The definition of inevitability.
There's a fact that no one has acknowledged. Do you know what it is? Are you aware of it? Can you say for sure that what you believe is the truth? Could it all be an illusion? Can you tell the difference?
Everything in this world is made of stories. The story of almost being late and accidentally wearing mismatched shoes, the story of finding a loved one, the story of chasing a dream...
What is your story? Is it a memory, a regret, or has it been forgotten beyond repair? Humans cannot retain all memories. Some fade, while others are never erased.
But stories are different. If they are recorded in words, in sentences, we can read and remember them again and again. That is the essence and reason for the existence of stories.
So, what about other people's stories? Are they illusions or real stories? Can you tell the difference? Do you want to read them? Do you want to live your life remembering other people's stories?
This is the story of a man. A human being who forges connections through inevitability to undo his karma. A king who protected his people until the very end.
He was a pure-hearted man who only cared for one person: the eldest son of his family, a man who loved cherry blossoms and dedicated his life to the sword. He was a revolutionary who stood up to a corrupt empire and the embodiment of justice who vanquished evil.
This is the story that countless storytellers have repeated, a myth that redefines the meaning of inevitability.
[The story, "The Song of Fantastic Connections," begins now.]
"That's amazing. I never thought you'd point a sword at me."
"I didn't imagine it either. I never wanted it."
My right hand, which holds the sword, trembles. Tears, like morning dew, fall from my eyes, and blood flows from my cracked lips. Blood also flows from my left leg, and from the shoulder that has already been torn apart.
Cherry blossoms float in the warm spring breeze, the bodies of my fallen comrades are scattered on the ground. There are no spectators. They have all died with them. The only ones alive in this place are me, the cherry tree, and you, standing before me.
I gripped the sword tightly. I swore I wouldn't let go, staring at you before me. You, who killed every living thing in this place without a single scratch.
Is this really the end? Where have the colleagues I used to laugh with gone? Where have my people gone, the ones who used to cheer me on?
I can hear the laughter of the Moon family leader, with whom I often clashed. I can feel the warmth of the young Plum family leader, with whom I used to joke around. My companions' wishes slowly seep into me.
The people cheered me, and the gentlemen swore allegiance to this country. All of that vanished in an instant. A single sprout turned it all to nothing. A single plum blossom stole all my treasures.
Softening my anger, I approached you, the one who betrayed my family and became a flower. You cut down the cherry tree and planted your own plum trees in its place. It was a clear betrayal. You came to kill your own brother, a traitor. You were my only younger brother.
"Now, I'm tired of the cherry trees. From now on, it will be the plum trees that bloom here."
Any final words? Do you have any?
"Haha, 'last' words?"
I took a deep breath and adjusted my stance. Had I really trained no more than this in fencing? For me, it was a piece of cake. I focused all my will, the will of my friends, and the will of my companions into the sword.
"My name is Park Jimin. I am the leader of the Hwajaga family and the emperor of the Fantasy Kingdom, Park Jimin."
Finally, the long and stubborn thread of fate with the Hwajaga family is cut.