsk, why won't this hangover fuck off?"

"Hey, who chugs wine like that? You savor the aroma."

"Hnnngh~ I'm so sleepy~."

Meanwhile, my classmates around me are laughing and chatting, enjoying this brief year-end break—their lives shining bright. Sure, they'd had their fortunes stolen by those vicious bastards, but they got it all back. And they're not bad people at heart, so even though we'd been awkward with each other, we had a blast.

That's why I feel the unfairness, the absurdity. God, if you exist, how could you create a world like this? You've divided it into heaven, purgatory, and hell, but isn't this place the true abyss where humans feel every negative emotion? Happiness and misery vary in degree, lives rise and fall unevenly, all sorts of human dregs and existences clash—yet the endings boil down to just two. Brutal.

I flashed a bitter smile and downed a pre-mixed bomb shot someone had made. Those things scrambling outside the door right now? Pure evil, no doubt. They've stolen others' fortunes, lived selfishly for personal gain. Hypocrites who commit every crime in the book but dodge the law's hammer. No wonder.

Instead of good fortunes, they'd sucked in heaps of foul energy—so now they're wracked with insane thirst. Like severe alcoholics bound hand and foot, denied a drop for three days straight. Their souls, gorged on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the good stuff for so long, couldn't withstand the sudden influx of impurity. Proof? Their bodies—the physical shells shaping their souls—twisted and collapsed in seconds.

Infinitely ugly, infinitely wretched, infinitely contradictory. But I don't hate them. Hell, I could even love them sincerely. Because those things prove God's contradictions. An omnipotent, flawless God can't tolerate "mistakes." If he loves all equally and stands with everyone, he can't allow evil to exist. If everything's a "test" he prepared under his plan, deliberately scattering evil, that's not equal love. No parent tests their kids like that, dooming failures to hell and saving only the passers for heaven.

So I welcome it every time those existences tarnish God's glory and diminish his presence. Like a human trafficker seeing a lone orphan in a disaster—not pitying the poor kid, but thinking, "Jackpot, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that body'll fetch a good price."

Thus, human traffickers and all us sinners are just pitiful orphans swept up in the natural disaster called evil. And I'll sell those orphans to heaven. For free.

Clink. I set down my glass and glanced at Park ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠In-ha beside me. She'd been playing banker but was now dozing off, drunk. Unlike me, her life brimmed with light. Born under blessings, no ups or downs—just a smooth, high, orderly path.

Me? What do I have left, clinging to this body that should've died long ago by sheer willpower? Emptiness and rage. Emptiness from being robbed of everything since birth. And the duty to send folks like me to heaven "equally" so they can finally be happy. If even that's gone, I'll become pure void.

'Being the Revelation's protagonist sounds lame as hell.' Who'd want that clown role?

Just before her head slumped onto my shoulder in her doze, I pressed her forehead firmly to wake her.

"Get up. You've gotta see the sunrise from this spot yourself."

"Mmm? Hnnng... I'm sleepy."

I dangled a mint choco ice cream wafting fresh scent right under her nose, waving it gently. She bolted up like a kid on a school trip with toothpaste smeared on her butt.

Dawn was breaking outside just in time. I herded all the classmates to the terrace. It was chilly out, but epic views like this are always better outdoors than from inside.

"Alright, everyone up—let's watch the sunrise. Start the day right."

"Ugh, yeah. Blow off some booze and get fresh air."

"Up, up."

"We working stiffs can't hit the beach for New Year's sunrise anyway, so might as well here. Heh."

"Yeah, yeah—sunrise first, then breakfast. Shilla Hotel's buffet is supposed to be killer."

"We reek of booze—hope that's cool?"

"Who doesn't at this time of year? Just don't cause a scene."

"Right. Paying good money for food—no one's got beef."

They bantered like that, propping up the wobbly ones ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as they shuffled to the terrace. The railing was high to prevent falls, so no worries there.

Meanwhile, I headed to the entrance. Gripping the doorknob before opening, I asked myself:

'Their regret and obsession stem from humanity's ugly nature. The decay they're spewing comes from impure emotions.'

So what does that make me, the one who turned them into that? The ugliest, most impure, bottommost existence?

'No.'

I'm human just like them. My name is Han Daeri.

As my classmates opened the terrace doors and gulped fresh air, I flung open the entrance and inhaled the foulest stench.

"Now I tell you once more."

You unloved, unwelcomed, unacknowledged rejects.

Do you seek salvation?