Public opinion concluded that the recent "Dream Amusement Park" incident was nothing more than a divine prank, and the world, as it always did, returned to its everyday rhythm. The event merely became a trivial topic of gossip.
"Some are saying that it was actually good for Korea, as it reminded people of the danger posed by divinity. Though, of course, those opinions are getting flamed a bit—since harm is still harm..."
"Sure, people were in a panic when it happened, but anyone with a brain should realize. If the divine being hadn't gone easy on us, there's no way this would've ended with so little damage."
"Well, our guildmaster went out for fun that day, and that... was just..."
And the Curator forced himself to ignore all of it.
Pretending to know meant extra work.
"...Anyone else got something to say?"
"...What were we just talking about again?"
"You're good at social survival."
They weren't oblivious to the fact that the Dream Amusement Park incident was related to the black portrait. Even without formal guidance, they had intuition.
Even so, the Curator's employees succeeded in completely wiping the truth from their minds.
I'm already too busy.
Getting involved would be a one-way ticket to hell.
The Curator's employees were inherently resilient. Not just to diseases or curses, but even in mental fortitude. Things blew up dozens of times a day—if they were shocked by every one of them, they wouldn't get anything done.
"Oh, lunch break's over."
Not that they weren't surprised at all.
Even considering previous incidents, this one was on a different scale.
Fuck this cursed world. Guildmaster, we believe in you...
We do, really. I trust that you have some kind of plan.
All they were doing was relying on the guildmaster, Bisa Beul.
He's not the kind of person who'd risk damage to his own collection.
He wouldn't just sit back and watch a disaster unfold. That much, I trust.
The Curator's guild members understood the collector's irrational obsession. They placed their faith in that. And as if to reward their trust, they had returned to normal life. Their "pretending not to know" was built on that belief.
But pretending not to notice Sergio Hunter was another matter.
"It has... been a while, I guess..."
Now a full-time staff member of the Curator and an A-rank Hunter, Binari quietly held back a sigh. It was a sigh on the verge of escaping from extreme tension, but she barely swallowed it down. She couldn't afford to provoke this one.
Her gaze landed on the blond man in a black cloak.
I don't know how to even begin this conversation.
There was only so much you could do to brainwash yourself into believing he must be a good person. At least before, he was still monster-level—now he was publicly acknowledged as divine. Of course her demeanor had shrunk.
For things to escalate that far, and for them to still leave this being roaming free—yeah, that's just like the Curator. Not that there's any way to restrict the actions of a divine being in the first place...
It was inevitable she became more cautious.
What if I blurt out some nonsense without realizing and trigger a catastrophe?
That was a worry Yuseongun once had, too. These mystical beings could unleash disaster just by deviating from a single, incomprehensible standard.
After a moment of hesitation, Binari finally spoke.
"...I heard you haven't been feeling well recently."
Guildmaster, I believe in you.
"Have you recovered now?"
"Thank you for your concern. I'm fine."
"I asked because I haven't seen you around the company lately."
"You were looking for me? I was doing some self-reflection."
"Oh, self-reflection... I see..."
Thankfully, the world didn't end just because they exchanged a few words.
Yeah, if there was going to be an issue with interacting with him, they'd have posted a notice about it in advance. Right now, the only internal guideline regarding this being is that joke of a memo. This much should be okay.
There was no way to stop a divine being. But humans could be restricted. The fact that they hadn't done so must mean it was still permissible to engage as before.
"Did it become a meaningful moment of self-reflection for you...?"
"It was a truly profound time for me."
The blond man smiled and gestured.
"Would you like to talk with me?"
His attempt at mimicking human behavior seemed even clumsier than before.
Better not point that out.
I don't know how he plans to reintegrate into human society with such a poor imitation, but that's not my problem. If this were truly dangerous, the seniors would've stepped in already.
Binari forced herself to swallow the intense sense of wrongness. She wanted to treat this precious artifact with courtesy.
"...Pardon me, but in exactly 30 minutes, at 4:00 AM, I'm scheduled to begin my duties for 'Sweet Tea Party.'"
"Ah, the Sweet Porcelain Girls. You're still taking care of them?"
"Yes, I'm still in charge of that task."
Apparently, he recalled past events. For such a being to remember a lowly human like her was an absurd miracle. And he even remembered her name.
Even though we never made a contract.
Binari glanced at the black cloak.
He was still looking at her with a kindly smile. A taxidermied smile befitting a portrait—one that instilled an unshakable discomfort in any living person.
But kindness was kindness, and she couldn't bring herself to refuse.
"...Then once I finish the work at 4, yes, I would be happy to speak with you. Would that be acceptable?"
"I worry I might be interfering with your duties."
"To be honest, yes, it's a bit of a disruption..."
She thought it was a crazy thing to say, but she couldn't lie. Beings wrapped in this kind of mystery often despised lies. She had to summon the courage to be honest.
"...But I also have personal curiosity, and I feel positively toward you. It would be a lie to say I'm not afraid of you, Sergio, but if fear was the only thing, I wouldn't have accepted this exchange. You've always been kind to us, and if we ask politely, you step back."
So this was Binari's own will.
"So please wait just a little longer for me. After I finish my duties, I'd like to talk. The first time we met, I was too overwhelmed... there were many things I couldn't ask."
"...You are too, Sergio."
"I accept your proposal."
"And I thank you, too."
Sergio, standing in Hallway 1 on the 3rd floor, stepped aside and gestured.
"Would you like to walk with me?"
"...If you don't mind."
"Of course. It would bring me joy, Binari."
Binari internally cursed herself.
If this ends up giving me extra work, I've got no one to blame but me.
But what could she do? She really was curious. The situation was different from when she'd just joined.
She had adapted to the Curator's world. She was a proper curator now. It was only natural she would be curious about the being referred to as "the Godfather" in charge of Sweet Tea Party.
Binari held her breath and followed behind the hem of the black cloak.
There was no shadow. No sound of footsteps.
Only the faint crackle of dry grass echoed in the hallway.
Garasani greeted Sergio and Binari with a bright smile.
"It's an honor that you've come in person."
"Hello, Mr. Garasani."
"It's been a while, Sergio Hunter. I was disappointed I didn't get to see you at that spectacular dungeon last time. But I understand you must have been very busy."
"I was suffering from a fever back then, so I couldn't visit you. I hope you can forgive me."
"There's no need to say that... I'm truly glad we've met again."
At that, Binari subtly stepped back a pace. It wasn't just the unnerving smile of that cold-blooded floor manager.
Behind her neutral face, Binari thought:
This is not a conversation I want to be part of.
A perfect artifact mimicking a polite priest, and the floor manager who respected and cherished it. Their interaction evoked an instinctive repulsion in her—only wrongness radiated from it.
She checked her wristwatch.
Eleven minutes and four seconds until the hour...
Then Garasani turned to her and asked,
"Were you preparing for your duty?"
"...Yes, I'm in charge of 'Sweet Tea Party.'"
"Ah, I know that one. The lovely porcelain ladies who must be served within a five-second margin of 4:00 AM sharp. Sixth-rank, if I recall. According to the report, today's tea treats are macarons?"
"Yes. I've prepared their requested flavors: blueberry, citron, and pistachio."
"Today's dessert is a bit larger, so the tea time might run long."
Garasani stroked his chin and asked,
"Where did you encounter Mr. Sergio?"
"In Hallway 1, third floor."
"And you agreed to speak with him?"
"Yes, after I finish my duties..."
Nodding, Garasani turned to Sergio with a smile.
"I hope this young one hasn't caused you any trouble?"
"No. She was kind to me."
"That's a relief. But since there's still time until 4:00 sharp, if it's alright with you, Sergio Hunter, may I propose we speak together in the meantime?"
Garasani's voice was gentle, like that of an affectionate elder.
"He is brave and competent, but he's still inexperienced when it comes to both his assigned work and attending to someone as important as you."
Only then did Binari realize the fifth floor manager was trying to help her.
He wants me to focus on my task without feeling pressure.
It was indeed nerve-wracking to do her job while the black cloak was watching. Binari glanced toward Sergio, who returned her gaze with a gentle smile.
"Then I'll see you after four."
"...Yes, I'll see you then."
As Binari bowed, Garasani escorted Sergio away. Once the two disappeared beyond a wall, Binari lifted her head—and let out the faintest sigh.
It had been a companion of her own choosing, but it wasn't any less stressful.
But strangely, the feeling wasn't bad. There was something fulfilling in briefly containing something that immense.
So this is why people chase thrills, huh...
At precisely 4:00, Binari placed a purple, yellow, and green macaron in front of each porcelain doll. They were larger than usual, so it took a bit longer.
Hearing the dolls' usual fortune statements, Binari tensed.
This could signal another anomaly. I have to be ready to record it in full...
As expected, additional statements followed.
"A nice consideration."
A total of five positive statements—
And just one negative one.
"It will be a bad day."
"The Godfather is here."
"Let's ask him for a hug."
And as usual, the dolls closed their eyes.
Binari let out a long breath.
I think I know what that final negative fortune meant.
She had spent a lot of time with these porcelain dolls. A single negative statement didn't mean death. If anything, paired with all the good ones, it probably meant a minor misfortune.
If it's just a broken leg or arm, that's manageable. I wonder...
And just then, as she turned her head—
"Finished your task?"
"...Yes, fifth floor manager."
"Then good work."
He momentarily doubted his own eyes.
It wasn't the silent approach that shocked him. No, the problem—or maybe it wasn't a problem—was that Garasani was holding something.
A paper bundle soaked in fresh, bright red blood. Something thick wrapped inside it—
No matter how you looked at it, it was freshly slaughtered meat.
"Well then, I'll take my leave."
"I look forward to seeing you again."
"Ah, please do call on me..."
The fifth floor manager bowed respectfully to Sergio and stepped away, holding two full hands of meat.
"Did your task go well?"
Suddenly, Binari couldn't help but wonder—
Was that "bad fortune" just beginning now?
And later, a fellow curator working the dawn shift on the third floor—
Caught sight of Binari walking through the gallery, clutching a meat-wrapped paper bundle, blood dripping everywhere.
"Ugh, what the hell, are you insane?"
"Did you already scream?"
"I thought you were one of the exhibits!"
"You basically became one..."
"Ah, a sculpture, right."
Afterward, the Curator's internal homepage displayed a staff-only alert announcing that "Mr. Sergio" had resumed activity. Binari, having faced him directly, was praised for her courage.
And then she was summoned by Bisa Beul.
"You said you received meat. Was it lamb? Beef? Chicken? Pork?"
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"Or something... else?"
"I became guildmaster specifically so you couldn't."
"I really want to go home..."
The porcelain girls' fortune-telling was spot on.
-x-X-x-
The first news of the portrait's reappearance after a long hiatus was titled "A Gift of Raw Meat Dripping with Blood," so Yoo Seong-Woon went straight to see Gio.
"Do you... have some kind of grudge against our company policy?"
"Not at all. And you've come at just the right time. Yoo Seong-Woon, I have a gift for you. It will bring you great joy."
"You're really just handing this over like breathing now? Did I do something wrong? What kind of warning is this? No, before that—did my words even go into your ears?"
"I've gotten stronger."
It was a portrait that had strangely adapted well to human society. As the portrait moved as if to lift something, Yoo Seong-Woon quickly stopped him.
"W-Wait, before you lift any meat, let's talk first."
Yoo Seong-Woon panicked. He couldn't grasp what he had done wrong or what had gone off the rails. If possible, he needed to resolve this through conversation.
Thankfully, Gio was a portrait capable of moderate interaction. If things went well, he might be persuadable. Yoo Seong-Woon made a desperate attempt at a roundabout refusal.
"I don't have any culinary talent like you, so I can't do anything with meat that hasn't had the blood drained. More than that, I haven't even given you anything, so if you're giving me a gift, how am I supposed to repay you...?"
"Yoo Seong-Woon, are you my friend?"
"...Friend, yeah, of course?"
"You've already paid all that's required through that."
"I'm really sorry, but did I, without knowing, sign some sort of slave contract? Or maybe a body-part waiver? What exactly did I offer that lets me receive a gift ?"
A huge wave of fear hit him.
"Gio, I keep telling you. If you're going to make contracts with people, at least give some kind of notice first. Can't I just die like a human? Am I immortal? Undying? Or were you serious when you said I'd still be your friend in the next life?"
Gio ignored him completely.
"Fortunately, Yoo Seong-Woon, this time you have a choice. Choose between lamb or chicken."
"You chose so willingly. You're a good adult. I shall give you both as compensation."
"Please don't do this."
Yet Yoo Seong-Woon found himself holding large slabs of meat in both arms.
"...I have a question. You clearly said lamb and chicken, so why are both of these so heavy? Never mind the size—why are they both so red? Isn't one supposed to be chicken? Why is it dripping blood? Why didn't you drain the blood during slaughter? Are you really not mad at me? I'm seriously terrified."
"That is a misunderstanding on your part. The blood here is exquisite, so I only did minimal cleanup. When grilled, the meat gains density, and when boiled, the umami increases. You may separate and consume the blood if you wish, but it's best cooked in this state. That's why I gave it as a gift."
Contrary to Yoo Seong-Woon's fears, there was a valid reason.
"If you want to understand the size and color of this gift, you'll find the answer in my portrait. May I invite you, Yoo Seong-Woon?"
"Unfortunately, I just got off a night shift. I've got a lot of locations to check right now, and I put everything aside to come see your face. I thought maybe this was one of your protest methods."
It was a portrait that always gifted high-quality ingredients and food to humans. The sudden presentation of raw meat still dripping with blood sent a chill down his spine.
It wasn't uncommon for certain works to give cryptic warnings in such a fashion.
Only then did the portrait seem to realize the fear of humans. Yoo Seong-Woon remembered the portrait making a similar mistake in its early days of exhibition.
Still gloomy and blunt in tone, the portrait nevertheless tried to comfort him with its own form of kindness.
"...You and all the staff at this company have been very kind to me. I had no complaints and never intended to protest. I apologize for the lack of packaging. I used paper that could absorb the minimum amount of blood—I didn't expect such a strong reaction."
"I mean, it's hard to say the packaging was the only issue..."
"From now on, I will try to act more moderately from your perspective. If others do not fear me, then I will also explain the gifts."
"...Well, as long as you're not upset, it's fine. I was just wondering if you were angry about not being able to build a Temple of Wrath or something."
"I have no need for a Temple of Wrath. Don't you agree?"
"My opinion doesn't really matter..."
Yoo Seong-Woon let out a sigh that was either relief or resignation.
'...I figured it wasn't anything serious since the guild master and the fifth floor director didn't give any warnings, but... really, there wasn't a single issue beyond what I imagined.'
He rewrapped the meat—tinged slightly with blood but neatly packaged—in a zip bag. Then, he wiped the outer blood with a handkerchief.
Returning to his usual, calm smile, Yoo Seong-Woon packed the meat into his work bag.
"Anyway, I'll enjoy it."
"You've lost weight. Are you not eating well?"
"I always say this, Gio. Hunters should only gain weight if there's a real reason. Otherwise, they're unfit to be hunters."
"But you are thinner than average."
"I am the average, okay? I eat twice a day, so don't worry."
Yoo Seong-Woon responded like a pro.
"I plan to start eating four times a day."
"It seems, unless it's just a feeling, that you've been particularly busy lately."
"Well, how should I put it... Earth's been kinda chaotic these days."
"Is it because of me?"
"That's part of it, but Earth was already creaking on its own. It's a sandcastle world, really. And with the mystical being shaken up lately, of course the gardens are getting noisy."
The portrait known as Gio's spoke as if it understood.
"There have been many minor disturbances recently. I saw large and small friends roaming the city. I remember you calling them 'children of the Origin.'"
"Children, huh. That's a cute way to put it."
To Gio, the Eye of the Origin, they likely did feel like his own children.
"Yeah, the long nerves and veins of the mystical network surrounding Earth are twitching. That's why even the snowy field I serve hasn't been quiet. Do you remember the healer Jeong Yeong-Won you met before? She's reportedly gone into full retreat... It's one of those events you just have to go through when living on Earth."
Yoo Seong-Woon smiled calmly.
"Not blaming you, just saying."
"My apologies for the trouble."
"No need to feel responsible—it's a natural phenomenon. That's just how Earth self-regulates. It creates large and small disturbances, then returns to its original state."
"Sometimes, I'm curious about your garden."
The words made him smile with his eyes.
"Unfortunately, I don't have the authority to invite others into it like you do. If you step in personally, maybe the story changes, but I'm not able to."
It'd be strange for a gardener to have full control over the garden.
"Want to at least see my eyes?"
"Are you offering your eyes?"
"The part of a person where the garden is most visible is the eyes."
Though hidden by black paint, he could feel the gaze.
'...It's been a while since I felt this chill.'
His heart, his brain, even his bone marrow felt like they were exposed to the air. If that paint hadn't obscured the portrait's gaze, Yoo Seong-Woon wouldn't have endured it. As a gardener, he was even more attuned to these things.
Soon, the portrait finished its garden viewing.
"I'll knit you a scarf soon."
"Oh... That'd be nice, thanks, but... I'm not going to end up taxidermied or anything, right?"
"You recognized me as a friend. That's payment enough."
"So my opinion did matter in the end?"
"Becoming friends always requires mutual thought, doesn't it?"
"You really do like friends, huh?"
The portrait confirmed.
"I like friends who can blend, promises that are not broken, and punishments that are appropriately given."
Yoo Seong-Woon opened his mouth briefly, then shut it.
Best not to dig deeper.
"Do you want to know anything about my recent life? Or about current events? Since you've been inside the portrait lately, I figured you'd want to hear these things."
"I'm curious if the Collector's staff are okay."
"If it's about you—yeah, a new notice did go up recently. You've been handing out gifts of raw meat dripping blood, so there was a warning to be cautious. We didn't know exactly what it meant."
"So the packaging of my gift was indeed insufficient. I apologize."
"You don't need to apologize so much."
Yoo Seong-Woon laughed brightly.
"We're all kind of used to this sort of thing."
Like getting mysterious meat chunks from a pitch-black painting.
For Gio, this was the first time, but Yoo Seong-Woon had already known—many works gave warnings through such bizarre methods.
Collectors were trained to stay sharp in such moments.
Usually, such signs were expressions of displeasure, ominous curses, warnings, or prophecies. Curators saw them all as part of the "work's fragments." That's why Yoo Seong-Woon rushed to see Gio.
"If anything else surprised me, it's that you've officially been recognized as a divinity. In a world full of divine energy, few religions are recognized by the state."
"That probably means there are many who joke around."
"Yeah. If divinity is recognized carelessly, its mystique grows immensely. And immense power, unless restrained, becomes a disaster. So unless the divinity itself is remarkably self-disciplined, they don't recognize it as religion."
"But they did for me."
"Well, you're... you, so... yeah..."
Yoo Seong-Woon had nothing else to say.
"Do you know what your followers are doing these days?"
"They're not followers. They are art lovers who enjoy my paintings."
"Right, art lovers. Do you know what they're doing?"
"They've been visiting those in need and offering appropriate help."
"Exactly. Even without proper doctrine, a temple, or even uniforms, look at the positive social impact your 'non-followers' are having. The Association and government made the right call."
"Oh, heavenly deities."
"You can't just call on them..."
Those beings had no power to help Gio.
"As for the Collector's people, you don't need to worry. They're all scrambling to make you comfortable. Right now, the Collector's staff fall into one of three categories."
"Those who like you, those who respect you, and those who fear you."
"I'll choose the second."
"Unfortunately, you have to take all three. Even if you demolish your home here, nothing changes. The thoughts of the Collector Guild members about you are, well..."
Yoo Seong-Woon concluded.
"...A natural phenomenon."
"A natural phenomenon."
"Like the fog that sometimes drapes over a lake."
"Fog that you can talk and exchange with."
That tendency had always existed, but once it became clear that the Black Cloak was more than divine, it only intensified. It wasn't a normal reaction, but then again, this wasn't a normal collection.
"Because we all know that's the wise choice."
Yoo Seong-Woon knew exactly what his coworkers were thinking.
"We are the collection, Gio. Stability is everything. The Guildmaster never forced it, but only those who choose to maintain that balance remain here. If people in a service job let their emotions sway them constantly, what can they possibly do?"
So they had to be polite.
"We have to treat you with the same courtesy."
Whether it was awe, respect, or fear—it didn't matter. They just had to follow the manual. Emotions were personal. The gears of society shouldn't reveal their teeth.
"Don't worry. Our feelings and thoughts don't matter. Every staff member exists to serve you. Whatever they may hold inside, they'll turn away from it on their own. Because they know... it'll be very exhausting if they don't."
"That is your way. I respect it."
The portrait's reply was blunt and dry, as always.
"You're not offended?"
Yoo Seong-Woon rubbed the corner of his mouth with an awkward smile.
"You're, um... a person, right? I wondered if treating someone who sees themselves as a human this ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) way might feel like mistreatment. Bit of a late question, but... are you really okay?"
"I understand that it is one of the ways you see me. I accept all of those ways. What I think of myself doesn't matter to you."
"Just like we don't matter to ourselves?"
"And just like I do."
The portrait summarized simply:
"We respect each other."
"Yeah, that's how it was. That's right..."
He understood what that meant.
Humans interpreted this being as a "portrait." And the being, in turn, interpreted the humans beyond the frame as "paintings." Since they were both artworks to one another, there was no reason not to show respect.
Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine.
"...Just thinking—despite seeming like you've changed, you haven't changed at all."
How was that possible?
'...You became the son of the Sun, the divinity of Wrath. One day you're a person, another day a dragon. And in the end, you return claiming to be a painting that insists it's human.'
This being was capable of interaction. And to interact was to blend. When paint is added to water, it should dilute, but this one always stayed the same. Truly a taxidermied painting.
But making that too obvious might offend. Since Gio's portrait considered itself human, it was best to play along.
Yoo Seong-Woon spoke as if he'd just remembered something.
"Right, looks like I'll have some time soon."
"I rolled around in front of the Guildmaster. Did a full-body floor scrub."
"She probably wasn't fazed."
"She enjoyed the show and gave me time off. That's how I live, Gio."
It was worth the humiliation.
"I'm off this Friday, all day. With the weekend, maybe I'll even travel. If you're okay with it, maybe a proper overseas trip? Things are a mess, but the U.S. has calmed down enough—it could be nice."
"I can help you travel."
"Oh, right. Anyway, let Joo-Hyun know too. I'll be insanely busy until Friday, so tell her to be patient. If she wants to hang out before then, bring her along. Don't forget."
"Joo-Hyun and I are one body."
"See, when you say that, it doesn't sound metaphorical."
"We are as one body, but separately."
After a brief pause, the portrait replied:
"Wait, I just had a feeling. You're not just going to sit still while waiting, are you? What will you do while you wait?"
"First, I shall farm."
"Whatever that means, I'm looking forward to it."
And then Friday came.
"So, you're telling me Gio made this popcorn?"
"For today, I successfully selected the corn kernels that would pop well."
Never in her life had she seen popcorn the size of a baseball. Fluffy and soft—almost like slightly firm marshmallows.
Joo-Hyun held a popcorn bucket folded expertly from paper. She sat beside Gio. Next to Gio was Yoo Seong-Woon, sitting under a blanket made from goldenstep sheep's leather.
Dana, Honey, the teddy bear, the wisteria water dragon, and a mysterious flowerpot were also present.
Hesitating, Joo-Hyun asked in front of the giant TV:
"Why are we sitting on the floor when we have this big sofa?"
Yoo Seong-Woon offered a plausible answer.
"Sitting cross-legged is comfortable?"
"It's okay if food drops on the floor."
"Alright, I get it—no deep meaning. Let's just start the movie."
And so, on Friday evening, they put on a horror movie and held a deep analytical discussion on the occult phenomena depicted in it.
Yoo Seong-Woon especially said, "I'm learning a lot," and looked very satisfied.
The first news of the portrait's reappearance after a long hiatus was titled "A Gift of Raw Meat Dripping with Blood," so Yoo Seong-Woon went straight to see Gio.
"Do you... have some kind of grudge against our company policy?"
"Not at all. And you've come at just the right time. Yoo Seong-Woon, I have a gift for you. It will bring you great joy."
"You're really just handing this over like breathing now? Did I do something wrong? What kind of warning is this? No, before that—did my words even go into your ears?"
"I've gotten stronger."
It was a portrait that had strangely adapted well to human society. As the portrait moved as if to lift something, Yoo Seong-Woon quickly stopped him.
"W-Wait, before you lift any meat, let's talk first."
Yoo Seong-Woon panicked. He couldn't grasp what he had done wrong or what had gone off the rails. If possible, he needed to resolve this through conversation.
Thankfully, Gio was a portrait capable of moderate interaction. If things went well, he might be persuadable. Yoo Seong-Woon made a desperate attempt at a roundabout refusal.
"I don't have any culinary talent like you, so I can't do anything with meat that hasn't had the blood drained. More than that, I haven't even given you anything, so if you're giving me a gift, how am I supposed to repay you...?"
"Yoo Seong-Woon, are you my friend?"
"...Friend, yeah, of course?"
"You've already paid all that's required through that."
"I'm really sorry, but did I, without knowing, sign some sort of slave contract? Or maybe a body-part waiver? What exactly did I offer that lets me receive a gift ?"
A huge wave of fear hit him.
"Gio, I keep telling you. If you're going to make contracts with people, at least give some kind of notice first. Can't I just die like a human? Am I immortal? Undying? Or were you serious when you said I'd still be your friend in the next life?"
Gio ignored him completely.
"Fortunately, Yoo Seong-Woon, this time you have a choice. Choose between lamb or chicken."
"You chose so willingly. You're a good adult. I shall give you both as compensation."
"Please don't do this."
Yet Yoo Seong-Woon found himself holding large slabs of meat in both arms.
"...I have a question. You clearly said lamb and chicken, so why are both of these so heavy? Never mind the size—why are they both so red? Isn't one supposed to be chicken? Why is it dripping blood? Why didn't you drain the blood during slaughter? Are you really not mad at me? I'm seriously terrified."
"That is a misunderstanding on your part. The blood here is exquisite, so I only did minimal cleanup. When grilled, the meat gains density, and when boiled, the umami increases. You may separate and consume the blood if you wish, but it's best cooked in this state. That's why I gave it as a gift."
Contrary to Yoo Seong-Woon's fears, there was a valid reason.
"If you want to understand the size and color of this gift, you'll find the answer in my portrait. May I invite you, Yoo Seong-Woon?"
"Unfortunately, I just got off a night shift. I've got a lot of locations to check right now, and I put everything aside to come see your face. I thought maybe this was one of your protest methods."
It was a portrait that always gifted high-quality ingredients and food to humans. The sudden presentation of raw meat still dripping with blood sent a chill down his spine.
It wasn't uncommon for certain works to give cryptic warnings in such a fashion.
Only then did the portrait seem to realize the fear of humans. Yoo Seong-Woon remembered the portrait making a similar mistake in its early days of exhibition.
Still gloomy and blunt in tone, the portrait nevertheless tried to comfort him with its own form of kindness.
"...You and all the staff at this company have been very kind to me. I had no complaints and never intended to protest. I apologize for the lack of packaging. I used paper that could absorb the minimum amount of blood—I didn't expect such a strong reaction."
"I mean, it's hard to say the packaging was the only issue..."
"From now on, I will try to act more moderately from your perspective. If others do not fear me, then I will also explain the gifts."
"...Well, as long as you're not upset, it's fine. I was just wondering if you were angry about not being able to build a Temple of Wrath or something."
"I have no need for a Temple of Wrath. Don't you agree?"
"My opinion doesn't really matter..."
Yoo Seong-Woon let out a sigh that was either relief or resignation.
'...I figured it wasn't anything serious since the guild master and the fifth floor director didn't give any warnings, but... really, there wasn't a single issue beyond what I imagined.'
He rewrapped the meat—tinged slightly with blood but neatly packaged—in a zip bag. Then, he wiped the outer blood with a handkerchief.
Returning to his usual, calm smile, Yoo Seong-Woon packed the meat into his work bag.
"Anyway, I'll enjoy it."
"You've lost weight. Are you not eating well?"
"I always say this, Gio. Hunters should only gain weight if there's a real reason. Otherwise, they're unfit to be hunters."
"But you are thinner than average."
"I am the average, okay? I eat twice a day, so don't worry."
Yoo Seong-Woon responded like a pro.
"I plan to start eating four times a day."
"It seems, unless it's just a feeling, that you've been particularly busy lately."
"Well, how should I put it... Earth's been kinda chaotic these days."
"Is it because of me?"
"That's part of it, but Earth was already creaking on its own. It's a sandcastle world, really. And with the mystical being shaken up lately, of course the gardens are getting noisy."
The portrait known as Gio's spoke as if it understood.
"There have been many minor disturbances recently. I saw large and small friends roaming the city. I remember you calling them 'children of the Origin.'"
"Children, huh. That's a cute way to put it."
To Gio, the Eye of the Origin, they likely did feel like his own children.
"Yeah, the long nerves and veins of the mystical network surrounding Earth are twitching. That's why even the snowy field I serve hasn't been quiet. Do you remember the healer Jeong Yeong-Won you met before? She's reportedly gone into full retreat... It's one of those events you just have to go through when living on Earth."
Yoo Seong-Woon smiled calmly.
"Not blaming you, just saying."
"My apologies for the trouble."
"No need to feel responsible—it's a natural phenomenon. That's just how Earth self-regulates. It creates large and small disturbances, then returns to its original state."
"Sometimes, I'm curious about your garden."
The words made him smile with his eyes.
"Unfortunately, I don't have the authority to invite others into it like you do. If you step in personally, maybe the story changes, but I'm not able to."
It'd be strange for a gardener to have full control over the garden.
"Want to at least see my eyes?"
"Are you offering your eyes?"
"The part of a person where the garden is most visible is the eyes."
Though hidden by black paint, he could feel the gaze.
'...It's been a while since I felt this chill.'
His heart, his brain, even his bone marrow felt like they were exposed to the air. If that paint hadn't obscured the portrait's gaze, Yoo Seong-Woon wouldn't have endured it. As a gardener, he was even more attuned to these things.
Soon, the portrait finished its garden viewing.
"I'll knit you a scarf soon."
"Oh... That'd be nice, thanks, but... I'm not going to end up taxidermied or anything, right?"
"You recognized me as a friend. That's payment enough."
"So my opinion did matter in the end?"
"Becoming friends always requires mutual thought, doesn't it?"
"You really do like friends, huh?"
The portrait confirmed.
"I like friends who can blend, promises that are not broken, and punishments that are appropriately given."
Yoo Seong-Woon opened his mouth briefly, then shut it.
Best not to dig deeper.
"Do you want to know anything about my recent life? Or about current events? Since you've been inside the portrait lately, I figured you'd want to hear these things."
"I'm curious if the Collector's staff are okay."
"If it's about you—yeah, a new notice did go up recently. You've been handing out gifts of raw meat dripping blood, so there was a warning to be cautious. We didn't know exactly what it meant."
"So the packaging of my gift was indeed insufficient. I apologize."
"You don't need to apologize so much."
Yoo Seong-Woon laughed brightly.
"We're all kind of used to this sort of thing."
Like getting mysterious meat chunks from a pitch-black painting.
For Gio, this was the first time, but Yoo Seong-Woon had already known—many works gave warnings through such bizarre methods.
Collectors were trained to stay sharp in such moments.
Usually, such signs were expressions of displeasure, ominous curses, warnings, or prophecies. Curators saw them all as part of the "work's fragments." That's why Yoo Seong-Woon rushed to see Gio.
"If anything else surprised me, it's that you've officially been recognized as a divinity. In a world full of divine energy, few religions are recognized by the state."
"That probably means there are many who joke around."
"Yeah. If divinity is recognized carelessly, its mystique grows immensely. And immense power, unless restrained, becomes a disaster. So unless the divinity itself is remarkably self-disciplined, they don't recognize it as religion."
"But they did for me."
"Well, you're... you, so... yeah..."
Yoo Seong-Woon had nothing else to say.
"Do you know what your followers are doing these days?"
"They're not followers. They are art lovers who enjoy my paintings."
"Right, art lovers. Do you know what they're doing?"
"They've been visiting those in need and offering appropriate help."
"Exactly. Even without proper doctrine, a temple, or even uniforms, look at the positive social impact your 'non-followers' are having. The Association and government made the right call."
"Oh, heavenly deities."
"You can't just call on them..."
Those beings had no power to help Gio.
"As for the Collector's people, you don't need to worry. They're all scrambling to make you comfortable. Right now, the Collector's staff fall into one of three categories."
"Those who like you, those who respect you, and those who fear you."
"I'll choose the second."
"Unfortunately, you have to take all three. Even if you demolish your home here, nothing changes. The thoughts of the Collector Guild members about you are, well..."
Yoo Seong-Woon concluded.
"...A natural phenomenon."
"A natural phenomenon."
"Like the fog that sometimes drapes over a lake."
"Fog that you can talk and exchange with."
That tendency had always existed, but once it became clear that the Black Cloak was more than divine, it only intensified. It wasn't a normal reaction, but then again, this wasn't a normal collection.
"Because we all know that's the wise choice."
Yoo Seong-Woon knew exactly what his coworkers were thinking.
"We are the collection, Gio. Stability is everything. The Guildmaster never forced it, but only those who choose to maintain that balance remain here. If people in a service job let their emotions sway them constantly, what can they possibly do?"
So they had to be polite.
"We have to treat you with the same courtesy."
Whether it was awe, respect, or fear—it didn't matter. They just had to follow the manual. Emotions were personal. The gears of society shouldn't reveal their teeth.
"Don't worry. Our feelings and thoughts don't matter. Every staff member exists to serve you. Whatever they may hold inside, they'll turn away from it on their own. Because they know... it'll be very exhausting if they don't."
"That is your way. I respect it."
The portrait's reply was blunt and dry, as always.
"You're not offended?"
Yoo Seong-Woon rubbed the corner of his mouth with an awkward smile.
"You're, um... a person, right? I wondered if treating someone who sees themselves as a human this way might feel like mistreatment. Bit of a late question, but... are you really okay?"
"I understand that it is one of the ways you see me. I accept all of those ways. What I think of myself doesn't matter to you."
"Just like we don't matter to ourselves?"
"And just like I do."
The portrait summarized simply:
"We respect each other."
"Yeah, that's how it was. That's right..."
He understood what that meant.
Humans interpreted this being as a "portrait." And the being, in turn, interpreted the humans beyond the frame as "paintings." Since they were both artworks to one another, there was no reason not to show respect.
Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine.
"...Just thinking—despite seeming like you've changed, you haven't changed at all."
How was that possible?
'...You became the son of the Sun, the divinity of Wrath. One day you're a person, another day a dragon. And in the end, you return claiming to be a painting that insists it's human.'
This being was capable of interaction. And to interact was to blend. When paint is added to water, it should dilute, but this one always stayed the same. Truly a taxidermied painting.
But making that too obvious might offend. Since Gio's portrait considered itself human, it was best to play along.
Yoo Seong-Woon spoke as if he'd just remembered something.
"Right, looks like I'll have some time soon."
"I rolled around in front of the Guildmaster. Did a full-body floor scrub."
"She probably wasn't fazed."
"She enjoyed the show and gave me time off. That's how I live, Gio."
It was worth the humiliation.
"I'm off this Friday, all day. With the weekend, maybe I'll even travel. If you're okay with it, maybe a proper overseas trip? Things are a mess, but the U.S. has calmed down enough—it could be nice."
"I can help you travel."
"Oh, right. Anyway, let Joo-Hyun know too. I'll be insanely busy until Friday, so tell her to be patient. If she wants to hang out before then, bring her along. Don't forget."
"Joo-Hyun and I are one body."
"See, when you say that, it doesn't sound metaphorical."
"We are as one body, but separately."
After a brief pause, the portrait replied:
"Wait, I just had a feeling. You're not just going to sit still while waiting, are you? What will you do while you wait?"
"First, I shall farm."
"Whatever that means, I'm looking forward to it."
And then Friday came.
"So, you're telling me Gio made this popcorn?"
"For today, I successfully selected the corn kernels that would pop well."
Never in her life had she seen popcorn the size of a baseball. Fluffy and soft—almost like slightly firm marshmallows.
Joo-Hyun held a popcorn bucket folded expertly from paper. She sat beside Gio. Next to Gio was Yoo Seong-Woon, sitting under a blanket made from goldenstep sheep's leather.
Dana, Honey, the teddy bear, the wisteria water dragon, and a mysterious flowerpot were also present.
Hesitating, Joo-Hyun asked in front of the giant TV:
"Why are we sitting on the floor when we have this big sofa?"
Yoo Seong-Woon offered a plausible answer.
"Sitting cross-legged is comfortable?"
"It's okay if food drops on the floor."
"Alright, I get it—no deep meaning. Let's just start the movie."
And so, on Friday evening, they put on a horror movie and held a deep analytical discussion on the occult phenomena depicted in it.
Yoo Seong-Woon especially said, "I'm learning a lot," and looked very satisfied.
-x-X-x-
Gio met with Sanarae.
"Hello, have you been well?"
"Wow, that's a really textbook greeting."
"I hope you've been well."
"At this point, it's starting to get a little scary..."
Sanarae greeted Gio with a somewhat awkward expression.
"What brings the rare and mighty Sergio Hunter to our guild?"
"I came to see you, Sanarae."
"The way you say 'see' makes it sound like you came to observe me or something... well, maybe that's just me."
"It's most likely just you."
"Seriously, why did you come? Did I do something wrong??"
Unlike before, he seemed afraid of Gio. Or rather, he seemed highly reluctant. Not in an unpleasant way—it was more of a wary discomfort, and Gio simply asked out of pure curiosity.
"Hmm, okay... how much freedom do I actually have to speak here?"
"You may say anything you like."
"I know the world isn't that kind to me. And now I also know that Sergio Hunter can lie quite well. In the end, I have no choice but to be careful on my own."
"That's an exaggeration."
"Doesn't sound like one when I listen to you talk..."
Sanarae hesitated for a moment and asked,
"...Isn't there any way to do something about that atmosphere?"
"I heard you mesmerized a couple of our guild members on your way here. I don't know if you meant to or not, but I'd appreciate it if you could undo it on your way out. I'll dance like a fool if I have to."
"That wasn't my intention. You don't need to perform. I will release them regardless. They looked pitiful enough that you don't have to worry."
"That's strange. I don't think it used to be this awkward between us."
"Simply put, the trial period of the tools that had been conveniently supporting my life has ended. Until I find a new tool, I believe I will remain as I am now."
Rarely, Sanarae faltered.
"...It's not easy to say this, but I kind of want to talk in a more private place."
"This doesn't seem to be one."
"Yeah, truthfully, it's not. My family's the rough type, so reception rooms always come with surveillance devices. You heard it coming in, right? It's a measure to ensure we can determine responsibility if something goes wrong."
"Shall we move to a place of your choosing?"
"...Now that I think about it, that's even scarier, so let's just talk here. Like I said, I'll be careful with my words. Even if there's surveillance, we can delete it by mutual agreement. You probably came in knowing that anyway. Still, why did you come to see me, to go through this kind of treatment... ah, never mind..."
Sanarae gave up with resignation.
Judging a non-human by human standards is the dumbest thing you can do.
That's what it came down to.
"Is that really the only reason you came? Just to see me?"
"I was concerned about your health."
"Coming from Sergio Hunter, that's actually kind of scary."
"You still exaggerate quite a bit."
"Thanks to your care, I'm very healthy. Actually, I've been more curious about your recent condition. Did you know? Though I'm sure you do—I was one of the hunters who took part in the 'Dream Amusement Park' raid."
"I don't recall seeing you."
Sergio Hunter hadn't participated in the Dream Amusement Park incident. It wasn't like a being like him could remain hidden. And yet, when someone said, "Oh, I was there too," it made you imagine things.
That scent—he had caught something similar from that accursed god.
"...I know nothing. You know that, right?"
"Of course, Sanarae, you know nothing."
"Well, because of that whole incident, I've been really worried. But now that I hear you talk, your condition seems... different from before."
"Same question as earlier."
Well, he hadn't answered it then.
How does someone blend in among humans?
He even felt a moment of envy.
That was his honest feeling.
"I know Sergio Hunter is a good 'person.' Also a good 'priest,' and a good 'hunter.' Everyone has their hidden intentions, but Sergio Hunter doesn't seem like that kind of person."
Truly, wasn't he an ideal being?
"But maybe because I'm so ill-raised, I get scared when I face someone I can't bite. That's what you are to me. Too ideal."
"No, you just make it look that way. Because that's what you want. Could I beat you intellectually? Physically? With skill? With strategy? Politics? Power? Money?"
"Do you always want to win?"
"I was taught I had to, in order to survive. Like I said earlier—I wasn't raised right. Maybe that's why I'm scared of you. Honestly, I don't even know what you're thinking."
Even if he was human, it wouldn't have made a difference.
"You know about the Symbols of Eternity, right?"
"I hear about them often."
"They created the system on Earth. From what I understand, they restricted external divine interference and made it easier for people to deal with catastrophic monsters and anomalies. And they gave up their fates."
"As humans, yeah. So the Symbols of Eternity no longer age or die. Maybe that's why they can wield such massive power with ease... but personally, I think that's just too much."
"Humans are supposed to die when it's their time."
Sanarae squinted his eyes like a crescent moon.
"...That's why I don't like the Symbols of Eternity. They don't seem human. They can't die, they don't age, and their power is overwhelming. If they're handling it properly, then aren't they just natural disasters with will and personality?"
"Ah, well, to be fair, I don't like most people in the world."
"Do you hate humans?"
"I hate humans, and I fear natural disasters. If they're not my family, I can't trust them. Humans are fickle, and disasters... I just can't handle them."
"You seem to have many fears."
"...What do I look like to you?"
Sergio Hunter met his eyes.
"You look like Sanarae."
"Nothing more, nothing less."
"Then how would you describe me? Why did your daughter show me affection?"
"Unfortunately, I have no reason to blame you."
"Right... so merciful."
Sanarae admitted it—he was a coward.
"Please understand someone as afraid as me. You can probably see it at a glance, and if you don't, then you just don't want to look. But I was born really pathetically. I'm just a starving mutt desperate for a scrap of the mercy Sergio Hunter can offer."
"You sound angry, and contrary to what you just said, you don't seem to need help. More importantly, don't you still fear me?"
"...That's what's scary. No matter how much I mock or test you, it never works. No matter how much I wrap myself in layers, you only see what's inside. Why do you have to be so terrifying?"
Because you're a god.
And gods were all cruel—just by existing, they were cruel.
"...Like I said, I know Sergio Hunter is a good... being. You don't seem malicious, and from what you do, you don't seem capricious. Yeah, you're a good adult."
But he still couldn't trust him.
"It would've been better if you just weren't so strong."
"Is that how I seem to you?"
"There's no way you could be weak. But if you were someone who got hurt easily, who broke down now and then—then maybe I could've trusted you. I understand people like that... I can understand them..."
"Shall I help you understand?"
"...No, I already have enough family here."
"But I want to be your friend, Sanarae."
"...Don't be scary..."
His hypersensitive senses were screaming.
His eyes, his nose, his ears, his parched tongue, his prickled skin—all cried out. Run. This wasn't someone he could beat. Kindness was malice. Mercy was disaster.
Even with a "person" sitting in front of him, all he could feel was a vast forest and a pulsing heartbeat.
A disaster mimics a human.
"...Sorry, just—don't get mad. I'm just..."
"I know very well that you're afraid, Sanarae."
"...Yeah, I'm sorry."
"I also know that I tend to be greedy."
Sanarae lifted his head to look at him. Gio had his eyes closed, smiling. It was the same smile as when he first entered the reception room, yet Sanarae noticed something different.
It was the smile of a person.
It was filled with sadness and love.
"Then how about this, Sanarae."
"I'll build a candy house soon."
"A candy house? Ah, the one I mentioned back in the dungeon... You're really going to make it?"
"And I'll invite you to it."
The sun-like priest smiled gently.
"Would it be alright if I sent you an invitation?"
"...I'll think about it."
Sanarae smiled back, a bit clumsily.
Because he truly believed Gio was a good person.
"They say power comes with responsibility."
Gio caressed the sunlight streaming into the attic. With his gesture, the sunlight arranged itself neatly, like threads of silk. As it formed a single surface, it shimmered like an aurora.
He stroked the sunlight as it fluttered like butterflies and petals, like tea and frills.
"I don't think having power means one must take responsibility. That's unfair. But there are definitely things that naturally follow power. People call those things... responsibility."
The sunlight faded slightly. It resembled cellophane that children draw on and play with. The sunlight, soft and layered like planks of wood, slowly spread through the attic like a blanket. Bit by bit, very quietly.
"So it's not just strength that demands responsibility. If that were true, then why did my mermaid friends have to become so twisted? Was it simply because they became disasters?"
It didn't seem like that was the case.
"Having the strong bear responsibility might be an ideal form of society. Those with more give more. Those with more room help others. But that inevitably demands greater sacrifice."
Gio found strong people pitiful.
How many in this chaotic world were forced to bear burdens simply because they could? Perhaps Gio himself was one of them, though he didn't like to think that way.
"What do you think, Ather?"
"You, too, were once called a hero..."
Looking at the pristine body still asleep, Gio asked,
"It must've been hard."
The righteous strong take responsibility.
Ather had been a righteous man. He cherished life, grew angry at injustice, and tried to protect the weak. Even when faced with absurdity, he endured and persevered.
Not ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) just anyone can do that. That's why Gio felt gratitude, affection. He loved people. Those who did admirable things looked all the more magnificent to him.
"It must've been really hard."
Maybe that's why he's been sleeping so long.
"It's okay to sleep longer. This is my home, and your castle. Sleep for as long as you want in this cozy attic where neither birds nor cats can intrude. I'll cover you with sunlight. When night comes, I'll cover you with moonlight."
"And when you've slept enough, tell me what you want to do. I really like people like you. We're friends, aren't we? If a friend tells me what they want to do, then helping them is what friendship is all about..."
Then he returned to his black-haired form.
As the sparkling sunlight scattered and dissolved, Gio quietly closed his eyes.
"...It would be nice if things were simpler."
But the world remained just as complicated.
Gio met Hunter Seo Seo-Hee.
He was holding braised short ribs.
-x-X-x-
A few days ago, a meeting request came from Justitia.
"Emergency!!! Emergency―!!!"
Naturally, the Collector's Guild went into crisis mode.
"What the hell?! Why the sudden panic? Did Black Cloak finally summon Cthulhu?!"
"Wasn't Sergio Hunter already Cthulhu? Is he finally revealing his true form? No, but he's such a gentleman... even the last meat gift was purely out of goodwill. So it can't be that."
"With all due respect, everyone shut your mouths so we can hear the actual issue. So what's going on?"
A staff member, clearly shocked, briefly summarized the news.
"Hunter Seo Seo-Hee wants to meet with Sergio Hunter."
"Ah... and lately, Black Cloak hasn't been in the best shape."
"He went through a lot recently—he's probably still not fully recovered."
"Wasn't he taking time off right now for that very reason?"
They knew all too well about the state of their portrait lately. He used to at least haphazardly mimic humanity, but recently, whether from fatigue or indifference, even that had stopped.
"Anyone here know exactly how Sergio's doing these days?"
Eyewitness testimonies were quickly squeezed out.
"He's been walking around with literal holes in his shadow. If you don't mention it, he'll just go around like that. The only relief is that he doesn't get angry when you point it out."
"Fixing the holes isn't even the whole issue. Sometimes there is a shadow, but it's the wrong kind—like a deer or a sheep. Sometimes something like a mermaid flickers inside it."
"He hasn't been tracking human presences either. You can still hear rustling grass or hoofsteps, but honestly, it doesn't feel human at all."
"He's got no weight. His energy is way too high. Maybe he's just tired of managing it, or... I mean, maybe he really just has no energy left. I heard he's pretty introverted..."
"Calling him 'introverted' always cracks me up, but that's what I heard from Yoo Seong-Woon and Joo-Hyun. Honestly, his stiff tone is kind of endearing."
It was a bit of a problem.
"Aigoo... Why has our precious flowerpot withered so much...?"
"You can't call him a flowerpot when he still makes time to interact with us!"
"This is tricky... If a Symbol of Eternity requested it directly, it's hard to refuse."
"Can't we just say no?"
"If word gets out, Seo Hunter'll get even more famous, and that's a no-go."
"Yeah, I guess he wouldn't like that..."
Stuck in the middle, Joo-Hyun looked terribly awkward.
"I'm sorry for bringing this up so suddenly. I'm not sure I'll be much help, but is there anything I can do?"
"Ah, if you tell me, I'll do my best..."
"Please teach Sergio Hunter how to be human."
"Sorry, but that's not going to happen."
They brainstormed how to recover their portrait's condition.
"What if we give him a crash course? He might get mad, but it's worth a try..."
"Can't we just send him back saying he's sick? Sure, he'll get famous, but sending Black Cloak out in this state feels wrong."
"Doesn't matter whether we send him or not. He wants to go. That's why Joo-Hyun is here—to tell us. Maybe we can give him a user manual on humans?"
"God, this is a mess..."
That's when Joo-Hyun dropped the brutal truth.
"I know you're already thinking this through, but... canceling the meeting isn't an option. The schedule hasn't been formalized yet, but, well, Gio is currently... preparing galbi-jjim."
"Did he slaughter something again?"
"This time he's using Earth's ingredients. His pantry's full of meat already, so it looks like there won't be any more slaughtering for a while."
"Whew, I thought he got someone."
"Gio doesn't eat people."
"I know that, but whenever the word 'slaughter' comes up around him, I get chills... Anyway, since he's already making the gift, we definitely can't stop it. That's a shame."
A mysterious being bound by rules was preparing a "gift" for a human. To interfere with that was to invite chaos. And the being's mood would sour terribly.
"Eh, nothing we can do now."
The conclusion came quickly.
"If Sergio doesn't want to quit human society, I'm sure he'll handle it himself."
"It's not like we can force him to do anything. What's the point of trying?"
"Let's just send him. The Symbol of Eternity must already know about our portrait. As long as nothing major happens during the meeting, it should wrap up quietly."
"Still, how did this meeting even come to be...? Joo-Hyun, does this have anything to do with the reaction you mentioned before from Seo Seo-Hee?"
"Yes. From what I've heard, he was quite friendly last time. I didn't expect it to go as far as a formal meeting... but according to Curator Yoo Seong-Woon, he probably understands Gio's circumstances well, so we don't need to worry too much."
Of course, even Joo-Hyun hadn't expected Gio to bring a giant jar. She had to gather countless Earth-side references and hypotheses just to convince him to scale down the galbi-jjim into something reasonably sized.
And so, with everyone's combined effort, the meeting was arranged.
And on the day of the meeting, Hunter Seo Seo-Hee was struck speechless by the incredible sight.
"...So you're telling me this is galbi-jjim?"
"Yes. I wanted to bring more, but everyone kept stopping me, so I reduced the amount."
"It still seems like quite a lot... No, that's not what I meant."
What truly caught Seo Seo-Hee's attention was the silk wrapping and the container holding the galbi-jjim.
"Why does this silk feel like it radiates restorative energy?"
"Ah, restoration. Now that you mention it, the silk was made from the wool of a sheep with regenerative power."
"Did you... make it yourself? That nuance sounds like..."
"I wanted it to look fancy, since I brought less. So yes, I wove it myself."
"Then what about the container? Lacquerware? It feels different."
"I found some pretty seashells during my last trip to the ocean and decided to use them."
"So this was handmade too."
Even the container carried the energy of both the sun and moon.
Seo Seo-Hee felt a faint sense of confusion for the first time in ages.
"Um, I'm really sorry, but Justitia has a strict policy against accepting bribes..."
"I don't seek anything from you, Hunter Seo Seo-Hee."
"Then... this gift is purely an act of goodwill?"
"I'm very glad you understood my intention."
"...I feel bad asking, but... were we ever this close?"
"To forget our deep and cherished friendship—how heartbreaking."
"I can see you pretending to cry. Please don't, it'll make this harder."
"If I made you uncomfortable, I apologize."
Sergio Hunter smiled gently, as if he had never pretended to cry.
"I was excited at the thought of seeing you again. I remembered how thin you looked the last time we met, so I wanted to prepare a small side dish... though everyone said it was too much, so I had to reduce it. I tried to make up for it in other ways."
At that, Seo Seo-Hee looked down at the pentagon-shaped container.
"There's a lot I want to say right now."
"No one's stopping you."
"First of all, I'm not thin..."
His smile was hollow.
"Just look at my muscle mass! I keep myself in good shape—nothing excessive, but certainly above average. To be told I'm thin is a little... embarrassing."
"...You look like you've got plenty to say too, so go ahead. Say whatever—it's not like I'll take offense. I'm listening."
"You look like nothing but bones."
"Are you clairvoyant?"
Unless he literally saw only bones, there was no way this made sense. No one in the world would call Seo Seo-Hee thin. Especially not with that tone—it sounded like he was talking to a malnourished child.
He felt compelled to defend himself.
"To stay healthy, you have to eat three square meals a day. That's how I live—eating well, sleeping well, exercising hard, studying diligently... I'm not sure why I'm defending myself , but I just wanted to say—I'm doing fine."
Seo Seo-Hee suddenly felt like maybe he had been the one cared for in their past.
"...Was I the one being looked after?"
"You remember that much?"
"Ah. Not exactly—more like, data's piled up. There've been cases where I forgot good and bad connections... and then met them again."
"Yes. I'm actually taking this all in quite easily. It's strange—why does this feel familiar? I didn't think I'd ever hear that kind of comment directed at me."
His expression turned a little awkward.
"Maybe I met you during a time when I wasn't eating well..."
Yeah, it was embarrassing.
It must've been quite a while ago.
He felt sorry and unsettled.
I don't know exactly when it was, but... when I wasn't eating well, I probably wasn't a very decent person.
Seo Seo-Hee hadn't always lived . Back when Earth was in chaos, he had been more broken. He figured he must've met Sergio during that kind of time.
"Losing memories is such a pain sometimes."
"I believe there must've been a reason worth forgetting."
"Thank you for understanding..."
His emotions were mixed.
Were they ever close enough for this kind of gift?
No, wait—even so, this is... a lot.
But still, it was a plausible gift of goodwill. Sergio had said he was excited to see him again—if that was true, then they must've been very close.
He couldn't shake this ticklish feeling gnawing at his toes.
I hope it was a promise worth keeping, but... I really don't know.
Usually, once a promise was fulfilled, its contents vanished from memory.
I wonder what I used that good relationship for.
He could only hope it had been one of the precious pillars holding up Earth.
"...And there's one more thing I'd like to say."
"I'm listening, Hunter Seo Seo-Hee."
"You said you reduced the amount, but it really doesn't look reduced."
"I was always worried that you ate so little. To think you still..."
"Who said I eat little? Don't pin that on me, Sergio Hunter."
He gave a strange smile.
"You must be quite the big eater."
"Yes. I hear that often."
"To someone like that, most people must look like they're starving. I actually eat more than average, but this is a bit more than that."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"You really do seem like you'll just keep it in mind..."
Despite the guilt lodged in his lungs, the conversation was awkward in a not-unpleasant way.
"And you made this yourself? The silk and the container too? Never mind how—that's impressive enough that I'd feel guilty even if you had bought it somewhere. It's just too much."
"Just to be clear, this really isn't a bribe..."
"Yes, I know you don't lie. So it's one of two things. Either we were really that close... or you just have a very unique way of seeing the world. Maybe both..."
Daring as it was—it was a little delightful.
It had been a very long time.