A Wish to Grab Happiness

- They're here.

The first voice thrown at the crowd of dove rats was that word with no context.

Behind the audience, Wood, who turned himself down to hide, trembles his thick lips. My sister Cereal was holding that slightly shaken left hand.

Slums at night are terribly dark. The sky is anointed in black, only the whorehouse becomes busy, and the lights leaking out of Gallu Amalia are closed to the wall.

Most humans usually fall asleep. To a cheer that sounds better than inside the wall, blocking my ears.

Today, however, things are a little different than usual. The square in front of the ancient tavern, where giant trees sit like symbols. On the spot, one brilliant fire was lit.

Fire powder jumps, illuminating his appearance in the dark.

"Come on, I don't know where you talked from. Actually, I didn't think much about it, so I'm sorry to gather it."

Standing in front of a large crowd, illuminated by fire, yet without great tension, he shrugs his shoulders.

Rugis and he named himself Green.

An unusual human being who, for his apparent youth, sometimes shows old age, sometimes purity. That's how you wanted to make a deal with Wood and Cereal, the person you hung on to.

Wood knows what he's after, what it's about. He said he was going to change the slums. He said he was going to repaint that wall with a different color.

That's why I gathered so many people today. As long as Wood's face is wise, from young to old, no man or woman is involved.

At all, Wood's legs, running around the slums for a long time, were going to be sticks so his thoughts could work.

But I know the result.

Unclogged faces of everyone gathered. Faces like I'm not interested.

They're not here to hear the story, it's like a bug gathered in something bright. They just told me to come, 'cause there's fire, it's just me. It doesn't make sense there. Wood was the one who understood that very well.

Wood grips his hand slightly harder. Cereal startled her body for a moment, but she was just staring at this face wondering if it didn't hurt. His eyes narrow as he relaxes his cheeks to reassure his sister.

Expectations and disappointment are mixed together. For Wood, Rugis is the benefactor of his sister's life. For this reason, I want to do whatever I can.

But I'm sure, nothing will change.

If anything changes with every word. If my cowardice scratches off like a pale mist and my sister's throat plays the tone again, I can't be happier.

But there's no way. That can't happen. Wood's eyes lay down so that his eyelids closed slightly and his gaze shifted away from Rugis.

"... I know what you're saying. That wall, let's drop it. Let's talk all the time."

The old man, who cut his beard and hair with a huge stretch, no longer had a beard from where, and how far his hair was, so hairy that he did not know it, made a fine voice.

That's what they call elders. Here, just living for a long time is at a glance. Because many of them don't even know if they can live tomorrow.

Rugis nods slowly at the words of the elder. You're right, you know exactly what I mean.

"I can't do that... that wall, when Noon came here, I've been doing that since I was a hungry ghost. Besides, what can you do when you gather them together?"

Its fine voice often crosses into the quiet darkness.

Wood's ears, too, held the word in their arms. Yeah, I suppose you're right. I wonder what I can do. All we do is get trampled.

Yeah, even I did. Wood bites his teeth off. Still, when the sight of that time crosses the back of my brain, I can't sleep at night.

I wonder if it was even with the youthful, the self who had gathered the youth of the slums and conceited the Admiral. All in all, I thought even that wall would be in my own hands. I thought I could do that.

But the reality is different. They held my sister hostage, betrayed me by those who thought I was one of them, and this body let the guard squirt a distorted sound every time he beat me. I couldn't even make a busy rebellion.

I guess I should have died then. If so, he died bravely. But it didn't. This wasteful, sturdy body didn't allow it. There's nothing left to be done.

So, what's left is Coward Wood. I can't even save my sister from losing her voice, she's just shivering in the tavern.

"I see you're right. Me too, I think. Whatever. I feel like I'm blurring out the script."

Rugis spoke, as if to take kindly the words with the thorns of the elders.

That doesn't seem like the word of someone who seems to give a speech or try to rock people. Terribly mediocre and in light condition.

"What do you say, Grandpa? Daily life is. With the grace of heaven, I think I can live."

The topic, too, is not a big deal. It's like an extension of a public discourse. The elder, with his suspicious eyes, works out the words.

"Oh, I can live. You can rub your head on the ground, but you can't live here. So, No-ra, this is it."

The words were packed with everything. Of the slums, everything. It's all right now. I can live. I don't want to suffer. I don't want my body tightened any more.

If you just want to feel miserable, if you just want to bend over, that's fine. No matter how unjust, no matter how unreasonable, no matter how stupid it is to live.

The silence of the audience follows the words of the elders. In the dark, it was awful, quiet. I don't want to hurt anybody anymore.

"... oh, I know very well. I know what you're talking about, Grandpa. There's nothing left, no dignity, no struggle. It was all trampled down. Yes, it has always been."

Strange, caged words of reality. Rugis' lips are closed. Is this the end of it? Oh, I guess so. I just have to end up. Long or short, the results are the same. Then it better be over soon.

It was when Wood stepped forward, trying to keep it open, trying to tell him so.

"Well, precisely, when it comes to the last thing left..."

"- Whatever you think, I can't. It's still faster to flip through heaven and earth."

Break up the words you were working out in your head in a variance and spit them out with a sigh.

Ann, that's how I asked the two fialerts to pre-plant it. It's just a small job, but I thought it would be better than no.

But before that. As the front seat, I have to set up a lot of space. With this tongue. But if that's what you can do, then hardship doesn't exist in the world, and I'm sure I'll live easier.

I'm the kind of person who's managed to live with this little worker.

We have to speak with dignity in front of us about what happened. Pulse a person's heart and squeeze tears out of his eyeballs. You can leave that stuff to the bard.

This was Arueno's specialty. I can make people talk and listen and keep their audience excited while I stand on the same gaze.

Oh, not only do I admire the fold of my former journey, it's a big deal, but even more so now regret covers my brain that I should have observed it carefully.

They're like me, the slum dwellers. I am apathetic, I have no power to dwell on and resist the notion of giving up. You can't possibly do that, such as convince someone to do that.

Yes, just like I was once.

No, wait.

Second, a shadow passed in my head. Noisy, catchy stuff.

- If that's impossible, why am I here now?

Sure, they were a living copy of me once.

But isn't this how I stand here? That shadow, that shadow word that once sent me into this age, inspired me?

Once upon a time, pick up the words spoken to him, from memory.

None of this, none of this seems like a big deal. It was strange indeed, and there was an atmosphere that attracted some attention. But why not? Why did I, over there, take his hand?

When I say it's about me, I can't think of a solution. Whether you try to wash your memories from end to end or ask yourself once, you don't understand.

'That's not going to bother you, is it?

Softly, try to sneak in. There's another shadow in the back of my brain. Black, the look of it.

It's as if the shadow you once told yourself is reproduced in your head. You said it was once a long time ago, but it sounds strange. I accidentally found myself impressed with my imagination.

If only this shadow had persuaded the slum dwellers to come out of the corner.

'Whoa, don't think you can count on me or something. My words are mine. Your words are yours. Not something you can borrow!

Naturally, it appears in my brain, but the shadow whispers as if it sees through the idea.

Yeah, that's right. If I borrow your word and everything is going to work out, I have nothing to worry about.

Stupid, unintentionally dry grin on the dimension in one's brain. Pretty much, they're cornered.

"Besides, it's not a good idea for us to lend too much to people, who are just idols. So there's only one thing I can tell you - why you're so excited to be standing here right now.

The shadow rushes around his head in exasperation, as always.

But I see, if you do, maybe you know. Nobody, Teng himself brought me here. If you're the one who inspired me.

Let me hear it. Now it would be false, but anything is good. I need a little hang-up.

When I say it's a play in my head, my breathing gets smaller so I don't overhear wonders and voices.

"That's it, yeah, that's it -"

"Precisely, when it comes to the last thing that's left - just enough hatred to turn back, right?

In silence, not a serene voice like before, but a voice that disturbs your chest. Its side lit by fire grins with its cheeks up.

An old man looking out for Rugis, as if he were stunned. Wood, and Cereal, had also failed to understand the meaning of the word.

Hate, hate, resent heart. That's why they're coming out.

The flames scatter the firepowder and burn up heavily. The shadow of Rugis stretched out into distortion.

"No, that's fine, Grandpa. That's fine if you want to be a good man. Even if one of my villages, Galuamaria, strikes me down, or at its feet at its end, it's perfectly fine if you can live without one hatred. A big saint."

He seemed to hear his spine tremble.

My hair on my neck stands upside down and my throat accidentally swallows my spit. Of course the elders, the gathered audience, everyone in the group of dove rats pushes exhalation to death.

Oh, don't. Don't tell me what's ahead. I don't want to hear it. The audience's eyes tell me they don't want to hear it.

"Sure, you heard there was a beautiful fishing village near here. We catch fish in the morning, we serve liquor at night, and although we are not rich, we are not poor either. That was a good day - now that it's going to be a port for a deal, they've crushed it. Absolutely. Anyway, that's what God wants."

Feels like you can stroke the depths of your chest with your fingernails. Nobody wants to touch me. Nobody wants to remember. Memories covered in darkness. Rugis' words curl up the edge of that dark screen.

The shaking flames and their shadows mirrored one human being in the dark, fantastically.

"- Oh, gentlemen. Think back, though. What's Behind Humiliated Lives in the Present Conundrum"

Again, the voice color changes.

It's not a stirring voice, like earlier. It's not such a crude voice, forcing your hand to the bottom of your chest. Rather somewhere, a talking voice. The language is neat.

Rugis' eyes match Wood, who is carrying a large tree in the square. From Wood's heel, feelings seemed to crawl up close to awe. It rushes around the whole body quickly and stops the heart for a moment.

"Yes, it's good to think back. Who deprived you of your dignity, deprived you of the right to live in the glow of the sun, who made the surrounding villages a wasteland for you to gain weight? - It's all residents of the walls."

So Rugis spread his hands and raised his face to point at the wall.

That's not loud. But a voice that sneaks from the bottom of the earth. One indisputable emotion, hatred, colors the words.

The audience all looked at the wall behind them, as if they were a herd of controlled dove rats, so that they could be attached to Rugis with their hands spread out.

What has ever separated us from our citizens. Something that can't be transcended forever. A symbol of glory, the Great Wall of Galuamaria.

"Oh, they took everything. From me, from you. I can't say much more about taking them back. There is only one thing to tell. Just one."

As if the fiercely burning momentum had moved on to the voice of Rugis.

The flame spreads through the firepowder, little by little, propagating. Something viscous in people's chests, crawling up from its depths, was opening its eyes.

"- Let's give everything back to the ashes. For what they took, we'll take it from them too. If the Catholic Church they speak of wants the equality of souls, let them drag them down to the earth equally."

That's not a word of persuasion. It is not a word for understanding. Correct, emotional runoff.

His unstoppable heart of hatred. Endless determination of vengeance. They move on to the words and blend into the darkness.

Wood's eyes, wide open, sway. My thirst was strangely thirsty. Holding his brother's hand, Cereal blinks his eyes at the sweat falling from his forehead.

There is no power in that word. There's no way you can shake the audience, the slum dwellers. Not if that's just the word of one young man. If there's anything in the word, it's just one emotion.

"... but, uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Slightly, the elder leaked the word. It's like leaking a whimper while being squashed in the pressurized air.

"Oh, look. Listen to your ears."

The voice is something to talk about. Slowly, with his hands on the old man's shoulder, Rugis said.

- They're here.

In a quiet darkness, nature and everyone concentrated everything solely on those ears.

I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear it. Until now, I've been pretending not to see it. I've been pretending not to ask. I thought that would be good. No swarms of dove rats, no wood, no cereal.

Inside the walls, day and night are bright. That's a testament to a trading city. During the day the merchants hover around, and during the night the rich play luxuriously on their goods. That way again, the money turns to the city.

Men's voices, women's voices, young people's voices, old people's voices. Their laughter crawls out the wall. Like celebrating the prosperity of a city. Like saying that everything in this world is happy.