「One day, Jonathan’s sister handed me a brown envelope. I took the envelope politely and asked.
– What is this, miss?
– I told you not to call me that.
In response to her cold correction, I lowered my eyes but still had no intention of changing the way I addressed her.
It was a title I was expected to use as someone who served Jonathan, and she was the only one who treated me the way I deserved.
Knowing this, she continued the conversation rather than trying harder to correct me.
– It’s the address of the woman you raised birds with. That damn bluebird that was so precious it made my brother willing to die for it.
A shock that felt like my heart had stopped washed over me.
In the middle of the white cover, there were black letters.
Choi Yu-rim, who had said she would read the book alongside Kim Byul, ran away in less than 30 seconds. It wasn’t because the content was dark but simply because literature was boring.
This was the most common attitude modern people had towards books. In an age full of things , literature had no place. There’s a reason for the publishing industry’s screams of agony.
However, if you spend a few years as friends with a popular star writer, you can’t help but experience some change in perspective.
Kim Byul had come to embrace literature.
It started as reading homework to study the movies and , but now she had gained enough expertise to be called someone who reads books.
In terms of interest rather than expertise, it can be said that Kim Byul had reached the point where, in the absence of a script to study due to page-by-page shooting, she would take out a book instead of blankly staring at her smartphone.
Such a Kim Byul could now read much more from a book.
She had become a trained reader.
Some people say that literature is the art of eternity. As long as books, paper, and internet files remain, it is the art of continuous records.
But Moon In’s thoughts seemed a bit different.
Moon In’s novels aim for the art of the moment.
As the saying goes, ‘The only word to describe a book is its title’, he creates art that can only be explained by the title of the book itself.
Kim Byul continued her arduous reading to savor the aesthetics of that moment.
The sinner longing for the bluebird heads towards the girl from his childhood. His heart is not confident. He worries that the girl, who tried to keep him human until the end, might fear the murderer he has become.
But that worry is short-lived. The moment he sees the girl from afar, the sinner experiences extreme joy as if he were forgiven. The girl, who loved animals, had become a teacher who taught people.
Hesitating briefly, fearing he might taint her eyes that still held the purity of childhood, the girl recognized the boy fatefully.
That reunion was not fateful.
The two who met again after more than a decade were too different. It was impossible to face each other with open hearts like in their childhood.
But it was the same even in childhood. The reason they bonded was because they acknowledged each other’s differences, not because they were alike from the beginning.
Walking the path they once walked again was not difficult. They opened their hearts to each other once more. But the boy agonizes over whether he, a sinner, deserves such happiness.
So one day, the boy pleads with the girl. To please forgive him.
Of course, the girl has no right to forgive the boy. Both of them know that.
But the girl willingly forgives the boy. The boy feels the joy of true salvation.
And the two bodies intertwine…
Kim Byul’s concentration was momentarily broken due to an overly detailed description. Like a meerkat, she looked around cautiously, then covered her slightly reddened face with the book and continued reading.
It didn’t take long for her expression to turn serious again.
Because the fact that the girl was dating a murderer was revealed by someone.
The girl, who was teaching children, lost everything in an instant.
The highly emotional judgment of strangers, who sent the poor boy to a juvenile detention center instead of prison came rushing back.
People in reality trying to protect their children from a teacher who’s involved with a murderer, people in the system where sacrificing one makes things easier, people behind anonymity who have found a toy they can break.
In the bullying of a scale that individuals could not bear, the sinner wandered. His past sin, like a shackle, tied him up and sealed his mouth. No matter where he went, no one forgave him.
Thus, the girl hanged herself, and the boy lost his second bluebird.
And then, Jonathan’s sister approached and confessed.
Behind all these incidents was me, and this is my rightful revenge and—
– This is the fair punishment you deserve.
Her words were like a sentence.
But what could that sentence mean?
– How is it, are you still grateful?
The bluebird was trampled again, and a pain whiter and more cruel than red washed over me once more.
The blue stream of salvation that the girl had given me drained out through my eyes, leaving only darkness within them.
I closed my eyes and looked up at the sky. But there was no one to blame there. Only darkness, and more darkness.
But in the darkness, I could see through the darkness, and things that were invisible outside the darkness finally came into my view.
There was none from the beginning.
Sin and judgment are false illusions created arbitrarily by those who rule this world. They absolve the child who killed to become righteous themselves and judge the innocent who didn’t commit murder as if they were murderers to feign justice.
Bullying is like fish in a tank eating their own kind in an aquarium. There was never any need to attach ridiculous excuses like sin or judgment to it.
It is our instinct to torment others simply because we are hungry, bored, want to trample others and rise above them, or want peace of mind. There was never a standard to distinguish humans from animals from the beginning. I finally realized this.
So, there is no need to talk about ridiculous reasons like judgment, forgiveness, or revenge.
I decided to bully someone to relieve this pain.
Because this is our true nature.
I lifted one of the decorative statues lining the mansion’s hallway and struck Jonathan’s sister, who sneered at me with cold eyes until the very end.
I struck her down, struck her again, and struck her once more.
I struck her until it was impossible to tell if she was human or animal.
She and I smiled at each other until the very end.
This was my second murder.”