- onNovember 11, 2014
- Vol.21 Autumn 2013
- byChun Woon-young
Beauty is what it takes. Victory always belongs to beauty. Perfect skill is truly beautiful. Beautiful skill. Complete surrender. Perfect victory.
Don’t get so flustered. Each and every movement must be made with economy, with utmost care. No gesture or look must be left to chance. Everything must be carried out for one purpose. One purpose only. Fear. Surrender can be obtained only by extracting the root of fear. Violence without skill breeds nothing more than hatred and resistance. Drawing out fear involves a process, and principles. Once in possession of a perfect skill, you can bring them to surrender with a pen, not an iron bar.
Let me explain what beautiful skill is.
First, take off his clothes. Don’t touch him. Let him take them off himself. Till he’s stark naked. When all his clothes have come off, leave him like that for a while. Make him endure the shame of being naked. Make him see that he has nowhere to turn. Leave him like that till his flushed face turns pale, till his hunched shoulders start shaking, till his drooping balls shrivel.
Then shed a light on him. Flash it on his face and make him close his eyes, then let it spread all over his body. Make him feel its intensity not with his eyes but with his skin. Make sure that his skin reacts, the veins turning a deeper blue, and the pores expanding. Don’t let it drag too long. Shut off the light before the pricking rays turn into a warm caress. No warmth should be allowed. Eliminate any warmth there is.
There’s nothing like cold water to eliminate warmth. Blast water at him. Make him feel the sting of water that’s as cold as ice. He’ll come to know the fear that lacerates the flesh. The water will spread like a flame. Its light will be darker than darkness itself. A state in which you can’t tell if water is water, flame, light, or darkness, a state in which there’s nowhere for you to turn and nothing makes sense. That’s the beginning of fear. Only a rugged body that has undergone the awakening of fear is ready for subjection to true skill.
Now leave him alone for half a day. After that, time will take care of things. Half a day is enough. He could give you a viewing of his entire life in half a day. In that time, he could think of all the crimes he’s committed, even ones he hasn’t yet committed. He could call to his mind the happiness he’s experienced, and the hope he’d wished for. And his last meal will be digested and gone in that time. He has nothing to throw up, so nothing will block his airways.
So he won’t go and die on you.
Everything’s ready, so you can flaunt your skill now. Now’s the moment to lay him down on the death bed. What’s a death bed? It’s the sky you carry on your back on your last journey. The sky where the North Star shines in serenity. Beautiful, isn’t it? I made it myself with a board from a birch tree.
Lay him down on the death bed. Make him comfortable, with his ankles strapped and his neck propped up. Cover his pathetic body with a blanket. It’ll keep his skin from scarring. Leave no traces of assault, only bruises on the inside of his bones. Fasten him with four straps, and let him revel in the honor of being one with my beautiful death bed.
Isn’t he lovely? Lying on the death bed, he’s as mild as a newborn baby swaddled in a blanket. So lovely that you want to put him to the breast. You should put him to the sweet breast, then. But first, cover his face with wet gauze so that the air won’t block his airways.
Pour the water. Slowly, in a small stream. It must enter the throat and the nose at the same time. Don’t cut off the stream of water until it’s filled his throat. It’s no use for him to close his mouth, and he can hold his breath for only so long. The mouth opens, the water goes in. The more he resists, the more he suffers. Do you hear him gasping for breath? Do you see his chest swelling? Pour more water. There’s more that leaks than goes in, but no matter. Keep pouring until the water comes out of his eyes. Don’t stop till his mouth stops twitching.
Is his mouth still? Now it’s time for the North Star to move toward heaven. Flip over the death bed. Flip it over, and make him throw up water with the North Star at his back. He’ll come to his senses after that. When he does, flip over the death bed again. And pour water. Simple, isn’t it? What a beautiful device. You don’t need to exert yourself, thrusting his head into the tub; you don’t need to make an effort to lift up his limp body. You just need to flip over the death bed. The water comes pouring out with no effort on your part.
He’ll be drenched all over. All sorts of liquids will come oozing out of every pore in his body. He’ll have pissed himself. And shit himself wet. Spit, sweat, piss. Make them all come pouring out of him. The more that comes out, the more that goes in. Pour water. And some red pepper powder. Raise the death bed. Pour water.
Don’t hesitate. You can’t turn back. Don’t think of him as a human being. He’s a rock. A tree, grass, a donkey gone mad, a dog, a goat. Nothing more than a rock. Wring out tears from the rock. Don’t lose control. Don’t betray your emotions. Stay cool. Don’t lose your head. Put on a mask of ice. Let your boiling blood cool. Try not to breathe, even. Keep yourself from sweating. And groaning.
It’s a war. A struggle for your life. Subdue the enemy, or the enemy attacks you. What we’re fighting is the force of evil. Minions of evil who indulge in lies, intrigue, injustice. A mob of evil that dreams of violence, fight, overthrow. We are the good warriors fighting the force of evil.
MORE FROM THE LATEST ISSUE