"Even if this world were destroyed, nothing would change." That's what I thought forty years ago.
The world we live in has all kinds of people in it.
Good people, bad people, people who ignore, people who are ignored, and so on.
But to me, everyone is the same.
Someone has a face that seems like a good person, their behavior is also kind, their words are also kind. But that's just a mask that hides the opposite of what they show.
But, there should be people who are the opposite of that person, right? For example, even someone who looks like a villain actually has a good nature. But it turns out that's not the case.
Everyone is good. Everyone is bad. No one knows which side they will reveal. But one thing is certain, in my eyes, they are all hypocrites.
I can't easily believe what people say, including my own parents. When I realized and thought about this, my mind became a bit confused.
There was nothing I could hold on to. No trust. No certainty.
But was I the right person? Of course not.
I myself also realize that I am no different from them. That's why I find it annoying.
Even so, I try to stick to my own principles. If they lie to me, I won't be honest with them either. If they are honest with me, then I will be nice to them.
Is that the right thing? I don't know.
Even after I turned seventeen, that thought hasn't changed. This world is a cruel world. Human nature is scarier than natural disasters. Will it always be like this? I don't know.
That day, after a year of being a high school student, I accidentally saw someone.
The man was sitting on a park bench silently. With a rather empty gaze, who knows what he was looking at. He was wearing all black clothes that looked monotonous. However, his white shoes looked very clean without the slightest dirt in sight.
Who is he? I don't know, should I know?
Every week I always see that man sitting in the same place with the same expression. Although it's not always certain which day he comes, but that face is quite difficult to forget.
Sometimes he would be reading a book, and sometimes he would just close his eyes.
Well, actually he doesn't bother me at all, and I don't bother him either.
Even though I always only glanced at it, for some reason there was something strange.
One day there was a big commotion across the street from the park where he was sitting.
Two people are fighting with each other. They hit and cursed each other.
Some people tried to stop them, and some people just watched and walked away.
I? Of course just looking at it.
There's no point in meddling in other people's affairs. I don't know who's wrong and who should be defended, they could be lying to each other. Just report it to the police and let them take action.
While everyone's eyes were filled with various emotions, the man's jade-green eyes showed nothing at all.
No curiosity, no anger, no concern, nothing.
He just sat there, silently watching. Was he as indifferent as I was? I don't know, it's not for me to judge.
Then that day, another commotion broke out. This time it wasn't a fight.
In front of a bakery near the park, a child was accused of stealing a loaf of bread. The bakery owner caught the child and scolded him. The child could only cry and apologize.
Amidst the crowd, I also watched silently. In truth, the child had only stolen a small piece of bread from the shop, and if you look at it, it wouldn't have caused much harm to the shop owner.
Stealing is wrong. But should a child who looked to be around six years old have to receive such a horrific beating?
Yes, humans are selfish creatures. They just want what they want. I'm no exception.
But this is going too far. Will that man remain silent now?
As the thought crossed my mind, I was a little taken aback. Why should I look to someone else to make a decision?
Just as I decided to help the boy, I saw him.
The man, dressed all in black, with jade-green eyes and a cold face, was standing there. Just as the shop owner was about to hit the boy again, the man stopped him.
He held his hand.
His face looked remarkably calm amidst the tension. The shop owner was furious.
"What are you doing?!"
"There's no need to beat him like that." Even the man's voice sounded cold yet calm.
"What does that have to do with you?!" The bakery owner was still angry.
"How much did he steal?" The man said in a calm voice.
"No matter how much he stole, he still stole!"
"I know that, but is this treatment worth it?"
"That's none of your business! He stole my shop's goods! Not yours, and you don't know anything!"
"Because I don't know that, that's why I'm asking, how much did he steal?"
Even though the shop owner continued to shout, the man continued speaking calmly.
If I were in that man's position, I might have hit the shop owner back.
Hearing this, the bakery owner was a little confused about how to react.
"So what? Are you going to pay?!"
Actually, from my perspective, the bakery owner was just looking for an excuse to continue beating the boy. He was annoyed that the man had interrupted his venting.
"Tell me how much first, and I'll consider it."
Perhaps the man's calm demeanor had irritated the shop owner.
"I'm going to report you to the police!"
"Why?"
"Isn't it obvious? You're defending a thief!"
Pointing at the man, the shop owner scanned his surroundings. Sensing no one would defend him, he became bold.
"I'm not defending him, I'm just asking how much he stole." But the man didn't seem bothered at all.
"Sir... I'll return it... I-I'm sorry." Seeing the endless argument, the boy handed the man a piece of bread he'd stolen.
The man accepted it. It was a small piece that wouldn't fill even a baby.
The man, dressed all in black, showed it to the bakery owner.
"Is this piece of bread going to bankrupt your shop?"
The onlookers began whispering their opinions. Cynical glances focused on the shop owner.
Even though they were whispering, he could still hear what they were saying.
"Oh my, just that piece of bread? Even a baby wouldn't be full from it."
"I thought there was something wrong, it's just that much?"
"Just because of a piece of bread that big, he's causing such a commotion."
"Even hitting such a small child... does he still have a heart?"
The murmurs echoed in his ears. The shop owner knew it was clear no one would support him.
"But! Even so, that boy is still a thief, right?!"
The shop owner smirked. He knew they had all remained silent because they shared his opinion.
But the man remained calm.
"Yes, he did steal. And that's not right."
"So I ask you, is this worth it?"
He pointed at the boy. His cheek was swollen and bluish from the shop owner's beating.
Anyone who saw him would know the pain.
Then the man showed the bread the boy had stolen.
"This bread is still wrapped tightly, he hasn't even eaten it yet. Yet you're already hitting him."
"I asked, was it worth it?"
The cold voice made the shopkeeper freeze slightly.