Chapter 7

Ever since I fell into the mire of vice and sin, my life became a hollow shell, a vessel adrift in a sea of degradation. I was immersed in a world where sordidness reigned, a realm where I was known not by my name, but by the demeaning monikers that those depraved men bestowed upon me – 'dirty slut', 'toilet boy', and countless other labels that marked me as an object for their twisted desires. My ears, once sensitive to the slightest inflexion of tone, had grown numb to these calls.

This numbness, I pondered, might well be the price of a soul unwittingly bartered with the devil in the relentless pursuit of money. Each sordid encounter, each dehumanizing act, seemed to chip away at my essence, leaving behind a growing void. It was as if in my desperate scramble for financial salvation, I had inadvertently crossed a threshold, beyond which lay a realm void of self-respect and dignity.

Further deep into the abyss, a chasm grew between myself and those around me, cemented by a vow as cold as the shadows I inhabited. I promised myself not to forge any attachments, for everyone was merely a migrant in this life I planned to abandon without a backward glance. Yet, amidst the desolation of my existence, there remained a flickering ember in my heart, a dim light of hope fuelled by a yearning for something more, something pure – a desire to immerse myself in the world of art, to make it the cornerstone of my existence.

In my mind, I had bartered my soul to the darkest corners of life, straying beyond the reach of any divine grace. I felt abandoned, a lost soul wandering far from the light of God. But in the most unexpected of moments, in the depths of my despair, a door cracked open, casting a sliver of light into my darkness. It was through this door that I encountered Nanase, a meeting that felt like a gentle hand reaching out to a drowning man.

"Don't you think painting nature is more relaxing than sketching a portrait?" she asked, materializing beside me with a smile as broad and welcoming as a sunlit day.

"I guess...," was my reply.

"Right? Nature can never be wrong."

That time, I was lost in my own world, brush in hand, capturing the serene emptiness of the park encircled by whispering trees on my A5 watercolour book. But Nanase's sudden intrusion into my solitary orbit stirred a flurry of questions in my mind.

Who is she? Why is she here?

As if attuned to the silent queries dancing in my head, Nanase swiftly demystified her presence.

"You know, I've been watching you for quite a while, and I wonder if you'd like to join my club."

The club, dubbed the Nature Art Club, was Nanase's brainchild, a cultural group teetering on the edge of realization, hindered only by a shortage of members. With just three members, including herself, she needed one more to meet the registration requirements. Despite my initial reluctance and repeated refusals, Nanase's persistence wore down my resistance, and like a leaf caught in a gentle current, I found myself swept into her world.

My life was a whirlwind of activity in this club. As no one else stepped forward, I somehow found myself appointed as the reluctant vice president. Our little club, nascent and struggling for recognition, faced the uphill battle of securing support and resources. Days melded into a frenzy of responsibilities, and what began as a mere placeholder in my life gradually wove its way into the fabric of my being.

Before I knew it, I was investing my all – time, effort, even my scant financial resources – into this fledgling club that had unexpectedly become a lifeline. The murky reasons for my past actions, the nights spent in the company of strangers, all faded into the background.

Then came Nanase's proclamation, her voice resonating with excitement in our modest clubroom.

"Yeah, an art exhibition. That's our goal!" she declared, her ambition resonating within the confines of our modest clubroom. "If it's a success, we could attract more members, secure a larger budget."

"Uhm! Then, we could hold an official exhibition."

"Maybe then we could get good references to enter our chosen university."

"That's right."

"Are we going to hold it this year's school festival?"

"Of course!"

"We should get ready then."

The room buzzed with shared enthusiasm. Ideas for concepts, VIP guests, budgets – plans for an exhibition that would mark our club's debut in the world of art. Caught up in this collective determination, I poured my heart and soul into this venture, buoyed by a sense of purpose and belonging.

Yet, in this fervent pursuit, I never anticipated the fall that awaited me, the stumble that would bring me crashing back to the harsh realities of my life.