#7. Nietzsche Was Wrong. God Is Alive, and That God’s Name Is Aurora.
***
We arrived at Saint-Ruvain, a northern region of the Cassan Empire, traveling by carriage.
“Saint-Ruvain feels completely different from Crman, doesn’t it?”
“Of course, Saint-Ruvain has its own unique charm.”
Raffaelo whistled casually while I looked around.
Saint-Ruvain was a quiet and peaceful city. Once home to the Papal Court, remnants of its prosperous old town were still visible.
“Shall we explore the city first?”
Following Raffaelo, we strolled leisurely through the old streets of Saint-Ruvain.
“That must be the former Papal Court,”
Arkhangelo said, pointing to a gray building that stood tall in the middle of the city.
“Hmph, it’s not as impressive as I expected.”
“Arkhangelo, that’s blasphemy. Please keep your voice down.”
Simone, ever the mediator, reprimanded Arkhangelo as if it were routine. Arkhangelo grumbled in response,
“I don’t believe in gods. God is dead.”
“Arkhangelo, do you even know where that phrase came from?”
“Why should I care?”
“Ah, it’s my fault for expecting too much from you….”
“Don’t underestimate me!”
While wandering around Saint-Ruvain, we eventually stopped in front of a small theater. A flyer promoting the current opera performance was posted outside.
“They perform operas here too?”
“And it’s a famous one—Heikenstein. Sounds intriguing.”
Arkhangelo seemed interested in the performance. To humor him, I asked in a lackluster tone,
“What’s Heikenstein about?”
With the enthusiasm of a fanatic, Arkhangelo explained.
“It’s about a scientist named Heikenstein who creates a humanoid. But Heikenstein ends up regretting it because the humanoid causes all sorts of disasters.”
Wait a minute. The title and premise sound oddly familiar….
“Does the humanoid complain about loneliness? Like, ‘Why did you create me this way? Cursed creator, why did you not extinguish the spark of life you so recklessly kindled?’”*
* Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
“What nonsense are you talking about? The humanoid doesn’t feel lonely at all.”
“Oh, I see.”
Scratching my head awkwardly, I responded to Arkhangelo’s clarification.
“On the contrary, the humanoid considers itself superior to humans and gains the courage to challenge its creator. The confrontation between the creator and the humanoid is the core of this opera.”
“Hmm…. What’s the ending?”
“There are several versions, so I’m not sure which one this performance uses.”
Hearing that piqued my interest.
A humanoid? It reminded me of Princess Eva.
Maybe watching this opera could give us some insights into Princess Eva’s inventions.
“Since we have time, why don’t we watch this performance?”
“Oh, so you’re interested in this opera too?”
“Well, yes.”
“Alright, let’s watch this performance. Who knows? Aurora might be here at the theater. She can’t resist opera, after all.”
With Simone agreeing to the plan, we decided to watch Heikenstein. Fortunately, we were able to secure the remaining tickets.
“Hahaha!”
The performance turned out to be unexpectedly enjoyable.
The humanoid created by Heikenstein performed ridiculous gestures during its recitative, which transitioned beautifully into arias. The contrast was truly moving.
However, the ending was, unfortunately, tragic.
“What…?”
Heikenstein failed to defeat the humanoid and met his end at its hands.
Watching Heikenstein collapse, I shot a reproachful glance at Arkhangelo.
“This wasn’t in the summary….”
“Endings these days are surprisingly creative.”
While I stared blankly, Ghieuspe, who had been silent until now, offered an additional explanation about the opera.
“Heikenstein is a performance with significant philosophical implications. It raises many ethical questions about humanoids and their consequences.”
“Hmm, that does seem to be the case.”
Though the storyline was depressing, the music itself was excellent. We gave the performers enthusiastic applause.
Still, the melancholy tone of the opera lingered. As I sat with a gloomy expression, Simone leaned closer to me.
“Seraphina, you really didn’t like the story, did you?”
“Yes, I prefer happy endings….”
Even before reincarnation, I occasionally read romance-fantasy novels. If it wasn’t a happy ending, I felt like I’d been completely blindsided.
But that didn’t mean I ever left a single malicious comment. Even so, it feels a bit unfair that I ended up reincarnated.
“What do you think a happy ending is?”
“An act of bringing joy to someone else fills you with joy as well. No matter how small the action, if it brings happiness to others, our hands and hearts will be filled with joy.”
*Friedrich Nietzsche, Dawn.
I muttered this mechanically.
“True happiness is giving happiness to others….”
“…….….”
“I was joking.”
Of course, it’s a good quote. But in the context of a novel’s ‘happy ending,’ well…
“Isn’t it when the male and female leads live happily ever after?”
It’s a bit cliché, but that’s the textbook definition of a happy ending.
At my answer, Simone smiled softly.
“Really? I hope Sera gets her happy ending.”
“Oh, thanks….”
“Really, I hope it’s exactly the kind of happy ending you described, Sera.”
Why does his tone feel a little strange?
Just as I tilted my head in puzzlement, a voice called out from ahead, addressing Arkhangelo.
“Lord Phyro!”
Looking ahead, I saw the performer from earlier standing there. He had played the role of Heikenstein, the male lead of the play, and his eyes sparkled as he looked at Arkhangelo.
“Are you truly Lord Phyro?”
“Hmph, yes. I am Arkhangelo Phyro.”
“My goodness, I can’t believe I’m meeting Lord Phyro in person!”
He genuinely seemed to admire Arkhangelo, jumping up and down with excitement. Arkhangelo’s pride visibly swelled. Watching him, our expressions turned cold.
Anyway, after showering Arkhangelo with praises for quite a while, he finally said,
“Lord Phyro, would you consider attending the upcoming Saint-Ruvain Artists’ Cruise event?”
“An artists’ cruise?”
“Yes, we’re planning to host a cruise on the nearby Rune River, gathering artists for an event… It would be an honor if you could attend, Lord Phyro.”
“Ha, very well. I shall grace you with my presence.”
At this, we looked at Arkhangelo with expressions of disbelief.
Seriously, with Princess Eva’s threats looming dangerously close to us, what is he thinking? Why is he suddenly going on a cruise instead of finding Aurora?
But Arkhangelo, indifferent to our concerns, continued with a shameless expression,
“Will my companions also be allowed on this cruise?”
“Um, as long as they’re artists….”
“Don’t worry about that. They’re all artists.”
“Oh, then I’ll provide you with tickets. There will also be an opportunity to showcase your art aboard the ship, so please prepare something in advance.”
After receiving five cruise tickets from him, Raffaelo looked at Arkhangelo with a bewildered expression and said,
“Hey, what’s up with the sudden cruise?”
“Think of it as Aurora. Do you think that crazy woman would miss such a golden opportunity? I’d bet on it. Aurora will be there!”
“Well, that does make some sense. But have you considered that we, not being artists, might get into trouble?”
“Art is all about how you approach it.”
Arkhangelo replied confidently.
“If you create artistic value, anything can be considered art.”
“No, I’ve never created anything with artistic value!”
Frustrated, I eventually interjected.
And for a good reason—I had no talent in art whatsoever. In my previous life, I had lived a life completely distant from art, focusing solely on mathematics!
“Well, if you stretch the definition, fractal structures could be considered art. Fractals have a characteristic of self-similarity, where parts resemble the whole. I think this structure, found in nature, is the greatest form of art. Lightning bolts and snowflakes are examples of it. Geometry created by nature—this is the ultimate art… but now that I think about it, no one reads romance-fantasy novels with this kind of talk. I’ll stop.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s just something like that.”
“Anyway, are you saying you don’t have any burning creative passion within you? I thought all humans had that.”
“Creative passion….”
After pondering for a moment, I muttered,
“When a person writes poetry in their youth, they cannot create great poetry. One must wait until the time is right and gather meaning and sweetness throughout their life, for as long as possible.”
*Rainer Maria Rilke, The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge.
“What are you talking about?”
“I just think it’s not my time yet.”
My friend, Seongryeong, loved writing, but if I had to describe myself, I wasn’t the type to enjoy creating stories.
“I haven’t found inspiration yet. Creating something is a difficult task for me.”
“Hmm, someday, that time might come for you as well—if you grow.”
Arkhangelo replied in a meaningful tone.
