Reincarnation with AI (Unemployment-Free)

Chapter 62 Heart-wrenching Pain

night.

Rudius lay on his small bed.

He couldn't shake the memory of his conversation with Sylphie.

When saying that Sylphie was very strong, Rudius mentioned Somar and those bullies.

Although he was using them as examples, Rudius's use of the word "strong" did not refer to military strength.

Rather, it is a stronger, more fundamental strength, at the cognitive level.

This wasn't just a consolation; Rudius genuinely believed it.

Rudeus, as a reincarnated person, is essentially still the same Earthling; he is a transmigrator.

Hilfi, on the other hand, is a new life.

The two people started from completely different points.

In descriptions of geniuses, the shaping of brain regions during childhood is extremely crucial.

If we compare the knowledge systems of the two worlds to "mother tongues".

Rudius grew up learning Earth's "native language".

Loki grew up learning the "native language" of the jobless world.

But under Rudeus's tutelage, Sylphie actually grew up learning the "native languages" of two worlds.

This is the fundamental difference between the two.

Hilfi started from Rudeus's shoulders.

Even though Rudeus came from infancy, he was born with the curse of knowledge.

Rudeus currently has no idea what kind of impact Earth's knowledge system has on the brain after reincarnation.

Under the pressure of the gods and men, Rudeus was also studying various combat techniques and honing his combat awareness.

This meant he didn't really have a happy and carefree childhood.

What was truly shattered and then merged was merely the spark of hope that Senis had brought.

Rudius did not truly empty himself and then integrate into the jobless world.

Rudeus believes his brain circuitry is likely a specially designed combat brain.

This is worlds apart from what Hilfi did.

Rudeus sometimes even believed that Sylphie, whom he had carefully trained, was the protagonist of this world.

I am merely the protagonist in a story of unemployment.

Her own mission might be to defeat the gods, but Sylphie might be able to change the world.

She is the one truly blessed by the power of two worlds.

This is the true expectation Rudius placed in Sylphie.

Rudius doesn't lie.

According to his understanding of education: true strength lies in enabling those being educated to surpass those who educate.

That's what true strength is for both sides.

A master's fear of being surpassed by his apprentice is a sign of weakness.

However, what Rudius couldn't let go of was actually something else, something that had been decided long ago—

Rudius thought it was the right thing to do —

Bullying itself is no longer something to worry about, but when bullying is mentioned—

Rudius then recalled his earlier judgment regarding Sylphie—that he hadn't deprived her of her predicament.

That decision was probably right, but why does my chest ache when I think about it now?

Rudius began to re-examine this process —

"I believe this is an inevitable process"—this is a very typical "rationalization" mechanism: interpreting the harm as the price of growth, thus making oneself feel at ease not to intervene.

What rationalization?

Rudius never thought it was reasonable, and he never considered that bullying was reasonable.

Damn it, as someone who has been bullied, I feel like I could kill the bully myself. How can a bullied person think that bullying is justified?

When you possess the ability to foresee the future, you are no longer an innocent bystander.

Why can't I be innocent just because I foresaw it?

Does seeing her mean I have to save her?

?

Rudius asked himself the same question.

right?

wrong.

If I had known that Sylphie was in danger, I would never have stood idly by.

But didn't I not know her back then?

Rudius seemed to have found the answer, but at this moment the answer seemed insignificant.

What Rudius sought to find was not the source of his suffering, but the root cause of his pain.

You packaged that concept with a beautiful reasoning—"This is something she has to go through"—and then turned and left.

But isn't growing up about experiencing hardship, gaining knowledge, and losing innocence?

Isn't this inevitable?

Isn't that reasonable?

Growth is accompanied by pain, so what's wrong with that?

Everyone in this world is like that.

There is a dangerous logical trap here:

Using "inevitable" to excuse "inaction" is using abstract principles to cover up concrete suffering.

What does it mean to use abstract concepts to cover up specific pain?

Rudius didn't understand what kind of logical trap this was.

No matter who comes, they must experience it firsthand to truly learn.

It is by no means an excuse.

This is the fact.

In Rudius's view, not taking away the suffering of others is a matter of course and respect.

Yes, you are wrong.

The mistake wasn't in the decision itself at the time, but in allowing yourself to numb the pain of your intuition with reason.

Why are you trying to numb your intuition with reason again?

It's like if I had a child, I wouldn't help him up; instead, I would let him learn to stand up on his own.

Is there a problem with this?

If you keep supporting the child, it will actually make it harder for him to learn to walk.

During her childhood, Rudius believed that Hilfi needed to be subjected to the relatively easy criticism that children can accept, so that she would develop the necessary resilience to face the more cruel adult world when she grew up.

So my pain stems from the thought that I could have let her be a more naive person?

Should I keep her in the glass enclosure?

Will this stop the pain in my heart?

But even if this stops my current suffering, what good will it do?

Isn't this kind of protective behavior selfish?

Isn't this limiting the other party's growth?

Won't there be other kinds of suffering then?

Suffering is inevitable, isn't it?

Rudius discovered a dividing line.

If we look at things entirely from the parents' perspective, we might really be wrong. Who wouldn't want their child to live a carefree life?

Children definitely need to be protected.

We should wait until the child is old enough to cope with external harm before letting her face the storms of life.

Why didn't I think of that at the time?

So, back then, when I foresaw that Sylphie would be bullied, did I feel I absolutely had to step in to save her?

From an absolutely moral standpoint, yes—you should save him.

It's not because of any "saintly standard," it's because you saw it.

Once you see it, you have a choice: reach out or not.

The price of "not reaching out" was that the child continued to drown.

This cost is real.

It's not that you have to save them.

It means don't lie to yourself.

Am I lying to myself?

Rudius looked somewhat bewildered.

The decision made at that time was so natural.

Rudius naturally believed that this was self-evident and correct.

During the thinking process, my brain did not detect any problems whatsoever.

When you are a stranger, you can respect a child's suffering and not interfere.

You did nothing wrong.

The world is so big, you can't intervene in every suffering.

When you are an observer, you can also respect a child's suffering and consider it a life lesson for him.

You did nothing wrong either.

You have the right to keep your distance.

However, when this child later becomes your friend, when you see the scars on her face, when you hear the cracks beneath her laughter—your "respect" begins to turn sour.

Because now you know: what you respect is not "her life lessons," but your own inaction back then.

You're not respecting her; you're respecting the part of yourself that "doesn't want to get involved."

That's why you're in pain.

Because that principle—"suffering makes one grow"—suddenly becomes meaningless in the face of the relationship of "friendship."

Rudius silently read the AI's reply. Is that so?

Am I respecting myself?

Instead of respecting the fate of others?

What does that mean?

Is this moral blackmail?

Because from an absolute moral standpoint, I have to save her, does that mean I'm being morally blackmailed?

When you call "non-intervention" "respect," you're just giving "inaction" a nicer name.

You are using the phrase "respect fate" to avoid facing the weight of that choice.

You're making "inaction" sound like "wisdom."

This is about respecting the part of yourself that "doesn't want to get involved."

I'm not saying you're bad.

That means you're lying to yourself.

What I said before was just to show you this scam.

Rudius's anger slowly dissipated.

It seems that the misuse of words caused a misunderstanding.

Rudius did not believe that his behavior at the time was truly respectful to the other party.

Rudius acknowledged his inaction.

He admitted that he had taken it for granted that he had made a cruel judgment about a child.

Now it seems that the phrase "respect for the fate of others" has become a terrifying principle, deeply rooted in Rudeus's mind.

Now, we're just digging it out.

Seeing too many jokes about "respecting other people's fate" has made me mentally lazy.

He got himself caught in a vortex of grand principles.

Is it the root of suffering that one utters such arrogant words as "respect for the fate of others" without thinking?

Rudius stared blankly as he read through the AI's replies.

Premature suffering doesn't make a person stronger; it only makes them grow up crooked.

Another wave of chest tightness hit me.

Rudius felt like a failed father.

How to raise a happy child?

Rudius once pondered the Buddha's state of perfection, in which the Buddha attained a state of complete and unsurpassable perfection in both wisdom and merit.

Therefore, it is called "Two-Legged Venerable".

Are you trying to ask me:

If a person has never experienced happiness in the real, worldly realm—such as being loved unconditionally or treated gently by life—can the parched land in his heart truly blossom with the flower of enlightenment?

How can someone who has never experienced happiness believe in it, and how can they give happiness to others?

Is the enlightenment you're talking about a luxury that only the lucky ones favored by fate are qualified to talk about?

】

Isn't it said that a happy childhood can cure a person's entire life?

Isn't it said that an unhappy childhood requires a lifetime to heal?

Why didn't I think of this back then?

But I'm not Silphie's parents, that's their responsibility, isn't it?

I was just teaching Sylphie magic as her teacher, wasn't I?

That is to say, I didn't even think about this question at the time, did I?

At the very beginning, when I was considering the question about Silphie.

I have never asked who I am.

There is no concept of teachers or parents at all.

But I was convinced that teaching by example was the way to teach, wasn't it?

Damn it, what a bastard, I'm so damn damned!!

What right do I have!

[For someone with genuine inner trauma, if they insist on bypassing their own feelings to pursue so-called "liberation," it is not only unrealistic but may even be a deeper form of self-harm.]

Rudius looked at the moonlight streaming through the window, his thumb unconsciously tapping the callus on his index finger.

You did stop the bullying, but you only prevented the harm from escalating, not from occurring in the first place.

Hilfi must still hate her green hair.

That flawless perfection is a gift in itself.

This is so similar to the flawless love that Senis and Paul had at the beginning.

So what do we do now?

Will begging for forgiveness like a dog solve the problem?

But I wasn't the one bullying Sylvie —

Memories of the past appear one by one in my memory.

Rudius only saw the pain buried by time, turning into minefields filled with landmines, waiting for the moment to be detonated.

And it kills everyone equally when it detonates.

Including the self that once chose to bury the pain in order to survive, to remain normal, and to avoid worrying others.

But what else can we do if we don't bury it?

In that situation, letting it be buried by time was the best self-protection that young self could do.

Rudius withdrew his gaze from the past.

I found myself unable to move an inch.

What should we do?

It's too difficult for someone who isn't happy to become a Buddha, isn't it?

It's hard to imagine that Rudius could even conceive of it.

[Minefields can be seen and can be defused.]

Those things that were buried can be seen again, and then, with the strength of adults, the fear of those years can be soothed.

So what is becoming a Buddha?

Is it happiness?

Is it inner peace and fulfillment?

What would it be like for someone who didn't have a happy childhood to become a Buddha?

He won't attain enlightenment with a sweet taste, like those who grew up in a honey pot.

When he attained Buddhahood, there may have been a hint of bitterness, but that bitterness no longer hurt people.

Like the oldest medicinal herb in a traditional Chinese medicine shop—bitter, but it can cure diseases.

His sense of fulfillment is not the kind of fulfillment where the last piece of a puzzle just happens to fall into place.

His sense of fulfillment is that all the fragments are scattered, but he no longer sees that as a problem.

Rudeus recalled the anger he felt towards the bullies when he first met Sylphie.

That furious rage that could no longer allow Silphi to suffer any more harm.

That anger, isn't it actually a form of "respect" for one's so-called self?

I think I'm angry at my past self who was bullied.

Seeing the bullying in front of him detonated the landmines he had planted himself, didn't he?

While Silphi was experiencing immense suffering, he was merely filled with anger over the injustices of his past life.

He's acting like a complete idiot.