Ice Vapor Goddess

Chapter 28 Joseph (Part 2)
“What’s keeping you going?” Xilun looked at him. “You’ve embezzled and abused your power… You aspire to be the powerful individual you imagine yourself to be, fantasizing about the pleasures that power brings.”

"In your previous belief, all authority was essentially a tyrant who craved flattery."

Joseph dared not look at him, but simply lay prostrate beneath him.

“Then I appeared,” Celen said.

Joseph shuddered.

“I am different from the superiors you have encountered before. I tell you that I do not ask for your flattery, only your ability. I treat you all the same. I do not want money or applause—this destroys the understanding you have built up over the past decades.”

"If you're not a dog, then who are you?"

Siren stared at him, knowing that in Joseph's fantasy, the Other stared back at him in the same way—a Other filled with violence and a thirst for flattery. In his gaze and desire, Joseph transformed himself entirely into the desire of the Other.

For example, someone might be influenced by a video or article and feel that they are not fair enough, not tall enough, should have abs, or should look younger. Sometimes they are anxious about their education level, and sometimes they are anxious about their appearance.

He viewed all external voices as a personified, objectified Other, that is, "others' opinions." This critical Other demanded this and that, and was a mentally deranged Other.

He viewed his own body as the object of desire for the Other, and in order to satisfy the desires of that mentally deranged Other, he was constantly anxious and constantly tried to please that gaze.

Joseph was the extreme of this mentality; he completely transformed his body into an object of the desire for the Other, and became immersed in it.

The arrival of Siron shattered his illusions about the Other—it turned out that the violent Other was fake, and there was someone else. This was certainly good, but if that was the case, then who was Joseph?
His entire being was constructed within that gaze of desire. If that gaze is inherently false, then who is he? What is his meaning? What is the purpose of his life?

So he raised his gun.

“You don’t want to shoot me, you want to shoot the trauma that triggered your breakdown.” Celen pulled him up and looked into his eyes. “You can’t stand me looking at you like this, because it’s not the look of a superior that you imagine.”

Joseph avoided his gaze, his face already covered in tears and grease.

“I am your demon. My existence has destroyed your illusions and meaning. As long as I live, your world will never be repaired.” Xiren forcibly turned his head.

"Creatures that have spent too much time in the darkness cannot even withstand the sunlight."

"You can't bear the pain of reconstructing yourself. You try to fill the abyss left by the collapse of your worldview with violence. As long as I die, everything will return to the state that is safe for you."

“I set your sins ablaze, but burning away your own sins was too painful, so you chose to kill me.”

Joseph did not answer; his hands were held down by the soldiers like a puppet.

Xilun looked at him with a complicated expression.

“Priest Joseph Hughes, former parish priest of the Church of St. Lucia, I hereby declare in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, and in my capacity as your direct superior, the Bishop of St. Lucia, that you are stripped of your priesthood and transferred to the position of doorkeeper of the Church of St. Lucia.”

he declared.

"As I said before, I forgive you for firing that shot, but the evil you did before needs to be made up for. I have no right to forgive you on behalf of others."

Joseph seemed to relax completely, collapsing to the ground, a sense of unprecedented relief washing over him. The identity and status he had gained over twenty years vanished, and he was once again the gatekeeper. But those sins and twisted memories seemed to have left him as well. Looking into Siren's sincere eyes, it felt as if everything could start anew.

If it had been this bishop twenty years ago... everything would have been different, right?

But it's okay, it's not too late now, we can start over. Just like the first day I stepped into the church, the first day I prayed to the priest, the heavenly light shone on his black hair and looked so beautiful, the cross shimmered with a gentle light, and the bishop looked at him like he was looking at his own child.

He looked up, and what greeted him was not the humiliation of being called a "mud man," a "foreigner," or a "servant," nor was it whips or feet. Instead, he was greeted by the halo of light shining through the glass window. Saints and angels of all ages were watching him, and the faces of the angels overlapped with those of the young bishop. He was the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

“Your Excellency,” he said, “please tell me, what am I, what is God, and what… are you?”

Xilun gently stroked his head and whispered, “I am the Other of justice and mercy. I tell you according to God’s teachings that the diligent will reap the rewards, the kind will be redeemed, and all those who insult, abuse, or harm others, or steal the fruits of others’ labor, will be punished.”

"As for what you are... go to work, go find your meaning with your hands, and when you use your power to create, to change, to connect the world, when you feel that painful yet vibrant creativity with your own hands, you will understand."

Joseph knelt on the ground and devoutly made the sign of the cross on his chest with his right hand.

Xilun finally closed his eyes and collapsed onto the dining table, utterly exhausted.

Blood gushed from his side, and in his last glimpse, he saw Mathilde's anxious face.
-
"Madam, you must understand that the best course of action in this situation is to leave it alone. If you have surgery, the survival rate may be less than 20%."

A hazy, indistinct sound came from behind.

"No matter what happens?"

"Uh... there might be problems like infection and abscess, perforation, intestinal obstruction, chronic pain, but at least you won't die."

"..."

"Ah, you're awake!" The doctor saw Celen slowly open his eyes.

Xilun looked weakly at his surroundings, and people anxiously gathered around him.

“Now that the bishop has awakened, the treatment should be decided by him,” the doctor said. “Hello, I am Dr. Rhea, a former surgeon at St. Thomas’ Hospital.”

“Ah—St. Thomas Hospital, a respectable name, Doctor.” Celen nodded with difficulty, maintaining his respect and courtesy despite the pain that continued to assault his body.

As its name suggests, St. Thomas' Hospital is a church-affiliated hospital, originally a monastery. In the Middle Ages, only monasteries treated the common people and the poor.

“Yes, sir, I am still very proud,” Dr. Rhea said. “Let’s not talk about that now. Do you understand your condition?”

Xilun nodded: "I understand. If we manage it, there's a high probability of death; if we don't manage it, there are potential risks, right?"

“That’s not all, sir,” Dr. Rhea added. “Because your wound has healed, we still can’t pinpoint the location of the bullet… We need to make an exploratory laparotomy incision to search for the bullet in your organs, which is extremely dangerous in the history of surgery.”

(End of this chapter)