Justine walked briskly toward the authentication point. Her bright brown hair flowed in the air as she pushed past the people in front of her, slipping between groups. When she arrived at the exact spot, the nun looked at her without saying a word. She was probably in her thirties; a few strands of blonde hair could be seen peeking slightly out from under her veil. Her eyes were emerald green. She looked Justine up and down, then said in a soft, almost angelic tone:
— Could you tell me the names of your group members, young lady?
Justine smiled and pointed at the nun, clearly irritated by the question she had just been asked. She replied sarcastically:
— I'm not the leader of this group, Sister Angela, he's just behind… me.
She turned around while pointing at Pierre, who was supposed to be right behind her, but there was nothing—he had completely disappeared. The nun leaned to the side to see who Justine was pointing at, but she saw no one.
— There's no one behind you, young lady. Are you joking with me?
Justine didn't answer. She was completely lost; she had just humiliated herself in front of everyone. At the nun's question, she turned bright red, and shame made her completely lose her composure.
— I… I'll come back with the leader…
The nun looked at her with complete indifference, then gestured with her hand for her to leave.
— Very well. Come back when your group leader is here. For now, leave—you're blocking the people behind you.
Justine turned around, her face still burning red. Her fists were clenched, her eyes filled with rage, with a few tears trembling in them. The only thought echoing in her mind was directed at Pierre—the one who had made her suffer such humiliation she would remember for the rest of her life.
"Why isn't he here? Seriously… that guy is going to pay for this humiliation."
Justine walked while scanning left and right, hoping to spot Pierre—or at least his silhouette—among all the people walking or standing around.
She searched for him but couldn't find him. There were too many people, too many faces, too much noise. Every voice sounded like Pierre's, or like someone from her group. She turned around to check whether it was really her group or just her imagination, but it was indeed the case. She spotted people she didn't yet know, faces she had seen at the university, but none of her group members were in sight.
Sounds began to catch her attention. She started hearing screams, crying, and a certain commotion very close to her. Nuns began rushing toward the area.
She also started walking toward that place. People often say that too much curiosity can kill you, but here… a wave of terror ran down her spine at the sight of the disturbing scene.
And then she saw it—that body, hanging from a rope… Her whole body began to tremble. She had to press her hands against her forearms to try to stop the shaking. Her eyes were completely lost, darting in every direction. If someone had looked at her at that moment, they would have seen a face as white as a sheet, and eyes that seemed almost lifeless.
From where she stood, she could hear the nuns shouting to move away, not to look, but almost everyone nearby had already seen the body hanging from a tree.
Justine took one last look at the scene… then turned around to continue searching for Pierre. But her legs wouldn't move anymore. She collapsed to the ground, her back facing the corpse. She had no strength left, no energy to lift herself up anymore… but a thought came to her:
"Why does everything have an end? Why do we despair in front of this gigantic wall? Life is something strange: it places obstacles in our path, more or less difficult to overcome, more or less long… So why give up in front of that? Why… are some obstacles impossible, or even unattainable in our current situation? Where he chose to become free, we are still hesitating in front of that choice. Should we do it, or remain alone and isolated from everyone?"
She stared at the ground, where the grass was still green… then a sound reached her ears. It was a conversation or an argument. From where she was, she couldn't tell which one, but one thing was certain: it wasn't far from her.
She struggled to get back up, falling several times before finally managing to stand. When she looked toward where the dispute was coming from, she saw Pierre… with Maxime?
She didn't understand why Maxime was talking—or arguing—with Pierre, but it irritated her deeply.
"What is he doing here? Don't tell me he's late just because of him, seriously."
Justine rushed forward halfway to reach her two companions, but something struck her as strange about their so-called conversation: they weren't standing next to each other. That was odd, because when people talk, they don't usually stand several steps apart—they stay close to be understood, especially in their situation, with all the noise around them. She couldn't even imagine how they were hearing each other.
When she came back to her senses, things had changed between them. They were no longer facing each other; instead, they were walking toward one another. The sight made Justine grimace at the scene unfolding not far from her.
Immediately, she started calling out to Pierre and Maxime.
— Maxime!!! Pierre!!! What are you doing together? And more importantly, why are you walking toward each other like that? You look like fashion models striking poses!
At Justine's shout, both of them stopped dead in their tracks and turned toward the sound of her voice. At the sight of her, they exchanged a faint glance—one she barely managed to catch as she rushed toward them.
When she reached Pierre, out of breath and flushed red from the effort, Maxime and Pierre looked at her with a faint mocking smile. She couldn't help but try to justify herself, but Pierre cut in first.
— How are you out of breath? You've barely walked a few meters. You really should get back into sports if you struggle with such a short distance. You might be lucky though—maybe we'll do a bit of physical training here, Pierre said in a slightly ironic tone, which Maxime confirmed with a nod.
— Hey, you two, don't make fun of me… if only you knew what I just saw a few meters from here, that body… anyway, you know what I mean, given the crowd around it. After seeing something like that, it was a shock, that's all.
The two of them looked at her without saying a word. No emotion appeared on their faces. They stared at her with a strange glint in their eyes, something she didn't notice. She then turned directly to Pierre.
— Why didn't you follow me? Look, because of you I had to see that… and on top of that I humiliated myself in front of that so-called nun, she said irritably.
— I was delayed by someone… when Maxime came to tell me something, that person was still there… but the problem is that person is the one who just died.
She looked at Pierre with confusion in her eyes. How could both of them have been in contact with the person who had just died? She turned around, and a thought crossed her mind:
"They're not reacting when we talk about him… no, don't tell me the argument…"
She was cut off mid-thought by a hand resting on her shoulder—it was Maxime's. When she turned her head toward him, she froze. She only saw half of his face at first, but even that was enough to feel his gaze fixed on her, silent.
— Pierre and I were talking about how we might try to get through this situation together, you understand? But the way you're looking at us… I'm starting to think you're accusing us, Justine.
Justine noticed something subtle about Maxime that struck her. Normally she wouldn't pay attention to such small details, but this time… his eyes looked tired, almost sad. He looked at her the way someone stares into their own depression—there was no sense in trying to look into it, as if gazing into a vast void hoping to find light, only for emptiness to stare back at you endlessly.
— Every action has consequences, Justine. Good or bad, but every action we take leads us toward our own future, which in turn becomes our present. He looked at her like she was facing absolute fate itself. Yet he could have made other choices that would have led him down a different path… better? I don't know, but different from the one he took. Death isn't necessarily a punishment, Justine, as I was explaining to Pierre. Sometimes it allows certain people to be freed from a world devoid of meaning. Sometimes it's better to look at the shadows that reflect a truth that may itself be false, rather than confronting a reality that is too sudden and violent. The sun can blind us completely, unlike the moon, which reflects the essence of life.
Justine looked at him, slightly taken aback by his response.
— But how are these things you're telling me supposed to help me understand the situation?
— Sometimes you have to bring someone to the edge of the abyss to see what they'll do next. Maybe all of this no longer made sense to him, and so he did it. The people around us aren't necessarily good; they have their own intentions, just like we have ours. Sometimes you need to see blood to remind yourself that you're still alive, and power becomes absolute in those moments—do you follow me? Who is right or wrong doesn't really matter. Good and evil are nothing but fiction. In his case, maybe he was despised by everyone, maybe not—but that doesn't concern us, because we are also indifferent to his existence. It has nothing to do with us. That's why Pierre and I are completely indifferent to your revelation—we already know it.
Justine lowered her head, confused. She hadn't expected such a reaction from one of her companions. Behind her, Pierre was watching silently, but his eyes had become lifeless. He muttered something barely audible. Maxime turned around: there was no emotion on his face, but his gaze carried a dark glint along with a faint mocking smile. Justine didn't notice the change behind her; she was too busy thinking about what had just been said.
"Maybe I'm overthinking… who could have done that? And more importantly, why? I should really apologize to them for implying they were the culprits… why isn't anyone happy?" she thought to herself.
— Sorry, I apologize for…
Maxime cut her off mid-sentence. He seemed to have lost interest in staying here.
He looked at them with a raised eyebrow.
— Well, that's enough. I think we've already wasted enough time as it is. After all, it's up to you to decide what happens next, Justine: you're free to move forward and get yourself authenticated so our group can officially take shape… or not, and stay here talking about nothing. Sometimes you have to accept that you don't know everything in order to move forward.
She looked at him without saying a word. Pierre gave a small smile.
— See you later then, Maxime. And don't get lost on the way back this time—that would be quite unfortunate, Pierre said, watching Maxime's back as he started to walk away.
Maxime raised his hand and made a small gesture. He turned back one last time toward them both. Slight folds showed under his eyelids—maybe from fatigue—but his gaze remained deep and unsettling.
— To be honest with both of you, one day in my life I woke up and stopped being the best at what I did, and I looked at myself in a mirror. You know why? To see my accomplishments… but there was nothing… absolutely nothing to look at, nothing to admire. Life stops making sense when you stop moving or dreaming, you might as well die then… Death is maybe the only thing in this world that is more unfair than life. That silence is such that sometimes it becomes almost comforting. I tried many times to become that superhuman, to manage to change things, to change my own life and, along the way, the lives of others… but reality quickly caught up with me. There was absolutely nothing, only a bottomless abyss, no god, nothing… everything waiting for us at the end of that path was only death.
…
— Then we just need to find that dream or goal to reach in order to get out of it, Maxime, Justine suddenly said, looking at him with a warm smile. Why be so pessimistic in this kind of situation? You just need to be happy in order to live, and that's already enough. Becoming a superhuman is a bit strange in my opinion, I admit I don't really understand where you're going with this, but… be courageous in your actions.
Maxime smiled, turned around, and walked back toward the group.
Justine watched him leave. She shifted her gaze slightly toward Pierre; he had a small smile on his face. She didn't understand anything. She was lost. While others walked forward in life, she stayed still, watching them rise in the world while she did nothing but remain in place.
She lowered her head.
Maxime and Pierre move forward… they're not like me, just staying here and waiting for someone to help me with my lazy or indulgent life… luckily Léonie is with me, otherwise it would be harder. I hope the future will be calmer for me and that I'll stop hiding in my shell.
— Why are you smiling like an idiot, Pierre? Did something happen with Maxime?
— No, not really… I don't know how to explain it, but it's like talking to a distant friend, or someone you care about. You just smile when you see them and tell them everything about your life, even though they're only passing through.
He turned toward her, still wearing that small smile, a tight one that made his cheeks crease slightly. So why, from a distance, did it look like an argument, even a confrontation? She couldn't understand… something was escaping her. She knew it. Pierre and Maxime remained strangers to her. They had only just met minutes ago, but something still wasn't clear.
— Now that I think about it, you were with that guy… why did he come up to you? And what did he ask you, or what kind of interaction did you have with him for… for him to do what you know what.
— You're asking a lot of questions all at once. Are you suddenly interested in our group's life? Why? Because of that poor guy who just died, or just out of curiosity?
He looked at her with that mocking smile. His hands were in his pockets, but his eyes held something extra as they watched her without letting go.
Why don't you just answer my question, Pierre?
— Just to know. I'm curious about what you talked about, for everything to escalate like that… is there a problem with that? And I seriously doubt that in our case, between the two of us, it would be uncomfortable, since we're in the same group, right?
He looked at her for a long moment, very seriously, then suddenly laughed in her face.
— That's true, you're completely right. We're on the same boat, so you have the right to know what really happened… just a simple conversation, that's all that happened. Don't look at me like that. Nothing else happened, and that's the truth. He asked me if there was still space in our group, I told him: "I'm sorry, but the group is full." And he simply went to see other groups to try his chance. But given how it ended, in the end, he only got what he got.
She looked at him, completely confused. How? Why? How could someone have made her think the unthinkable? Life is unfair, just like for him and for me…
-------
— Mom!!!
A young girl was running full speed toward a woman in her thirties. She had brown hair and slightly red lips. Her complexion was fair. She smiled at her daughter with a glow only a mother could have.
— What is it, my little princess? How are you always so radiant, my little Juju?
The young girl hugged her mother tightly. She smiled in the present moment, in the innocence of her own youth, in that ignorance of childhood. Those moments are the most precious and the most painful…
I miss you so much, Mom…
-------
No, no, I have to stop thinking about that. It's in the past… back to the present. Who are these individuals—no, these monsters—for pushing someone to do such things? Who are they?
The two of them were looking at the scene. At that moment, many people were watching as the body was taken down from where it was hanging. A lot of noise filled the air: criticism, even insults directed at him, sorrow and mourning. But one thing was certain for Justine—there was only one thing in her heart: fear.
Damn, why am I shaking? I need to calm down… I have to. The sound of accusations started growing louder in her ears and in her heart. Those criticisms terrified her, but also angered her. Who are they to judge someone? Have they lived through what he lived through? No, they're just bullies, only repeating each other's misery. They have no legitimacy to speak about him.
— Silence…
— You have to speak louder if you want to be heard, Justine. Why are you so fixated on worms who are already spitting on innocent people, before even knowing the truth about them? They are like that. They are predetermined to act this way, it's in their nature. Why fight them? Ignore them, and think whatever you want. You are free to think. There is no need to fight this kind of people.
— Shut up, Pierre. They have no morals of their own. They judge, they spit on good people… who are they to say that?
Maxime cut her off sharply. His gaze was calm, already looking into the distance, never once looking at her. He started walking toward their original destination. Just a few steps were enough for her to understand they would talk while walking.
They were side by side, walking at a slow pace. The small path to the authentication point wasn't far, at least according to Justine's memory.
— Seeing all this, I quickly understood that morality no longer exists here… at least in this place, especially in this orphanage. We've returned to our most primal instincts, while still maintaining a hierarchy among ourselves, of course. There is no longer truth or lies in this world. The only thing that exists is harsh reality. And yet… everything that exists in this world built around us, we live by conveniently believing in a few falsehoods while hoping for a miracle to pull us out of it. That's the only way they know how to live: putting others down to rise themselves up. There is nothing wrong with that, Justine, it is human. They don't want to be alone when they die. They are simply afraid of all this.
— You're just repeating yourself. Why am I not allowed to fight against this kind of people? Who are they for you to run away with your tail between your legs? They are themselves responsible for his death. And so are you, just as much as them. You run away. You only turn your eyes away from his death! We should not accept this as something normal… they committed a crime, and they must pay.
He suddenly looked at her, eyes wide open, his mouth twisted in confusion. She didn't understand why he reacted like that.
— Crime? What crime? The fact that they got rid of a nobody, a weakling who is afraid of everything and nothing? Where is the crime in that act? You really call that a crime? To be honest with you, with or without him, my life hasn't changed at all. I'm here with you talking about him, that's the only truth in this story. He was destined to die. That's a fact in this world.
— How… how can you say that! I thought you were better than those disgusting people… Here I am talking with a madman… I thought my own life had value… now I realize it never had any.
— We are like them, you and I. You already judged us with your friend during our first meeting. And from what I know, you do it with everyone in our group, with your little condescending remarks. You may think you're better than them, but don't doubt it—you might have cried when you saw his tragic death, but under certain circumstances, you would have spat on him yourself.
— You don't know who I am. You only rely on what I show others to say such nonsense to my face. I have a heart, unlike them… or even you, from what I can see.
During this exchange, Justine noticed that Pierre wasn't even looking at her anymore. Until the end of the conversation, he either stared at the ground or into the distance. It didn't bother her; on the contrary, she had no problem expressing her thoughts or feeling pressured.
— You're quite funny. But what's the point of being sentimental in moments like this? All that truly matters is my own comfort; others come after. Of course I can help them, but they'll have to pay me back later. Anyway, none of this matters anymore… he's dead. In my way of thinking, I don't even remember him anymore. He's like a cloth falling from the sky—you see it once in your life, then forget it completely within seconds. Life is too complicated to remember such useless details.
To be honest with you, I like trees, nature, animals, reading—I love all those things… the problem is other people. People like us are everywhere, constantly everywhere. We often think we're different from others, but no. We are simply bad. If God created us in his image, then he is simply bad as well.
— For my part, that's not how I see things. Goodness always wins, Pierre, trust me.
— I want to believe you, but the problem is that you don't really remember what happened in your own life. Are you sure you truly remember your life, Justine? If you recall properly, it even caused you trouble at university, don't you remember?
She looked at him in shock. How did he know that? She had talked about it with Léonie, but she didn't remember mentioning it to anyone else. She wanted to ask more questions, but they had already arrived.
When the nun saw her arrive with her team leader, a small smile appeared on her lips.
— Ah, finally. I was starting to wonder where you were, and whether you hadn't lied just to get a group.
As the two of them stood before the smiling nun, Pierre leaned in and whispered in her ear in a mysterious tone:
— The world is far harsher than we think. Humans are bad, and when they are kind, it's because they expect something in return. The only coherent position is to live for oneself without illusion or lies—or at least that's how I will live, in absolute truth. And since nothing outside my own experience can truly be verified except through others' words, you should trust me on these matters.
She looked at him for a few seconds, then replied in a confident tone:
— The world is not empty of meaning: it is full of mysteries to solve and doubts that will accompany us all our lives. But that is what true existence is, not your absolute truth. Others are neither necessarily enemies nor necessarily friends, and truth is never born alone: it is built together. It is by trusting others that we truly become who we are, Pierre.
The two of them looked at each other, a faint smile curling at the corners of their lips. A small breeze passed between the authentication tables. Justine watched Pierre and the nun talking between themselves. Then she looked to the side, toward where… he had died.
Maybe I've just found a reason to exist, something greater than my own existence… and I thank you for that. And don't worry, wherever you are now, you're surely better off than where you were before. I will avenge your death, and don't worry about that—I will do it even at the cost of my own life, if necessary.
End of this episode.
Thank you for reading.