Juhyeon often found himself pitying that vast Mystery.
“……”
Gio’s Portrait.
“…Haa…”
Juhyeon himself knew perfectly well how absurd the thought was.
Lying in a huge, plush bed far beyond his station, Juhyeon ultimately failed to fall asleep and got up. His mind was clear, but he left the lights off in case sleep happened to come and went to the kitchen for a glass of water.
“……”
Clink.
He set down the glass.
“…I’m in no position to be like this.”
Even after drinking the cool water, the tightness in his chest remained.
‘To think I would dare pity a Mystery.’
Divinities were beings who might imprison a beloved priest for eternity as the result of expressing pure affection, or strip someone of all knowledge and reduce them to an imbecile simply because they had prayed for wisdom.
Had the object of Juhyeon’s pity not been Gio—had he not regarded himself as human and shown mercy—it would have been no surprise for Juhyeon to receive divine punishment for his insolence.
‘But if it hadn’t been Mr. Gio in the first place, I never would have thought this way.’
Humans did not pity vast Mysteries partly to avoid offending them, or catching their notice and suffering disaster as a result—but also because it was impossible to harbor the emotion of pity toward them in the first place.
Who would pity a typhoon or tidal wave that had devoured countless people? Who would look upon the Milky Way glittering in the distance…