In history, happiness has never been important. Happiness belongs to the realm of "slaves."
"If God does not exist, then everything is permitted." This is a viewpoint mentioned by Dostoevsky in "The Brothers Karamazov." This panic implies that if there is no absolute order above humanity in the world, reality will fall into chaos. But the truth is quite the opposite—one could say that if God truly exists, then all actions would be permitted. This is the terrifying truth that reality and history tell us.
Once you are convinced that you have grasped the "ultimate truth" and serve a "sacred cause"—such as God's will, the inevitability of history, or human happiness—any horrific act can be rationalized by the subject. Because in relation to that lofty goal, sacrificing oneself and others, creating suffering, and depriving others of freedom are all justified as "necessary costs."
It can be said that "happiness" is the "ultimate truth" and "absolute order" that our social system adheres to. You have the right to be happy, and "you must be happy." This happiness becomes an absolute good, and for this goal, everything is permitted. We even lose the right to "choose" because of it.
In this regard, the video game "Narcissus" discusses this by allowing players to experience a near-death state of life.
22-year-old Himeko Shinohara has a great passion for cars and maps. She enjoys the thrill of driving and the mechanical feel and sense of control that comes with repairing them herself. She grew up in a Catholic family but jokingly calls herself a "pseudo-Catholic," often skipping church services. Nevertheless, she enjoys volunteering in the palliative care unit on the seventh floor of a Catholic hospital, accompanying patients nearing the end of their lives with her enthusiasm and care.
However, fate is very ironic—Himeko is subsequently diagnosed with a terminal illness, and her life is nearing its end. She herself becomes one of the "seventh-floor patients" she is familiar with. It is after she becomes a patient that she meets the then 15-year-old outpatient, Sakuya Setsumi, who comes for a regular check-up. At this time, Setsumi is introverted and insecure, feeling guilty for the heavy burden her illness has placed on her family.
Himeko, being understanding, based on her past experience caring for patients, takes Setsumi under her wing in a proactive, almost forced manner, spending time with her and warming her with her vitality and optimism. However, her physical condition continues to deteriorate, and Himeko decides not to passively wait for death any longer. Instead, she drives her painstakingly repaired red sports car, taking Setsumi along, and embarks on a series of meaningful "final journeys." She lists ten things she wants to do before her death, and they go to see the ocean together, racing along the coastal highway. In this journey away from the hospital's antiseptic smell and the groans of pain, Himeko and Setsumi briefly reclaim control over their lives from fate.
Interestingly, Himeko introduces the fairy tale "A Dog of Flanders" by British author Ouida as a metaphorical framework in the story. The talented yet ill-fated Nello, destined to die young; the loyal dog Patrasche, who chooses to freeze to death alongside Nello in front of the church painting; and Alois, who loves Nello but cannot be with him due to her father's interference, ultimately bearing the pain and longing alone in the world—Himeko sees herself as the "Nello" destined to leave, while pushing away her family and friends essentially prevents them from playing the role of "Alois."
This is a somewhat naive self-direction based on despair. However, just as she enjoys driving and repairing cars, this is her way of facing death—something uncontrollable—drawing a sense of control and mastery from other things. Setsumi is the perfect companion symbolizing the loyal dog "Patrasche," projected by Himeko, as she too suffers from a terminal illness and can understand Himeko's situation.
Ultimately, after fulfilling her last wishes, Himeko peacefully completes her final journey in the seventh-floor ward, accompanied by family and friends. After finding inner peace, she accepts the predetermined natural conclusion. This has a significant impact on Setsumi and lays the groundwork for her choices when facing death, which differ from Himeko's.
Years later, the female protagonist Setsumi meets the male protagonist Ato Yu. Ato Yu is an ordinary college student who, on the day after he just obtained his driver's license and was supposed to start a new life, is hospitalized due to sudden chest pain, ultimately diagnosed with lung cancer and transferred to a palliative care unit on the seventh floor of a Catholic hospital.
The male protagonist's family relationship is distant and estranged. At this life terminus on the seventh floor, he meets Sakuya Setsumi. At this time, Setsumi is 22 years old, and in the male protagonist's eyes, she appears small and frail due to her illness, giving off an air of detachment. As a "senior" on the seventh floor, Setsumi explains the hospital's cruel rules to the male protagonist: "Prepare for your third temporary discharge home; there won't be a fourth." This is because Setsumi is preparing for her second discharge.
As days pass, both the male protagonist and Setsumi internally resist the two seemingly "happy" ways of dying predetermined by society: either receiving care in a procedural hospital or returning home to be accompanied by family. They long for a "third choice" outside of the prescribed happiness—a sense of control, an endpoint defined by themselves.
This wish becomes possible due to a chance event: the male protagonist's silent father visits and, in a hurry, leaves a set of silver Honda keys on the male protagonist's bedside table. Thus, he proposes a plan to escape the hospital to Setsumi, who, tired of waiting, agrees without hesitation. They pack a few personal items, essential medications, and the little cash they have, quietly leaving the hospital.
The silver car carries their final will, embarking on a purposeless journey. Their trip is filled with brutal struggles: deteriorating health, persistent pain, and coughing up blood. To sustain their journey, the financially strapped male protagonist even steals steel balls from a pachinko parlor to exchange for cash. While passing through the historically famous battlefield of Sekigahara, they encounter a sudden heavy snowfall, which is nearly fatal for a car without winter tires.
Just as the journey seems to be falling into endless depletion, Setsumi expresses her final wish to the male protagonist: to see the blooming daffodil fields on Awaji Island in Hyogo Prefecture. With the goal set, Setsumi's personality begins to thaw. She shows the male protagonist her thorough knowledge of car models, mechanical knowledge, and love for public maps.
In fact, she has always had a considerable sum of money—this means that the male protagonist's previous theft to raise travel funds was somewhat unnecessary. But perhaps for that sense of "control," Setsumi does not mention this. With the funds, they no longer worry about making ends meet and eventually cross the Akashi Kaikyō Bridge, arriving at Awaji Island, filled with daffodils.
When they reach the daffodil fields at the southern end of Awaji Island, Setsumi's body has weakened to its limit. By the calm sea next to the flower sea, the male protagonist gazes at her and asks the question: "Do you want me to hold you back or encourage you?" This question completely hands over the right to choose to Setsumi.
She does not answer, but she makes a decision. Calmly, step by step, she walks toward the cold sea, ultimately disappearing there—making a choice different from Himeko's "return to the hospital."
Everything is quite similar. At this point, we deeply understand: "Death is not the opposite of life, but rather coexists with the living." Setsumi seems to become Nello from the fairy tale again, while the male protagonist becomes the loyal dog Patrasche—a sole companion and witness. They understand and silently watch everything unfold without intervening.
At the end of the story, the male protagonist develops the photos from that cheap disposable camera. The only successful shot is of Setsumi, who rarely shows a genuine smile in the sunlight. He cannot help but exclaim: "This cheap camera only captured one smile of hers, but that is proof that we lived."
It can be said that "Narcissus" is a calm and simple story about happiness and choice. But "death," besides being the end of life itself, can also be understood as a certain extension of the deadlock of reality.
This brings to mind Empress Wenshou from the film "The Last Emperor," whose residence in the Forbidden City and Jingyuan in Tianjin symbolize a "seventh-floor palliative care unit." She is materially affluent, a symbol of "happiness" in that chaotic era, yet spiritually, it is a place waiting for death. This includes the fall of the dynasty and the disappearance of personal identity. She exists in a state of "prescribed happiness"—the title of empress, a symbol in the inertia of history, a "dignity" that is nurtured and defined.
However, belonging to this prescribed happiness falls into the realm of "slaves." Her personality, desires, and future are entirely defined and consumed by the identity of "the emperor's spouse." She has no life of her own, only the function of an accessory to this enormous historical symbol.
It can be said that in the social symbolic system of that time, a woman, especially an empress, had no option of "divorce." Her actions were not choices within the options provided by the existing symbolic system, but rather she did something considered impossible or unimaginable within that system—just as Setsumi refuses to choose between the hospital and home, rejecting that "prescribed happiness."
"Why not continue receiving care in the hospital and feel the care of society? Why not spend more time with family while still alive and feel love? Why not cherish the days of being alive?" This option always contains an obligation of "you must be happy." Yet Wenshou refused—between being a favored consort and a disfavored consort, she chose divorce, completely stepping out of this millennia-old palace symbol game.
She did not seek to compete for favor but declared that this "favor" itself is worthless. After her divorce, Wenshou, from the perspective of the public in that chaotic society, was not "happy" at all. She not only had to endure societal criticism and blame but also lost royal support, needing to work for a living, experiencing remarriage and poverty, ultimately passing away quietly. Compared to her previous life, this was undoubtedly unfortunate.
However, for herself, she became "Wenshou" rather than "Consort Shu." She gained more control over her body, work, marriage, and death, earning the qualification of being "human."
In "Narcissus," for Himeko, the thought she imparts to Setsumi is: although death has already sentenced you to an end, you can still actively do something, rather than hiding in the seventh-floor ward, being introverted and insecure, feeling guilty for burdening your family, or passively pursuing or enjoying that "prescribed happiness."
As a Catholic, she cares for others, but God has clearly played a joke on her—her happiness script has gone bankrupt. To this end, she uses "A Dog of Flanders" to rewrite the meaning of her death, filling that waiting-for-death, bewildering time with vibrant content, to dominate her own meaning.
For Setsumi, she goes further: rejecting the hospital's management of her pain, rejecting her family's management of her emotions. What she gains is not "happiness," but rather pain—physical weakness, the hardships and embarrassments of the journey, and the loneliness of facing death alone. The male protagonist's final question—"Do you need me to hold you back or encourage you?"—she does not answer specifically because she does not need the male protagonist to provide anything. She chooses to dominate her own death.
In this regard, we finally understand the words of philosopher Slavoj Žižek during his 2014 interview with The Guardian: "In history, happiness has never been important. Happiness is prepared for opportunists. Those who truly dominate have never felt happiness—it belongs to the realm of slaves." (Note: The original quote is from Albert Camus.)
This is because the "happiness" here refers to the specific paths prescribed by the "big Other"—that is, language, social norms, ideology, etc.—whose purpose is to maintain the operation of the existing order. It is precisely for this reason that Žižek seems to paradoxically propose another viewpoint in his speech: "We have a mind, a basic apparatus for achieving happiness." This is certainly not a platitude.
Here, "happiness" is precisely the "death drive" proposed by psychoanalyst Lacan. It is not a drive to pursue pleasure; rather, it seeks pain and self-destruction, a "displeasure enjoyment." In this regard, "what hinders us from realizing our desires is precisely what sustains our desires," and this pursuit of benefit is what Žižek refers to as "happiness."
In this context, happiness is no longer a goal but a "byproduct" of the process of the death drive. Only then can one achieve a sense of mastery.
"Hatred and love" can be seen as the death drive—the intense, toxic emotions themselves, the brief sweetness during arguments, cold wars, and reconciliations, this painful cycle constitutes a strong sense of existence. In contrast, a calm, gentle, and non-dramatic emotional life appears "deeply boring."
But from another perspective, the death drive is also reflected in the radium in Marie Curie's hands—the eerie blue glow makes her feel "lovely," while the radium radiates her life. Here, "happiness" is a byproduct: the role of extracting radium can save more lives, while "self-destruction" becomes the pursuit.
For Setsumi, the pain during the journey is her way of gaining a sense of control over her life. By rejecting that prescribed "happiness," she can muster the courage to face her future-less self and reclaim the freedom to choose her own life and death. In this regard, although she suffers, she chooses to disappear into the sea of daffodils.
However, for the players, we are still living. This is precisely the meaning symbolized by "death is not the opposite of life, but coexists with the living." Death can be a deadlock extending into reality—when commanded to "submit," that low-tolerance game, which dares not admit its problems, makes you and most people feel failure and frustration, only blaming your issues.
Here, the pursuit of "happiness" can be a byproduct of practicing the trajectory of life, rather than the goal itself. Only then can one explore new possibilities from the deadlocked status quo.
Reprinted: "Narcissus | In history, happiness has never been important; happiness belongs to the realm of slaves" https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV1cg4xzdEeY/