Promise (2)
A scene quickly passed through my mind.
It was a memory of a leisurely moment, sitting quietly in a classroom, listening to the lecture of an elderly professor at the podium while turning the pages of my textbook with one hand.
As the pages caught between my fingers flipped over, the blurred ink of the old printed edition flowed into lines of text.
I read the paragraph.
<프로타고니스트 (Protagonist) is a term derived from classical Greek. Early theatre took the form of solo performances, and the protagonist refers to the first actor. In other words, the protagonist is the main dynamic character on that stage, the leading figure.>
As I read the lines, the professor's pronunciation naturally flowed into my ears, mixing with his clear voice, and the memory continued.
[The protagonist, in other words, 'the main character,' is different from a simple lead role. Regardless of the story or how diverse and three-dimensional the characters may be, the driving force of the narrative—the protagonist as both an observer and an actor—is unique.]
What was I thinking as I listened to that?
[Every description, every background object, from extras to supporting roles and the lead, is arranged around the protagonist. Isn't that a tremendous power?]
[The audience experiences the world constructed through the narrative built for the protagonist, both directly and indirectly. They embark on a journey alongside the protagonist through the anticipated hardships and trials, and the brief joys and victories that follow.]
[Oh, and remember that this joy should be brief. Long and complete happiness should only exist at the beginning and end of the play or should not be shown at all and never handed out in the first place.]
[Thus, the audience immerses themselves in the world through the protagonist's perspective and recognizes the subject through his eyes.]
[The subjects he cherishes are depicted affectionately, while those he despises are portrayed with disdain, and the way he perceives the world determines how the audience views the world within the play.]
[That is exactly—]
[Special Ability:
Suddenly, a bright light poured down from above. The dazzling spotlight, like the light of a guardian angel, was firmly shining on Leonardo's head, directing its glow towards me, away from the protagonist, Leonardo.
I ponder a certain phrase.
The protagonist is the subject observed by the audience on stage. At the same time, he is the first filter through which the audience views and understands the world constructed through the story on stage. He is sometimes both an actor and a narrator. And now, Leonardo is pouring all his gaze and narrative onto "me," lifting me up in an instant.
The pouring silver light of the spotlight was intensely piercing. Beneath that intense silver glow and the all-seeing eyes of the audience, it felt as if even my mask would melt away.
[The stage requires information about you.]
In this moment, he is an ignorant being. He does not know what he is doing, nor can he see the array of messages floating in the air. However, apart from his ignorance, he is the focal point of the world, and his mere longing can sway the stage.
[Forcibly accessing temporarily designated information.]
Role – Unassigned Role_Anonymous Supporting Character (Temporary)
An information window where the settlement has not yet been completed. The meaningless words follow one after another, essentially making it no different from having nothing written at all. While I stared blankly at the strings of text, letters began to form in succession.
[At the request, the stage wishes to interpret you.][Error! Insufficient information about the subject.]
"I'm not a great namer, so I think I'll need some hints. But I want to give you a name that suits you. Can you give me that chance?"
[I'm curious about you.]
That was an extension of the conversation we hadn't fully unraveled last time. I hesitated before answering.
"I might be a more trivial person than you think."
Because he is the protagonist and my means of survival, I've been deliberately playing the role of a suspicious and ambiguous person in front of Leonardo. And yet, he always dragged me along as I was. But beneath the mask, I'm not someone with hidden agendas or dark intentions, nor am I anything grand like a divine messenger.
Can I be sure he won't be disappointed when the inflated version of myself deflates and reveals the reality?
Leonardo's expression remained unchanged.
"Well, I don't think so. And even if you are ordinary, isn't it a source of joy in finding out even those trivial things? Now that the opportunity has come, I find myself more curious about those little things… although it might sound strange."
"For example?"
He slightly lowered his gaze and began to recite smoothly without any hesitation.
"When did you start the habit of biting your lips when you are lost in thought? When did the small scar on your knee appear? And why do you say it feels cool every time you wash with hot water…?"
They were really trivial things, more so than I expected. I didn't even know why I was curious about them.
"Hmm, I don't know when I started that habit either. The scar is from when I fell as a child… Wait, how do you know I say it feels cool every time I get in hot water?"
"The walls of the inn were thin."
"Hey."
"Sorry."
So, questions led to more questions, and he skipped over the ones I found difficult to answer, filling the space with small, seemingly meaningless inquiries. As that back-and-forth piled up, it gradually grew in size.
"When I couldn't cook much, there were only a few areas where I could try to become someone more useful…"
It was something I had never fully explained, nor did I need to explain, about the day I suddenly fell into this world. Thus, the blank space that kept me an outsider began to be described, simply because Leonardo was curious about it and hoped to know.
"Did you have a name from the beginning?"
"No… I had one, but I forgot it."
It felt like something was rising from the floor. The sensation of reality and existence, which had grown thin in this strange and isolated world, was quite unfamiliar.
At some point, we returned to the wagon and began to talk slowly again, forgetting the presence of the lurking monsters that couldn't come closer and were hesitating. Just forgetting everything.
Seeing that no attacks were continuing, perhaps the main writer and the assistant writers were holding them back. Otherwise, it would be hard for such quiet and static peace to be granted in an epic tale of heroes.
Sitting side by side in the narrow, shabby remains of the broken wagon and letting time flow felt oddly reassuring. Simple and peaceful. Without the worry of being reduced to ashes or disappearing.
"You said you came here for me. What was life like before coming here? I only heard it was a wandering life."
"It was like that when I was young. But after becoming an adult, it wasn't so bad. I didn't have much luck, though."
"…Luck."
"Yeah. Luck didn't favour me."
Leonardo slowly blinked. After a brief silence, he opened his mouth.
"I didn't have a name either back then."
I quietly listened to his words.
"I've been wandering the streets since I can remember, and without anyone to call me, I didn't have a name. After my hometown was trampled by a horde of monsters, I left that place and followed a passing mercenary group, working as a labourer."
It was the first time Leovald had shared his childhood story directly.
"Not all mercenary groups last long, so I had to move from one to another."
He didn't elaborate much on the hardships of that time, but I imagined how much pain was hidden between the lines he left out. As I absentmindedly rubbed the scar on his cheek, he tilted his head towards me, as if accustomed to the gesture.
"There was a commonality between the time I followed the mercenary group and when I lived on the streets. They didn't bother to give a name to orphans like me who were mere labourers. Our lives were expendable, easily lost at any moment."
"Then what about the name Leovald…?"
"It was given to me by Archbishop Butier and other priests of the church when the fame of a hero began to build. They named me after an old saint, claiming it represented bravery. But there was a chance I could have had a name even before that… though I've never spoken it aloud."
What followed was a story about one of the mercenary groups Leonardo had previously been a part of. He began to share how they often used bait tactics when capturing wary monsters.
"They always assigned the role of bait to the fastest and youngest kid. When bait was needed, they would choose a child and feed him meat stew for a week, calling him 'Isaac.' It's the name of a sacrificial offering mentioned in the scriptures, torn apart alive."
"…That's twisted."
He nodded slightly in agreement before continuing.
"Then the day came when I was to become 'Isaac.' I couldn't resist. It was winter, and food was hard to come by, but that was the first time I had enough to eat. On the promised day, at dawn, I was thrown out as bait to the monster's den."
But he didn't die.
"As time passed, there were no monsters chasing me. I wandered through the forest until daybreak, and when I returned to where the mercenaries had set up camp, it was all in ruins."
"What happened?"
"It seemed the head monster of that mountain range hadn't finished hunting before going into hibernation."
The head monster, awakened from its slumber due to hunger. The monsters that hadn't gone into hibernation felt this disturbance and were busy keeping their distance, making that night eerily quiet in the mountain range—except for one.
"The head monster looking for food have…"
"…discovered the mercenary group."
"Exactly."
With its stomach growling, the gathering of humans must have looked like a prepared feast for the creature. It needed to stock up on calories again to fall asleep.
"The mercenary group was completely annihilated, and there were no survivors. I survived because I was alone as 'Isaac,' and I soon joined a wandering mercenary group after leaving the forest."
In a way, misfortune turned into luck.
"To me, that name was good fortune."
He whispered quietly.
"Although it was much later that I finally got a proper name, 'Isaac' has always been special to me. There was a time, albeit briefly, when I was called that."
Leonardo tilted his head.
"And if you need good fortune…"
[The stage is ready to name you.]
[Notice:
[The caster's unique authority corresponds to the author's authority. The request will be granted.]
"I want to give you that name."
[I name you.]
"Isaac."