#Side Story 35. Trampled fate, blooming flower (9)
* * *
What is the standard by which an individual can distinguish himself from others and define himself?
It’s not just the body.
Even if they were born with the same body, twins are completely different people.
The soul is ambiguous.
Because it is impossible even for God to define what a soul is in the first place.
So what about memory?
If someone had all of their memories from birth to death, could they be considered someone else?
For example, if you were a reincarnated person who was born in a new body with the same soul and the same memories, you would identify with your current self from your past life.
But what if you only have memories?
What if even the bodies are the same?
What if only the soul is different?
Should we consider it as someone else or as ourselves?
‘My head hurts…’
That’s why.
This moment.
The reason why Limon sighed while looking up at the dark ceiling while lying down on an old structure that resembled a bed rather than a bed.
It wasn’t confusing.
Because his ego was alone.
Before, I was just confused because I thought it was just a dream.
After recognizing that it was a memory of another person, I was able to distinguish it more clearly.
It was a very fortunate thing.
If his ego had been mixed, it would have been difficult for him to distinguish which of the parallel world and the original memories were his.
…Just like I said to Anastasia when I inadvertently misunderstood the contents of her dream.
‘Asha, that guy treats his husband like a dementia patient.’
When I told him to live the way he wanted to, I never would have guessed that that was what he meant by wanting to take care of himself every day.
I chuckled for a moment, thinking that I would have to scold him when I got back.
Limon sighed again.
They say there is no problem with ego, but that’s it.
Because I had been handed over hundreds of years worth of memories, I couldn’t avoid the fatigue that felt like I had read thousands of books in one go.
Honestly, I remember this.
He didn’t want to take it.
Even if you say you are in a parallel world.
They were different beings after all.
The only benefit of receiving memories is that you have more jokes to use when drinking.
There were a ton of shortcomings, from fatigue to the risk of your ego being shaken.
Nevertheless, there is one reason why he accepted the memory instead of rejecting it.
Because I couldn’t watch it.
A poor woman who lost everything and despaired.
A foolish man left with nothing but regret and regret.
Also as her teacher.
Even as a man like him.
…It was ironic that accepting that memory ultimately made her cry again.
‘I don’t know if it’ll be okay.’
Limon made a bitter expression.
Joan of Arc sobbed for hours until the sky fell in her arms.
Even though she had conveyed ‘his’ words, she, who had already left everything behind and was ready to die, might have changed her mind just because of this.
Because the result was unknown.
In that sense, it might have been too irresponsible to leave her alone.
But he didn’t bother to watch her.
Whatever choice she makes.
That’s something to respect.
Things can change if you persuade them.
Because it wasn’t something that could be forced.
…Even if that choice ends in tragedy.
“….”
closing eyes.
Limon thought.
Was he really right?
Was his choice the best?
Although it was ultimately destroyed, of course all of its disciples survived until then.
This parallel world, where everyone worked together to fight against the stars until the end, was a future he could have created if he had truly wished for it.
Just like Joan of Arc did.
Without neglecting his disciples.
If only it were thoroughly regulated and guided.
In that respect, it could be said that the cause that ultimately led to his disciples taking their lives was his own self-indulgence.
but.
nevertheless.
He ends up thinking.
Even if destruction awaits him in the end, he will allow his disciples freedom.
They were his disciples, not tools he created to protect the world.
It was the teaching he inherited from Geomje that he should live as he pleased, even if it meant turning the world against him, rather than giving up his freedom for the greater good.
So when he closed his eyes and collected his thoughts.
“teacher. “Can you excuse me for a moment?”
“…come in.”
quietly.
A voice was heard.
Considering that it was already late in the night, it was unexpected.
Nevertheless, Limon calmly welcomed the visitor, who did not feel unexpected at all.
Squeaking.
Open the old, rusty door.
What came in was a woman with white blonde hair.
Is it because of the Sword Master’s body or because it was washed cleanly?
Limon asked softly to her, who despite crying and wailing so much, looked elegant and neat without any puffiness in her eyes.
“Have you put your mind in order?”
“yes. “If possible, I would like to follow you.”
“As much as you want.”
No matter how long I lived…
or rather, it couldn’t have been easy to put my mind in order as I had waited for him single-mindedly for so many years.
After listening to Joan of Arc’s request, which was unexpectedly calm.
Limon was deeply relieved.
She, who originally intended to die in this world, tries to maintain her life by crossing over to a parallel world.
That alone meant that it was not in vain for him to accept his other memories.
“But before that, I have one favor to ask you.”
“Tell me anything.”
That was why.
The reason he nodded willingly.
I was planning to listen to whatever request Joan of Arc made, as long as it wasn’t something that was truly unreasonable.
But right after that.
Limon fell silent.
Grumbling.
Thin fingers brushing against each other.
The nun’s clothes slowly flow down.
What is clearly revealed is white skin.
It is as smooth as a doe, as ridged as a snow mountain, as narrow as a gourd, but as slender as a jade pillar.
She smiled, revealing her exquisitely beautiful and fascinating naked body, which was clearly visible even in this dark room.
she asked.
“Could you hug me?”
Maybe it’s because of a request I couldn’t have imagined.
Or maybe it’s because of her mesmerizingly beautiful naked body.
Limon looked at her with an indescribable expression, and only after a while did he open his mouth with a sigh.
“…glass. “No matter how much I remember, I am not the teacher you know.”
“Yes, I know that too.”
“Then why…”
“That’s why.”
“….”
“Because his last request was for me to forget him.”
He was so deep and earnest that it could be conveyed to another world, and he was sorry and worried about her until the very end.
Because I know that if I cannot fulfill his longing, he will not be able to rest even in the afterlife and will be sad for eternity.
The woman, who decided to forget him even though her heart was torn apart and in pain, smiled sadly.
“But I myself cannot forget him.”
Everywhere you see when you open your eyes.
In a place you can’t see when you close your eyes.
Memories of being with him come back to me.
No matter how hard I try to forget, I realize the memories of him that cannot be erased and my deep and sad heart.
If things continue like this, I can’t leave.
Even if I leave, I will continue to miss this place, and although I can pretend to be happy, I will never be happy.
-forever.
Because I know that.
She asked sadly.
“So, teacher.”
“….”
“Please help me forget him.”
It’s a trick.
I have his memories.
Even though I have the same body as him.
A being from a completely different world.
But it’s deceptively similar.
If it was Limon, he would be able to erase and overwrite his feelings for him.
So, let yourself fall in love with a new person.
Please let me forget him like that.
Limon, who had been silent when he saw her asking for a favor, only opened his mouth a long time later.
“Do you really want that?”
“…yes.”
“Once you make a choice, there is no going back.”
“That’s what I hope for.”
Hesitantly, as if he never wanted to.
The subject was so sad and heartbreaking that it seemed as if it would collapse at any moment, with a faint smile on its face.
Limone, who had a complicated expression on her face as she gave a completely different answer, closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them.
And then he stood up with a calm face, without any bitterness or regret.
“Then don’t regret it.”
She did not stop him as he approached her and slowly lowered his head.
Just be quiet.
I just closed my eyes.
And so I growled.
Over the nun’s clothes that were on the floor.
The moment even the black veil fell….
Sreuk.
…The lips of the teacher and student overlapped.
* * *
“Tsk.”
Eyelashes fluttering.
A writhing, curved female body.
Each time I slide my fingers along the tattoo on my back.
Every time I kiss your white, slender neck and gently bite your plump skin.
And every time I gently tickle my delicate thighs.
The slender body shaking and shaking the nun’s clothes that were laid out instead of a blanket is so fascinating that it naturally stimulates one’s instincts.
The hot breath that flows intermittently between gently parted pink lips attracts males like a siren’s song.
“Ha ah…”
But he could feel it.
From that twitching white skin.
From a suppressed moan as if embarrassed.
From the delicate hand that held the rosario.
Her fear, rejection, and guilt cannot be hidden no matter how hard she tries to hide it.
And her heart.
He could understand.
Until now, all he had hugged were women who loved him and were therefore happy to spend the night with him.
Even women I spent a night with in the distant past, even if I didn’t take them as brides.
But she was different.
It wasn’t him she loved.
Because hugging a loved one like this in order to forget him or her was in itself a sad act rather than a happy one.
And so was he.
Just as she is a different being to Joan of Arc, Joan of Arc is also a woman he only met a few days ago.
It’s too unfamiliar to love.
Even if it was a different world, hugging a student who was raised and loved by someone else was something that would make one feel guilty.
“Yeah, shit.”
nevertheless.
He didn’t stop.
It wasn’t just because I was asked to.
Another memory of myself that felt like a mere record, like a faded black-and-white photo.
The longing buried inside began to seep out little by little, love and affection, and the warmth naturally lingered in the hands stroking her.
But he was never buried in that feeling.
Rather, he just wanted her more passionately than her soft warmth.
Color her with your own colors.
Erase the other person from your mind.
To make it entirely your own.
―Like a dragon that preys on a beautiful girl.
“teacher…. Eup….”
Through our lips touching.
With tangled tongue movements.
With the heat transmitted to the lower abdomen.
Was it because I instinctively felt his intentions?
He didn’t stop even as he watched her stiffen and tremble as if she was so scared, contrary to the sufficiently heated heat.
He just quietly placed his hand on her hand that was holding the rosary as if praying.
I flinch.
I was a bit agitated for a moment.
When she saw the scar on his hand, her eyes fluttered…
and eventually she released her grip, dropped Rosario, and clasped his hands instead.
As if relieved.
Or as if he was determined.
…or resignedly.
I kissed her again and again as she relaxed her stiff body and relaxed her thighs.
He slightly opened the gap between her white, slender legs and overlapped his body on top of her naturally exposed flower petals.
“Tsk….”
Squeak.
Is it instinct?
Although it has already been moistened.
An unfamiliar heat gradually creeping in.
Her blocked body refuses.
Like a priest who took a vow of lifelong chastity.
Or like a widow who still can’t forget her dead lover.
As if he wasn’t the mate she had been waiting for all this time.
But he didn’t back down.
Gradually, the weight on the body was added.
So, the moment when their bodies overlapped more deeply and her clasped hands gained strength.
Phew!
“Huh…!”
…one flower falls.
On top of the nun’s clothes underneath.
A red flower has bloomed.
