Chapter 17: A Madman's Ambition

"Cancer is unsolvable—unsolvable in the eyes of a common man. But in this world of mysteries and miracles, some people have beaten cancer or other incurable diseases, seemingly defying death. Do you know why? Is it just that they refuse to die? That's nonsense. First, you need to understand one thing: the medical industry is a profit machine. There are elites—people you'll never even hear about—who control everything. Even if a cure for cancer existed, do you think they'd release it? No. It wouldn't serve their interests. A cancer patient is worth more to them alive, draining money from treatment after treatment. Do you think they care if it costs human lives? In their eyes, it's all about making a profit. Human life is nothing more than a commodity."

Tristan's words sounded like some wild conspiracy theory, the kind of thing people roll their eyes at. But as they say, seeing is believing.

After witnessing the superhuman strength he'd just displayed, even if he had said Harry Potter was real, John and Betsy might've believed him.

So why not believe that cancer is also curable?

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Upon hearing Tristan's words, Jigsaw—John Kramer—slowly raised his hands and gave a few claps as the sound echoed through the room.

"Well said. Now, let's move on to the next question."

His voice was a little hoarse this time, and he didn't have his usual calmness. Instead, there was a kind of anticipation and excitement.

"You already know I can't harm someone like you, and you know what my intentions were. But, putting that aside, I'm genuinely intrigued. I want to know your outlook on life. How does someone like you live? What drives you? What's your goal?"

"Eternal life."

"Eternal life?" John repeated, his brows raising in curiosity.

"Yes."

Without missing a beat, Tristan nodded and then stood up.

His face suddenly took a solemn, detached expression, almost like a god or a prophet, as though seeing beyond the confines of the room. He lifted his gaze towards the ceiling, his eyes seemingly lost in some distant horizon.

When he spoke again, it was with a calmness that could chill the bones, like a sage imparting eternal wisdom.

"Humans only live for a hundred years—it is as unreal as a dream that ends in an instant. So what is the point of a person living in this world?"

He raised the question but didn't wait for an answer. His voice carried on.

"Nothing. In the grand scheme, nothing we do truly matters. Life and death—they're just part of the natural order. All living beings are equal—everything is born, and everything dies. Whether you're a president in the White House or a beggar on the street, in the face of death, what's the difference? In the end, you both are dead."

"Death," Tristan continued, "is the ultimate equalizer. It renders all achievements and struggles meaningless. No matter what you do, in the end, you will still die. But this nihilism... it's not just a belief, it's a question. Life is meaningless—so what now? Should we just surrender and let death take us? Everyone has their own answer to it... and I have mine."

Tristan finally turned his head, locking eyes with both Jigsaw and Betsy as a dark, unhinged madness flashed within his eyes, making a chill crawl down their spines. But Tristan remained indifferent to their discomfort, and his voice was disturbingly calm.

"My answer to life's meaninglessness is simple: I neither accept it, embrace it, nor seek refuge in fabricated meanings. I face it head-on and answer it with an equally objective truth. If life is objectively meaningless due to death, then the only objective counter to it is eternal life. Immortality that transcends death itself."

He paused, and his eyes gleamed with wisdom.

"There is only eternal life. That is the only goal worth pursuing. If one cannot live forever, is there any difference between a God and a pile of shit in the gutter?! I may be a fool, but I refuse to be a fool made of shit. Yet, if I fail to obtain immortality, that's exactly what I am—a pile of shit decaying in the gutter… hehehe."

Tristan's wild and unrestrained laughter exploded into the room, echoing off the cold walls like the sound of pure madness.

His words, overflowing in a chilling conviction, left both John and Betsy stunned.

Neither dared to mock his insanity—they couldn't. They were too shaken by the raw truth in his twisted logic. John, in particular, felt something shift deep inside him. It was as though a long-forgotten lock had shattered within his mind, forcing him to confront a new perspective on life.

A storm raged in his mind, and it took him time to settle the chaos inside. When he finally regained composure, the room was shrouded in silence. Even Tristan had stopped laughing and was waiting for John's response.

Noticing this, John cleared his throat as his mind spun, and he asked the one question burning in him—the one thing he needed to know from this madman who seemed more enlightened than anyone he had ever met.

"What if eternal life doesn't exist? Everything dies—people, planets, even the universe. So how can you say immortality is real? What if... it simply doesn't exist? Wouldn't everything still be meaningless?"

For the first time, a genuine smile crossed Tristan's face, as if the madness earlier was all but an illusion. But his answer proved once again that it was all real.

"Does it matter if eternal life exists?"

"Huh?"

"I don't care whether it exists or not. I'll chase it anyway. I pursue eternal life because it is my ideal, my purpose. Even if it's impossible, even if I die along the way... I will die without regret."

"...."

What followed Tristan's words was a long silence, thicker and heavier than before.

In that moment, one single thought echoed in Jigsaw's mind—one born from all his years of observing human nature and dissecting the darkest parts of the human psyche:

'Madman.'

This man was a madman—more dangerous than anyone John had ever encountered. But at the same time, Tristan was also the most fascinating human being he had ever come across.

However, before John could think further, and the atmosphere could become even more tense, Tristan suddenly erupted into joyful laughter.

"Hahaha…"

His voice dispersed the tension in the room, and both John and Betsy stared at him, bewildered by the sudden shift in mood.

When he saw this, Tristan wiped imaginary tears from his eyes, still chuckling.

"Ah, there's no need to be so serious. Honestly, it's not that deep. I'm just an ordinary guy, like anyone else. Everything I said, it was a bit too... idealistic. The truth is, I'm actually suffering from a disease myself."

"What disease? You can cure cancer—what kind of illness could possibly stump you?" John couldn't help but frown.

"Haha, well, it's not that there isn't a cure… I just haven't found the right one. But…"

Taking a pause, Tristan glanced over at Betsy, his smile widening. "When I saw Betsy today, I think I might finally be able to cure myself. She even offered to help me fight this disease. Isn't that right, Betsy?"

The sudden mention of her name made Betsy's heart skip a beat. Her mind raced back to what Tristan was referring to, and the realization made her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Even John had turned to look at her, clearly expecting some kind of response. The intensity of both men's gazes only made her thoughts swirl in panic, and all she wanted to do at that moment was to sink into the ground and disappear.

——————————————————

If you like the book, and also want read more chapters—ahead of public release, you can do so by joining me on Patreon and supporting me.

https://www.patreon.com/ProgressingDaily