The heavy wooden wheels moved slowly on the dirt road, pulled by two horses whose regular steps scattered the dust that clung to the dry air. A soldier sat at the front, his hands casually holding the reins, a sword hanging at his waist with no iron protection gleaming on his body whatsoever. He wore a simple uniform; a cloth thick enough to withstand the wind, but definitely not a dashing suit of armor as it was nothing more than leather armor.
Behind him stood a large carriage that was not worthy of being called a vehicle. Solid wooden planks were tightly packed together, sealing off any gaps so that the scorching sunlight outside was never able to sneak in; a few small holes in the corners of the planks served as ventilation, enough to let dirty air out and just enough new air in. From the outside, it looked like a storage box, but inside were human bodies.
In that narrow space, eight bodies were crammed. There were no adult women; only men with aging bodies, immature youths, and boys whose bodies were smaller than their age. They sat crammed together with no room to move, their backs against the boards, their shoulders pressed together, their knees touching; their feet and hands bound with expertly crafted ropes, not so tight as to turn their hands blue, but enough to make any attempt to break free only end in skin abrasions. The knots are complex, sturdy, and impossible to untie without the help of others.
Their position resembles that of a fetus trapped in a cramped womb, sitting bent over, chest pressed against knees, neck forced to bow to the pull of the rope. Their bodies were not allowed to stand, even to lift their backs was impossible; the bonds wrapped around their chests and waists, locking them in as if the human body were a turtle forced back into its shell. The slightest movement invites pain, while staying still for too long makes the joints feel sore.
Their eyes were tightly closed by a cloth wrapped around the back of their heads, which was tied as tightly as a wrist strap; there was no opening, no light, only pitch black that swallowed the view. The sound of horses, the clatter of wheels, and the breathing of the people around them were the only hints that the outside world still existed. However, the mouth and nose are left open; the reason is not mercy, but efficiency. Closing the mouth meant that the soldier had to open and close the bonds every time he fed or drank, something that was too much trouble for a prisoner who was nothing more than a burden.
The air in the carriage was the most obvious enemy. The body heat of eight people combined to give off a pungent odor that pierced the nose; sweat dripped from every pore onto the clothes, mixing with other, more humiliating humidity. The ties were never opened, so when the needs of the body forced it, there was no choice but to let it all happen on the spot; urine seeped into the pants, feces accumulated, the excrement mixed with sweat until the scent created was hard to define. Rancid, sour, and rotten smells collided against the wooden planks, seeped into the fibers, and inhabited almost every air particle in the cage creating an atmosphere that made the lungs reluctant to work.
Every minute that passes adds to the body ache. Shoulders stiff from being immobilized, legs tingling from being bent too long, backs feeling like they were nailed to a board; they could only sit, enduring the pain that spread slowly, from fingertips to spine. There were occasional short moans, sometimes long sighs, rarely words; there was no point in speaking when everyone knew that sound would only invite death, never reaching the ears outside.
Yet there was life; their breathing was regular though heavy, hearts beating though weak. Occasionally heads nodded, as if the body was trying to find the most comfortable position, though comfort was an illusion in such a place. Every time the carriage stopped, a slight breeze infiltrated through the vents bringing thin fresh air. The soldiers at the front didn't bother to check. To them, the contents of the carriage were just things to be guarded against escape, and not to die before reaching their destination. The wagons stopped only when the horses were tired or when they needed to be fed. There is no rest for those inside, no pause to stretch their legs or breathe in the free air.
Liam must have experienced tremendous mental shock after the incident; as a child he still didn't have the mental capacity to comprehend the cruelty of the world, let alone face the harsh reality head-on. Trauma ensnared him with a cold grip, generating feelings of fear, anger, and disgust all mixed together. For him, the world seemed to collapse in just one blink of an eye, and every breath was a reminder of the suffering he had just witnessed. There was no room for clear thinking, no chance to unravel emotions; everything came like a storm that tore down the fragile edifice inside him.
But on the other side, there was a figure who witnessed the same thing with a very different attitude. The Lawyer, an alien entity residing inside Liam's body, stared at the event with an eerie calmness. For Liam the tragedy was a gaping wound, but for the Lawyer it was nothing more than a spectacle that he could enjoy with a relaxed feeling; just like when he enjoyed breakfast in the morning with a glass of warm tea. There was no tremor in his heart, no sense of arousal by Lily's fresh body, no sympathy that arose to provide comfort; even the anger and hatred that so overwhelmed Liam, did not touch the Lawyer's inner walls at all. He is completely sterile from emotions that most people would consider natural.
For Lawyer, the human experience does not need to be compartmentalized between good and bad, or between right and wrong. He believes, in part, that: meaning is not something to be desperately sought, but rather something that is felt and flows with the harmony of nature; the more one pursues meaning, the more its value blurs. If the world is basically meaningless, the Lawyer is ready to accept it without rebellion; for him absurdity is not an enemy, but a stage that he can enjoy. Life and death, love and hate, victory and destruction, sickness and health; all were of the same degree, no more and no less. What he truly feared was only one: absolute boredom.
The lawyer has a firm belief that boredom is the purest hell there is, he would rather die in the most brutal way possible than be trapped in the monotonous cycle of life. For him... A person who lives only following blind orders, only moving because of routine without reflection, is no different from a machine; the machine works without feeling, without consciousness, without any other purpose than to carry out the implanted program. And human beings who live in this way are not really living, they are just mechanical movements without a soul.
From this view comes a conclusion that sounds arrogant. It doesn't matter whether one is a scoundrel who rapes and degrades other human beings, or a philanthropist who devotes his life to helping the poor; both are, at their deepest essence, driven by the same impulses. They are both trying to overcome boredom, both seeking some sort of ecstasy from their actions; pleasure, no matter what form it takes, is the opiate that keeps humans moving. Abusers find their pleasure in destruction, while good people find satisfaction in giving and helping. From the outside they look contrasting as if they stand at opposites, but when viewed through the eyes of a Lawyer, they are merely variations of the same motive.
The same is true on a broader scale. Some believe that the world has deep-rooted meaning, something sacred, absolute, and to be followed; some believe the world is just a nihilistic void, without direction, without purpose other than endless suffering. However, no matter which camp one stands in, the reality remains consistent: everyone moves because of the urge to move away from boredom. A religious person draws close to God and performs ritual after ritual, their faith constrains them, and the activity also gives them a sense of security from the emptiness of life. A nihilistic person, on the other hand, may reject all meaning but still seek ways to escape boredom itself; whether with alcohol, one-night stands, or the pursuit of other physical pleasures.
These are all spectrums, not black and white dichotomies; no human being is completely saintly, nor is any human being completely evil, because ultimately every action is a variation of the fight against boredom. Thick layers of idealism, moral concepts, religious dogma, and rational pretexts are merely walls built to disguise this basic motive. And when the wall is peeled away, all that remains is one pure expression: humans cannot stand boredom.
This is the basic point that Lawyers believe to be the foundation and culmination of all human motivation, everyone ultimately seeks pleasure according to their own tastes. Taste itself cannot be judged as the most right or the most wrong; for it is relative, changing with experience, time, and environment. Some find pleasure in power, some in kindness, some in destruction. But they are all the same in essence: the avoidance of stagnation. Lawyers see that lofty reasons are just alibis. People may say they are fighting for truth, for love, for the nation, or for justice. But underneath it all, there is a subtle urge to fill the void, to ensure that their lives do not fall into suffocating boredom. When life feels worthwhile, boredom seems to be driven away, even if only temporarily.
The bitter truth of the Lawyer's view is that no single human motivation is truly pure. Everything is wrapped in reason, everything is wrapped in rationalization. Even Liam's hatred, which is so sincere and burning towards the perpetrator of the crime, is still a reaction born from trying to overcome trauma and a sense of helplessness because of the nihilistic side of the world. He wants revenge, not just for the sake of justice, but because with it he can feel alive and exist, he can forget for a moment the emptiness of the dark side of life. For Lawyer, as long as life can provide a different sensation from day to day, then it is enough; as long as he does not sink into the mud of boredom, then every experience whether it is vile or noble is still worth living.