43 – lower bound

A shabby monastery where he was taken as part of volunteer work during his time at the academy.

There was something that a blind man, a veteran of the military, whom I took care of there, used to say.

Even if you can’t see, you can talk and walk like this.

There are some unfortunate people in the world who can’t even do that the way they want, so they say that they are still happy people.

Even if I tried to blurt it out, I could vividly remember in which part my voice rose because he spoke so hard that a scab sat in my ear.

The nuns praised him as a person with a future-oriented mindset, which is rare these days, and my classmates often quoted his anecdote whenever they pointed out my pessimistic temperament in everything.

In the monastery, Ajae’s positive outlook was quite famous.

However, at the time, I never thought that the old man seemed to be as bright and enterprising as others say.

That would be too.

Avoiding the eyes of the caregivers, drinking the stolen alcohol every night until it became a joke, and holding on to me.

Because Ajae’s ugliness, who constantly complained about how many more people were more unfortunate than himself in this world, was the epitome of a man who fell into a pit of despair.

From the persecuted heterogeneous tribes, to those born with physical disabilities, to orphans who lost their parents in an accident of injustice.

It’s like a person hanging from a cliff trying to grab everything they can get their hands on.

They are the pitiful beings who need someone’s help, and it is them, not themselves, who deserve sympathy.

I still vaguely remember feeling an indescribable, desperate thought from my father, who was eloquent and eloquent, standing up to the blood in his blind eyes.

Although it was only a brief relationship that passed by, the writing that the blind man left in my life memoir was quite large.

Because I learned from him.

The fact that there is someone more unfortunate than myself, that the place I am stepping on right now is not the lowest, that I can feel the lower limit and be relieved.

It can also be a good refuge that allows you to turn away from your own pathetic feelings.

It was from that time. The reason I started making regular donations to an orphanage I don’t know the name of.

Of course, it wasn’t because the heart of kindness to look down on others suddenly springs up, but it was closer to the sympathy of handing rice to a stray cat.

An action that stemmed from a petty sane consciousness of wanting to look down at the being with its head bowed at my feet.

Now that I think about it, it was a really childish thought, and it was just an embarrassing past that I would like to erase from my memory if I could.

At the academy where I entered with a lot of dreams and hopes, I couldn’t achieve anything because of my humble status, and I was just wasting my time.

It was then that they came into my sight.

Two little siblings abandoned by their parents.

I heard that they couldn’t find a suitable guardian because of the younger brother’s chronic illness and the older sister’s rough temperament.

It felt quite interesting to be regarded as a nuisance in the orphanage because the sister’s side refused to accept any guardianship unless it was with the younger brother.

The face of the orphanage director, who must have been suffering from headaches while holding his head, was clearly visible.

Because I too was born and raised in an orphanage in this life. The poor and difficult situation was pictured in my head.

Raising children is expensive.

Seasonal clothes and various daily necessities. Ingredients to be eaten every day on tableware and chairs. From textbooks for education to miscellaneous medicines.

Their cause of collecting and raising homeless children may be truly wonderful, but unfortunately, the cause does not pay.

That’s why the existence of a guardian who puts money into such a cause is indispensable in an orphanage.

Fortunately, at the time when I was in the middle of attending the academy, I didn’t have enough financial leeway, so it overflowed.

It was a small amount of money to feed two children in a small orphanage, and it was the amount that I could get free of charge if I gave a few farts to the children of the aristocrats who scurried around me.

It was certainly around that time that I realized that I had a talent for flattering the strong.

When I first expressed my intention to become a guardian in writing, I had only two requests from the orphanage.

First, never tell your children who you are.

Second, have the children send me a letter reporting their photos and current status every month.

When I first reported the story in writing, I felt clearly from their replies that my request was being regarded with considerable suspicion.

Apparently they didn’t want to miss the golden opportunity to get rid of the trouble, they readily agreed to my request before long.

The only thing I hid my identity was because I thought it would be more fun.

The reason they asked for the letter and photo was because they wanted to see in real time how their lives were getting better because of me, because of my help, and thanks to me.

With the sense of buying two chicks for 500 won in front of the school, I became their guardian.

I remember the first time I received a picture of the children and the letter that I did not want to do, so I inadvertently laughed out loud.

When I first received that letter with a frown on my face and a crooked handwriting, I was excited thinking that I wouldn’t be bored for a while.

For about 4 years like that, I remitted donations to them steadily, and received letters and photos every month.

No, not consistently.

Occasionally, on days when I wasn’t feeling well, I only remitted part of the amount I had originally promised, or delayed the remittance date, and I enjoyed the reactions of those who didn’t know what to do.

Because it was a relationship that stemmed from trivial curiosity and compassion, not pure goodwill.

To me, they are the pitiful weaklings who allay my feelings of inferiority. A fish in a tank that soothes boredom. It was nothing more and nothing less.

like that.

My sister was 11 years old and my younger brother was just 9 years old.

The poor writing skills and poor writing were still the same, but the rebellious writing style had noticeably become more compliant, and at some point in the accompanying photos, laughter was always in full bloom.

They asked me if they didn’t reply to the letter, that they were curious about my name, that they wanted to see my face, and that they couldn’t come and visit me on their birthday.

Sending letters every few days, saying that it was enough to send once a month, was a bit embarrassing.

However, at the time, I had a golden opportunity to reverse my frivolous life at once, so I couldn’t afford to listen to their voices, no, I didn’t even have the will to do so.

It was around that time that my holy power began to manifest.

Although, the possibility was still unknown, according to the priest who diagnosed my potential.

Even if you can’t do it, you should be able to demonstrate your holy power about 10 times a day.

I also said that during the period when the body gets used to the holy power, as long as it doesn’t get involved with bad curses, it is certain that it will be able to use miracles of the same type as the number of times.

cried out for joy

The eyes of discrimination and hatred that have been received so far are intoxicated with the thrill of the color reversed to respect and envy in an instant.

I was fascinated by that ecstatic sense of superiority that naturally soared up even when I no longer had to lower my head and look down at the floor.

Before long, I started to sort out the parts I no longer needed, one by one.

And, just in time, a small item that had recently become increasingly annoying came into view.

After all, if I hadn’t helped them, they wouldn’t be alive today.

I also became independent from an orphanage at around that age.

‘Cause now I’m big enough

‘Cause I’ve done enough

Using such a disgusting excuse as a cause, I inadvertently severed the connection with them, like throwing away a toy I had grown tired of.

So, about a year later, after going through various complicated procedures, by the time I was proudly recognized as a formal priest by the Holy See.

The memory of them in my head had long since faded to the point where I couldn’t even recognize their shape.

It was nothing special.

Because to me at the time, they were just beings that didn’t become that much.

so that.

Even when I heard the pitiful story that a brother and sister living in an orphanage with a somewhat familiar name in a small village where I stopped by as part of a priestly class were dying from a curse and pestilence, I only expressed regret on the outside.

Until right before I saw the faces of those two people, I couldn’t remember their names.

No, tangled clothes and a body stained black. Scruffy hair. Maybe it was because I didn’t want to acknowledge them as the people I knew, whose bodies were so weakened that it wouldn’t be strange if they died at any time, as their bodies rotted away from curses and pestilence.

”Looking at the state of the curse, it’s already gone. Level 1 priests should be able to heal without any problems, but if a newcomer like us touches it rashly, it will only reduce the holy power? All we can do now is pray for the rest of those children. Probably, in the next three to five days…”

The voice of the senior, who toured the nearby villages in turn, telling me point by point about the types of patients who should not be treated recklessly when I was a newbie, gradually became hoarse.

The brother and sister whom the senior pointed out as a bad example were being stoned by the village children.

No, to be precise, her older sister stretched out both arms to protect her younger brother who was being stoned.

Even though the left side of his face and half of his body were dyed black due to plague and curses.

”go away! go away! Go away! You plague gods!”

”You motherfuckers! I warned you I wouldn’t let you go if I harassed my brother one more time!”

”wow! Even to parents! A mojil who was abandoned even by his guardian knows how to talk! Ayu! Amazing~!”

”Who’s been abandoned twice! Won’t you shut up!? It’s just that I can’t contact you because I have an urgent matter for a while! I also sent letters every day! He’ll come here soon with the priests who will heal me and my brother!”

”Noo, sister…”

My memory from him is quite vague.

However, when I listened to the senior who was with me at the time, he said that he was staring intently at the child, who was crying out a tearful protest that he had not been abandoned, with cloudy eyes that seemed to have no light.

It is said that he did not respond to the advice of his senior not to think nonsense, and went one step ahead of the dorm with trudging steps.

I still feel sorry for the senior who worried about me back then.

When I woke up, I had already sneaked into the room where the children were isolated late at night, and I was reciting prayers fervently, as if possessed by something, with my hand on the sleeping child.

Was it because of guilt? Or, was it because of the confidence that I could do it without any problems?

There is no answer sheet in a person’s mind, so I don’t know why I did that day.

However, the moment I put my hand on it, the child’s body temperature was colder than the cold ground, and the fact that he was constantly muttering ‘I’m sorry’ like a broken doll even though he was engrossed in prayer is still in my dreams. I remember it vividly enough.

And, by the time the boy’s healing was almost finished.

”Get those filthy hands off my brother right now! This is a cub to kill this! ‘

I was able to recall my cowardly choice of not being able to face those straight eyes looking straight in this direction, as if it had happened just yesterday.