But I saw beyond that surface and knew Kandata’s mind was empty. He no longer thought of his life or his mistakes, of escaping, or even of how much it hurt. He felt neither alive nor dead; he had grown used to this endless torment and to the idea that this was how he would feel for the rest of his existence.
He used to delude himself into believing he might one day see the light again, feel the skin on his bones, and breathe the air of paradise —— but I cannot show mercy where there was none. They had no mercy when they committed their crimes, and so they must bear the weight of them.
Still, on some days, he looked upward, hoping to glimpse Heaven, though that fading hope burned down faster and hurt more deeply than his punishment itself. And I, who know everything and must bear this burden, also know when to be just — and when to be merciful.
Today, Kandata thought he saw a faint glow, but he tried to push the idea away. “It is probably just the Mountain of Needles…” he told himself.
But then he saw it again — not a dim glow this time, but something bright and radiant, shining down from Heaven. As he looked more closely, he noticed the thread descending.
He couldn’t believe his eyes and didn’t stop to think for a single second. He gathered all the strength that hope had given him and rose from the Lake of Blood. It felt so easy; and by the time he was out, his skin was forming, his body rebuilding itself. He realized no arrows were striking him and no forces were pulling him back.
Kandata was certain — this was My will, the God he had never taken seriously throughout his life. At the thought of still being helped after everything he had done, he smiled broadly, a smile unlike any he had ever shown before, and grasped the thread to begin climbing.
He kept climbing — up and up, higher and higher — and with every step that brought him closer to paradise, her heart grew with hope. Yet it was not quick or easy, for Heaven and Hell are separated by an immeasurable distance.
Even though the task was hard, his experience made him resilient and she wished with all her heart for his strength to endure.
“I suffered too much to fail now from exhaustion,” he said. “My body is frail compared to the things I’ve faced, but my will is unbreakable!”
His words reached her and reassurance soothed her unsettled spirit. I waited and believed in him, as she was praying for his success.
After some time, Kandata stopped, gasping for air, his arms trembling from the strain. Sweat burned his eyes as he looked down— and what he saw filled his soul with rage.
A swarm of figures was clawing their way up the same thread, their faces twisted with desperation, their filthy hands reaching for salvation that wasn’t theirs.
“No… no, no, no!” Kandata hissed. “That thread— It can’t hold us all!” - panic twisted into rage.
“HEY! What do you think you’re doing?!” he shouted down, his voice cracking. “This is my thread! Get off! GET OFF!”
The sinners below jeered back, their voices rising through the darkness.
“Move, you greedy bastard!” one spat.
“You think Heaven’s just for you?” another howled.
“Climb faster!” someone yelled from below. “He’s slowing us down!”
“Shut up! You’ll tear it apart!” Kandata screamed, kicking at the thread as if he could shake them loose. “I earned this chance! I— I don’t care what happens to you!”
A hand brushed his ankle. Kandata shrieked, lashing out.
“GET—OFF—ME!” he bellowed, raising his foot to strike.
But in that instant, something happened.
SNAP!
“No…” she whispered, her voice breaking as tears traced silent paths down her face.
In that very instant, the thread gave way — the same fragile strand that, until then, had shown no sign of weakness. It snapped just above Kandata’s desperate hands.
For a heartbeat, their eyes met. He reached for her — as he had once before — but his fingers grasped only empty air. Then he fell, tumbling helplessly into the endless abyss.
For the last time, they cried together in agony:
he, consumed by the despair of losing his final chance at redemption;
she, broken by the sorrow of lost hope — for she now saw he had never been the gentle, worthy man she imagined, but only the reflection of her own kind heart.
Her sobs dissolved into silence, swallowed by regret. His screams faded into the endless wailing of the damned below.
I watched it all through the crystal waters of my garden, with her trembling beside me. And when at last Kandata’s body sank like a stone to the depths of the Lake of Blood, I turned away and continued my walk.
A single tear traced down my cheek — for my child’s soul, shattered by the weight of hopelessness.
Yet the pearl-white flowers in the lotus pond, innocent of wickedness or sorrow, swayed gently and continued to spread the same delicate fragrance as always. The clouds still floated across the serene sky, and the breeze cooled the heat upon my flushed cheeks.
It was a beautiful morning in paradise… and soon, it would be noon.