by Charles Dean
“I like anything that isn’t plain rice and eggs or gruel,” Su Ryeon replied with a laugh.
“Damn, that’s rough.” Lars cringed at the idea of such bland foods on repeat day after day. He almost wanted to ask her what the worst part of being stuck with Bok Kyu was out of morbid curiosity, but he held back.
I hope that, later, after you’re done with your weird romancing of an already won slave, you don’t hold your tongue back when it’s time to make her cry out in different ways.
You really don’t have any empathy, do you? Lars thought as he continued walking with Su Ryeon, watching everyone stare at him while the two made their way through the casino toward the exit.
Empathy? For what? These creatures? Oh, I do. I have plenty. I know exactly what they feel and think. I’ve seen the thoughts of hundreds, thousands, millions of them as they clawed and scraped to hold onto the last seconds of their existence. I know what runs through their minds: their selfish wants, their horrendous hopes, their monstrous desires. It’s not that I lack empathy; it's that I know better than to believe any of these . . . cultivators deserve the kindness inherently owed to humans.
Cultivation only makes them more or less powerful. It doesn’t change the fact—
It changes EVERYTHING! THEY PROFANED ALL THAT WAS SACRED AND DESERVE WHAT WILL COME TO THEM!!
Easy . . . Lars tried to calm Ophelia down. He could feel her aggression, and her hatred bled into his head. He could taste her anger. His vision momentarily narrowed, his nostrils flared, and the sensation of copper and metal flooded across the buds on his tongue. Don’t take it out on me, Lars pleaded as his head started to pound, chest throbbed, and stomach turned over on top of itself.
Lars, you must never forget that these cultivators aren’t even human. Look around you. Look at all the ears, the tails—the world they created. Is there even a place for you in it? Did you not have to flee with your mother to the outskirts of existence and prey upon the mercy of others just to survive?
Yeah, but—
But what? Humanity doesn’t exist outside of you because of these fiends. Don’t forget that. Don’t forget what they did to the powerless that couldn’t cultivate. There were billions of humans at one point, and now . . . you’re the only one left and only because I made and protected you.
Lars tried to push the idea out of his head, but his mind was suddenly filled with a stabbing pain that forced him to close his eyes. When he opened them again, he was no longer standing in the lobby of the casino. Instead, he was standing in a square room that was at most twelve feet by twelve feet. There was a desk in front of him that was more finely finished than any desk a carpenter from his old town could have ever made and a giant window on one of the walls. But his eyes were instantly drawn to the bodies that started appearing around the room. It was as if an entire clan of non-cultivating, tailless humans, one larger than his home village, had been killed inside the one room. He instantly panicked, rushing through the door and out of the hellish room only to be in an even larger room filled with even more bodies.
There, in the center of the room, he saw a cultivator abusing a woman while four more cowered in the corner, watching. The room was filled with dozens of men, old women, and children. The wounds that killed them were still freshly drawn across their bodies as the cultivator toying with the people didn’t even bother to hide his work.
Lars—who had felt like his stomach was iron after having seen so many dead people—couldn’t take the scene. He fought his urge to vomit, holding a hand over his mouth as he felt sweat dripping down the side of his face. At this point, a beeping sound Lars had never heard before came from one of the doors of the building, which opened to reveal two more male cultivators and a female one.
“Found their hideout and didn’t even save any for us?” the first man walking in asked, his eyes immediately darting to one of the three broken women on the floor.
Before Lars could make out the man’s facial features, the scene changed again. It was a new room . . . but the scene felt the same as the last one. Then the scene changed again and again and again. Each time was a new world, more magical and miraculous than the previous. The landscapes and buildings were nothing like Lars had ever seen, yet each one was filled with even more horrific sights than the last. A thousand scenes of genocide were crammed into one instant, shoved into Lars’s thoughts until his brain box was practically exploding with the memories.
“Lars? Lars? Are you okay? Come back to me, Lars!”
Lars felt Su Ryeon shaking him, pulling him out of the endless cascading waterfall of nightmares that he was in moments ago, and he automatically jerked away from her touch.
“Lars?” she asked.
“Umm . . .” He looked around, realizing people were watching him just as they had when he had been dancing in front of everyone, but this time it was different. He wasn’t a marvel, but a spectacle. His breath was ragged, the shredded remains of cloth still clinging to his body from the adhesive nature of sticky blood and sweat were now even wetter than before, his limbs were shaking, and he still felt like he was seconds away from evacuating any food his stomach might have had in it. Being watched by all the monsters around him, the people that looked and carried themselves just like the fiends that had slaughtered his people, he couldn’t help but straighten up his back and try to look normal. “I’m fine. Just felt a little sick. It must have been some aftereffects of the toxin,” he lied.
See? See what they did to your kind? That’s who they are when there isn’t anyone to keep them in check. That’s the monsters they are when no one is holding them down.
After seeing the things Ophelia had shown him, his mind clung to the words she spoke to him as if they were gospel. Her hatred was his hatred, but his heart tried to reject it. It tried to focus on Anneliese’s milkshakes, his mother’s smile, Ruri’s excitement at seeing her lost love after years of diligently waiting.
He sniffled, swallowing down the shreds of bile that had made their way up his throat before he recovered his composure.
“You sure it’s just the toxin?” Su Ryeon asked, giving him a funny look as the two made their way down the street back to the Neukdaegalbi home.
“I said it’s just the toxin. I’m fine,” Lars repeated.
“Well . . .” Su Ryeon frowned. “If you need to talk about it, I’m here for you. I know how hard things can get sometimes, and talking about it might not make things better, but it might make things feel better.”
“Thanks,” Lars said, turning away from her as he looked around the street for anything to change the topic. “You know, there was a nice rurki shop there just the other day,” Lars commented when he realized that they were in front of the prison.
“Yeah?” Su Ryeon replied. “I think I remember that. The hippo girl with the big—”
“Yes?” Lars pressed. “The big what?”
“The big heart,” Su Ryeon clarified. “The hippo girl with the big heart.”
“That’s not really what you were going to say, was it?” Lars poked, happy for something other than his momentarily crippling mental issue to be the focus of their dialogue.
She meant chest. The hippo girl with the massive chest.
Yeah, that Brandon guy is lucky, isn’t he? “Well, if she’s not here, I know where some good tteokbokki is,” he added.
“Really? I haven’t had that in forever,” Su Ryeon said, bouncing up and down in her dress.
“You’re really adaptable, aren’t you?” Lars pointed out. “Like, you’re just keeping it all together without an issue despite all you’ve been through, aren’t you?”
“You mean I’m handling the fact that I just spent what felt like forever as a tortured slave, forced to do the bidding of a man I hate as if he were a god or emperor of old descended down to earth?”
“Yeah, that.”
“Who says I’m holding it all together?” she asked. “Do you think, if you weren’t here, if I were just in my own little room by m
yself, I wouldn’t be curled up in a ball crying? I wouldn’t be sobbing and shaking and praying I never have to go through that all again?”
“Oh . . .” Lars looked over at the woman smiling next to him.
“It’s okay to not have it together, Lars. I don’t know what you went through that turned you into the psychotic, justice-obsessed killer you are today, but it’s okay to feel bad about it. It’s okay to cry, man.”
“Right . . .” Lars sighed.
She’s right. It’s absolutely okay to cry if your dog dies, if your dad dies, if your wife leaves you for your best friend and gets your pickup truck in the divorce, or if your best friend gives her back.
What the heck is a pickup truck?
I don’t know. I’m just going based on what the songs used to say were socially acceptable reasons to cry.
“There’s the man,” Lars said, pointing to the food vendor.
“Long time, no see!” the old man exclaimed, waving Lars and Su Ryeon down.
“It hasn’t even been a day,” Lars replied. “Don’t act like I’ve been gone forever.”
“Why not? You’re my favorite customer nowadays,” he said. “So how much do you want?”
“Just give me . . . this much.” Lars reached into the bag Su Ryeon was carrying, pulled out two gold coins, and tossed them to the man.
He blinked, staring at the gold in his hand. “I don’t have enough to fill this order.”
“Then give me and her some of it, and take the rest of what you do have inside for the Neukdaegalbi clan. They could use some food they can eat without having to sit around that stiff table,” Lars said.
“Favorite customer indeed,” the man laughed. “So did you find what you were looking for today?”
“I did.”
“And what happened to that little goat guy? Nick or something?”
Lars gulped.
“Is he off harassing Ruri and Brandon? Don’t tell me he’s off harassing Ruri and Brandon. It’s their first day together in forever. They need some privacy . . .”
“He didn’t make it,” Lars admitted.
“Oh . . .” The old man trailed off and looked at Lars. “Well, that happens, I guess.” He sighed. “Some people . . . Their lives just don’t last that long.”
“Way of the world indeed,” Su Ryeon remarked. “Nothing to beat yourself up over. Not like you killed him.”
Those last words caused Lars to wince. He had, in fact, killed Nick. He had been the one to shove his Qi blade right through Nick’s skull. Just the mention of it reminded him of the look on Nick’s face as he clung desperately to life.
That sweet, sweet EXP. What a pleasant memory.
Normally, Lars would have rejected such a remark. He would have told her to show some respect and that Nick was a living, breathing person, but after having witnessed what Ophelia showed him, he felt instead pity for her. If that’s what you saw over and over again, he thought as he recalled the scenes, knowing that there were probably a countless number of other similar massacres, then . . . maybe every cultivator . . .
“Hey, don’t be so down. Death is always with us; it’s not something we can avoid. You might catch a rare plague, drink poison, tick off the wrong young master, or suffer a Qi deviation. Anything can kill you in this world, so when someone dies, don’t make such a fuss about them,” the old man mused. “Instead . . . celebrate their life. Whatever it is Nick loved doing, try doing that instead.”
“Did you know him well?” Lars asked.
“Nope. Just that he was an annoying little bastard who was eager to prove himself to you.” The old man chuckled. “Anyway, eat your tteokbokki. I’ll whip up something extra special for you in honor of Nick and as thanks for buying me out for the week.”
“Thanks,” Lars said, appreciating the man’s words. He really wanted to believe that not all cultivators were bad, but he also really wanted to trust Ophelia.
“So this is where you’ve been staying?” Su Ryeon asked as the two of them turned around and walked toward the compound.
“Yeah, I know. Not exactly the best place in town, but my two crappy disciples are in there.”
“Disciples? Are you strong enough to call yourself a master?” Su Ryeon asked. “Or is your cultivation speed, your ability to jump Qi-gathering tiers, something you can teach?” She asked the second question with wide, glowing eyes that reminded Lars how desperate she was to advance.
Tell her it is. Tell her you have the solution to her troubles in the palm of your hand if she is willing to change her cultivation technique to one of my design.
If I’m advancing this much faster than every disciple I take on and am already this much stronger, why are you helping people cultivate if you’ve seen what cultivators do? Lars asked. Why am I taking on disciples for us?
Because we need power. We need people who can protect you when your eyes are closed. Haven’t you seen what they’ll do to people in their own homes? Do you think you’re ever safe? At least if they depend on you, they won’t dare move against you. A well-fed and cared-for dog won’t turn on its master.
And they are dog people . . . Lars thought as he walked up to the gate to be greeted by Maggie.
“You’ve grown quite strong in just a day,” Maggie said as she studied Lars, her voice filled with more concern than accusation. “You reek of blood too and look quite a mess.”
“You’re pretty good at pointing out the obvious, aren’t you?” Su Ryeon asked as she walked up to Matthew’s mother.
“Well, just in case it wasn’t included in things that are obvious, you’re being rude,” Maggie said with an ear-to-ear smile. “By the way, I hope it won’t inconvenience you, but Jill and Matthew are in your quarters practicing their cultivation. I know Matthew is very eager to show off his progress.”
“How much has he made?” Lars asked, an eyebrow rising. “It’s only been a day.”
“I would be a poor mother if I spoiled my son’s surprise.” She flashed her trademark gentle smile at Lars. “After all, he’s worked so hard to impress his master. My daughter has too, but she is only there to not be outdone. She’s more hands-on . . . than a talker when it comes to cultivation.”
Lars couldn’t suppress the urge to nervously inspect his shoes and blush a little at the mention of Jill being “hands-on.”
“So, you’re less of a respectable master and more of a stepfather for this woman’s two children?” Su Ryeon’s words cut deep.
“He is a better man than their father, and from what I can tell”—Maggie’s eyes drifted a little lower—“he’s not only superior in character.” The mother winked at Lars, causing his blush to deepen.
“I see. That really drew some red across the cheeks,” Su Ryeon noted aloud, furthering Lars’s embarrassment. “This man murdered dozens of people, yet this makes him shy. Interesting.”
“Are you not his slave?” the woman asked. “Why do you seek to tease your own master? Are you not concerned about reprisal?”
“My sisters will kill me before they allow me to be another man’s puppet,” Su Ryeon said coldly.
“I see.” Maggie smiled, giving Su Ryeon a quizzical look. “You must have had a harsh life before your master purchased you. Come in. I’m certain a hot bath and some fresh food will make your stay much more agreeable. I vaguely recall your master ordering me to provide these for you.”
Su Ryeon stared at Maggie for a moment and then sighed. “I’m sorry for my earlier impropriety. Thank you for your consideration.”
“Think nothing of it,” Maggie replied, extending an arm to signal for them to head inside before she vanished into the kitchen.
“You don’t have to be so rude to random people,” Lars said as the two of them walked toward his quarters.
“That woman was clenching a blade and directing killing intent toward me almost the entire time we were talking,” Su Ryeon replied. “I know you couldn’t see it—her left hand was hidden in her robe—but I could. I’ve dealt with
her kind a lot during . . . that bastard’s missions.”
“Really?” Lars was a little surprised. “And what is her kind?”
“She sees you as a mark. You’re a tool to help her children’s lives, and so she now sees anyone who could disrupt those plans as a threat. She is probably scheming a way to kill me or remove me if I get in the way of that,” Su Ryeon stated.
“That’s a little pessimistic,” Lars said, feeling for a moment like he was talking to Ophelia, but he held that conflation as far back in his mind as he could. He didn’t want to upset Ophelia any more than she had already been upset.
“One of Bok Kyu’s mistresses kept trying to get me killed—for Bok Kyu looking at me—until he explained that I had to be pure, or else I would suffer Qi deviation and die,” Su Ryeon explained.
“I think that may be a different situation,” Lars replied as he looked over at her. He had seen jealous women back in his village, and he didn’t think it was always about one person using the other.
Two voices pierced the area in unison as Jill and Matthew both excitedly rushed over to greet him. “Master!”
Well, so much for a quiet night, Lars laughed to himself as he looked at them. Both of them had much darker amber-colored eyes than before. They also had a small but sharp topaz-like corona circling the pupil of each eye. There wasn’t a lick of red or orange present, but it made their eyes appear as if they were burning. “Easy now,” Lars said, holding up his hands. “Have you two managed to make any progress while cultivating?”
“ONE STAGE!” they each practically shouted. “We’ve moved up a stage!”
I expected this from Matthew, but Jill? Lars stared at the woman that had been the most elegant, poised, and collected girl he had ever seen just the night before. He had thought that she had the whole world in her hands, or at least his whole world, but here she was, acting like an excited kid with a new toy.
You were the same way a few days ago when you got that new cultivation book by Tao.
Right . . . Lars remembered that. Such a short time ago, he had desperately wanted to cultivate more than anything in the world, to be like every other cultivator around the village. Now, he hated the idea of being like the other cultivators—like the people Ophelia hated. He didn’t want to grow in power so much as he wanted to go back to the life where he hadn’t ever needed it.