Thus Spoke Kishibe Rohan 16: At a Confessional

Uh, Mister Rohan?

I'd like you to do me a favor, if you don't mind.

Koichi Hirose, high schooler

Koichi Hirose, high schooler

Koichi Hirose, high schooler

Koichi Hirose, high schooler

Koichi Hirose, high schooler

Koichi Hirose, high schooler

Koichi Hirose, high schooler

Koichi Hirose, high schooler

What is it, Koichi?

Rohan Kishibe, manga artist

Rohan Kishibe, manga artist

Rohan Kishibe, manga artist

Rohan Kishibe, manga artist

Rohan Kishibe, manga artist

Rohan Kishibe, manga artist

Rohan Kishibe, manga artist

Rohan Kishibe, manga artist

Rohan Kishibe, manga artist

Actually, I'm going abroad for spring break.

Hm? Where?

I-Italy.

Italy?

Could you please use your Heaven's Door to write in me so I can speak Italian?

Why should I have to do that?

It's going to be my first time going overseas by myself. I'm nervous.

That's why I want you to at least make it so I can speak their language.

I'm begging you!

You're going to Italy?

In that case, I'll tell you about an experience I had there.

Huh?

After I met you, that jerk hurt me and put my manga on hiatus, right?

After I met you, that jerk hurt me and put my manga on hiatus, right?

After I met you, that jerk hurt me and put my manga on hiatus, right?

After I met you, that jerk hurt me and put my manga on hiatus, right?

After I met you, that jerk hurt me and put my manga on hiatus, right?

After I met you, that jerk hurt me and put my manga on hiatus, right?

During that hiatus, I stayed in Venice for about eight days to do research for a new plot development.

It was then that I coincidentally got info on a mysterious event.

Episode #16: At a Confessional

The episode I am about to tell you is one that I, Rohan Kishibe, heard with my own ears during that time.

It is a tale of terror.

Have you heard of confessionals?

There's one in every Italian church.

They're rooms that look like wooden phone booths.

A priest from the church enters the box with a curtain screen, and a believer enters the other box.

A small window connects the two rooms,

designed so the priest and believer can hear each other talk, but neither can see the other's face.

Thus, the believer can speak into the window, preserving their privacy as they confess their sins.

People are unable to keep the secrets in their hearts for years on end.

The greater the secret, the more the heart suffers and screams.

The confessional is a place for the soul to be purified, and an embodiment of the knowledge of the ancients.

Although it is forbidden to do so, I made sure the priests were gone,

then secretly took photos and examined the materials and carved designs.

Then, I thought it wouldn't hurt to actually confess to a priest too, for the experience, so I entered the box.

After all, experience is what breathes reality into a work.

Oh father, I have come to confess.

I have committed a grave sin.

I cannot bear to keep it to myself any longer, Father.

I must confess. I cannot even sleep at night.

I swear to you that I didn't know that the priest was supposed to enter the curtained side at the time!

This man mistook me for a priest!

But...

Could I perhaps be lucky?

What is this grave sin? Listening to him wouldn't be so bad, either.

Experience is what breathes reality into a work.

It doesn't matter who listens to this man.

Ultimately, what is important for this man is that he believes he is talking to a priest.

Father, is something the matter?

Don't mind me. Please continue, sir.

I mean, my child.

Right. Where should I begin?

Actually, that evening...

Yes.

My tale begins with that evening.

I was 24 years old at the time, and worked at a food market.

I did grunt work.

I took bags of corn and loaded them into trucks or warehouses.

It was grueling work, and was so busy, I didn't even have time to get a girlfriend.

I utterly hated my job.

On that evening, it had passed 6 o'clock, but as was common, I was working overtime.

That's when it happened.

That man showed up.

From his unsteady gait, hollow and lifeless eyes, stiff hair, and powerful body odor,

I could tell from a single glance that he was a vagrant.

Please, give me food.

He spoke with a pathetic voice.

He kept glancing over at my lunch on the table.

I suddenly felt angry.

I'm here working overtime, while this guy was probably lazing about behind the station or at the park.

And now he wants me to give him food? What a coddled prick.

I work for my money, and then I use that money to buy food. Why don't you do that?

You put all of this stuff into the warehouse, and then I'll give you food. How about that?

I...

I'll work!

Just give me food first, please!

I haven't eaten for five days! Honest!

I just want a little bit! I'll work after I eat, I promise!

Oh, really? Normally, you get paid after you do the work.

So, are you gonna do it or not?

Hey, hey! Why are you only taking one tiny bag!? Over here!

Get it all done in one hour, okay!? I'd rather get home quick!

Come on, get moving!

If you wanna eat quickly, then work quickly!

Guess he's too used to being lazy.

I might as well whip him back into shape.

Hey! Stop slacking off and pretending to be fainted! It hasn't even been 10 minutes!

Slacking off...

Do I look...

like I'm slacking off to you!?

What the hell are you?

Right now, I am in a despair deeper than the dark ocean. And it's all because of you.

I won't forget your face! Never!

I'll make you pay for what you've done.

I'll be back.

When your happiness is at its climax...!

I'll come back to get you!

Got that!?

Look! Someone's collapsed under one of the bags!

He's dead!

He's dead!

Doctor! Call a doctor!

Call the police!

I didn't know!

I didn't know he really hadn't eaten for five days!

H-Hold on.

Er, excuse me, my child.

Did you just say that vagrant spoke after he died?

Are you sure you weren't dreaming?

Dreaming? Oh, how I wish it were a dream.

Father, what's most terrifying is what happened afterwards.

From then on, so many good things happened to me, it was eerie.

I received an inheritance from a relative, I won money on a football bet,

and the land I bought with that money sold for dozens of times the original price.

The corn-based sweets and cornflakes that I invented were picked up by a company and became a big hit.

They even sold incredibly well around the world.

I'd never even come close to having a girlfriend before, but I got married.

To a former supermodel for Milan Fashion Week.

I earned more money than I could even spend.

Now, I have about 15 servants at my current house.

I also have three chauffeurs. I was constantly unnerved by my ridiculous luck.

Thoughts of that dead man continued to occupy a corner of my mind.

And then, I had a child.

Papa, Papa!

A cute little girl who took after her mother.

Watch this, Papa! Ready?

Keep watching!

I failed!

That was close! You almost had it!

Your eyes were closed, Madam. Try again.

Okay!

As I watched my daughter play at the park,

I carelessly thought, I am so happy right now.

As promised...

As promised, I've come back!

Come back to get you!