The Great Master sat by the cursed pond, legs submerged, lost in contemplation. His unwavering focus lingered on the hair ribbon coiled around his wrist. Around him, the monastery lay exhausted. Most of the monks, spent from pulling reeds and hauling water in their futile attempts to drain the pond, now slept in the bushes or sprawled across the porch.
"Pointless… everything is just pointless…"
the Master sighed, and let himself collapse into the water.
Buckets clattered to the ground as the few monks still on duty rushed forward. They seized him by the shoulders, hauled him upright, and dragged him back into his chamber. But it wasn't the weight of his body that troubled them.
It was his empty gaze.
"What now?" one of them whispered. "First anger, now detachment from reality. If I'd known this scoundrel would cause such turmoil, I'd have cared for him a lot better."
The second monk nodded in silence as he changed the Master's soaked garments.
"And the crowd at the gate?" the first continued. "They have been waiting for Him for four days already… They demand for the Master's guidance."
"Let them wait," the second monk replied quietly. "And ignore their complains, as if they deserve him anyway..."
Anxiety thickened the air.
"What if someone from the Palace arrives? They've already sent the letter…" the first monk fretted. "And if they discover this…" He gestured to the lifeless Master.
"Then we all will share his Fate," the second said grimly. "Perhaps, in pieces... or hanging on the gates."
They left the chamber together. And as their footsteps faded, the silence swallowed them completely.
Alone at last, the Master lay still, lost in thought, not even breathing, until a sudden, sharp pressure struck his chest, forcing a ragged cough from his lungs.
"Suffer alone?" A voice asked calmly.
Anger immediately surged in the Master's body, and he rallied, casting aside his lethargy.
"Wish dearth right now?"
He turned to face the intruder.
And froze.
In the same breath, his grief vanished. He straightened, then bowed deeply, forehead nearly touching the floor.
"Your Majesty, the Emperor," he murmured, eyes fixed straight on the floor. "Your humble servant, Master of the Wind, greets you."
"Rise, for this is no Heavenly Palace, and I am no Emperor here," the voice chided.
But the Master did not move and held his ground. "You remain my Emperor, my life and death yours alone."
"An unexpected confession," the Emperor chuckled, "considering everything that
transpired earlier. It seems your punishment within your mortal life taught you well."
"I was young, naive, and foolish,"
the Master answered steadily. "Through punishment, You showed me the path to understanding my mistakes."
"Kneel no longer," the Emperor advised. "At your age… one should mind their joints."
The Master hesitated, then rose, compelled despite himself.
"Better," the Emperor approved.
Yet dread gnawed at the Master's core. The Emperor's presence in the mortal world was never a good omen.
"Well?" the Emperor added lightly. "Are you going to stand there forever, or will you offer me some tea?"
*Thx for reading.