83 CHILDREN OF WRONGDOINGS

Everyone except Beren was being taken out of their cells for free labor wherever it was required in the hall. This action lessened one's prison time by a little, so everyone was willing to participate irrespective of their injuries. If Beren was a year older, then he, too, would have partaken. Whether or not he would have gone was an entirely different thing, though.

Thanks to a senior trainee who got assigned to tag alongside Lirzod, he was allowed to enter the wooden cell after Hundred secretly handed the trainee a few coins. Beren was perplexed by what Lirzod was up to, but he pretended as if he wasn't bothered by another person's presence.

"I've asked you more than ten times, but you didn't even respond to my questions while I was outside," Lirzod said, trying to appear calm and collected. "Now, I'm standing inside. Is there any change of heart?"

"You don't belong in this cell as I do. So get out," Beren quickly said and went silent again, not making any eye contact.

Lirzod smiled a little and replied, "You too don't belong here if you ask me." He went and sat about a meter away from Beren. The wood under his bum felt soft, which made him subconsciously wonder just how long it would take to soften wood from sitting alone. "If you want to hear the Song of the Ship or whatever it is, then wasting time in this cell wouldn't do you any good either. Just tell me your problem, and I'll see what I can do."

Beren stayed silent, with his face hidden from view.

"Hey, don't be like that," Lirzod's voice wasn't caring, but it was friendly enough. "You are too young to rely on yourself for things like this. Just give me something to work on. Is Big Nick your father? If so, what did he do? If not…" he paused for a moment, "what did he do?"

Hundred, who was on the outside, shook his head and muttered under his breath, "He's asking sensible questions so insensibly. When it comes to information-gathering skills, this must be the worst I've seen in a while. We will get nowhere at this rate."

"C'mon, kid," Lirzod urged a little. "I can't do much if you stay silent."

Beren still didn't reply.

"For crying out loud, say something, dammit!" Lirzod suddenly barked, alarming everyone around him, including Hundred and Beren. "How am I supposed to help you if you don't even cooperate a bit?"

"I never asked for your help," Beren yelled in response. "I don't want your help! Or God's! Just leave me alone, uncle," he curled himself into the corner and began to cry silently. "Nobody helped my mom when she was still alive." His voice wasn't loud anymore, but it was sad. "Everyone she ever trusted ended up betraying her. There was never a day or night she didn't pray to God, but what did God do to her in the end? He gave her a miserable death with no one but a stupid son to cry for her. God is one of the three pricks I'll never forgive and forget."

Hundred and the other two trainees outside the cell were quite surprised by hearing Beren's words, for even though he wasn't screaming, there was still so much rage and resentment in his tongue.

"So Big Nick is your father then?" one of the trainees asked, albeit curiously.

"Big Nick isn't my father," Beren snarled. "He abandoned my mom. He's nothing but trash!"

"U-Uncle?" Lirzod pressed his lips and touched one of the bars of the cell, and the bar was covered with some dew, which puzzled him. "Dew?" the hall was relatively hot only until minutes ago, but now after most of the trainees left the hall, the temperature fell quickly. Though it made him lose his concentration, he cleared his throat and said, "I'm sorry for your loss. I truly am." He waited for a bit, but there was no response, so he continued speaking, "Spiritual stuff was taught in my school, but discussing it isn't really my thing because it generally doesn't get us anywhere. I only ever talked about it with one person the most. However, I can tell you one thing: you can cry all you want, but you can't do anything to God from inside a cell."

Beren raised his head and glanced at Lirzod, wearing a contemptuous look on his face, "Hmph, why should I go out of this cell? You are talking as if you know God exists somewhere outside for certain." He gritted his teeth. "All that's left of my mom now is ash. If you know where God is, then tell me, I'll throw the ash in his face." He frowned until his face gained a bit of redness, "But… I know that's not possible because there's probably nothing after death—nothing but ashes."

"W-Well, I don't want to pretend to know what I don't, especially in a sensitive topic like this," Lirzod took a glimpse at him and replied with caution, "but I just have a gut feeling that tells me there's something after death. Something more than just ashes and dirt. Otherwise, life and death serve no purpose, don't you think?"

"If there's something after death, where's the proof?" Beren barked, getting more and more impatient by the second.

"Proof?" Lirzod quietly scratched the back of his head. (I knew this would get problematic. I don't want to get into a controversy with a kid, but… he's the one asking questions, so I guess, it's okay.) He softened his voice a bit and assuredly said, "Well, as proof, if you can call it that, we both are talking right now because of our parents who owed their lives to our grandparents who owed it to their parents, and the chain goes on to the first man and woman, but then how did those two come to be? I'm sure countless people searched for an answer to this same question, but I think the answer that almost everyone eventually ends up at is… not ashes and dirt—but God." Seeing that Beren was hooked to his speech, Lirzod took a short, quick breath. "Some believe he is the beginning of beginnings, whereas some believe he doesn't even exist, and then there are those who don't want him to exist. In all cases, belief is involved because no one has yet proved or disproved God's existence. Now I don't know who or what God is and whether he exists or not, but he has become the answer to our questions that cannot be answered otherwise. For instance, which is first? Egg or Chicken?"

Beren was a little surprised, but he didn't know what to say. Was the egg first? Or, was it the chicken? It seemed simple but then also hard at the same time. He eventually put his lower lip above his upper lip as he slightly shook his head.

"Well, the answer is, whichever that God has created first," Lirzod spoke with certainty. "These sorts of question-and-answers give us a basis for indirect proof of his existence." Saying that he grinned all by himself, but Beren didn't look satisfied.

"Hmph, what does a chicken have to do with God?"

"We are talking about God here," Lirzod raised his voice a little. "From the popular belief passed down through history, he's the creator of all creation, and everything happens according to his will."

"If God puts his fingers in everything, doesn't that mean God is everything?"

"That—I don't think so. Because if that's the case, I'd be God. You'd be God. Your crap would be God." Lirzod shut his nose briefly. "Even the cell we're in, which didn't exist before, would be God. Now, this cell maker didn't shapeshift into this cell, did he? He just created this thing and then just chilled. Just like how this cell-maker is living his life elsewhere, God, too, is living somewhere and is probably watching us all right now. Just like how the cell is serving its purpose, we will be serving ours, and that doesn't mean the cell maker hates this cell, or God hates us. It's just that, without the cell-maker, the existence of this cell has no meaning; and without God, life has little value. The death of one or a million will just be two of a kind. And our lives will have no meaning, in which case it doesn't matter whether one died a good man or not. That's why I believe God exists; that he is the essence of holiness and that he has no darkness in him, or he'll be no different from us. So coming back to your question, God isn't everything, but he's probably the origin of everything good, and so in my opinion, he'll likely be a being who can't be challenged because no love will be larger than him, no giant bigger, no power greater, and no fear better, for he is the one who's above all things. Nothing will be impossible or out of reach from his hands. He needs not a thing, yet he holds all creation in conjunction. All these fundamental things about him are pretty much self-evident truths. You got it?"

"I got it." Beren lightly clenched his fists. In others' eyes, his mother's life had little value, but to him, his mother's life was worth more man the world. "However, that means we don't know where God is, assuming that he exists."

"Well, didn't Godrick say that God is like our breath, without which we can't last? So, doesn't that mean he's here with us now, allowing us to breathe?"

"Who's Godrick?" Beren queried.

"Uh, never mind. Let me give you another example then." Lirzod pondered for a while and said, "Whenever someone asked the retired priest in my town where God is… actually, you don't have to ask him because he always nags at others saying, 'God will live in you if you love him and let him guide you.' He doesn't say anything else, but I believe that the priest's point was, wherever God is, he'll be always in your reach when you need him and seek his help."

"He's always in reach?" Beren looked doubtful and perplexed. He earnestly wanted to meet God for more than one reason. "Like Seal Service?"

"Well, it's complicated stuff, so common sense is the best tool to comprehend these types of subjects. Our lives can end at any moment, but we all do many selfish things every day and yet get to sleep and wake up again and again, always feeling entitled to life because God let us be ourselves, you know. However, what good is a child that doesn't respect his parents? What good is a creation that doesn't respect its creator? Not much. So you can't think of God as a customer or a slave that you can shape as per your needs, you know. That's why I don't speak lightly of God or be flippant about death."

"O-Okay." Beren's head moved back a bit, a bead of sweat sliding down his chin. "I get it that you hold God in high regard, like my mom, but… you didn't give me any proof of his existence yet."

"Ah… I'm coming to that," Lirzod said and pondered for a bit. "To be frank, I don't have solid proof or anything, but I can give you some sense. I think we just have to see the world and all the creation that exists and have to ask ourselves 'can any creation exist without a creator?' Some things speak for themselves." Lirzod pointed at the spider crawling on the web at the top right corner of the cell. "There are a great number of spiders that grow up without parents, but they still end up building webs that look the exact same way as their parents, even though they all have different personalities. Why is that?

"Where do those spiders get their instincts from? Where do we get our instincts from? Where does our intellect come from? Where does the basis for all our thoughts and emotions come from? What about our intuitions? Why do we intrinsically feel in a certain way toward certain things? Why do we all have unique thumbprints, even the twins? And last but not least—why do we all die? No one in the world knows what happens next minute, yet some people plan for their whole lives. Why is that? Isn't it because death has fooled us well into thinking we're entitled to living, even though it dances right in front of our faces all the time, and yet none of us know the time, date, or place we pass away? Who gave death such power and authority? Who gives us hope against such an enemy?" A fly just got caught in the web, and the spider was at work. "Someone has to. Someone who can carefully create complex beings like us and the complex world that we live in. Someone we can't see but know for sure exists, just like death, just like love and the multitude of other emotions we can't see but only feel."

Beren still looked not-so-convinced and also confused. "What's the guarantee that what you're saying is right?"

"Guarantee? No one can give you that other than God. Ahem," Lirzod cleared his throat and put his fingers under his chin. "Let me give you another instance. There is a limit to how much weight you can lift, or I can lift, or a chicken can lift, but the one who doesn't have that limit would be, God, who's also most likely the only perfect existence that's worthy of deciding what is what, whether something's right or wrong. Without an existence like that, everyone will be right in their own eyes. And in that case, I wouldn't be here talking to you right now because it wouldn't have mattered to you. I can't prove God's existence. No one can prove his existence unless God himself wills it. You can get angry at God all you want for what he did to your mother, but then again, who created your mother? If God didn't, then your mother's life or any life for that matter is worth the same as their ashes. However, that's clearly not the case. No one can replace your mother because she's more than just dirt; she's a unique soul. No one can hug, kiss, and comfort you like her."

Beren's mouth was downturned greatly, and his eyes turned wet.

"I know it's hard to digest," Lirzod continued in a soft voice, "but it's always good to believe that there's a reason for everything that happens in the world. That at least helps keep your conscience clear. So, if there's no God, every person you know, everything that exists will have no reason at all for their existence, including you and me. Then it wouldn't matter how we've lived or even how many days we've lived. Nothing matters. But if there's God, then everything matters. And the world we live in reflects the latter, don't you think? Generally, those who do great things get rewarded, but those who commit crimes get punished. Nothing in nature happens for naught, whether it be the crowing of the roosters in the mornings or the hooting of owls in the nights, even the lines ants make that we carelessly step on so often. We all know what happened yesterday in our lives, but none of us know what happens tomorrow. Clearly, there is a rooted order among all living and breathing things. Why?" Lirzod wiggled his brows but got no response. "Because it was all meant to be. It doesn't make much sense otherwise, at least to me." Though he was tempted to bring up the topic of heaven and hell, he chose not to, for he didn't want to frighten Beren.

Beren stayed silent for a moment before responding, "You said God is the only perfect existence... By that you mean, we are not perfect?"

"Well, how can billions of people be perfect when they can have different opinions over one issue?" Lirzod shrugged his shoulders, "Why would you end up in a cell if you think what you did was right? My mother doesn't like me eating nuts all the time, but I eat them anyway. So, who do you think is correct? I, or my mother?" he asked.

Beren had no answer.

"She says that every addiction is an imperfection. So it gets strenuous to agree with her at times," Lirzod pouted a little bit. "That said, I stopped eating nuts in front of her so that she'd be at least a little happier about it. That is me trying to perfect myself in that issue. And I'm still trying. I would love, or maybe not, to stop eating nuts. It's still a hard thing for me to decide, and that makes me imperfect, no? Just because I feel something's right, that doesn't make it right. And I'm positive that everyone faces these types of issues all the time. When things go wrong, most of us tend to blame others before we even blame ourselves for our wrongdoings as if they're the reason for all of our imperfections. If we are okay with blaming people for some things, then we can also be okay with asking their help for some things. Maybe that's why I'm here, trying to help you."

Beren pressed his lips, still seeming to be in two minds.

Lirzod resumed his speech, "My father used to say, "As the poor and mere mortals that we are, our strengths may differ in quantity or quality but not to an illimitable extent, so we need to take each other's help, and above all, God's help to survive and strive to be as perfect and good as we can.' I once asked him why we need God's help the most when we can't even see him, and then he made me farm," he said and helplessly smiled a bit. "And I soon came to know that if the clouds don't visit as they should, either there'll be less water, fewer snails, less plant growth, and less everything, or there'll be excess water, and the crops get washed away. So unless the clouds tour upon our heads normally every season, you can never get a good yield. And even after harvesting, no one knows when is the right time to sell. All things considered, agriculture, the backbone of the world economy, is so dependent on rains that just the thought of no one controlling the clouds seemed bizarre and scary even. How can lifeless objects drifting in the sky decide the fate of humans unless there's a higher being at work? I understood what my little brain could in just a few years of farming, and that helped me understand why people pray to God because there are plenty of things in life that we can't ever fully control."

"But do we really need God's help? Being mortal isn't that bad," Beren tilted his head down. "We need not have to go through suffering for so long."

Lirzod was a little startled. "My point isn't about being mortal or immortal. It's about facing your fears and having the attitude to change yourself for the better. How many people do you think die every night in their sleep?" asked Lirzod to which he didn't receive any answer because that was how Beren's mother had passed away. "Some consider dying during sleep as a good thing, but if you ask me, they just don't have a better answer because they're all scared of facing death, the biggest and the worst criminal in the world, for it devours hundreds of thousands of lives every day. Clearly, it is everyone's enemy. That five-letter word 'death' terrifies most mortals, and while they do their darndest to not die, they still feel miserable to even talk about it because they're weak, lacking, and imperfect. That's why they need help. That's why people need friends."

Beren remembered his best friend, and he felt conflicted at the moment for leaving her side.

"As a mortal, if you can do something alone, that's good," Lirzod continued. "Otherwise, receiving help will do good for you. Some works in the world demand teamwork, and I think it's a good thing, or else everyone will be on their own, and even if you become immortal, everyone else around you that you'll come to love will perish right before your eyes. So, whether one's immortal or not doesn't really matter, because we all swing between hero and victim every day until we don't. Some take ten days to change themselves, but for some, even ten years won't be enough, so I believe, whether you live the life of a mortal or an immortal doesn't change who you are. That's why most immortals of the past became history because either they weren't helped or they didn't seek out help."

"Why don't they ask for help even when they know they might die?" Beren looked confused.

"Well, it's plausibly because of their ego. Pride, you know, is a problematic thing," Lirzod remembered a memory of his childhood, when he asked his mother, Valli, why she rarely ever used a mirror unlike most other women, she replied, 'Because it puts me before everything else.' Though he didn't quite understand those words back then, now he was beginning to grasp things better.

"But if God exists, why doesn't he take care of pride? Why doesn't he show himself to us? If he wants to help us, then he has to show himself, right? And how can we even care about him if we can't see him?"

"Ah, that takes us right back to your main question…" Lirzod paused for a bit. "How many times have you breathed since birth?"

"So many times. Why?"

"Have you ever seen one of those breaths?"

"What? Seeing?" Beren shook his head. "None."

"We can't see our breaths, or keep track of them for long. We worry about our hair falling even though we don't know them by number. We take many things for granted. As if that isn't enough, some even want to take God for granted." He smirked. "You see… we can't even get the audience of earthly kings unless we work our butts off for their kingdoms, yet we want God to show up for a simple cry. If that isn't ignorance and pride blinding your eyes, I don't know what else it is. God doesn't have to come directly to help us, you know. And even if he did, would you believe him? I could say that I've come here to help you because God willed it, but I can't give you a solid proof, so you use your common sense, which you can't see, to decide whether you should believe any word I say or not. In the same way, if you want to, you can believe in God, whether you can see him or not, or you can choose not to."

"But…" Beren hesitantly asked. "If God is all-powerful, shouldn't he help those in need? Otherwise, how can he be good?"

"Well, I don't have an answer for that, but I can say this much: Whom God helps or not is his concern, so don't fool yourself by expecting miracles to happen in your life because you've prayed for ten or twenty hours every day," Lirzod put his hand on Beren's shoulder. "Instead, try to live your life working well and doing good things, then God may make sure your life won't be a burden you can't bear, even the old age where you go bald, blind, and your teeth start to fall out, and you don't even like to look at yourself in the mirror, assuming you were able to get out of the bed, and knowing that all those things are taking you closer and closer to death."

A second of silence passed.

"All in all, Beren…" their eyes met. "I don't know for sure if God exists or not, but without him, the world we live in makes little to no sense. Furthermore, we may never find the truth of many things in this world, starting with its origin."

Beren took a few seconds to process everything, or at least as much as he could. Lirzod's words touched his heart because he was incapable of lifting his mother's body after she had died, and tears welled up in his eyes. "I don't get why a perfect God would kill my mother," he lifted his head and looked straight in Lirzod's eyes once again. "Why didn't he save my mom? Why did he even make her sick in the first place? She never put a foot wrong. Why did he put her through hell, and why did he give her a child with these eyes? How does he expect someone with these stupid eyes to see the world when all they see is ridicule!" Beren ground his teeth. "He even took away the only one who never laughed at what I'm born with! One after another, bad things keep happening just to me. All this for what?"

Lirzod took his hand off Beren's shoulder, and it seemed as if he was reminiscing his past. "I don't know why God didn't help your mom. You'll have to ask him yourself if you meet him one day." He let out a long sigh. "But if you ask me, I can only say that—just like how we have our way of doing things, he has his way of doing things, and how he goes about disciplining his children as our parents do us. Sometimes he may throw flowers in our way, and sometimes he may throw thorns. Regardless, his ways are superior to ours."

"Superior? How can you say that after seeing how my life turned out?" Beren's eyes turned teary.

Lirzod pressed his lips together for a bit and said, "You asked why bad things keep happening only to you, right? Well, then let me ask you this, did you ever smile in your life?"

Beren lately responded with a nod.

"Was there ever a happy day in your life till now?"

"Of course." He nodded. "More than once."

"Then, during those happy days, did you ever ask God why he repeatedly makes you happy?"

"That's…" Beren had no answer.

Lirzod exhaled audibly. "I already told you, didn't I? We tend to blame others when things don't go our way. And God isn't an exception from our blaming either. In fact, most people view God's grace through the depth of a man's pockets," Lirzod briefly remembered Allda, who was the wealthiest man of his clan, and he always tried to get more power and status than the three clan heads. "They love to blame God for their hardships but totally forget all the times they were happy and the nights they've peacefully slept through. When we can take joy for granted, why can't we think of sorrow as the same? It's ironic how God comes to our minds when we get sick, and then we deny his existence because suffering exists in the world. I wonder how much more subtle and specious we can get."

Beren's face lost more color.

"I'm not blaming you," Lirzod softened his voice even more, "but just telling you that life offers more than one taste. Some days are sweet; some are sour, and some taste like no other. So the sooner you realize that any taste may come your way any number of times in a day and then make the best of everything that comes your way, the longer you'll live like a king." He took in a breath through the mouth. "Anyway, I feel like I'm acting donnish like Duera and a bit too persuasive, so I'll stop here." He stood and put his hands in his pockets. "About your eyes though… Everybody I've met till now has all sorts of imperfections; some of which can't even be perfected. Since you're 'born' with uncommon eyes, you shouldn't feel guilty. How should I say this…" he pondered for a while. "Yeah. Not all trees grow straight. Some bend in all sorts of shapes, and yet people find them pretty, don't they? If others laugh at your eyes, then something's wrong with their eyes. Just let them laugh till their throats go dry, and then give them saltwater[1]," Lirzod said, laughing aloud, shocking the three people outside the hall. "But seriously, you can just prove them wrong by showing how special your eyes are, right?"

"S-Special?" Beren, who was getting angry, suddenly found himself losing it.

"Yeah," Lirzod bent and looked at him closely, "one eye is looking east, and the other is looking west. You can cover two directions at once. Not many can do that, you know. It's pretty convenient if you ask me."

Beren's face lost all of its glow almost instantly.

Hundred's face warped into a warthog. "Lirzod, just come out of that cell! What in the world are you spouting?" He hurriedly entered the cell and pulled Lirzod outside. "Did that monk give you some mind-degrading pill or something?"

" What?" Lirzod glanced at Beren as if he was doing nothing wrong and replied in a low voice, "We planned to make him talk. It's working beautifully, so why are you interfering?"

"Beautifully?" Stress marks appeared on Hundred's face. "Only your hair was on fleek throughout the conversation. If I hadn't interfered, he might have added you to his never forgive-and-forget list!"

"He surely wouldn't have!" Lirzod said with confidence and folded his arms.

"Really? Just look at his face." They both looked at Beren. "He looks like he's guarding the gates of the underworld."

"U-Uh," Lirzod had to nod because Beren was currently glaring at him. "I can't tell whom he's looking at, but he's definitely pissed off. How do you think we should proceed now?"

"By giving him some time."

"Oh, how many seconds."

Hundred narrowed his eyes and stressed his word, "Hours."

"What? We can't stay here that long."

"Whose fault do you think it is?" Hundred felt the urge to pinch Lirzod, but he somehow held himself back. "Let's jettison this plan and come back when we have a better one."

"Chillax," Lirzod patted Hundred's chest twice. "I didn't know that he held a grudge against God. Now, see how I handle him. Just watch," Lirzod walked back to Beren, who now stood, and looked straight in Lirzod's eyes.

"Why did you come back?" Beren spoke through his teeth. "To mock me some more? You've said enough. You know nothing about what you are saying." He slammed his cupped fist against the rod, and he felt a tightness in his chest. "Rather than live a lonely life, I'll die and meet my mother."

"Look, Beren…" Lirzod brought his face closer and lowered his voice. "What happened has happened. I don't even know you to say kind words about you or your mother. Nothing I say may heal your heart, or even make you feel better. I know that, but let me ask you one thing. Is this what your mother would have wanted for you?"

Beren, who was fuming at Lirzod and was angry at himself, suddenly found the tension in his body leaving.

"I'm sure no mother loves to see her son behind bars much less wish their children would accompany them to the afterlife," Lirzod said and stood straight. "You went through hard times, but most do at some point in their lives, and some will have it worse than you. All of your sufferings are not found only in you, so don't let them define you. Don't let your emotions dictate your choices. It won't be easy." He briefly paused, but his gaze was set on Beren. "I, too, have the bad habit of finding faults in others when things don't go my way. When I think about it now, it feels silly of me to find faults in my friends, not for their sake, but only to make myself feel better. But what can I say, some habits sure are hard to be freed from." He couldn't help but rub his jaw as he remembered Everna. "I ruined some good relationships in childhood with that attitude and have been trying to correct them ever since. If not for my folks pointing out my faults and disciplining me and inculcating some good habits in me, I would've probably grown up into a clueless character who can't endure crap. I wouldn't have known that people are more than their imperfections."

Beren stayed silent, but his eyes were kept on Lirzod.

"Be it worries or wonders… all affairs in life arise as we allow them. I don't need to know why you are inside this cell." He put his hand on Beren's head and rubbed a little, "I just hope it's not too late for you to correct your wrongdoings." He turned around and started to walk away, with a bit of worry in his eyes. "It's good to be a child, but it's not good to die as a child. Just look around with love, and surely, you'll find something worth living for, be it the Song of the Ship, or a smile on the face of someone you love."

Beren's eyes broadened. He held the bars, and hurriedly asked, "Y-You believe in the Song of the Ship?"

"When I find it, I'll let you hear it," Lirzod replied and gave a thumbs up without looking back.

Tears covered Beren's eyes, and he just watched as Lirzod and Hundred left the cell and began to walk away. "I-I'm not going to die," he said aloud.

Lirzod didn't turn back. He smiled and waved his hand a little.

The two guards, though, subtly shook their heads and looked at one another and smiled and murmured the same words: Stupid little children.

Hundred, however, looked pleasantly surprised and felt a warmth feeling flood through his heart. After they walked a few steps, he asked, "You've turned it around as you've said, but you are not going to pursue him anymore? He might listen to you now, you know."

Lirzod faintly smiled. "He may listen, but I have nothing else to say."

"Oh, okay. Let's hope God will somehow bring the kid out of the cell soon."

"You believe in God?" Lirzod cast a slightly curious glance at him.

"Well…" Hundred paused for a long while. "Not until I got treed by a bear, and then ended up pleading with God all the way out of the woods."

"Pfft! Hahaha," Lirzod and Hundred laughed together.

"I may be laughing now, but I definitely wasn't laughing back then," said Hundred.

"I can understand," said Lirzod, his face still glowing. "Anway, let's go to the chamber of chefs. You know where it is, right?"

"Um, yes… I think I do."

Meanwhile, in the Foster Hall.

The walls and the ceiling were all filled with large holes that looked like the mouths of sculpted wooden beasts from where the food and other items would be tunneled through.

Around three hundred people were scattered throughout, and Burton was among them.

A gray-haired man with a long beard was seated behind the desk at the entrance of the treasury, a room within the hall. Many men constantly chatted with him for various reasons, for he was the overman of the hall.

"Not only is this a second-hand cudgel, but also this is a regular one," the overman was currently bargaining with a client. "For a Glum Grade weapon of this level, I can give seven copper at best."

"Eh? Only seven pieces? I was expecting at least forty."

"Forty? Stop living on clouds, lowlife," the overman indifferently said.

"B-But, it's so light for its size," the client used all the neurons in his brain. "I thought it might be of nimborens."

"No, it's not," the overman, however, wasn't buying any of it. "This cudgel's head doesn't even have a design. It's a plain old regular cudgel made by someone just like yourself."

"U-Uh, fine. How about for eight pieces?"

"Seven," the overman placed the seven copper coins on the desk beside him. "Take it or leave."

The client just took the seven coins and left the cudgel on the desk while murmuring to himself. "I hope some better weapons will be dropped next time. Even a second-hand hammer-sword of the dwarves would get me ten times more coin."

Another man rushed to the overman, "Sir, how much for that cudgel?"

"Ten pieces of copper," the overman confidently said.

"Sir, I can afford eight pieces. You can take this knife, too."

After a glance, the overman snorted, "Hmph, that rusty knife costs as much the hair on my ass. Don't try to fool me. I've been working here longer than you were in your mother's womb. That's a Faulty Grade weapon you're holding right there." He then said aloud, "Ten pieces. Take it or leave."

"S-Sorry, sir," the man frowned and then put ten copper coins on the table before taking the cudgel.

"Be patient, and you'll get rewarded," the overman said, lifting that man's spirit a bit.

"Yes, sir."

Burton, meanwhile, was observing everything that was happening, sitting by the wall all by himself.

"So instead of trading items with each other, everyone preferred to trade with that overman to get acquainted with him. It's probably because he has a lot of items to offer, all stored in that room behind him. If the items go unsold for long, they'll probably be sent back for another drop. In the end, they are profiting off the items they drop straightforwardly, yet no one dares to complain. A scary stratagem, indeed. But…" He narrowed his eyes a little. "That's not all."

Burton kept looking around. After the previous drop, many people left the hall, but still, a significant amount of souls remained. Though Burton grabbed a bag full of fruits, he lost them right after he left the hall. On the twelfth deck, people were allowed to enter the foster hall only in the span of one hour every day. It was usually the hour following the item drop. If anyone wished to enter the hall in the coming days before the next drop, they had to enter during that one hour window. Because of that time limit, Burton entered the hall right away; however, he didn't feel right about what he was doing all this while, and it took him all these hours to get his head around the events happening inside the hall.

He stood and exercised his shoulders as he walked up to the overman.

"Are you here to buy or sell?" the overman asked in a neutral tone.

Burton placed a card that had the picture of food and items drawn over it on the desk.

"So you want to leave the hall," the overman stared at Burton a bit intently. "Are you sure?" He stretched his words. "The next drop may come at any moment."

A corner of Burton's mouth curled up a little. "Your gray hair... Is it there from birth, or did you get it after taking this job?"

"Hm?" the overman raised his brows, "Why do you ask?"

"A job that takes pleasure in wasting others' time…" Burton put his hands in his pockets, "it must really suck."

The overman's eyes broadened, and he sat straight. "Y-You, what nonsense are you blabbering about?"

"Thank you for teaching me an important lesson," Burton said and began to depart.

The overman frowned and stood. "W-Wait," he looked around and approached Burton before speaking in a low tone, "how did you realize that?"

Burton glanced at the overman, "If you let me choose one item from your store, I'll tell you."

"What?" the overman frowned and blurted out, "There are so many valuable weapons, heartening stones, good skill books, and first-hand crux ware and exrex ware in there. I can't let you choose just anything you want."

"Then, so be it," Burton began to walk away.

The overman ground his teeth. "Wait!" he ran up to Burton, and his tone turned defensive. "You can choose from among the low-tier Mere Grade weapons."

Burton kept staring at him with a not-so-pleased look.

"O-Okay," the overman bit his lower lip. "Mid-tier Mere Grade weapons. But that's it. I can't afford a higher quality one."

"I don't want weapons," Burton stated.

"Ah? If you are eyeing on exrex-ware, that's even more out of the question," he waved his hand in defiance.

"I'll take a look at the skill books," Burton coolly said.

"Oh, skills ah," the overman's body loosened up, and a smile surfaced on his visage. He put his arm around Burton's shoulder, "Then you can pick from the first-echelon skills."

"First echelon?" Burton lowered his brows. "I'm hoping for skills that are ninth-echelon or higher."

"N-N-Ninth echelon?" the overman's jaw dropped. He lifted his hand off Burton and gauged him from top to bottom. "You look too young and too soft of a character to be capable of learning such high-level skills. Are you looking to get yourself crippled or what?"

"Just tell me this!" Burton snapped. "Do you have skill books of that level or not?"

"N-No," the overman backed away a bit, "of course not, and I don't think skills of that level are dropped anywhere on this tenth belt." He forced out a businesslike smile. "Even if they exist, do you think anyone would be willing to give you such skills so easily? Capable people definitely won't."

"That's too bad," Burton dropped his shoulder and let out an audible breath. "I guess I'll take a look at those heartening stones then."

"A-Ah, you surely can," the overman said and silently smiled on the inside. (All the stones I have are tiny and are worth much less than one gold. If the information he gives is of help, this won't be a bad deal at all, but if he sees the stones, he might be disappointed. I must get the information before that.) "Ahem, can you tell me that information now?"

"First, let me pick a stone," Burton said bluntly.

"You don't believe in my words?" the overman feigned assurance. "My tongue is a token of troth."

Burton paused for a moment and said, "Your tongue is a token of troth, huh. But I'm sure those famous words were said by Derxes?"

"Haha, I've been seen through," the overman rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. "But still, if there's anyone who has the right to doubt, that's me." There was no hesitation in his words. "I have a job here. You think I'd risk losing it by giving false promises and gaining a bad reputation? I don't."

"Fine," Burton nodded.

"Great," he felt proud of himself at the time, but he didn't show it on his face. "Now, tell me, how did you find out that it's my job to keep people inside the hall?"

"To begin with, your face loses color when people are leaving the hall," Burton said, startling the overman, "but as if that's not enough, you persuade people into staying in the hall. Though it's not obvious, with some focus, it can be seen. You're clearly not new to this job, but you must be going through some personal problems, so you're finding it hard to control your emotions these days. Do you want more?"

The overman's face lost color quite a bit. "T-There are more?"

"I've just scratched the surface," Burton casually replied. "If you double the reward, I'll leak two more errors."

"Just how many did you find out?" the overman frustratingly accepted his loss. (Even though he hasn't been here for even a day, he saw through everything.) He grinned and pulled Burton's cheeks, startling him. "For someone who looks like a chocolate boy, you rose all the hairs on my body. Looks can be deceiving indeed."

"I could say the same about this hall," Burton stopped him before his cheeks any more redness. "Looks aren't everything."

"I give up." The overman let out the laughter of defeat and gestured for Burton to enter the storeroom, which was also a treasury. After Burton went past the dark-red curtain that had a golden wheel symbol painted on it, the overman followed him, looking lost in thought. (I've been living on this ship for well over three years, but until I took this job, I've never realized that what this hall stands for is invisible to the eyes, and how it wastes people's time graciously and at the same time hard-heartedly. Only a few people ever realize the truth behind this hall. I guess I was lucky to take this job.) He smiled a little. (I wonder when more people will start noticing this. Considering the past, though, until—) After going inside the treasury, his eyes looked at the board mounted on the wall, and a few words were written on it: Idleness is the mother of all vices. (If there's a board outside this hall that says similar things, I doubt that there'll be much change. Most may still continue to stay ignorant and suffer the consequences without themselves knowing.)

Burton, on the other hand, was slightly impressed by how neatly and compactly all the items were laid out so that the minimum amount of space was wasted. "Not bad…"

"Haha, you surely jest," he patted Burton's shoulder from behind. "Not everyone can enter this place, so consider yourself lucky."

..........

[1] Saltwater: In this context, saltwater can mean two things. It can be thought of as holy water that can heal a person's eyes, or it can simply be thought of as a distasteful drink that itches the throat. So Lirzod was killing two birds with one stone.