‧͙⁺˚･༓☾ ---------------- ☽༓･˚⁺

Growing up for Renshu was, rather average; his father was a painter, a beloved avid talker about those of paintings past. His mother, a professor, doubled coined in history and music. He was raised on words and creations of the past, using present eyes to re-examine those of ancient times, bringing light to things long since buried under the hands of time. Because of his parents, such a fascination grew, and he too pursued something that was long since gone, wanting to uncover it and bring it into a new light.Because of parental influences, he grew to love art - the more logical side of it, rather than its execution -, always having admired how his father took a palette of colors and a wooden brush with small hair-like bristles, and made it into something one could get lost in if they looked at it long enough. He also grew, too, to love Philosophy; having been so used to hearing his parents' musings of ancient lifetimes boarded into a bronze rusted golden frame, he wanted to know, too, the words of those other lifetimes. See how much had changed, advanced and been discovered.And what had remained the same, what needed improvement.It was in that thought of improvement, in the seeking of ever bettering things - and himself - that led Renshu to where he is now.He spends days in his office - a comfortable room tucked into the back of the old library in his city - looking through pages and pages of thesis and theories, trying to figure out how it all ticks to add to a new thesis article or book. It's in that question, that enigma of a non-answer, that brings Renshu to conduct his own... thought experiments during work, wherein he controls all the variables. Other days - mainly on the weekends - he gives a course on art history; though mainly the local university students show up, desperate for teachings from the son of Professor Luo, the class is open to the public, for any and all sessions.And during the night. . .Well, he writes in his journal, jotting down his findings to thread connections in hopes something will spark the answer to it all.❝ Sometimes it is not tragedy that leads us to discoveries, but rather observing the threat of an end vicariously through someone else, wherein we get to conduct the final blow. ❞ - Luo Renshu on Consciousness in the Surrounding Stimulant

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾ ---------------- ☽༓･˚⁺

╼ A GLIMPSE

WARNING: The following contains content that may not be suitable for all readers, which includes but is not limited to: implied murder, swearing. Reader discretion is advised : )

“Why are you doing this?” The words are panted frantically from the man in the center of the room, an empty plea to the seemingly empty air.He is tied up in a plain metal chair - wood is too easily broken, Renshu has come to discover -, the cord wrapped multiple times around his torso snug, though not tied too tightly, lest it start to cut off circulation. Even if an end was inevitable, there was still much time left before such a thing came into existence. The man in the chair seems to be in his mid-forties, consisting of all angles and limbs - which he uses to try and struggle free, must to his fruitless dismay -, the chiseled framework of his visage making the ambient lighting in the room to chisel his physique like a slab of marble. Even with the dim lighting bouncing off the singular table that sat in front of him, nothing was as harshly outlined as him. He seemed brash and impulsive, frantic eyes darting along the dismal gray walls of the room as if the shadows could form into a shape that would help him escape.His name, what he did for a living, what car he drove, any demographic information was gone with the wind, unknown and uncared for by the other man in the room.This man, who was also tall, walked with a confident sauntering gait, long legs gracefully bringing him from point A to point B, as if he didn’t even have to try. His own demographic information mattered not in that moment as well, leaving the two strangers together in a room.Yet even with such erasure, it didn’t leave them on equal playing fields. After all, the man in the chair was tied up.Briefly reading the message he had received regarding tonight’s assignment, the untied man hummed, clicking the power button of his phone as it’s luminescent screen turned dark once more, slipping the slender device into the pocket of his slick suit-like jacket. Deft fingers went to - instinctively - pat the fabric as he moved, positioning himself upon the edge of the table, facing the tied man.“Why?” The man all but repeated the question posed by the tied-up man, a boisterous laugh leaving his lips, which spread quickly across his visage into a Cheshire cat like grin.The man in the chair choked on his air at the sound, unthinkingly flinching. Though, given the other’s demeanor, the way he held himself, it was obvious that the man who had taken him was of sound mind, someone smart. Which, overall, made his situation drastically worse.“Answer the question,” the tied man spat as his physique shook against the rattling metal of the chair, as if he was in any position to be asking questions; perhaps, Luo Renshu - the man seated elegantly upon the table’s edge, perched upon it like a dove to a tree branch - began to muse, the tied man thought it would equal their playing field, put him on the same ground as himself.How foolish, Renshu thought to himself.It was amusing to Renshu; how people reacted differently to things; having done this for almost a decade, one saw quite the array of people from many demographics, yet they all held one thing in common, the one variable Renshu thrived on,They panicked.When faced with the knowledge that one’s life is in danger, a true ending wall that one can not jump over, the initial reaction is panic; it’s a sense of fight or flight; what their brains don’t know at first, is that both options are dead-ends; their point remains moot so long as the towering tree blocks their paths.The towering tree, in this sense, is Luo Renshu, who holds the string of their life between his tenderly calloused hands, cradling it like a piece of fine art.“Have you ever heard of the Allegory of the Cave?” Renshu replies with, once again ignoring the tied man’s question, Renshu’s voice and demeanor remaining impassive, crystallized in a neutral state.“What?” The tied man choked, flabbergasted by such a question. Another instinct of the consciousness: to question that which we do not know or understand. Curiosity is a default state of humanity, the desire to know more about our surroundings. Ironic, Renshu thought.Renshu laughed again, this time the sound tamer, caught like a vibration in the back of his throat. His arms raised, moving to create a locked bridge over his chest, as if he was merely getting ready to start a lecture.“Western Philosopher Plato indited a story containing a cave allegory. He-”“Are you going to philosophize me to death?” The tied man interrupted, earning a deep sigh and locked purse of the lips from Renshu.Who paused for a second, composure attempting at staying stagnant. “No, such a thing sounds asinine even as you spoke it aloud. If I wanted to do that, I’d hold conferences.” His off-handed comment was cushioned by the exhalation of a deep breath. Breaking the pursing line of his lips into the small curl of a smile, Renshu continued,“Plato indited a story within a story. Plato stated that Socrates asked Glaucon to imagine a cave with an undisclosed number of people within it. However, the cave is entirely dark, and the people are the cave’s prisoners, all chained to the cave’s wall; their chains are fixed so they are unable to move their heads or bodies, forced to look at nothing but the empty shadows of the walls. They deemed such the confines of what the world was in its entirety, that life was just what was in the shadows of the cave, for it was all they knew, all they had access to,”The tied man looks at Renshu as if he couldn’t be serious. Yet here Renshu was, rather serious, explaining such a mundane thing in a rather, not-so situation.Renshu seemed oblivious to such, continuing,“Then, one day one of the prisoners was let out; he got into contact with the sunlight and the outside world. He realized that what was inside the cave was not the world in its entirety at all, but rather, nothing; the shadows in the cave were merely empty illusions, the darkness seemingly never-ending, for what else did they know of the outside world?” He paused for a second, glancing at the man in the chair to ensure he was still intently listening. Renshu thrummed a hum, his torso leaning forward a bit towards the other,“Do you know what they did to the one who had escaped when he came back and tried to tell them about his findings, as he tried to tell them their entire world as they had known it was wrong?” Renshu spoke, the timbre of his voice lowered, cold upon a steely palate.The man in the chair swallowed thickly then, a wide-eyed expression locked into a cage with Renshu’s. The man shook his head, words drying upon his tongue. Though Renshu didn’t reply for a bit, reveling in the fear that highlighted the other’s irises, watching the glitter as the light reflected the potential tears threatening at the man’s ducts.He was observing a thought experiment as he mused seemingly uselessly.Renshu cracked a smile, his chin moving to level his gaze with the other, before he replied, in a low, measured tone,“They killed him.”Breaking eye contact then, the man in the chair looked anywhere but the enigmatic man before him, the dim lighting reflecting the sweat that was beginning to perspire at his brow, visibly noting the time of realization.The man tied before him was the man who had re-entered the cave, yet his knowledge remained to that of those that had stayed in the cave; this limbo between the shroud, like a Dionysian veil.“So what? You’re going to tell me this stupid fucking story and then kill me?” His words were frantically shrill, each syllable higher than the last, as if he didn’t even believe the truth.Renshu leaned back, amusedly humming. His own gaze broke from the tied man as he swept a look to the darkened ceiling, his foot gently tapping against the cement floor.“In one’s forced perspective, it would seem as such,” Renshu replied with a click of his tongue, the bridge formed by his arms finally dismantling, hands moving to grasp at points upon the table to hold him there. “The man who had left the cave, who saw the world for what it truly is, and the prisoners still left inside the cave, represent knowledge and it’s lack thereof. When one is forced into one perspective, stubborn in its actuality as if it is the only truth, their brain refuses to realize they are wrong. The lack of knowledge prevents them from being open to new ideas, especially ones that may contradict all they know and turn it on their heads.The fact that in this very moment, even when faced with death, you are still the prisoners inside the cave, tied to the knowledge that your whole world and life is shadows upon a cave wall.”Anger flashed across the tied man’s visage, sparking like the flickering candle beside Renshu upon the table. Such a look caused Renshu to laugh, a hand leaving its perch on the table as he pushed himself from the seating on the table, closing the distance between himself and the tied man. He knelt down as he got closer, placing his hands flat upon the other’s knees.“So what? What fucking events got you here? Huh? What fucking tragic backstory do you have?” The tied man began to ramble, knowing the end of his thread was nearing, and far too fast, changing the subject as he scrambled for the scaffolding of an exit, “I listened to you tell this fucking story, and for what? Did a children’s story get too far in that fucking skull of yours? All villians have a tragic backstory, come on, tell me yours if you’re just gonna fucking kill me.”Renshu tilted his head upwards from where he was crouched at the man’s feet, a keen gaze observing his every movement, every fighting jerk against the cord and the metal chair, the twitch of the edges of the man’s lip as he fought tooth and nail with empty words.This, this is what made his life work so. . . lively.He laughed then, giving a short shake of his head. Funny, how even when the environment around him tries to jostle him, rile him up for a reaction, he remains calm, cool, and collected, like the measured hand of an artist perfecting every detail.“Some villains don’t need tragic backstories,” Luo Renshu began to reply, a smile coming to fruition across his tiers as he spoke, an eerie pleasantness in his demeanor, “Sometimes villains are villainous just because they can be.”

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INDEX

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