Étude of Humanity

Chapter Fifteen

The Tale of Princess Kaguya, also known as The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter. It's an old Japanese folklore-kind of tale that back then, mama would have it as my bedtime story at night for a brief period of time until the whole story finished. Fortunately, I still remember it vividly through mama's words.

It was the tale of an old bamboo cutter who one day, found himself a princess-like baby the size of his thumb whilst cutting some bamboo. We'll call this princess "Little Bamboo." She grew quite quickly for such a human—from a toddler to a full-grown lady. Alongside the old man's findings while cutting bamboo were gold, which resulted in them moving from the countryside to a huge mansion in the capital, and most importantly, the benefit and nobility of a princess.

Little Bamboo was like the shining light of their family, a miracle bestowed from the heavens. She was an instant learner, a fully knowledgeable woman, an icon of beauty with a beautiful voice, but behind all of that was a flair of sharing laughter, sarcasm, and happiness—thus giving her the name "Kaguya" meaning shining light.

Princess Kaguya was a woman all you could've asked for, but she refused to be taught to be like a noble princess, marry a prince, and fully harness the wealth they had. She instead leaned to her mother's lifestyle which was more what felt like "home" to her; living in a simple house by their mansion, weaving, farming—all of the nostalgic countryside life they were accustomed to back then.

...

Well, Sayre just thought of bringing that up because I dunno—it just reminds me of well... Me! You knowie that feeling when seeing a character in a book or movie that's like you is kind of refreshing? Like, if you're a nerd in real life then you found a nerdy girl in a movie, doesn't that just intrigues you a bit about yourself?

Anywho, that's just Sayre springing out nonsensical brain candy.

"Show me."

Mr. Killer, sitting beside me that night, scoured over a big pouch on his waist pockets, only to show me that white slip.

"Well Aquamarine, if you have nowhere else to go, I can totally give your life a second chance!"

I took the slip from his hand.

"What's this?"

"Silly, that's where you're going to next—a new life in a new house in a new country! You'll sure find it refreshing to live somewhere else, aye? New beginnings? Ah, boss and I got it covered for 'ya."

"But wait, I haven't—"

Mr. Killer suddenly stood up, hands in his pockets, and interrupted my speech, "Well, that's for you to decide Aquamarine. It's up to you if you want to take that or not. If not then fine—you can decide to live the following days here without your poor parents. That puny little slip I gave you can live whether or not you'll take it, unlike you who can't live without. Oh well, chap-chap, baby cakes~!"

Why did Mr. Killer compare me to this slip?

"Wait—"

There he went, completely ignoring me while walking away with his hand waving half-heartedly above, leaving me on the bench that's barely lit up by a warm lamp post on that horrendous evening. Sayre was trembling by myself on the bench, looking intently at the slip he gave me that night.

And that's how that whole evening went. Basically, I got home not too late at night then immediately went to bed.

Speaking of a "second chance in life" thingamajigg he was all talking about, Sayre already knew that it was all a euphemism emanating from his words. It was a simple yet convoluted marketing-like tactic. A deception. Basically, it's false advertising. Sayre very well knows that Mr. Killer won't disclose "the catch" at the end of this deal he's talking about, but my mind is too blurry to pinpoint it at my head what's his association or organization he's truly talking about—not to mention the trauma that just hit me timed right. You could call that a disadvantage of knowing everything—it's just akin to finding a specific book in The Library of Babel; it would take a millennia to find it.