People Aren't Meant to Be Fixed! (4 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 121

To give your life to the earth, fading slowly until you were on the very brink of death, then summoning all your strength to appear before me at the last moment to return my “conscience”—I can’t fathom the feeling that compelled you to do it that way.

What kind of life did you hope I would lead after regaining my conscience?

Was it truly necessary to reclaim my conscience in order to find God’s answer?

Did you return my conscience because you wished me to cherish the bonds around me, like Yong Yong, and live a life of generosity—looking back occasionally and giving to others? Or was it because I needed to become a fully complete human, possessing even “conscience,” to discover the answer to God’s question?

Even if my guess were correct, did you also have to live a life bordering on sacrifice and vanish like Yong Yong?

At least he left behind a rattle imbued with his energy, so I could always sense his trace—but the World Tree did not. It disappeared without leaving even a single memory to hold onto.

Though it cannot be called wrong that, over long ages, it divided itself into thousands of fragments to enrich life on earth, the act of “defying God’s command” could never be deemed good.

Because God shows no mercy to those who disobey His laws.

God, who dwells in the sanctuary beyond Paradise, surely watches over all creation—but if He had ever intended to grant the World Tree another chance, despite its disobedience, He would never have let it wither and die.

Perhaps its placement in the temple was itself divine punishment, and should I someday ask God why He treated the World Tree that way, He’d surely spout some hollow justification about it being an unavoidable choice. Predictable.

A cruel God, who pretends affection and always does His utmost for everything, yet coldly stabs a dagger into any creation daring to step beyond His ordained boundaries.

“I don’t know.”

Meanwhile, finishing my thoughts and turning away from the silent World Tree that offered no reply, I forced my feet to move and passed through the warp. This time, I stepped down calmly from the altar without slipping. Though I was still short, my limbs had grown much longer than in those days, so there was no risk of stumbling again.

Yet with every step, I felt different than usual.

It wasn’t as if I carried heavy weights on my feet, yet something heavy coiled around my ankles, making me feel as if I were about to plummet into some deep abyss. Memories surfaced—of a past life falling into a lake while aboard a boat—and it was far from pleasant.

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