He muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse like two rough stones grinding together: "It was my fault… all my fault."
"If I had just been more patient at the beginning… if I had first tried sincerity, and only after it failed sought change… things would never have come to this."
A weight unlike any before lay on Epimetheus's face.
He could not see farther futures, but he always saw the "past" more clearly than anyone.
Even gods cannot suppress desire and emotion; even gods, driven by desire, will struggle and fight.
All beings are like this, so humankind naturally cannot be an exception.
Yet the old, dark and cruel order had already been utterly ended.
The true Lord had already set down a brand-new Sacred Just Order.
His Majesty the God-King had already made the cosmos's main theme "truth, goodness, and beauty."
And the very first step in that is "truth."
Without "truth," the later "good" and "beautiful" are rootless water and treeless branches.
"Deceit" is the starting point of all evil; likewise, "sincerity" is the beginning of all happiness.
Was the "right of sacred hospitality" that the God-King laid down really only to protect a few strange travelers?
No.
The God-King's meaning had long been clear.
It was to learn first to give some "sincerity" and "kindness."
Only then is there any hope that "sincerity" and "kindness" will be returned.
If from the very beginning what you give is "distrust" and "deceit," then you can never receive the other side's "sincerity" and "kindness."
If all beings act this way, then the cosmos will become the cruelest, foulest, vilest black mire imaginable.
How would that differ from the old, dark order?
It would only be another cycle.
In the end, it would be ended all the same.
Even gods cannot rely on themselves alone.
All beings will in time understand that only unity and mutual nearness are the one path that can lead to everlasting prosperity and happiness.
Epimetheus began softly, his voice gentle but unshakably firm: "My dear brother, if you can see now that sincerity first is what matters most, then it is not too late."
"What you are willing to give is what you can hope to receive."
"All things in the world are like this. If you make sincerity your spring, you will drink clear waters; if you sow deceit, you will harvest poison."
"From the day humankind was born, the road they walked was too smooth. Because of this, they did not know how to cherish many things, nor see them clearly."
"They were not blind to what was wrong, but no one spoke their doubts."
"The lesson in this is not without value."
"At the very least, they will learn more reverence, and they will better understand another truth."
"Often, you must have a self; you must hold to truth, to order, to justice."
"Not blindly trust."
"Be not blind, and do not blindly follow."
"Even if the one you trust is an almighty god, even if it is your creator, even if it is your teacher, that still is not reason enough to trust completely."
"The ability and awareness to think for oneself is indispensable to progress."
"The experience won from this lesson is extremely precious, enough to make their civilization grow stronger. That is, in misfortune, a sliver of good."
Prometheus listened in silence, saying nothing.
What Epimetheus said made some sense, but for the sake of this bit of "experience," the price paid was beyond what he could accept.
It is true that hardship makes growth easier, but this sort of hardship is destructive.
In a gentler growth, humankind would also learn these things; they did not need something so extreme.
Epimetheus did not know what Prometheus was thinking and continued:
"'Death's' arrival sowed the seed of 'desire' in them. But what fruit that seed ultimately bears depends on what water it is given."
"And you, my dear brother, at the very start watered it with the most toxic 'poison.'"
"If you do not rein yourself in, if you do not carefully guide and correct, then this seed will never bear anything good."
"I think that is not a sight you would want to see."
At these words, Prometheus's face blanched further.
He opened his mouth, but his throat seemed stuffed with guilt; no sound came.
In that moment, in his brief clarity, he could already "foresee" very clearly just how fearsome an impact his actions that day would have on humankind's future.
Things that ought to have been won with honesty and sacrifice, once taken by trickery, plant a disaster that cannot be recalled.
Epimetheus watched him quietly, his expression deepening.
But in his eyes lay a complex, brotherly forgiveness.
He no longer spoke like a moralizing sage, but like any younger brother, said softly to Prometheus, "If you truly want to make this right, then use your wisdom to begin a true 'ascetic path.'"
"You know very well that His Majesty the God-King's Sacred Just Order is supreme and admits no profanation or violation."
"You were not cast straight into Tartarus this time…" Here Epimetheus paused, a faint, nearly invisible awkwardness flickering across his face.
It was something Prometheus did not yet know, but he, who had been "hanging around" Olympus all this time, did.
Truth be told, he really did not mind.
After all, that was the great God-King; there was no stain in that for Mother.
Besides, Mother's mood and spirit of late truly had grown more high and bright.
Seeing Mother live better was something he wanted.
Being the god of afterthought, he understood even more that living in the past had no meaning.
All that is past is only meant to serve a better future.
"Mm… in short, there are also some… deeper reasons behind this."
"But in the end, it is still His Majesty's breadth and mercy that saved you. Otherwise, for what you did today, casting you into Tartarus would not be excessive at all."
That brief, small awkwardness in Epimetheus did not catch Prometheus's notice.
He had no room in his heart now for such things.
Epimetheus's face grew more serious: "My dear brother, what I'm going to say next is something I doubt I'm the only god who has told you."
"But I hope that, after this deserved chastening, you can finally take these words into your heart."
"You know very well His Majesty the God-King's Sacred Just Order. You also know that this Order is absolutely right."
"Yet you have never truly considered why His Majesty's Order exists at all."
"Is it because you are too 'clever'? So you are too 'self-centered'?"
"Have you really not noticed how often you have been too proud?"
Prometheus remained silent.
Could he really not know these flaws of his?
No, of course he knew.
But knowing a flaw is always easy; changing it is always hard.
Clever people like to trust themselves most. Whatever the matter, they prefer to do it their own way.
Epimetheus went on earnestly, "Now that you have received your punishment, go and truly make up for your wrongs."
"But remember: you must first learn to walk the earth in a 'mortal' stance, not gaze down from above in a 'heavenly god's' pose."
"You must learn to look up to His Majesty the God-King. You must truly grasp the breadth and necessity of His Order!"
"You must learn true 'reverence'—reverence for the Order that cannot be challenged."
"You are a god; you should learn to view this cosmos with a broader, more encompassing heart."
"You are the god of 'foresight' and 'foreknowledge'; you should base all your actions upon a more beautiful, stronger 'future.'"
Epimetheus sighed once more and concluded, "His Majesty has forbidden you to use any divine power to 'help' any living being. Do not violate His supreme Order again."
"As for humankind, they must walk their own path now. Watch, if you must; if you truly cannot bear it, then only teach—do not act for them with your own hands."
"Do better, brother."
"Do not let your foolish 'cleverness' bring upon yourself and others a cost that cannot be borne."
No sooner had he finished than Epimetheus's figure vanished.
"My dear brother, I truly hope this is not the last time I see you. May you, clever as you are, not really send yourself into Tartarus…"
These last words—half-tease, half-weighty concern—floated away on the empty wind.
Prometheus had wanted to ask about Mother—whether she had been implicated by him, whether she was worrying and suffering for him.
But before he could speak, Epimetheus was gone.
He thought a moment and told himself Mother would be fine.
His Majesty was not the kind of god who took anger out on His own.
Since Epimetheus could come see him, and looked as he did, Mother must be unharmed.
Though in truth, on that point he was not quite right.
Clymene was, at that moment, fiercely "atoning" for him!
His Majesty the God-King had not truly lost His temper, but there was still quite a lot of fire in His heart.
Prometheus had indeed brought prosperity and civilization to the earth.
But he had also brought "filth."
How could the God-King not be angry?
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