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❛ The Traveller and His Galaxy. ❜
1:17 PM September 2021 HYOSAN HIGH SCHOOL
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MOON JI-HUN found his legs carrying the weight of both his body and the weight of his soul. More his soul than his body.
His soul was a vast musical score, and written within the bars were jumbled chords. Its dissonance played an anthem to his troublesome life, not once, was there peace, not once was there a rest- there was no double bar to indicate the finale of the music his soul created.
His soul played the chords: C minor, D minor, E minor, F minor, G minor, A minor and B minor . . . if they were played together, they could either create inharmoniousness, or a hauntingly beauteous piece. It all depended on what Moon Ji-hun was experiencing, and since his soul was constantly devoured by guilt from the past, the music his soul produced was harrowing.
Moon Ji-hun feared the day that guilt would consume his soul entirely.
He recalled that day, Wednesday 5th July 2017. The day he heard Jeong Areum's mellow voice echo through the call for the last time. She said she could get home herself. That she would be home. 'I'll be home,' she said.
Moon Ji-hun believed her.
But she didn't come home.
Moon Ji-hun felt the guilt gnaw away at him.
The appetite of guilt is all so boundless. It encases you within jaws of it, and its chainsaw teeth erodes your skin, scorching each tissue until it reaches your ivory bones. You swim around within your 'tarnished' blood, its tongue wraps around your helpless neck as you swish into the depths of its stomach. Its stomach acid penetrates your senses, drenching and drowning you within its damaging stages. Guilt is biased, and it will always choose itself. Thus, when it's done with you, it really isn't. You're left with the fragments of your agonised soul. It's not the sight of yourself that reminds you of your guilt, but the experience.
