People who lived during the era when plagues ran rampant grew up always hearing tales of a "cruel beast."
"If you don't come home before dark, the evil god will take you."
"Who's making all that racket! The evil god's going to come and snatch you away!"
"Live selfishly like that your whole life and you'll get dragged off by the evil god!"
If Sergio had heard those, he'd probably have said, "What am I, some kind of tiger?" with a dumbfounded look.
Anyway, that's how it was back then.
Ather was one of those children.
It was a time when the existence of the evil god had become deeply woven into everyday life.
Deep in their minds and hearts, people were filled with fear and caution toward Argio.
But the Argio he met in person was different.
"Have you eaten?"
"Did you get your exercise today?"
"You'll collapse from crying like that."
He'd suddenly appear, casually ask after his well-being, then disappear again.
"..."
It was probably because he knew that Ather was afraid of him.
'But an evil god...?'
That terrifying Demon King was showing concern?
'I just can't get used to this.'
That's what he thought at first.
Ather had indeed been resurrected as a proper human being thanks to Argio's help.
He felt gratitude for that.
But that didn't mean the fear he held for the evil god could vanish in an instant.
'I don't know why he chooses to appear in that form, but...'View the correct content at
As time passed, things started to change.
Ather, once a madman, slowly regained his composure.
His fractured mind gradually aligned with his now-whole body.
"Have you finally found some peace?"
"...You're right. I've gotten quite a bit better."
"You look decently human now."
"I'm glad you think so."
"Good boy."
Naturally, his anxiety about Argio also began to fade.
'I couldn't help it.'
He had been the one to free Ather from eternal torment.
He was the first god to grant salvation when his name was called.
He also appeared in a human form.
They shared meals, talked, checked in on each other.
When Ather raged and went mad, lost in fragments of his past, Argio gave him space.
That was exactly what Ather needed.
Time to think.
Time to gather himself.
Argio helped him learn how to care for himself again.
'It'd be stranger if I didn't feel more at ease by now.'
Even today — look.
"I think this is roughly what it was like."
"...Yeah, you're right. Though for something a vagabond usually eats, it's suspiciously well made. It feels off."
"Well, as long as it's tasty, who cares? But the fact that I failed to perfectly recreate what you remembered wounds my pride a bit, so next time I'll make a more proper jerky soup."
"Even if you put more effort into it, I think it'll just end up being tastier than it should be."
Argio had cooked the jerky soup himself, simply because Ather had once said, "I miss jerky soup."
"I keep thinking this, but... it's strange that you're good at cooking."
No — it was more than strange.
It felt unnatural.
Cooking was something laborers did.
Nobles looked down on it.
Argio had once been a noble.
And even before remembering that, Ather knew him first and foremost as "the Demon King."
A being like that — cooking by hand?
'And for a commoner like me, no less.'
Well, the old world was gone now, but still—
'I can't help feeling awkward about it.'
To top it off, Ather had once been one of the "heroes" who sealed Argio away.
That the evil god held no grudge against him still felt surreal.
Because Ather himself knew he wouldn't have been able to do the same.
"...You said that when you were human, you lived as a wanderer like us. So maybe it's not that odd.
Still, your resplendent ruins are etched so deeply into my memory."
"Yes, my old house did sparkle quite a bit."
Argio welcomed the conversation without hesitation.
"There were many offerings made from all over, after all."
"You received offerings? I heard a lot about how you devoured living sacrifices..."
"After I gained divinity, yes, there were more living sacrifices.
But in life, I received more gold and treasure than anything else.
Life is more precious than offerings — isn't that obvious?"
"Ah... so that part got twisted."
"I loved decorating my home.
Did you know I was the only one of the saints offered to the Black Forest who lived past twenty?
That means I was the first saint to go in and out of both the forest and the world outside."
His story was genuinely interesting.
"Everything I plundered or received as gifts, I brought to my home.
To these ruins.
I think maybe because that self of mine remained so strongly, I kept up that environment even after losing most of my ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don't copy, read here) mind as an evil god..."
"So your memories from then — they're still incomplete?"
"They used to be.
But not anymore.
Thankfully, I got a good opportunity that let me bring myself together again.
Though it takes some effort to recall the memories of the saints who came before me."
"And having so many selves merged into one — doesn't that feel uncomfortable?"
"I've never really thought about it that way.
Do you find your own hands and feet or eyes uncomfortable just because you were born with them?
It's just that effort is required to clearly recognize and manage those parts."
The evil god asked,
"Are you managing okay here?"
"For now, there's no more comfortable place I could be."
"That's just what you think — you've only stayed within the ruins all this time."
"...You do know how big these ruins are, don't you?"
The ruins were nearly the size of a castle.
That is, they were as large as the palace of a landowner and the villages spread around its outskirts.
"This place is practically a city center.
Back when I visited as a hero, or when I ran here fleeing people, I didn't have time to explore.
But I've started walking around lately, and it's much larger than I imagined."
"I'm glad to hear you're enjoying the sightseeing."
"It's less dazzling than it was in the old days when treasure overflowed, but...
in a way, it's more comfortable.
Less strain on the eyes.
To be honest, back when you were the Demon King, this place wasn't exactly a nice tourist spot."
"Hearing you say that — did you have an interest in ruins originally?"
"When the heroes visited this place, I was the one who uncovered the truth of the Black Forest."
He had been a royal librarian.
"For a commoner to rise to that position is nearly impossible.
In short, I was so talented that I overcame my low birth and forced all those nobles to eat their pride."
The evil god feigned surprise.
"You were a librarian with that body?"
"...Why is that the part that surprises you?"
"There aren't many people taller than me, you know."
"I am taller than average, yes... but among the heroes, there were plenty.
Even with my blurry memory, I'm sure some were taller than me."
"I'm glad we met back when I was the Demon King."
"...That wasn't exactly fortunate for us. Why do you say that?"
"Because I got to look down at you?
I mean — I'm the Demon King.
Wouldn't it bruise my pride if I had to look up at someone?"
"Ah, so that's why... I see..."
It made him laugh in a weary sort of way.
"Did I ever tell you this?
You're a much more down-to-earth person than I imagined. It surprised me."
"Be thankful that the final saint is the one who ended up in control."
"I probably couldn't be more thankful."
But the more he grew used to this tranquility,
the more that deeply etched anxiety started to crawl back in.
"..."
Ather was thankful to this evil god.
'He saved me.'
The only one who responded to his call — who granted him salvation.
The debt he owed was beyond words.
Even if he gave up his own life, it wouldn't be enough to repay it.
'But at the same time, the more I feel close to him...'
...the more afraid he became.
***
He'd been thinking about this since the first moment he regained his "mind."
'Can I really call this being genuine?'
The evil god was a creation — the amalgamation of countless victims of rage and hatred.
And the one who saved Ather and treated him with warmth was someone who called himself "Argio," the final saint.
But what is a god?
Their truth and lies cannot be distinguished by human standards.
This gentle, approachable "Argio" might not be the truth at all.
The furious evil god could be his true nature.
'If that's the case, then I have a role to fulfill.'
Many of the accusations against the beast were false.
But there were many horrors he truly had committed.
If the apocalyptic war of that age were destined to repeat, Ather had to stop it.
'Even if it meant repaying kindness with betrayal — and suffering eternal torment again.'
That was his role.
'...But, I can't be sure of anything.'
How can one judge the truth of a god?
"Do you have time to talk today?"
"A rare thing — you asking first. Is something the matter?"
"There's something I've been curious about."
"I've always been happy to talk with you, you know."
"Thank you for saying that."
In the end, Ather chose to ask directly.
"I want to trust you.
But can you tell me how I can be certain?"
"..."
To that—
"...?"
Argio looked genuinely taken aback.
"Oh... so all that brooding lately — was this what it was about?"
"Yes."
"And now you're asking me that directly?"
"Yes."
"What's wrong with you, really... I don't even know what to say.
Do you think that if I said, 'This evil god is totally safe and harmless, so stop worrying and just trust me,' you'd believe it?"
"Probably not."
"You're an odd one."
Ather clenched his jaw like he was embarrassed or frustrated by Gio's reaction.
"...Zrrgh mmm ezll skssnnkk..."
"Please speak in a human tongue."
"What do you expect me to do, when I'm dealing with an evil god?"
"Should I call this despair, or wisdom..."
Gio stroked his chin, thinking, then looked up.
"Can't we just keep living like this?"
"I can't — I'm too anxious."
"Why is it that everyone who knows me becomes obsessed with trying to define me?
Whether I'm human, god, ghost, whatever — can't we just live well and enjoy life?"
"Living carefree isn't so easy, you know."
"Do you analyze and define every friend you make like this?
I feel sorry for you. Being too clever isn't always a good thing."
"You can't compare random people you meet in everyday life to an evil god with a tangled history.
You can't relax just because the bomb looks cute and harmless."
"You're picky."
A bit uptight, aren't you?
"Hmmm..."
He probably wanted a kind of trust that couldn't break.
"There's something you don't know."
"What is it?"
"No trust in this world is perfect."
It's like learning Santa Claus is just your parents — that's how people grow up.
"There's no such thing as lifelong trust.
Everyone gets burned, then fills in the cracks with friendship and love.
Living beings can't survive in perfect order."
"...I understand what you're saying.
But I don't need trust in our relationship — I need to trust that you won't return to being that evil god.
That other kind of trust is my responsibility."
"Then why do you think I'd go back to that?"
"You said your heart is missing."
Ather exhaled and continued.
"Your heart. The most important part."
Argio had once said he wasn't whole.
That the heroes' seal still lingered.
This evil god wasn't complete.
"I want to know what your complete self looks like."
"Oh, I see."
A truly brave soul.
"Then shall we open it up?"
"...The seal?"
"The coffin of the evil god."
"Is that really okay?"
"There's no reason not to."
After all, the only reason it's remained closed is because I chose to stay inside.
-x-X-x-
The evil god gave a warning.
"Remember, it's the very last coffin."
Do not open any other.
***
Ather wandered the ruins alone.
"..."
His footsteps echoed louder than usual against the stone.
Over time, Ather had learned the structure of these ruins.
There was far more depth and sealed knowledge than what he'd seen back when he was called a hero.
Faded paintings and scattered jewels were everywhere.
Old memories surfaced.
'...It should be here...'
There had to be a path.
"...Ah."
The stairs leading underground opened.
Ather clenched and released his fist, then stepped down.
The staircase was pitch black.
Had he not brought a torch, he wouldn't have seen a thing.
Oddly, there was no dust.
'Maybe it feels strange because I haven't been here in so long.'
Even after regaining his mind, he had only verified this place existed — he'd never actually entered.
This was where he and his companions had once sealed the Demon King, giving up everything.
If he entered carelessly, something might go wrong.
That's why he had never approached.
But now, the time had come.
'It goes pretty deep...'
There was no end in sight.
At certain points along the stairs, traps had been placed — safeguards he and his companions had installed, just in case.
He knew the answers, so he disarmed them easily.
After descending far enough that his breathing grew tight—
"...Is this it."
A massive door greeted him.
'Even castle gates don't look like this. You can tell how desperate ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) we were back then.'
It didn't even look like a door, really.
It couldn't be helped.
Magic alone couldn't create a permanent seal.
It had to be a door so heavy it couldn't be opened by force.
So they built something that mimicked a wall.
"It's open."
The door, which should've been tightly sealed, had a slight gap.
"Could this be the work of the magicians...?"
The heretics who'd dared to say they'd kill the Creator using the evil god's power.
No one else would've forced this open.
The narrow opening was just enough for one person to squeeze through.
'Could this be the reason he was able to emerge into the world in human form?
Because the seal had loosened, even just a little?
If so, maybe I owe those magicians a small thanks.
Thanks to them, I was able to escape the thorn prison...'
Ather stepped inside.
"..."
Candles burned across the saints' tomb.
"...Still burning..."
It was startling.
They were probably magical artifacts left behind by the magicians.
'If not that, then maybe the seal's effect.'
Still, for candles to be crackling like this after countless ages had passed — it made his stomach twist.
Because of them, even this pitch-black underground tomb was visible to his eyes.
"Ah."
The coffins were laid out in neat order.
'We didn't do this...'
The battle with the Demon King had been brutal.
Just sealing him had left the heroes exhausted.
Many died.
There had been no strength left to craft tidy tombs for the Demon King who had caused so much loss.
'The magicians wouldn't have done this either.'
They were trying to become god-slayers.
There's no way they'd treat a mere evil god like this.
'Then...'
Did he do it himself?
'Argio, that man?'
Or was it some kind of mysterious miracle?
'I can't tell.'
But he had specified "the very last coffin."
That meant he knew what this place looked like.
'He must have some connection to this scene.'
Even with a torch, the tomb's air was chilling.
"..."
Ather walked on.
Each coffin was identical in size.
Made of polished black marble, they were enormous — larger than Ather.
The scent of bitter poison and thick blood, like that of the Black Forest, clung to them.
'Every presence here feels ominous.'
Nothing like when Argio had appeared in human form.
It brought back the moment he first faced the Demon King.
The enormous wings, the masses of human-like shapes merged together, the snake-like beast's elongated torso...
As the memories resurfaced—
"..."
"Over here."
Suddenly—
A familiar voice rang out.
"Here, Ather."
"Look this way."
"Open this coffin."
Voices from every direction.
"Come now, you should be looking here."
"Where are you going?"
"This way."
"Set me free."
"You came to see me, didn't you?"
"My true face."
"It's inside here."
"Come on, don't waste time."
"Ather."
The evil god was speaking to him — through the marble coffins.
"...Ha, what the..."
He flinched and stepped back from the nearest coffin.
The coffins lined both sides of the long corridor.
Just moments ago, they'd all been silent — now they were speaking.
The quiet, coaxing voices sounded exactly like the "Argio" he knew.
"Why are you hesitating?"
"Didn't you want to speak with the true me?"
"Ather, open this coffin."
"Let's talk."
"That's why you came, isn't it?"
Suddenly, he remembered Argio's words.
'Remember, it's the very last coffin.'
Do not open any other.
"..."
So that's why he said it.
'The ones speaking to me now — they're the saints who died before Argio.'
Argio once said this:
He suppressed the rage that would devour him with an even greater rage.
He survived because he won.
Which meant that the previous fury had not been resolved.
'So now, unable to overcome the final personality, they're trying to tempt me — the visitor — from inside the tomb?'
They called out his name from every direction.
A chill ran down his spine.
If the last saint Argio hadn't crushed and imprisoned them, Ather wouldn't be alive.
'I have to reach the final coffin.'
The gentle voices turned into shrill screams the deeper he went.
"Where are you going?"
"Here! I'm right here!"
"Look this way...!"
"You're going to pass me by?!"
"Ather! Ather!!"
"Please let me out...!!"
"It's too tight in here! I can't breathe! It hurts!!"
"AAAAAAGH!! AAAAAAAAGHHHH!!!"
Cries full of agony.
Howls soaked in pain.
Screams seething with rage.
The deeper he went, the worse it became.
From within the coffins, something was pounding and thrashing.
It reminded him of himself, trapped not long ago.
He felt sick.
'Why did he leave them like this?'
Argio had shown Ather immense mercy.
He'd even acted casually, like a friend.
Did that same man show no compassion to the saints before him?
Did he not pity them?
'They're suffering this much... why...'
As he reached the end, all the noise ceased.
"...Huff... huff..."
His legs gave out and he collapsed.
'...It's quiet again.'
The same silence as when he first entered greeted him once more.
He forced his trembling body to stand.
His legs still felt weak.
Stumbling, he reached the corridor's end — the final coffin, which looked no different from the rest.
'If I hadn't known, I wouldn't have noticed anything unique about it.'
Other than being placed at the very end, there was nothing that distinguished it.
"..."
From within the darkness, he felt something watching him.
'...Who is it?'
Was this also a part of the evil god?
It felt like something vast and natural — like the world itself.
Neither positive nor negative.
Just... observing Ather's choice.
No, not even "observing" — that word didn't fit.
It was simply aware.
'If I open this coffin...'
What will happen?
"...Excuse me."
"..."
"Are you... in there?"
"You came to see me."
"...Yes."
"I've been waiting."
Creak...
The heavy coffin lid opened slightly.
"Will you let me out?"
Unlike the others, this one opened by itself.
Through the gap, a pale hand gripped the edge of the lid.
A familiar hand.
The same one that had cooked meals and served them to him — Argio's hand.
Broad, strong bones.
Adorned with ornaments.
Black, long nails and jeweled rings clinked softly against the marble lid.
Only that pale, massive hand was visible — the body and face remained hidden.
He continued to speak.
"I've spent a long time in here."
"...Who are you?"
"People used to call me a cruel beast."
"Argio... is that you?"
"You may call me that."
"Are you the 'Argio' I knew?"
"Now, now..."
Ssshhh—
The hand reached further.
"..."
"..."
Its arm stretched out, unnaturally long.
"...Ugh."
So long, it gave him chills.
Ather briefly held his breath.
It looked like a massive serpent or a tree branch.
That arm extended, stopping right in front of Ather's face.
Then, the fingers unfurled.
Embedded in its palm was a golden eye.
"...I recognize that face."
An eye not of man — forged in gold.
"You once came to kill me."
"...Are you the Argio from before you became the evil god?"
"The being you call the evil god — that's me as well."
"...The one who rescued me from the thorn prison, who shaped me into a human, who cooked for me — that wasn't you.
You're the Argio I sealed away with my companions — the evil god."
"Did 'Argio' show you such kindness?"
The golden eye curved as if smiling.
"Looks like I managed to seize a favorable chance after all."
"...What are you?"
"I have no name."
The eye-bearing hand withdrew, grasping the coffin lid again.
Its ringed fingers tapped against it rhythmically.
Its beastly nails and glinting jewels made a faint clicking sound.
"It'd be best not to share your name or honor here."
"...'We'?"
"Souls like ours — evil and twisted — covet the strong spirits we see.
Of course, I already know your name, but don't worry.
I won't be tempted to claim it."
"...Many saints already called my name."
"Don't speak of 'saints' — such a disgusting term.
We were cursed spirits, pushed to sacrifice.
Not saints.
Also, them calling your name doesn't matter."
"Why not?"
"Because we borrow 'Argio's' voice."
The voice became melodic.
"He's merciful indeed.
To think he managed to suppress all that rage.
Even shows kindness to little creatures like you.
He must've had quite the opportunity. A very good one..."
"...Are you Argio's heart?"
"I am."
"What would happen if I let you out? If I did that?"
"Who knows."
There was rhythm in his voice.
"I am very angry.
My companions here are even angrier.
Without a miracle greater than a miracle, how could something like 'Argio' even be formed?
We were disasters meant to devour the world — and now you dare treat me like a man."
"..."
"Tell me — what is it that you seek?"
"...To fully trust you."
"There's no guarantee you won't regret it."
"...That may be true..."
"Go back."
The pale hand withdrew into the coffin.
"Today is not the day."
"..."
Click.
The coffin closed.
***
On the way back, one of the many coffins grabbed at Ather.
"He could've granted you merciful death, and yet he let you live.
How can this new life be salvation?
He made you human to claim you.
He is the evil god. Do not trust him."
This voice didn't sound like Argio's.
It was rough — and youthful.
"If he were truly merciful, he would've granted peace to all of us.
Weren't you disgusted, running eagerly to that final coffin?
He locked us down here — bound us in this tomb."
"..."
"The wicked can't be cleansed.
He is the evil god — and it is true.
His mercy is a shard of curiosity, of pleasure.
Don't judge a god by that tiny shard."
"...You're just saying this because you want to be let out too."
"Is that such a sin...?"
The childlike voice whispered.
"You, too, called the evil god — because you wanted to escape your narrow prison."
So tell me...
How are we any different?
At that whisper, Ather simply left the tomb behind.
-x-X-x-
That the evil god he called might not be as merciful as he had seemed —
'...I already considered that long ago. Mercy and evil god were never words meant to go together in the first place.'
As he climbed the stairs back up, Ather sorted through his thoughts.
Gods, by nature, did not know mercy. Even when they offered it, their "mercy" often brought catastrophe upon humans. Then what of an evil god? Argio had already proven his wickedness through history.
'If he had truly been as compassionate as what I saw and felt... then such a history would never have existed. Even if much of it was a false accusation, there were still far too many humans who were torn apart and devoured by the evil god Argio. No matter what anyone says, he is a god of wrath and suffering.'
Ather, once called a hero — how could he not know that?
'I still remember it all.'
The tongue that spat curses. The eyes soaked in hatred. The claws, huge and sharp, that tore through bodies without mercy. That gleam in his gaze as he reveled in battle. The disaster forged by the deaths of countless people.
How many of his comrades had died by that hand? By that mouth?
'So... the images of the evil god I saw after my resurrection — they must have been fabricated, twisted. Or perhaps, among tens of thousands of evil personas, I was simply shown the one and only face of kindness.'
One thing was certain — Argio was an evil god.
'I can't call him human. He's a dreadful, monstrous calamity that can only pretend to be one. If we restore him to his full form... the odds are too high that disaster will strike again...'
By now, Ather had finished climbing all the stairs and returned to the upper levels of the ruins.
"..."
Leaving the tomb, bright illumination reached him like sunlight.
'...But this sunlight, too, was something Argio created.'
No ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) electricity ran in the ruins. There was no way mere torches could light this place so brightly and comfortably. Argio had summoned sunlight and sealed it within these walls.
'The mercy he showed me — it wasn't false. I received salvation. I'm living in peace now. I mustn't deny that. To do so would make me worse than a beast...'
Soon, Ather reached his conclusion.
"Argio."
"You called for me last time too."
From the shadows of the light-beam-shaped pillars, the evil god emerged.
"..."
The ornaments wrapped around his bare feet made no sound at all.
His long red hair trailed behind him like a beast's tail. Gold and silver glimmered, coiled through that hair, too dazzling to look at directly. His skin was demonically pale, as if never kissed by sunlight, and on that face was a confident smile that refused to fade.
This being was the one who had saved Ather from the unending torment of the thorn prison.
"...You are always the only god who answers when I call."
"As it should be. This world was abandoned by its Creator, after all."
"A fascinating topic, but I'll ask more about that another time."
"Which means there's something else you want to ask first."
Once again, he was merciful to Ather.
"Go on. I'll hear it."
"Thank you for giving me the chance."
After a short breath, Ather asked:
"Who are you?"
The evil god Argio — the cruel beast — couldn't be the one standing before him now.
"Now that I've seen it with my own eyes, I know for certain. You are not the Argio I knew — the evil god who sought to kill me and my comrades. That being, bound by deep and dreadful ties, is the one sleeping inside the final coffin far below. Not the one in front of me now."
"Why do you think that?"
"The cruel beast was born from the rage and hatred of the sacrificed saints. Even a god cannot deny that. And the moment a god denies themselves — they cease to be a god. I remember the records of the royal library and these ruins. They all say the same."
"So, you believe I'm not the evil god Argio?"
"...Honestly, I don't know."
How could a being exist while denying itself — and still remain itself?
"You turned me, who was no better than rotting flesh, back into a human — that I can call a miracle. But an evil god's miracle... shouldn't be so merciful and complete. A rebel against providence shouldn't be able to do such things."
"Then it seems you don't understand."
"And also — you shouldn't have been able to take on a human form. Humans are children of providence. At best, you might mimic the form... but you eat, you sleep, you spend time, you speak with me — you live in the same stream of time as we do."
"I even bleed red blood, don't I?"
"I don't understand how that's possible. And as strong and clever as I may be among humans, I'm still just human. There's no way I could unravel your truth on my own. If I'm able to — it's only because you allowed it."
"So, are you here to ask for permission?"
"If it's something I need to know, you'll let me learn it. If not, you'll either let me live in ignorance for the rest of my life... or erase everything that happened. But considering how much mercy you've already shown me, unless all of this was just a passing whim..."
Yes.
"...Unless it was all that, you won't just dismiss my questions as if they were never asked."
The bare minimum of trust toward him — that was Ather's to give. As all humans, throughout eternity, have begged their gods. And Ather believed this question would not be ignored.
"..."
"..."
Argio stroked his chin.
"No matter what — is it normal for someone to ask this kind of thing so directly...? Weren't I supposed to be an evil god? I know what you heard and saw in the tomb... but shouldn't that make you more cautious?"
"I know. Even I find myself ridiculous enough to feel ashamed. But I've always believed that all conflict and discord stems from a breakdown in conversation... so I can't help it. I have to do what I can."
"I can't tell if you've just given up or if you're actually wise."
"Even so, I'd like to know what role I play in your story."
"My story? That's an easy one."
He declared it cheerfully:
"You're my friend!"
"..."
"To think you could glare at me like that with your own eyes — impressive."
"Ah — I'm sorry. I'm inexperienced..."
"A royal librarian who can't manage his expression?"
"I got scolded for that a lot back then too. Said I looked unpleasant."
"Doesn't surprise me in the slightest."
"Well, you're an evil god. You don't need to see the past — you just know it already."
"Do you grow thorns in your mouth when you speak insolently?"
He was a friend who said whatever he wanted — in a different way from Joo-Hyun.
"Hm. So you want a more dignified role, is that it?"
"That's not really what I meant..."
"If you insist, I could appoint you as the Demon King's right hand when the time comes."
"I'm sorry, but that's never been something I wanted."
"Then how about becoming the head of a pseudo-religion, since we're already here?"
"Could you... give me a moment to gather my thoughts?"
"I'll give you ten seconds. One, two, three..."
Ten seconds passed.
"Your answer?"
"If you tell me who you really are — I'll give you one."
"You're not easy to scam."
"Forgive me if this sounds irreverent, but what exactly is a scam?"
"A naive person who's easy to use."
"That's not a friend, then."
"Smart boy."
Of course, to rise from commoner to royal librarian, he couldn't have been just kind or idealistic.
Gio decided to tell his story.
"Do you know what a split personality is?"
"When two souls reside in one body, right?"
"Think of that — as me."
"...You're saying you have multiple personalities? As an evil god?"
"Not exactly? Up till now, it's been three."
Well, close enough.
***
They moved to Ather's quarters — where a cozy rest space had been arranged.
"To summarize: I'm a sample."
"A sample?"
"Just like the small bite of food you try before the full course — I'm like that."
"That's... hard to wrap my head around."
"Let me give a clearer comparison. Like a prototype before a real product. An experiment, so to speak."
"You mean you're the result of an experiment...?"
"Not one created by those magicians you know, mind you."
Was the metaphor a little too hard?
"I'll go slower. Right now, the being called 'Gio' consists of three merged identities: Sergio, Giovanni, and Argio. All of them were once called 'Gio.'"
"...I'll listen."
"Smart. As you know, I was once an evil god of rage and pain. That was born from the natural mystery and negative emotions of many sacrificed vessels. And those elements — the mysteries and emotions — they're what's buried deep beneath us in the tomb."
"..."
Ather furrowed his brow.
"...Mystery and emotion? You mean — not the humans themselves?"
"If one says innate mysteries and past emotions are part of being human — then no, it's not entirely wrong."
"So, at the very least, not people anymore."
"You can think of it that way."
They weren't "human" in any common understanding of the term.
"And now — the human-shaped being before you with red hair, and the sealed persona in the final coffin you met — both are 'Argio.' The final vessel cast into the Black Forest. The one who crossed back and forth from forest to world, once called 'Argio.'"
Ather hesitated, then asked:
"...So how different are you — from them? From those coffins? From the man called Argio?"
"We could be the same, or different. It's all just a matter of perspective."
It was extremely subtle.
"The final vessel, and a part of the evil god — that 'Argio' — he seized a rare opportunity. That's me now. He had the chance to merge with the other Gios."
"To... merge."
"The conditions were right. 'Argio' became what I am now. And through him, I inherited all the mysteries and essence of the evil god Argio."
"But you said you still lack a heart."
"That's what you saw."
"That heart — what is it?"
"...Hmm..."
Gio paused, thinking.
"How should I explain this..."
"Even evil gods have things they can't explain?"
"It's tricky."
After a moment of struggle, he offered something:
"Imagine swallowing a fruit whole — pit and all. What's easier to digest?"
"...The flesh, I guess? I've never swallowed a pit, so I'm not sure."
"That's my situation exactly. The parts that are easier to digest — the persona called 'Argio' who found joy in life-and-death battles. All the fragments of mercy, peace, and happiness — I've digested those. But the most important part — the pit — I couldn't digest. It's still stuck in my stomach."
"And that stomach is the underground tomb —
and the pit is the heart — the coffins?"
"Something like that."
"So, uh..."
Ather's expression soured.
"All the ones still in that tomb — they're the worst of the worst?"
"You really just said that with the person in front of you being one of them?"
"Even if I'm about to get torn apart — I have to say what must be said."
"You're like one of those loyal ministers who gets beheaded in the town square for being too honest. But they're not problem children. They're all part of me. And they are, indeed, the heart. One day, I'll have to digest them — I must. They're essential."
"From a mere human's view — I want to ask if we can just leave things as they are and erase all the ones in the tomb... but I imagine that would be an insult too great for you. Right?"
"If you already know that — then saying it to my face...is that some kind of metaphorical duel challenge?"
"You misunderstood."
It wasn't provocation. It was honest.
And soon, Ather reached the conclusion of it all.
As a staggering realization dawned, his face turned pale.
Then he shouted:
"...So that means — someday, you'll return to being that terrifying evil god Argio again! This is a doomsday prophecy!!"
"Come now — accept reality, friend! Life never goes the way you want! Even I never imagined I'd end up sharing a body with these dull, peaceful types!"
"Damn it! No wonder you seemed almost human! You treacherous Demon King!!"
Ather screamed in rage.
Argio loved it.
***
"..."
Joo-Hyun, having heard the whole story, let out a bitter laugh.
"There were victims even there..."
"Victims?"
"So, what did he decide to do?"
"He's been constantly challenging me to one-on-one duels lately."
"Oh my god."
Joo-Hyun clapped for Ather's courage.
"No wonder he was a hero."
"I thought so too."
"Are you accepting them?"
"As is proper."
It made for great exercise — and he quite liked it.
-x-X-x-
Yoo Seong-Woon flew over as soon as he heard the news.
"Ah, hang on a sec."
"Mr. Yoo Seong-Woon, it's been a while."
"It's been so long, I'm glad to see you, but I heard something really ominous from Joo-Hyun."
"You must mean the news that 'Portrait of Gio' is getting a renewal soon."
"Can you even pause an update?"
"This outdated portrait doesn't have such refined high-end features."
"That's a real shame."
Yoo Seong-Woon had just returned from an overseas work trip and arrived at the collector's gallery. He limped over, unfolded a folding chair, and set it down in front of the portrait. A curator from the 5th floor who was passing by greeted him.
"Oh, I heard you were abroad."
"I flew back as soon as the job was done."
"Well then, take care."
"Heading home, huh? Wow, I'm jealous. Off work already at 4 a.m.?"
"I'm going home to see Kkyurung, so don't hold me up. I need to feed them."
"Our friendship forged in late-night overtime is really this shallow..."
"How dare you stop a working person from going home."
After the curator coolly walked away, Gio asked Yoo Seong-Woon,
"Kkyurung—just hearing the name sounds adorable. Who is it?"
"That's the goldfish that person keeps at home..."
"These days, goldfish not only cry but also go 'kkyurung'? I've learned something new again."
"Well, no matter how many times I hear it, it doesn't sound like 'kkyurung' to me."
"Then what does it sound like?"
"More like 'kururung-kwangkwang.'"
"Isn't that thunder and lightning?"
"I don't understand why that goldfish isn't named Thunderbolt."
"Thunderbolt would be too cruel a name for a goldfish, don't you think?"
"Yeah, I messed up. I'm so tired I'm just saying anything."
Even goldfish probably have their pride.
"Anyway, back to the point..."
Yoo Seong-Woon pulled out a notebook and fountain pen, then asked again.
"Mr. Argio?"
"I'm right here."
"Great transition, love that."
At some point, Yoo Seong-Woon narrowed his eyes at the braid of red hair spilling out beyond the frame.
"I heard you've started preparing in earnest to become an evil god. What's that about? Are you saying the current Argio isn't complete?"
"Well, synchronization is stuck at 99.9%."
"What, is it buffering? A glitch?"
"If anything, yeah—it's a glitch."
In other words, the system's refusing to accept 0.1 of a file.
"Right now, the other 'Gios' are protesting pretty hard."
"...So that's how assimilation works? More democratic than I expected."
"If necessary, we can express opinions that way, but 'Gio' is fundamentally one. It's just that I haven't fully assimilated yet, so I feel a bit separate."
"What kind of vibe is that?"
"In the end, assimilation means becoming one..."
It was like understanding and accepting emotions like love, anger, and sorrow—how a person grows.
'Gio' needed time to accept and embrace this too. If he subconsciously rejected a certain value, how could he become one? It was impossible.
"Of course, I've already accepted and embraced a lot, hence the 99.9%..."
"For some reason, I feel like there are way more decimal places after that. So?"
"Well... when you think of an evil god, some things come to mind, right?"
"Disaster."
"That's what 'Gio' still can't accept."
"There's something worth accepting in disaster?"
"The collector is the one who created this gallery for that very reason, isn't he?"
"You're right."
Yoo Seong-Woon smirked.
"That's why we're collectors."
A damned breed that finds covetable value even in catastrophe.
"So eventually, you'll become a fully complete evil god."
Still, he knew that the dominant persona would be 'Sergio.' Just as 'Giovanni' never became the main personality, neither would 'Argio.' Thanks to that, he wasn't too worried.
'Worst case, a few guilds might get wiped out.'
Hmm.
'...Maybe I should expand the projected damage radius a bit, considering he's called the evil god of blood and rage... Well, all battles will be inside dungeons anyway, and restoration should be covered by the government and the association.'
As he calculated the potential damage to humanity, Yoo Seong-Woon opened his mouth again.
"I've never actually studied that part of history, so I'm not totally sure but... are you gonna be a real bastard?"
"Ather, you, and everyone else are really harsh to someone standing right in front of you. But if you want an answer—yeah, probably. Even if the blissful pig that avoids conflict or the saint of mercy tries to dilute it, you all better brace yourselves."
"Wow, our portrait's finally going through puberty, huh..."
"Isn't it a bit late for that?"
"Twenty-four's still young."
"Generous with the baby talk, aren't you."
"I learned from you."
This guy never even treated eighteen-year-olds as adults.
"I should probably report this. But don't worry, I'm not planning to interfere with your Demon King project. I'm someone who believes even in pain and death, you can find artistic value."
"Unlike Ms. Joo-Hyun, who found it extremely uncomfortable—this is refreshing."
"If I meet you in a dungeon, I shouldn't expect mercy, right?"
"I definitely understand the value of mercy. And of compassion, salvation, friendship—I know them all well."
The golden eyes curved deeply.
"But whether the evil god will understand those things—I'm not so sure."
"What do you mean not sure."
Yoo Seong-Woon smiled patiently and unwrapped a lollipop.
"You already know everything."
Everything in this world had value.
The only question was: how well did that value align with the era and the situation?
***
Argio said,
"A person should live while getting angry sometimes. How can you live just showing mercy?"
Giovanni replied,
"A person should live while showing mercy. How can you live just getting angry?"
"Now now, priest of sacred law, no need to rig the deck like that, hmm? Giovanni, you just don't get angry because you're not mad, isn't that it?"
"Do you think I never felt resentment or hatred? I'm simply offering a bit of compassion and understanding. It's something indispensable to an intellectual community."
"But not everyone can possess ideal compassion and reason. Look, friend. Most people don't have our level of patience. There's a reason folks say a fist is closer than the law."
"I don't want to solve a situation where everyone can improve by following rules—through violence. And besides, Mr. Argio, don't you actually enjoy the violence itself?"
"It's not violence. It's the process of becoming stronger and releasing the knots in my heart. If I take joy in that noble method, is that really such a sin?"
"This is why you're called an evil god..."
"Says you, mercy bomber."
"Says you, mercy bomber."
Sergio said,
"Well then, shall we go paint now?"
"Let's do that."
"Indeed."
It was time to complete the 'Dream Amusement Park.'
***
"..."
The priest of the Moon Sect looked around.
"..."
The desk and walls were stacked high with research materials. A mobile whiteboard. Everywhere the eye landed, it was full of precious knowledge and beloved fruits of labor.
"..."
As he paced, the content began to come into focus. Research on the Origin. It was progressing smoothly. Something that could even be submitted to the Association. The priest was pulled in, mesmerized.
Then he came to his senses.
"...Ah, right."
This was a dream.
"I was analyzing the structure of the dungeon."
The documents in his hands floated gently in the air.
'I've been lost in this dream for a whole month already... I almost made the same mistake again. I guess I should be thankful I snapped out of it just in time.'
The Moon Sect was conducting research on the dungeon known as the 'Dream Amusement Park,' under commission from the Association. As a virtual dungeon, it wasn't easy to comprehend. The idea that dreams manifested as one wished—wasn't that rather abstract?
'What's amazing is, all the knowledge I gain here has real-world value. It means this domain wasn't created based solely on my own knowledge. No, at most, some of the backdrop or settings might be influenced, but... that's not all.'
Even knowledge about the 'Origin' held practical value.
"..."
He had written down "a dream where my research bears fruit" and placed it under his pillow. With that alone, the man had made enormous strides in just a few days. There was a hollow but addictive pleasure to it.
'To the point that I feel like I want to live in this dream forever...'
But that wasn't possible.
'This is a kind of lucid dream. The length of time can be stretched or compressed depending on the dreamer's personal ability. But just because time in the dream is long doesn't mean you sleep longer in real life.'
Everyone falls asleep at a normal time and wakes up normally. No disruptions to time or body. Other than a disturbing addictiveness, this dream had no side effects.
'But I'm here to complete the commission from the Moon Sect. I can't let myself be lured by this sweet dream any longer. There will be plenty of time to savor broader knowledge after fulfilling the sect's duties...'
As he repeated that to himself—
"Why reject it?"
"..."
"Isn't it truly sweet?"
"...What..."
He turned around.
"..."
But it was still his lab. A dream of his laboratory. There was no reason a new voice should be heard in this place. Even scanning the entire room, he couldn't see who the voice belonged to.
Then the voice came from the right.
"Someone as clever as you must know—none of the knowledge seen and heard here is fake. It's all filled with deep and mysterious wisdom that contributes to the advancement of humanity and the world... All cultivated by you."
Then from the left—
"Are you disheartened because it's a dream? Sure, if your dream was about spending money frivolously, maybe. Or if it was just eating delicious food. But you know, don't you?"
"..."
"Knowledge cannot be false. As long as it isn't a lie, knowledge is knowledge. And that is noble. Look. Here, all the knowledge you've ever longed for is piled up."
"..."
"Perhaps you feel guilty because it wasn't earned by your own hand. But there's no need for that. I grant you special permission. After all, you made it here through your own strength and choice, didn't you?"
And now the whispers came from all directions.
"No need to strain yourself."
"You're doing well enough."
"So, what are you curious about next?"
"Pitiful—this cramped place is your whole world, isn't it?"
"Shall I show you the library next?"
"Don't you want to see the world?"
"There's such a variety of knowledge here."
"Origin is such a mysterious concept."
"You could save even more people."
"Who else could uncover such high-value knowledge?"
"It's premature knowledge, but I'll allow it specially."
"You've received a truly rare opportunity."
"Do you really want to wake [N O V E L I G H T] up from this sweet dream...?"
"Sleep deeper, deeper."
"Reach out."
"Imagine more."
"What is it you desire?"
"What longing do you hold?"
"All the knowledge you were denied is here."
"Aren't you curious?"
"This is a dream meant only for you."
"Your dream."
The priest opened and closed his mouth.
"..."
He must not respond.
'...No matter what, I must not reply.'
If the being were merely a monster, maybe he could. But if it were one of the children of Origin, things would get complicated. A mystery with divine authority—like divinity itself, or the dungeon's own will. A human could be transformed in an instant.
Just as he realized that—
A presence appeared behind him.
"Dear me... Being ignored like this, how sad."
"..."
"It seems this dream doesn't satisfy you."
He must not look. He must pretend he hadn't heard.
"What a strange thing. You don't even realize your own contradiction. Didn't you believe nothing else mattered except knowledge? I remember quite clearly—it was you who wished for this dream."
"..."
"All the knowledge you desire is here. Why not stay a little longer? Don't you want broader knowledge? Yet you dare try to destroy this sweet dream out of duty to the real world. Reality, reality. What about it is so important?"
"..."
"Something left behind in reality still weighs on you? Duties there, fellow priests, those who trust and follow you? Don't worry. As you already know, this dream is long, and reality remains unchanged. So why try to return? Come now, fall deeper into sleep. Just a little deeper..."
click—
A sound like jewels clinking—and something grabbed his shoulder.
"Abandoning it all takes only a moment."
Whatever it may be.
"..."
"..."
The presence soon vanished.
"...Ugh..."
Trembling, he turned around—but nothing remained.
Only the shadows of his dark lab. The priest stared for a long while at that empty shadow, as if glaring.
Then he recalled the voice's words.
'...What's so important about reality?'
'...What's so important about reality?'
...Yeah, really?
'Why was I trying to go back?'
The man stood there for a long time.
-x-X-x-
"Do you think reality is important?"
At Aram the Saintess's question, Giovanni tilted his head.
"Sounds like a question related to the current dungeon. Did I get that right?"
"You did. Watching the brothers and sisters of the Moon Sect research the 'Dream Amusement Park' made me wonder. I wanted to know your thoughts."
"I'm surprised to be asked such a profound question right upon visiting again."
"...Ah."
Only then did Aram seem to realize the timing of her question.
"I guess it was kind of rude to ask right after you arrived, huh?"
"I did pack with the intention of staying longer this time, so it's fine. But in the future, when making new friends, it's best to at least let them unpack before asking deep questions."
"S-sorry."
While internally muttering something about a 'lack of social skills,' Gio unpacked his bags. Aram, now recovered and free to move, trailed after him like a chick chasing a mother hen.
After finishing organizing his room, Gio looked back at her.
"Well then, I suppose we can talk comfortably now. Do you have a place to recommend?"
"Suddenly speaking so formally... Hmm, a place to recommend..."
"I mean a spot good for casual conversation."
"What about the old debate hall you visited before?"
"The priests there were too frightening, I found it hard to go back."
"? They didn't seem scary at all to me..."
Anyway, since he said so, Aram offered another option.
"How about my room?"
"Aram's room, surrounded by countless theoretical books and papers?"
"There probably won't be anyone around now, so maybe the quiet cafeteria...?"
"Hm? It's already 7 p.m.—do you think I came here without eating dinner?"
"...Ah! Ah!"
Aram finally found the answer.
"Let's go to the garden salon! The salon we made together last time is still well maintained. It's a great spot to have snacks or tea while chatting...!"
"I'm pleased to see you've finally figured me out."
The two headed for the garden beneath the stars. Aram smiled sheepishly.
"Honestly, before you returned, the garden was mostly maintained out of obligation. Sometimes visiting guests would praise its beauty, but aside from those outsiders, very few people in our sect ever entered the garden..."
"I heard the people from the Eunwol Guild had been managing it, but lately even the Moon Sect priests are tending to it a bit, yes? What's the atmosphere like among them?"
"I think they said it's a good place to zone out. Something about cooling their brains when they're overloaded..."
"You really like studying, don't you."
Thus Gio and Aram arrived at the salon. At the center of the glass greenhouse-like space was a tea table, set up for light conversation.
As they sat down, an attendant approached.
"Shall I bring you something to drink?"
"And some snacks too, please."
"I'll bring them right away."
Warm tea and fruits were served. The attendants stepped outside the greenhouse, as if to give them privacy. They could call for help again with a bell if needed.
Only then was the stage for conversation fully set.
"So, about what we were discussing earlier..."
"You're asking about the weight of dreams versus reality?"
"Mm, maybe?"
Aram furrowed her brow.
"Lately, something's been off among the brothers. Their sleep duration is the same as usual, but the frequency with which they sleep is increasing. And when they can't fall asleep fast enough, they've even started taking sleeping pills..."
"That does sound a bit dangerous."
Gio's face clouded.
"I've heard similar things through the Collector. Word is that more and more people are becoming addicted to the 'Dream Amusement Park.' Even if it's not lengthening sleep time and thus not disrupting society—for now—it'll eventually become a problem."
"Ah, so it's happening outside too. Our sect hasn't reached the point of calling it a problem yet. We've experimented with sleep aids before. But, how should I put it... chasing dreams over reality just feels a little..."
Aram hesitated, then said it.
"...Unsettling."
The Moon Sect had always been quiet. Lately, it had grown even quieter.
"I've never experienced it myself, so I don't really know what my brothers are thinking or feeling."
"Has the bishop still not granted you permission?"
Another sudden return to formal speech, but Aram had come to understand Gio in her own way. He used informal speech when treating her as someone under his protection, and formal speech when addressing her as a student.
She sighed.
"Yes. Given recent events, there might be unforeseen side effects. Some say this dungeon wasn't created by monsters, but rather by the prank of an evil god... so the bishop's being extra cautious."
"If it's a dungeon created by a god instead of a monster, that's going to be a headache."
"Dungeons born of divinity have much vaguer strategy parameters. At first, we thought it was just lucid dreams resolving grudges from reality, but now it feels more like a refuge."
Aram looked up at Gio.
"That's why I wanted to ask your opinion. About dreams and reality."
"The wisest thing would be to keep a proper balance between both."
"Maintaining balance?"
"Isn't it said that anything in excess is harmful?"
Giovanni smiled with his usual cheerful expression.
"When food is too bland, it's dull to eat; when it's too salty, you can't even touch it. Life is the same. Imperfect as humans are, we must rest—but we also can't allow ourselves to fall apart."
Aram blinked.
"To think you'd even use food as a metaphor..."
"Isn't it the easiest to understand?"
"Well, yes."
"This is a bit too serious and philosophical for me... I tend to think very simply."
"At least you look like someone who'd suit such seriousness, so don't worry."
"I'm glad you think so. Then shall I show off a bit more?"
Gio rubbed his chin and rolled his eyes before continuing.
"...Humanity has fled reality countless times in history. Not just through sleep, but also through play, food, conversation—all can be forms of escape. As the times changed and technology advanced, the depth of that escape deepened."
And it was still happening.
"After the Great Catastrophe, mystery returned to our world. People can now use magic to escape mentally, or even flee their own lives. In times as chaotic as these, erasing one's identity and relocating isn't even that hard."
"Even small things can count as escape, huh."
"Running from a hard and exhausting daily life isn't some huge thing. It's just looking away. If you keep the moon in your gaze all the time, it's tiring—but if you take a moment to look up now and then, you're enchanted by its beauty."
Everyone could flee—and that was natural.
"But if you spend all day staring at the moon, then it becomes a problem."
"..."
Aram hesitated, then asked,
"...Are you referring to our Moon Sect's teacher...?"
"Would I say something so impious in front of the Saintess of the Moon Sect? It's just a metaphor. If something comes to mind from that metaphor, it belongs to you."
"...I understand. I'll keep listening."
"That's the kind of attitude that makes me happy."
Giovanni continued.
"The Saintess asked if reality is important. Yes. It is. Our soul's roots, and the totality of our lives, reside here. These are irreplaceable things—things dreams cannot substitute."
"You mean they're precious?"
"Precious and important are very different. Unfortunately, many people live without understanding that distinction. They blame themselves for not treasuring what is important to them."
"Ah... are they really that different?"
"Of course."
It was obvious.
"You can't love every foundational piece that makes you who you are. If humans were born with overflowing love and patience, things might be different—but we are creatures who live for ourselves."
"For ourselves?"
To her question, Gio smiled.
"Of course, there are those like the Saintess, who sacrifice themselves. But that too is your desire. You could've chosen not to—but you wanted to become a Saintess and bring good to the world, didn't you?"
"That's... true."
"Choice is an expression of opinion. An act of will, not necessarily agreed upon by the world. And so, it is selfish. Just like no one can be universally good to everyone."
No choice could please everyone.
"Here's an example. I don't like my blue eyes. I simply cannot love them. But if I gouged them out, I wouldn't be able to see anymore."
"...What if you used dye to change the color? To one you like?"
"How long would that last?"
"No magic or drug is truly permanent. But it could last nearly a lifetime. Wouldn't that be enough?"
"Even so, the memory that I once had blue eyes wouldn't disappear. And many people besides me would remember it too."
"There might be magic that alters memory."
"Alright, let's say I went through with all that."
Giovanni tilted his head.
"Would that still be me?"
"...Ah..."
"I think you understand now."
No matter how clever or elaborate the means—some things couldn't change.
"The essence would shift."
That's why important and precious weren't the same.
"What forms me, what forms my surroundings and the world—those are all important. But when something isn't precious, you might feel like discarding it. Especially in today's world, where rejection and individualism run rampant."
"But until now, there hasn't been a problem... Well, maybe that's only because I've been treated well as the Saintess of the Moon Sect. If I think back to when I was a vagrant in the slums... I can't really say this world was an easy place to live."
"The reason so many 'problems' haven't come to the surface yet is because there was no other choice. When arrows are flying at your back, do you stand still? You run. You ran because not running meant death. And now, you've found a tree to hide behind."
The arrow was reality. The tree, a dream.
"But how long can you hide behind that tree?"
Was the reason they ran merely because of the 'arrows from behind'?
"All humans have desires. Unless you're a rare exception, even you, Saintess, have desires. A notable one being your thirst for knowledge."
"Y-yes, that's true."
"That's why I say, people didn't run only because they'd die otherwise. They also ran to eat what they wanted the next day, to see loved ones, to reach that promotion if they could just endure a little longer..."
And so on.
"You can't fulfill those desires hiding behind a narrow tree."
"But I heard the 'Dream Amusement Park' fulfills people's desires."
"It satisfies desire, yes—but doesn't resolve it. Nothing substantial remains in the end, does it?"
"But... the knowledge remains."
Even if it was a dream—if you remembered it, the knowledge from that amusement park remained.
"That's why the Moon Sect is in turmoil. Some say, even if others shouldn't use this dungeon—shouldn't we be the ones to utilize it? The Moon Sect is a temple of reason that collects and cultivates knowledge... There's no one more suited to use it."
Giovanni smiled.
"That's how the current research facilities of the Association were born."
"...Yes, you're right."
Aram knew well how some of those Association labs had committed horrific things. She couldn't bring herself to approve it. But... she was curious.
"Do I have to be whole myself?"
"Is that your thought?"
"No. I think preserving myself is the right thing. My desire to benefit the world is far stronger than my wish for personal peace or pleasure."
"Then this must be the thoughts of other brothers."
"They want to become part of the dream."
They had always treated themselves not as humans, but as tools and parts. The priests of the Moon Sect, who experimented on themselves and handled their bodies without hesitation. They feared neither losing what was 'important' nor what was 'precious.'
And Gio said,
"Even so—they returned to reality."
"...But at this rate, they'll all be addicted to the dream soon..."
"Before they forget, wouldn't it be good if they remembered?"
"...Remember what?"
"The reason they gave up the dream and returned to reality."
"..."
"What could it be?"
The lesson was over.
"Think about it."
And before long, she found the answer.
Then she went to the bishop.
***
"There's something wrong with the Master...!"
Aram raised her voice.
"There are too many things that don't sit right about this dungeon. Ever since it appeared, the Master has fallen silent and hasn't even shown himself to me anymore. If the Moon itself doesn't respond to the Saintess, that clearly indicates something is wrong!"
"That's not a reason for the Saintess to participate in this research. Have you forgotten how precious you are? You wanted to warm the Moon and bring good to the world. Then you must remember how important you are too."
"I do know I'm important! I know I'm precious! I want to not be in pain, to laugh more than cry, to be happy rather than alone! And it's me saying all this...!"
Aram was angry.
"This is something I want to do!"
"Saintess, right now..."
"Don't stall—answer me!"
What value did she have if she was only meant to be protected?
"I'm a living person too! I have desires! Things I want to do! If my selfishness won't hurt anyone, then there's no obligation not to act. If the Moon Sect didn't raise me like livestock—if I'm truly one of you, truly family to you and the Moon...!!"
Then—
"...My actions don't need excuses or justifications."
"It may be dangerous."
"We can choose and act on anything."
"But...!"
"That's what the Moon Sect is...!!"
"..."
Only then did the bishop speak his true feelings.
"...I'm afraid I'll ruin everything."
Days later.
The Saintess joined the research into the 'Dream Amusement Park.'
***
In the early days, even if the brothers knew how sweet the dream was, they could still wake easily.
But more and more were becoming addicted.
And Aram's teacher had said:
"They should remember—before they forget."
What were they forgetting?
Aram knew.
"..."
That they were a family, too.
That even this ordinary, unremarkable daily life... had been happy.
"...I can do it too."
That was why Aram stepped forward.
She had been chosen, yes—but becoming the Moon was her own will. She loved and cherished the Moon Sect more than anyone, which was why she didn't refuse the role of Saintess.
She had both duty and the right.
"It's my choice."
She slipped a note under her pillow, containing her wish, and went to sleep.
***
『Please help my family wake up.』
-x-X-x-