After lunch, I followed Mr. Blackmask into the woods beside the camp. He took off his mask, revealing a face so ruined it was barely recognizable. My heart skipped a beat—I still wasn’t used to it.
"What’s wrong? Does looking at my face make you uncomfortable?"
Embarrassed, I quickly shook my head.
Mr. Blackmask stepped closer, and to be honest, seeing his face made me nervous.
"It hurt, you know. They used a red-hot branding iron, burning away my whole face bit by bit."
I made a sound of acknowledgment and swallowed nervously. Mr. Blackmask stared at me.
"Are you afraid?"
I shook my head. Mr. Blackmask pointed at my chest.
"You know, desire is the root of all human emotion. Right now, seeing my face has stirred a kind of desire in you—a wish not to see it. People always feel repulsed by things they find unpleasant. That, too, is a form of desire."
As Mr. Blackmask spoke, he pointed to his own face and asked another question.