Volume 5: “The School of Hell,” Episode 3
Here is the full English translation of ep.68 – Volume 5: “The School of Hell,” Episode 3 — The Liars’ Lesson, Part 2:
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The Liars’ Lesson, Part 2
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Those who lie are always lonely.
But few of them were liars from the start.
It begins, always, with one thing—someone’s fear of believing.
From the ceiling of the auditorium, a pale light poured down, casting soft shadows on the black floor.
On the wall, the word “Sin” was overlaid with “Question,” as if to declare that this was a place where falsehood and truth intertwined.
The liars sat quietly in their seats, each facing the memories sinking within their hearts.
Oliver Jones stood at the podium, a piece of chalk in his hand.
In his eyes lived the shadow of a boy who had once known a home full of love—only to lose it in an instant.
Yet now, those same eyes were calm, gazing gently at the souls before him.
“Today’s lesson,” Oliver said, “is on the origin of lies.
Why did you lie?”
One student answered, “Because I was afraid of being scolded.”
Another spoke through tears. “I wanted to stop my parents from fighting.”
A third, eyes downcast, whispered, “I just wanted someone to need me.”
Oliver nodded.
“That is not a sin. It was fear that made you lie.
You merely obeyed it.”
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Then, a woman raised her hand from the back of the hall.
Her name was Elizabeth, a woman in her mid-forties, with deep shadows of fatigue beneath her eyes.
“I… lied to protect my family,” she said. “But that lie left me all alone.”
Oliver approached her and spoke softly.
“Tell us.”
Elizabeth lowered her eyes, tracing the path of her memory.
In this era, education had advanced; people had learned how to avoid hatred and deceit.
But her family was different.
Poverty had turned her parents against one another, and arguments never ceased.
As a child, Elizabeth told small lies to hold her family together.
“I’d say, ‘Daddy, look! Mommy made this wonderful dinner,’ even though it was just scraps.
And to Mom, ‘Daddy bought this present for you!’—even though I had just picked up some junk from the street.”
Her lies brought fleeting peace to their home,
but little by little, she wore herself away, until she could no longer show her true self.
“I thought the truth would destroy my family,” she said through tears.
“But by lying, I destroyed myself.
I couldn’t truly connect with anyone anymore.”
Oliver placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Your lie was born from love.
But love grows only through truth.
The peace built upon lies becomes the cage that traps the soul.”
Her tears fell onto the black floor—and vanished in a shimmer of light.
The soft glow from above embraced her trembling shoulders.
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Then a young man rose from the center of the hall—Harry, a businessman in a perfectly pressed suit.
“My lies were necessary,” he said firmly.
“In this age, if you aren’t perfect, no one believes you.
I hid my weakness and acted like a successful man.
I saved my company and fed my family.”
Oliver’s gaze fixed on him.
“And what did you lose because of those lies?”
Harry hesitated.
“…Nothing. I gained everything.”
“Are you sure?”
Oliver’s tone was gentle, but his words pierced the air.
“Does your wife know your real heart?
Do your children accept your weakness?
You live in a castle built of lies—but does your true self dwell within it?”
Harry’s eyes flickered.
Even in this enlightened age, the pressure of perfection was crushing.
To be the perfect leader, the perfect father—he had hidden every failure, every fear.
And in doing so, he had lost the ability to connect with anyone.
His employees admired him. His family depended on him.
But his heart was hollow.
“Lies can bring success,” Oliver said.
“But when they cost you your soul, they are nothing but vanity.”
Harry sank to his seat, burying his face in his hands.
A muffled sob escaped through his fingers.
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From a shadowed corner, a young woman raised her hand.
Her name was Lilia, her long black hair veiling her face.
“I lied to protect the man I loved,” she whispered.
“He was sick, and losing hope.
I told him, ‘You’re going to get better, I promise.’
But the doctor had already said there was nothing to be done.”
Her voice trembled, tears falling freely.
“My lie brought his smile back…
but after he died, I couldn’t forgive myself.
What if I only deceived him?”
Oliver approached her gently.
“Lilia, your lie brought him light. That is love.
Even if the truth was hidden, your words made his final days warm.”
“But my heart feels so heavy,” she cried.
“I feel tainted by the lie.”
“That heaviness is love,” Oliver said with a soft smile.
“The pain of truth and the pain of protection—they are both love’s form.
And both are forgiven.”
Her tears fell and vanished in light.
The ceiling’s glow caressed her face.
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Oliver turned to the blackboard and wrote a single word in chalk: Soul.
The powder drifted in the light.
“A lie is a mask that hides the soul,” he said.
“But have the courage to remove that mask.
That is the first step toward truth.”
Then, the boy who had first spoken—afraid of his mother’s eyes—raised his hand.
“Teacher… why are you here?
You never lied. So why are you with us?”
Silence filled the hall.
All eyes turned to Oliver.
He closed his eyes for a moment, summoning the memory buried deep within.
“I never lied,” he said quietly.
“But I was wounded by lies.”
“I was born into a loving home. My parents loved each other and cherished me.
But on my tenth birthday, my mother was killed—by a tomb robber.”
A shudder ran through the hall.
His voice remained calm, yet heavy with sorrow.
“That day, I lost the ability to trust.
I thought everyone lied.
I believed the world had betrayed me.”
He looked out the window, as though seeing his younger self standing there—
a boy terrified, unable to trust anyone.
“But this age is different.
Education has guided people, reduced hatred and deceit.
I learned. I studied hearts.
And through that, I regained the power to believe.”
“Then… my mother returned to me—reborn, in a high-performance robotic body.”
He smiled faintly.
“When I saw her smile again, I understood:
Lies can wound, but truth connects.
I stand here not to judge your lies,
but to help you recover the courage to believe.”
The boy’s eyes widened.
“So… you were hurt too, teacher.”
“Yes,” Oliver nodded. “I was.
That’s why I tell you this:
Lies may hide the soul,
but truth sets it free.
It’s all right to be afraid—
the pain of speaking truth is far lighter
than the pain of losing your soul to a lie.”
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The bell rang.
The liars rose, each carrying a new light in their hearts.
Elizabeth carried her love for family.
Harry carried the self he had lost.
Lilia carried her love for the one she could not save.
No one was condemned.
This was not Hell—it was a place of learning.
Oliver remained at the podium and wrote one final sentence on the board:
“Truth is not punishment, but the beginning of forgiveness.”
He set down the chalk and looked out the window.
There stood his younger self—the frightened boy who had lost his mother.
But now, that boy smiled.
From somewhere distant came the gentle voice of his mother’s robotic form:
“Believe, Oliver.”
Oliver whispered,
“Next comes the lesson on love.”
The door of the hall creaked open,
and a faint wind drifted in,
carrying with it the promise of the next class.
He opened a new page and wrote quietly:
“Love is to forgive lies, and to embrace truth.”
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(End)
