In Koan Volume 1 , author Lucio Pascua introduces readers to one of the most unforgettable characters in the entire narrative tapestry—Butch, a delightfully chaotic genius whose impulsive brilliance and moral compass defy logic yet somehow make perfect sense. His greatest moment? A wild, laser-lit, funk-fueled hijacking of a planetarium that becomes an unexpected ode to joy and liberation.
Butch’s scheme isn’t driven by revenge, power, or even fame. It’s driven by a “cognitive itch,” the kind only someone with a mind like his would dare to scratch. What begins with a paperclip dropped in coffee spirals into an elaborate plan involving stolen limousines, duped security guards, forged documents, and a carefully orchestrated psychedelic dance party under the stars. He doesn’t just infiltrate the planetarium—he transforms it into a pulsing celebration of creativity, connection, and absolute freedom.
The brilliance of this episode lies in its emotional contrast. Beneath the technical precision and comedic flair is a deeply human story. Butch is a man who doesn’t quite fit into the world’s structure—but instead of being broken by it, he reshapes it around him. He’s like a walking jazz riff: unpredictable, unfiltered, and undeniably alive. Whether faking blindness to escape the scene or installing hypnotic light sequences timed to Earth, Wind & Fire, Butch radiates a kind of joyful defiance that readers can’t help but root for.
More than a comic relief, Butch is a symbol of what happens when imagination and rebellion collide in the most unexpected of places. While everyone else follows the rules of physics and society, he questions the instructions, rewrites the schematic, and sets the stage on fire—literally and metaphorically.
Lucio Pascua doesn’t just give us a prankster with a plan—he gives us a folk hero for the misfits, the dreamers, the ones who color outside the lines. In a universe governed by ancient guardians and cosmic order, Butch’s planetarium takeover is a hilarious, heartfelt reminder that even amid the stars, it’s okay to dance.
Because sometimes, the most radical thing you can do is bring people together—under a dome of manufactured constellations, with lasers, laughter, and just the right bassline.