Odysseus.
The protagonist of The Odyssey, the tale that brings Greek mythology to its close; king of Ithaca, and one of the foremost contributors to the Greek victory in the Trojan War.
‘...And my goddamn balls-buddy.’
I sighed as I watched Odysseus toddling about in the distance, taking in the sights of Ithaca.
At the age of five, I had already sensed my fate.
“I’ll be conscripted into the Trojan War, and in the end, I’ll die without ever making it home.”
After all, The Odyssey ends with Odysseus returning to Ithaca despite having lost every one of his men.
If I went on living an ordinary life, I would someday become one of Odysseus’s crewmen.
And I would meet my death somewhere amid his many trials.
That was the fate of a man born among the people of Ithaca.
Of course, there were ways to avoid it.
For instance, while adrift at sea, I could refuse to eat Helios’s cattle—even if it meant starving to death.
But that method was far too dangerous and dependent on luck.
To survive the attacks of the sea monster Scylla and Polyphemus, I would have to leave nearly everything to chance.
So the best option was not to take part in the Trojan War in the first place.
And to do that, I would have to be abroad when the other heroes came to urge Odysseus to join the war.
‘...But looking at my family’s circumstances now, is that even possible?’
Unfortunately, the three goddesses of fate could manipulate even the destiny of someone like me, reincarnated from modern Korea.
I heard those words on the day I was born, at Apollo’s temple, where my parents had taken me in their arms to receive a blessing.
“You will surely die at the side of the one who becomes king of Ithaca and your dearest friend.”
To hear a prophecy of death the moment I was born.
It was ridiculous.
My dearest friend, and a king.
There could only be one person.
“Ah! Polites!”
“...Yes, Odysseus.”
“What are you doing? Let’s go hunt rabbits!”
That very Odysseus.
Honestly, at first, I deliberately kept him at arm’s length.
I thought that if we were less close, perhaps I could avoid fate to some degree.
But after we kept running into each other through one incident after another, he had somehow become my closest friend in Ithaca.
Even if I wanted to deny it, everyone around us already saw me as “Odysseus’s dearest friend.”
As though I was fated to become Odysseus’s closest companion.
Perhaps that was why I spent so much time pondering my fate from such a young age.
Though I only looked young, of course.
Then, when I was around eight, I reached a conclusion: acceptance.
More precisely, I would pretend to accept it while doing everything I could to twist fate.
“Odysseus.”
“Yeah?”
“I admit it. You’re my best friend.”
“...Then what was I before now?”
“Just a neighbor from the village.”
“...”
As Odysseus’s friend, I was fated to die during his journey.
In effect, I had a life expectancy of only twenty or thirty more years.
That might have been a great deal of time for someone terminally ill, but considering this was a newly acquired life, it was terribly short.
So, separate from accepting my fate, I thought about how to twist it.
“...A prophecy’s wording and its true meaning can differ more than you think.”
That was where the idea came from. If I could dig into that gap cleverly enough, might I somehow avoid death?
Then what should I do to struggle as desperately as possible against my appointed death?
There would be many methods in another age, but in ancient Greece, one goal came first.
“Polites, what are you doing...?”
“Can’t you see? I’m offering sacrifices to the gods.”
“But why are there twelve bowls filled with sheep’s blood...?”
“Hey, there are twelve chief gods on Olympus.”
“No, what I mean is...”
“Shh. You’ll keep the gods from concentrating.”
Winning the gods’ favor.
In ancient Greece, gods were gods in the most literal sense.
With a gesture, they could send a human to the Underworld. With a single word, they could lay down an endless curse.
Yet at the same time, they could bestow tremendous blessings or cure an illness at the brink of death. The gods’ power was, in every sense, absolute.
So I chose to express my gratitude to countless gods every single day.
I gave thanks as naturally as breathing.
“Zeus, thank you for letting me open my eyes safely this morning. Poseidon, thank you for keeping my father, who has gone fishing, from encountering rough waves...”
If I had decided to build up my physical strength from a young age, I probably would have thrown punches while giving thanks as well.
Naturally, the Twelve Olympians took up the greatest share, but I groveled before every kind of god besides them.
Because I believed gods dwelled in every river, stream, and forest in the natural world where we lived.
Of course, no god immediately bestowed anything on me just because I did all that.
It was bothersome at first, but after about a year it had become a habit, so it was no longer particularly difficult.
“Polites, will you watch the hearth? I’m going to milk the sheep for a moment.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Yet although I tried to serve the gods as fairly as possible, as time went on, there was one goddess I ended up mentioning more than any other.
Hestia.
The elder sister of Zeus, god of the heavens, and the goddess of the hearth: Hestia.
There was a reason I came to serve her most of all.
‘Every sacrifice and feast begins and ends with Hestia, and every home must have a hearth.’
Whenever another god was mentioned once, Hestia was mentioned twice. And even if there was a day when I did not mention her at all, come nightfall I would always call upon her before the hearth.
Crackle. Crackle.
“...Hestia, thank you for bringing peace to our home again today.”
As a result, I too naturally began calling Hestia’s name more frequently than any other.
What I liked best, honestly, was that she had the smallest role in the Greek mythology that had survived into modern times.
In Greek mythology, which was full of philanderers and utter disasters, having the smallest role meant, conversely, that she was a goddess who almost never did anything outrageously disastrous.
And indeed, even in this ancient Greece, Hestia was worshipped as the goddess of peace and stability.
Since I also desired a stable life, it was fair to say our interests aligned perfectly.
‘The attention of other gods may be tempting, even if it comes with great risks, but Hestia is better. At least she won’t harm me.’
Thus, while my first goal was currying favor with the gods, my second goal was Odysseus.
“Polites! Come hunt rabbits with me!”
“Odysseus, how long are you going to hunt nothing but easy rabbits?”
“Huh? Then what? Don’t tell me you want to hunt a boar? No! We’re only nine years old!”
“But don’t we grow by overcoming adversity? Like the heroes of myth!”
“...! You’re right, Polites. Someone like me can certainly hunt a boar!”
And Odysseus and I truly did succeed in catching a boar.
Overjoyed that we had really hunted one, Odysseus shouted toward the sky.
“I, Odysseus, son of Laertes, have finally hunted a boar—! Mmph!”
I clamped a hand over Odysseus’s mouth.
“Mmph...! Pwah. Polites, what are you doing?!”
“Odysseus, stop with those pointless proclamations.”
“Why? I have a duty to boast of my accomplishments!”
This was what I intended to correct.
“Boasting of an accomplishment only works when there is someone there to hear it, rejoice in it, and praise you for it. Look around. Who is here to hear about your accomplishment?”
At my words, Odysseus looked around.
There was not a single person nearby—not even an animal.
That was because all the animals had fled when Odysseus and I made such a commotion.
“Um... you?”
“I hunted it alongside you. Odysseus, it won’t be too late to boast once we get home.”
“Then what? Are we just going back now?”
“No. Instead, we show respect to the prey we caught.”
As I spoke, I pulled the arrow from the dead boar.
Then I made the puzzled Odysseus kneel and told him to pray to a god.
“Which god?”
“If there is a god you believe in, offer your thanks to them. Thank them for helping you hunt. If not... pray to Artemis, goddess of the hunt.”
Naturally, I offered my thanks to Artemis.
And at the same time, I apologized to her, because I thought Artemis was also the protector of animals that became prey.
‘After all, Artemis’s animals were always causing trouble whenever humans got involved.’
Fortunately, this boar had not been under Artemis’s protection.
When I glanced to the side, Odysseus was also offering thanks to some god.
“Athena, goddess of war...”
‘Of course it’s Athena.’
Considering that Odysseus would one day receive more favor from Athena than any other hero in the Trojan War... it could not have been more fitting.
“Now let’s take it home and boast to our hearts’ content. On the way back, let’s discuss exactly how we should brag about it.”
“All right, Polites!”
So Odysseus and I carried the large boar back, only to be thoroughly scolded by his mother, Anticleia, contrary to our expectations.
Though she did praise our bravery as well.
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