On a weekend evening, we lie on the couch, completely captivated by the heroes on the screen. We feel a thrilling catharsis watching a webtoon protagonist draw a sword alone against the conspiracy of a massive establishment, or a misfit in a drama crush company politics to realize justice. We internalize their narratives, falling into the illusion that we, too, possess an uncompromising, fiery soul just like them.
Yet, on Monday morning, the moment we step onto the bus for work, that fiery crusader is nowhere to be found. We quietly bow our heads to a supervisor’s unfair directive and close our eyes to the organization’s irrational practices, telling ourselves, "That’s just how everyone lives." The self who was a revolutionary in the corner of the room turns into Lorenzo II in reality, pursuing stability more thoroughly than anyone else. Why on earth does this massive river flow between the narrative we consume and the reality we live?
Vicarious Satisfaction: The Safest Drug
The real reason we go wild for the crusaders in content is because it charges absolutely zero "cost" to our lives.
When a protagonist in a drama fights the mainstream, they are prepared to lose their job, prepared to become impoverished, and even prepared to lose their life. We, the viewers, lie on the couch eating popcorn, plucking out only the "fruit" (catharsis) of that agonizing struggle.
Internalizing the crusader on the screen is a form of safe, vicarious satisfaction. Lacking the courage to defy the mainstream in reality, we satisfy our moral vanity by consuming content, thinking, "I am a good person who supports such righteous values." Becoming a hero without paying the price—that is the selfish human instinct behind how we consume fiction.
The Weight of Reality and "Lorenzo" as a Survival Pillar
We cannot simply blame ourselves. Reality does not unfold as beautifully as fiction.
No matter how hard a marginalized protagonist in a drama gets knocked down, they ultimately make a spectacular comeback at the tip of the writer’s pen. In reality, however, once an outsider is pushed aside, they fall straight off the edge of a cliff. In a reality where heavy shackles like mortgage interest, family livelihoods, and social reputation bind our ankles, standing on the opposite side of the mainstream is a reckless gamble that requires risking one’s entire life.
Therefore, we instinctively choose the life of Lorenzo II in reality. While Lorenzo II was no grand crusader, he was a figure who lived the most comfortable life, enjoying his vested interests within the safe system handed down by the Medici family.
For modern people, jumping on the mainstream bandwagon is not proof of cowardice; it is the most efficient and clever survival strategy for staying alive in this ruthless society. The crusader narrative is merely a "hobby" to quench the thirst of the soul, never the "sustenance" of daily life.
Concluding the Essay
Confronting the contradiction between the way we consume narratives and the way we live reality can bring a strange sense of self-reproach. We might ask ourselves, "Why can’t I live like those heroes? Why am I cowing like Lorenzo, doing nothing but hitting the calculator?"
Yet, that is the portrait of a perfectly ordinary and honest human being. We are not heroes, nor do we have an obligation to be heroes.
However, we must guard against the cowardice of praising the crusader on the screen while ostracizing the real outsider appearing right before our eyes in reality. If we are living safely like Lorenzo II in reality, we should at least refrain from mocking or trampling upon someone else’s lonely struggle just to protect the comfort of our own lives.
That is likely the bare minimum of human courtesy and dignity that we ordinary people can maintain—we who have no choice but to love the crusader from our armchairs while living out reality as a Lorenzo.
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