Volume 5 – The School of Hell – Chapter 15
ep.80 Volume 5 – The School of Hell – Chapter 15
Main text
Chapter 15: The Labyrinth of Faces (Prescription of Choosing a Smile)
Hell Bureau – Treatment Ward.
The white light was sharp, and 200 face photographs covered the entire wall.
100 were fashionable beautiful men and women — similar contours, well-formed eyes and nose.
The other 100 were individual faces — unique beauty not bound by trends.
Among them, quietly slipped in, was Yuna’s own face — before plastic surgery, a photograph of her younger self with a full smile.
Today’s theme is “the labyrinth of faces.”
One who was trapped in plastic surgery dependence, chased the ideal face, and tried to fill the empty seat of the soul stands here.
A heart that sought perfection trembles in front of the mirror.
Ririka operated the terminal and confirmed the woman sitting on the bed.
The name tag read “Yuna.”
In life, she suffered from plastic surgery dependence and had more than 10 procedures to move her face toward the current trend, yet never found satisfaction.
Each time she looked in the mirror she cursed, “Not enough yet,” and her self-evaluation continued to collapse.
“Yuna: self-evaluation curve, unstable. Compulsion index, 92. Brainwaves, low prefrontal cortex activity,” Ririka read quietly.
Oliver nodded, gripped the chalk in his pocket, and wrote a single character on the blackboard: 「選」 (“choose”).
“—There will be no lecture today.
The first treatment for the labyrinth of faces is to ‘choose again.’
You choose your own face — not someone else’s, but your own.”
In Yuna’s eyes, the memory of mirrors flickered.
Her post-surgery face, the internet’s “ideal,” gazes of praise and mockery.
She chased perfection, but her heart was empty.
Low prefrontal cortex activity amplified the compulsive ‘not enough.’
The brain’s buzzing trapped her in a labyrinth.
“Yuna,” Oliver called, once.
“No one will judge you here.
The ideal face is your curse.
From these 200 faces, choose your own heart.”
The hologram line connected.
From the Bird estate, Kanon appeared and placed her fingers on the harpsichord keys.
No sound was produced.
Only the quiet frame of the face photographs and the heart was outlined.
“Induction, three stages,” Ririka said, touching the switch.
The photos on the wall lit up.
The first sound was the vibration of silence.
The next sound was the echo of heartbeat.
With the third sound, the air of the room resonated with the 200 faces.
“Induction.”
The monitor displayed Yuna’s heart rate and brainwaves.
Her pulse was fast, and the compulsive circuit spiked.
＊
For the next seventy-two hours, words were chosen with care.
The wall of face photographs was fixed in place, and sound was contained within the frame.
Machines monitored Yuna’s prefrontal cortex and compulsive circuit, and Ririka recorded heart rate and facial expression.
Kanon, in rhythm, polished the “margin of choosing again” remotely. — Not by playing sound.
By cleansing attachment so it would settle into the correct frame.
Oliver entered at the same time every day, checked her photo selections and brainwaves, said nothing, forced nothing, and left.
He knew that “time spent choosing again” reveals, at the soul’s bottom, the shape of obsession.
The labyrinth of faces is not the opposite of education.
It is the stage before education.
When the “vessel of feeling” is in disarray, the ideal runs wild.
First, choose again. With photographs.
＊
On the first morning, Ririka looked down at the terminal.
“Yuna: compulsion index, 91. Self-evaluation, unstable. — We begin.”
Oliver said, “Look at these 200 faces and choose. Which face do you want?”
Yuna looked up at the wall.
The trendy faces, with perfectly arranged features, flawless but the same.
The individual faces, with scars and asymmetry, yet vivid and alive.
She pointed to one of the trendy faces.
“This one. Perfect. My face should have become like this.”
Ririka took a photograph.
Yuna’s choice was recorded.
Her brainwaves spiked, her heart rate quickened.
The compulsive circuit shouted, “Not enough.”
Oliver said, “The face you chose is your heart.
Why did you choose it? Feel it.”
Yuna: “This face is perfect, and yet… still not enough. My worth has to be this.”
Oliver nodded.
“Choose again.
Your face is decided by you.
Tomorrow, choose again.”
To the soul bathhouse.
A dim room; warm water wrapped Yuna.
Her heart rate settled, and the compulsive circuit loosened slightly.
Yuna murmured, “I chased perfect too hard. I’m empty.”
＊
Day Two.
Yuna pointed to another trendy face.
“This is even more perfect. The face everyone wants.”
A photograph was taken.
The brainwaves still spiked, but began to waver.
Yuna murmured, “This face has value. But somehow… it’s empty.”
In the soul bathhouse, the water washed her heart.
Yuna’s heart rate settled further.
“Empty… I don’t hate it, but… something’s missing.”
Day Three.
Yuna hesitated, then pointed to an individual face.
“This face is weird, but… it calms me. Even though it’s not perfect.”
A photograph was taken.
The compulsion index dropped, and prefrontal cortex activity rose.
Yuna murmured, “This face isn’t me. But it’s quiet.”
In the soul bathhouse, Yuna closed her eyes.
“Quiet… but where is my face?”
On the morning of Day Four, Ririka looked at the terminal.
“Yuna: compulsion index, 83. Self-evaluation: rising while wavering. — Next: empathy.”
Oliver said, “Today, you are not choosing for yourself.
Choose for someone.
Choose what you think is a ‘valuable face.’”
Yuna looked over the wall and pointed to an individual face.
“This face looks like someone’s smile.
Not perfect, but warm.”
A photograph was taken.
Her brainwaves aligned, her heart rate became calm.
Yuna murmured, “Warm… is this my heart?”
In the soul bathhouse, the water wrapped her.
“Do I not have to chase the warm face?”
＊
On the evening of Day Five, Yuna stood in front of the wall.
Her eyes slowly swept across the 200 faces.
The trendy faces.
The individual faces.
And then, quietly in the corner — a single photograph.
Yuna before surgery, her younger self, laughing with a full smile.
She stopped and reached out her finger.
“This face… is me. I’m smiling. It’s not perfect, but it’s my face.”
Ririka took a photograph.
Yuna’s brainwaves went quiet, and the compulsion index dropped into the valley.
Her heart rate was calm, and for the first time stable.
In the soul bathhouse, the water wrapped Yuna.
She murmured, “That smile was me. The empty me feels warm.”
Oliver said, “What you chose was your heart.
The ideal and the compulsion were washed in the bathhouse.”
Ririka looked into the terminal.
“Yuna: compulsion index, no rebound.
Self-evaluation, stable. — Empathy, complete.”
Oliver wrote four characters on the blackboard:
「選 感 浴 共」
(“Choose – Feel – Bath – Empathize”)
“One: choose and reflect.
Two: feel.
Three: wash in the bathhouse.
Four: empathize,” Oliver said, pointing.
“First, reflect the heart with the photographs and feel it.
In the bathhouse, bring body and heart into order, and give empathy.
—Not ideal or compulsion. Empathy that stands beside.”
“Empathy?” Yuna narrowed her eyes.
“The imperfect me is… warm?”
“Then continue,” Oliver said quietly.
“The labyrinth of faces is your frame.”
Oliver added four more characters to the blackboard:
「見 息 触 隣」
(“See – Breath – Touch – Beside”)
“See. Breathe. Touch. Beside. — Empathy grows with this,” Oliver said, pointing.
“① See: look at the self you chose in the photograph. Two minutes is enough.
② Breath: inhale for four counts, exhale for four counts. Let the buzzing flow out.
③ Touch: calm yourself with the bathhouse water.
④ Beside: start from your own face, then place someone next to you.”
Yuna lifted her face and gave a small nod.
“Can I do it?”
“Keep choosing until you can. Then feel,” Oliver said quietly.
“The treatment of the face is not victory.
It is repetition of steps.
No ornament is needed. The steps will carry you.”
＊
Before leaving, Yuna turned back in front of the wall.
“Empathy is… this quiet and this warm.
That smile was me.”
“The real kind is quiet,” Oliver answered.
“The wave of the ideal collapses. The smile remains.”
Ririka stamped the approval seal.
“Next, we move to the real-world empathy plan.
If you get scared?”
“I choose by photograph. — Then I feel,”
Yuna answered herself, and nodded quietly.
Kanon’s hologram thinned; strands of light dissolved into fine dust and melted into the air.
The sound of the treatment room returned to the breathing of water.
Oliver added a single line to the treatment record:
— “Education: halt.
Procedure: choose → feel → bath → empathize.
Outcome: recovery of self-generated smile.”
Ririka glanced sideways.
“Today is smiles.”
“Smiles are good. — The subject is her,” Oliver said, circling the eight characters on the board:
「選 感 浴 共 見 息 触 隣」
(“Choose / Feel / Bath / Empathize / See / Breath / Touch / Beside”)
“No more, no less.”
As he packed up, he thought:
The ideal face is born when the brain’s compulsive circuit tries to fill the empty seat.
Empathy grows by choosing the smile again, feeling the warmth, and standing beside.
From the direction of the lecture hall, a single distant bell rang.
It was not the signal for class.
—It was the sound of someone reaching a quiet, warm smile.
(End)
