28. A Performance That Moves Emotions
28. A Performance That Moves Emotions
After that, I alternated between training and rest, recounting to Marilyn, piece by piece, everything that had happened to me.
For the most part, they weren't exactly cheerful stories.
With the world in such a sorry state, tales of people dying inevitably wove themselves in at some point.
"From what you've told me, it sounds like you've been through quite a lot of rough events. Did you see the people around you die fairly often?"
"Yeah, well. That's the kind of world it is, after all."
A thrust followed my answer.
The rapidly advancing spear brutally pierced the center of the scarecrow, scattering fragments everywhere and flaunting its majesty.
It was the moment the familiarity gained from switching to the Spearman... no, the Spear-user class shone through.
But what stood out even more than that was definitely the spear's performance.
The durability that remained unscathed no matter how many times I swung it, and the sheer power that effortlessly butchered a scarecrow made of wood and straw.
It seemed like with a bit more practice and a better feel for the spear, I'd be able to drive this overwhelming force into exactly the spot I wanted and take down enemies with ease.
"So I feel a bit wronged. All I did was pick a high-paying job, and everyone's calling me a Hero Killer or whatever."
I mulled over that personal assessment inwardly, even as I voiced agreement with Marilyn, but she didn't offer any reply—just stared at me blankly.
Her eyes were still smiling, but that was likely just ingrained habit.
Seeing that the corners of her mouth weren't lifted, anyone could tell she hadn't found the story so far very cheerful.
"...Ahaha... stories like this aren't your thing, are they?"
"I don't think that way. I simply think they aren't stories one can tell while smiling."
A serious voice replied to my awkward laugh.
The fingers brushing the lute in her hand, as she sat perched on her seat, carried a palpable bitterness.
"I am but a humble Clown."
Following that, Marilyn's fingers moved along phrases that carried a rhythm.
-Tiriring~
What began alongside it was a performance.
And at the same time, it was an answer to my question.
"My duty is to wander the world, give shape to the stories I hear, and receive the judgment of new connections... And the stories heard in that way can never always be cheerful."
Yes, the mood was deeply forlorn, unlike everything that had come before.
"If sad, then as sad; if laughable, then as laughable—that too is an expression of one facet of the world... So I merely listen. Even if this era has turned survival into a vulgar joke, I keenly feel that for those who came to this land seeking salvation, life feels more precious than death."
-Tiriring~♬
The refreshing notes of the lute were plucked at a slow tempo.
Just by listening, I could feel the solitary emotions that clung to her voice seep through my skin.
"...Yeah, you're right. Stories don't all have to be cheerful."
Even a requiem sung at a funeral is sung to let the sorrow flow away—so how could a singer seek only cheerful things?
As I stood there, spear in hand before the scarecrow, saying those words, I felt a simple gratitude toward her for that performance.
Because even her constantly playful attitude was set aside for this moment. Because I felt she was affirming me for accepting this cruel world so calmly.
-Swish!
Realizing I'd met another person who understood me, I felt an extra spring in the motions of swinging the spear.
Stronger and faster than before.
-Tiriring~♬
As the lute's notes rippled quietly through those movements, her lips parted and a faint breath escaped.
"La~ Lailaa~♪"
A melody as fair and beautiful as her pure-white appearance. As the song continued smoothly, I felt my own movements lose their hesitation and gain even greater momentum.
It wasn't an illusion.
From the moment I heard the song, something, some change, had occurred in my body.
-Shrrrick, Swhack!
The straw of the scarecrow was cleanly severed by a swing that followed nimbly, driven by that awareness.
It was a surprising result even to myself, but more than that, a powerful thought rose up: I didn't want to stop here. As those thoughts gradually crushed my idle worries, my continuing spear thrusts began to advance unhesitatingly toward a point visible in my vision. -Swoook!
Yes, it was a point.
Until now, my spear thrusts had been random.
The moment they accurately pierced the spot I aimed for.
-Shrrrick, Swhack!
As it happened again exactly as I intended, I gradually felt a desire welling up. Could I do something like this too? And this?
-Crack!
A scarecrow collapsed at the end of that enthusiastic sequence, its durability finally giving out. As if declaring the end of the performance in time with it, Marilyn clapped her hands together and soon rose from her seat, beginning to walk toward me.
"...Excellent."
-Clap, clap, clap.
She erased the lingering notes with clear sounds spaced at regular intervals.
"With that level of skill, you'll certainly manage well in real combat."
Marilyn gave a bright smile illuminated by the sunset, as if looking at me with pride.
As I faced her and my tension gradually eased, I glanced alternately at the spear in my hand and at her, asking about something that had crossed my mind.
"That performance just now—was that some kind of sorcery or magic?"
"Magic is the result of scholarship built upon accumulated records of inquiry into the world, and sorcery is an achievement gained by steadily repeating traditions such as faith or customs... An artful skill mastered merely through personal experience cannot be said to possess such depth."
-Tiriring.
A light laugh, "huhu," sounded between the softly ringing lute strings.
And the words that followed, as if they meant nothing at all, were something I absolutely could not overlook.
"I have lived my whole life as a Clown and take pride in it... But wouldn't it be laughable if I lacked even a single skill to interfere with the emotions of others?"
Interfere with emotions.
Wasn't that practically a power that should be considered within the same domain as 'Hypnosis,' the ability that bastard Deokhun possessed? And to cause it on a wide scale, affecting everyone listening to the song, no less.
"However, arbitrarily controlling the emotions of others is against a Clown's mission..."
As if teaching me that my thoughts were mistaken, she plucked the lute strings again and drew attention back to herself.
"Therefore, what I am permitted is not to create something from nothing, but merely to further heighten the excitement of a person who already feels it."
"Does that mean it only goes as far as emphasizing emotions?"
"Just as a seed must be buried in the earth to sprout, and no matter how many times you multiply zero, it remains zero... The fact that my performance empowered you means your own will, Hyosung, is that clear."
I was merely a helper; the foundation for producing results like before exists within me.
That wouldn't be simple encouragement meant to be considerate of me, but an assessment derived from a seasoned and cool-headed analysis rooted in the insight she had gained wandering this world.
It was a fact I could feel as her gaze slowly shifted from me to the spear gripped in my hand.
"And the weapon held in that hand also responded to my performance, which is likely why the remaining clumsiness in your still-inexperienced body could be erased."
Ego Weapon.
Though its presence hadn't manifested outwardly yet, she saw through even its true nature precisely.
She looked down at the spear and burst into a soft laugh, saying,
"Please cherish it. It is still a young existence, but if you stay together, it will become a great help in your growth as you strive to navigate even this cruel world..."
Even if my encounter with this spear was a coincidence, if that connection continued, I'd be able to ascend to far greater heights than before.
The moment I heard that sincere advice, I felt the throbbing in my chest, as I held the spear, grow stronger.
For now it was just a temporary loan, but a goal had sprouted within me: someday, when the time came and I possessed the proper qualifications, I wanted to be properly acknowledged as the owner of this weapon.
"Thank you for spending time with me today. I look forward to working with you again tomorrow."
And beyond that, I held a modest hope that my encounters with her would continue, into future missions and beyond.
****
And so, the chance encounter formed today was behind us.
The wandering Clown, having left the training ground, whiled away the time plucking her lute strings as she strode unhesitatingly into a dark alleyway.
No clear destination was set.
Simply humming a tune and going wherever her feet took her, wherever her mood fancied—that was the entirety of her way of traveling.
"How curious. That someone's name would remain so distinctly."
But at least for today, the sentiment she felt from it was bound to be slightly different.
Parting is always waiting after a meeting occurs. Even if a future meeting is promised, it is inevitably buried as just a memory until that time arrives.
Yet, in her heart that accepted the world with such a light mindset, wasn't his name still lingering?
"There haven't been many among the connections I've brushed past who remain vividly in my memory... It is quite a strange thing."
Receiving help by chance, closing the distance with a certain purpose, and also keeping a certain distance for some reason—those were things one often experienced when meeting people.
It was nothing particularly special among the countless encounters she'd had so far, so why couldn't she treat her meeting with him lightly and stop recalling it?
Could it be that her heart was being drawn by a reason she hadn't realized?
"Miss, did you come alone?"
A voice called out while she was absorbed in her solitary thoughts.
The Clown, realizing that her feet, which had been going wherever they pleased, had entered a gloomy alleyway, stopped in place and stared at the shadows that had appeared ahead.
Under the moonlight, a shabbily dressed man glared with menacing eyes.
Behind him, the faces of those with similar attire and atmosphere wore identical, nasty smiles.
"Heheh, look at this. We were just staying put, and a woman rolls right in."
"Her face is decent, let's see here... Oh, a big catch, huh?"
Had she walked into a place like this without realizing it because she was too focused on him?
No, it would be the same even normally.
Because her travels simply headed wherever her feet touched, and if her heart desired, she would stride unhesitatingly into a scrapyard or a nest of demon beasts.
"Kkhihi! Looks like we can have some fun!"
"Don't hold it against us too much. Once you take the drug we've got here, you'll start enjoying it soon too~"
But at no time did she ever think her reckless actions were wrong.
Rather, she was always hoping for moments like these.
"...I feel strong desires."
A Clown's performance, you see.
The more substantial the emotions of the audience watching her, the more her energy increases as well.
"Being faithful to desire is a good thing. Would you be so kind as to teach me here and now? What is the greatest desire you feel at this moment?"
-Tiriring~
The strings were plucked as greedy hands gradually reached toward her.
That smooth melody emphasized the emotions people held and produced an effect that further incited the acts that would result from them.
It is the sole art that one who calls herself a humble Clown has refined while traversing many worlds...
"Haha, our greatest desire? Why, to spend some quality time with you right here, miss~"
The leader of the thugs, whose sexual desire burned even hotter at the sight of the Clown's art.
The look in his eyes as he stared at her made it plain he cared for nothing else.
As if showing that for one who reigns as the king of this alley, there is nothing to care about except being faithful to one's desires.
"Simply wanting to get along with the woman met right here. Is that your greatest desire?"
If that is his desire, she does not deny it. As a personal desire, that is.
"Then what about you?"
But the one watching the stage is not just one person.
The performance unfolding from her hands is not limited to an individual either.
"Are you satisfied with the current situation, merely picking up another's leftovers?"
Her gaze fixed upon the cold blade approaching from behind the leader who was advancing toward her.
-Stab!
The flash of light at its tip pierced his back, and the leader's contorted expression snapped backward.
"Y-you, what the hell..."
"Shut up, you son of a bitch. I've never liked you!"
-Stab, stab!
The knife strikes were delivered by a subordinate who had long harbored dissatisfaction with the leader.
The leader, having allowed the ambush, lost his reason and swung his fist, slamming the subordinate's head into the wall.
Crunch. The sound of his skull and brain being crushed together reverberated loudly through the alleyway.
Even as he fell into such a miserable state and his consciousness faded, the hatred toward his attacker was still etched on his face.
-Stab!
Yes, and the subordinates who followed up with their knives, too.
"Y-you guys, why..."
"If only you die, I'm the boss!"
"Come to think of it, you broke my nose last time, calling me ugly?"
"I never liked you. Just die right here!"
Stab, stab, stab.
The boss's body was hacked apart by the blades in their hands.
A few resisted and were beaten down in the process, but even that wasn't enough to overturn the numerical inferiority.
-Tiriring~
The sound of the performance was heard the moment one life was fading.
But it would be far from a requiem.
The ones present here are faithful to their desires, and a scene faithful to desire has no need for solemnity like a funeral.
"Passion for me, and hatred toward those you've been stuck with in the gutter... Toward which side are your desires directed right now?"
Even as the spurting blood from that stained her white clothes, the Clown did not stop.
Even as the blood-soaked blades were aimed at each other afterward, she merely brightened the smile drawn on her lips and quietly whispered her mission.
"You don't have to hold back either way. Worries, concerns... Forget everything that breeds vague anxiety, just for this moment."
"Even if an irreversible outcome emerges from this instant, my performance will make you forget even that fear....."
Restraint is released, and the audience wishing to gratify those desires to their hearts' content overflows.
How could the Clown, who should be adding to the heat of that moment, refuse this festival and step back?