Cha Eun-Hye, the president of South Korea.
"Also known as the puppet president of Korea."
A dishonorable nickname—but by now, people had grown used to it.
There was a reason behind it. After the Catastrophe, presidents and politicians had their heads lopped off on a regular basis. As often as heads rolled, Korea teetered on the brink. The Symbols of Eternity, after much consultation and coordination, placed the only friend they could trust—Cha Eun-Hye—into the presidential seat.
She had a surprising background.
"She's also famous as the idol president."
"Technically, a trainee, I think."
There was plenty of criticism at the time, but it gradually faded. Not only was she administratively capable, but she was backed by the Symbols of Eternity. On top of that, she had a knack for winning public favor.
"She's also known as a hands-on president. Unlike previous politicians, she handles most administrative work quietly, without fanfare. Instead of publicity stunts, she personally travels to the provinces for business..."
As a C-rank hunter, she brought plenty of hunters with her to dangerous areas. It helped with job creation. And just because she was on the move didn't mean she neglected paperwork—citizens liked her for that. A diligent politician always earned trust.
"Most of all, the Symbols of Eternity monitor each other. And she's someone watched and vouched for by them. There's zero chance of misconduct, which is why people trust her."
"I agree. I didn't think she'd be one of the students you mentioned, Gio."
"That bold Joseon king..."
"Joseon king? Where did that come from?"
Gio recalled the day he first visited Gyeongbokgung Palace with Yoo Seong-Woon. That day, Gio had been reminiscing about Cha Eun-Hye, the aspiring idol. To think she had become president.
It was far more shocking than any title like "Symbol of Eternity."
"This is unbelievable."
"No really, where did 'Joseon king' come from? Was she royalty in a past life?"
"I wasn't actually expecting a 'yes' to that."
"There was a student once who wept while looking at Gyeongbokgung, saying, 'If tears come for no reason, I must have been a king of Joseon in a past life.' It was nonsense, of course."
"And that student was our president? Wow, I'm losing it. Should I even know this?"
"South Korea really is stitched together with tape and hope."
She had always been quick-witted and sharp, but not someone Gio imagined going into politics. If they had to rely on an idol trainee, things must have been truly dire. Gio felt a deep pang of sympathy for his students.
"Have they been eating properly..."
"They seem to eat very well—President Cha Eun-Hye even packs lunch for Hunter Seo Seohee."
"Clearly, this world must be overturned."
"I figured you'd say that eventually, so I prepared a contract. Here, Gio, this is a draft for the Earth redevelopment project. It's not finalized yet, but could you look it over and offer feedback? With that, the guild leader can negotiate with the Collector..."
Gio looked aggrieved.
"Am I not allowed to joke?"
"Oh, that was a joke? Yeah... You really need to moderate those."
Yoo Seong-Woon laughed as he gently tucked the documents back inside his coat. Gio, despite feeling unfairly accused, found it oddly fascinating. It wasn't a resignation letter—people really carried contracts like that?
'Is that how modern office workers do things now?'
Unaware of Gio's thoughts, Yoo Seong-Woon shrugged.
"What else did you ask me earlier?"
"I asked if there was anyone close to the Symbols of Eternity."
"Honestly, other than the president, not really. Hunter Seo Seohee is considered sociable, but even she doesn't really stick with anyone besides her vice guild leader."
"I didn't raise her like that."
"You... sure, let's say you raised her."
Yoo Seong-Woon nodded.
"Of the Symbols of Eternity, you've probably met Hunter Seo Seohee and Association President Dan Haera. The one you haven't met is likely Hunter Jeong Hae-Woon, right? You haven't run into him yet?"
"There wasn't any reason to seek him out."
"You're oddly cold sometimes. Hmm... Hunter Jeong Hae-Woon's been really busy lately. Honestly, all gardeners are busy these days. Especially Gardener Jeong Hae-Woon—he's involved in all kinds of places..."
"...You didn't know?"
Yoo Seong-Woon hadn't expected Gio to be left in the dark on something so easy to find out. It seemed Gio was overly immersed in pretending to be human—it was interesting, but Yoo Seong-Woon kept it to himself and got back on track.
"Yeah, he's a gardener. But he's different from the rest. Maybe because he's one of the senior-most gardeners on Earth... I guess you could say he's the type who can... wrestle with a garden."
"Did you say wrestle?"
So this guy was still out there picking fights?
"Seems like that temper of his didn't go anywhere."
"...I don't think his personality is particularly aggressive though...?"
"Surprising. Maybe he's just putting on airs with age."
Come to think of it, Gio once referred to Guild Leader Jeong Hae-Woon as a delinquent. While recalling that, Yoo Seong-Woon gave a small nod.
"Let's pretend I didn't hear that."
Yoo Seong-Woon cleanly erased the conversation from memory.
"Gardener Jeong Hae-Woon was the first Earthling to ever come into contact with the Origin. That alone is extraordinary. Even though he doesn't have a specific garden assigned to him, he can visit multiple gardens."
"What exactly does that mean?"
"Um... Imagine breaking into someone's private, unoccupied property and rearranging their garden however you like, then just disappearing. I heard he occasionally gets into spats with the property owners, but given he's still alive..."
"I don't know what kind of impression a garden is supposed to give."
"A really picky landlord."
Normally, gardeners had to cater to the garden's temperament. There were many ways to approach a garden, but gardeners were always in a subordinate position. Jeong Hae-Woon was different. He knew how to command them.
"They say even for him, it's exhausting. Around this time of year, he tends to be really fatigued. I've never seen it firsthand, but apparently, he manages not only the mismanaged gardens but also the abandoned ones..."
"So it's overtime every day."
"He's consistent. I've even heard he works in his dreams. Given how few gardeners there are compared to the veins of the Origin, he's one of the main reasons Earth hasn't collapsed."
"Are there other reasons?"
"I heard Earth's system helps shoulder some of the burden. But I don't know the details. This kind of stuff is filled with information only insiders know... and things people tend to conceal."
Yoo Seong-Woon shrugged.
"Hunter Jeong Hae-Woon probably knows more about the Origin than anyone else on Earth. Thankfully, he's very kind to his juniors and often reaches out to them, so if anyone has questions, he's approachable."
"He's kind to his juniors?"
"Hm? Yes, he is. Even I've gotten email replies from him a few times..."
"He often reaches out...?"
"Okay, you're about to hit me with some tragic truth, and I'd prefer you didn't. I'll remember him as a kind, competent senior forever. Whatever he was in the past—a delinquent or whatever—he's a great gardener now."
"You're looking at me like I'm pitiful."
Even as a painting with black paint streaked across the face, that look could be felt.
"Anyway... that's all I know about people related to the Symbols of Eternity. Including the president. They each have such massive responsibilities, it's probably why they don't form deeper relationships with others."
Yoo Seong-Woon rubbed his neck.
"Or, maybe you could try asking Joo-Hyun?"
"You've met the Association President, right?"
"Yeah, and she's politically savvy, so she might know more than I do."
"Still, I think you've covered all the people I need to know."
"Close, deep connections are nice too."
"You seemed worried about that earlier."
"I understand now—that was the best they could do."
Anything more would've been Gio's own selfish wish.
"And it's not something I can dare criticize with pity."
Gio often pitied others, but he never once thought pity was a good thing. Most of the time, pity was just a way of belittling others' best efforts.
Sure, somewhere in the world, there might be pure, noble pity. But that wasn't easy. Gio chose instead to be grateful to his students, who had given their all to build the lives they had now.
"They're probably very tired... but I'm thankful they've lived so diligently. They probably wouldn't like hearing that, but I still want to praise them."
"You're a good guardian."
"Just a temporary one. A conditional one. I'm glad they all became fine adults. Maybe it would've been nice if they'd grown up a little less perfect... but they've got their own wonderful qualities now."
They were smart students—sooner or later, they would deduce the truth about Sergio. But that wouldn't bring their memories back. Gio was grateful for that.
'I know they're not the kind to be buried in those memories...'
Sergio knew his place. To his students, he had once been a "reliable teacher," but he could never be their friend or family. Being seen as a fix-all was a little much—but it hadn't been dependency.
But now... his students were simply too exhausted.
'...Even if they remember, I hope they don't romanticize it too much.'
He wasn't perfect. Not some amazing person, not an all-knowing god. Just a slightly stiff, slightly awkward person with a few useful skills. He never wanted to be the answer to everything.
Besides, if that "Promise" was as solid as it seemed, they wouldn't even be able to remember it.
"...Thank you for explaining everything. I'm glad they all get along."
"If the Symbols of Eternity started fighting, forget this country—the planet would explode. That'd be a bit much."
"For Earth's sake, we'd better hope they stay on good terms."
"I've recently been visiting the school where I used to work."
"Oh, really? Any particular reason?"
"I feel like I've forgotten something. I wanted to try remembering."
"...That's... kind of terrifying."
"It's okay. I think this is my price to pay."
The "cost" his system-granted stamp continued to cover.
"I still haven't remembered it, but I've figured out what it is and what it means. After thinking it over many times, I don't think forgetting it poses any danger."
The forgotten memory was simple. Sergio had probably done his best that day. No regrets, no lingering feelings. Because it was him, Gio could be sure of that—even without recalling it.
So that memory was probably nothing grand. Walking the halls of the school and reimagining the events of that day, everything just felt obvious.
'The kids probably thought the same.'
That's why they'd made it to now.
"Even looking back... it wasn't anything special."
Yoo Seong-Woon smiled in his usual laid-back way.
"If anything's about to explode, give me a heads-up first."
"If something seems like it might, I'll contact you."
"Good. I'll bring you strawberries then. Alright?"
With that warm promise, the two parted ways.
A few days later, Yoo Seong-Woon received a letter.
『Would it be a problem if ghost stories started forming around the abandoned school in Gangwon Province?』
He simply stood there and smiled.
"Myeung mang mang..."
"Don't eat it. It's not dead."
He just hadn't processed it yet.
-x-X-x-
The beginning of the incident was terribly trivial.
Maybe it was because it was a place he had once occupied. Gio liked the abandoned school, which had become one with nature. It was dreary enough to rival a haunted house, yet peaceful and stable in a way that outweighed its gloom.
The haunted portrait decided to build another life.
"I should spruce it up a bit."
"Right, let's think of a few more things we'll need."
So Gio set up a bedroom. One day, he wanted to watch TV, so he installed a vintage cathode-ray tube television. It had more charm to paint than a bland flat screen. He didn't connect electricity, but somehow it worked. He partially restored the art room so he could occasionally indulge in his hobby.
Of course, he didn't overhaul the entire school. He had no intention of becoming that industrious. Gio only brought in whatever came to mind, little by little. Naturally, the school turned into a complete mess...
"There's no need to worry about the inside of an abandoned school."
What kind of interior design does a school without students or teachers need?
Gio treated it like a kind of vacation. Returning to his hometown after so long, he felt refreshed. The forest was thick and ominous, but he preferred the shade. Gio fully enjoyed this vacation.
The problem began from there.
One day, strange companions began to appear.
It wasn't that interaction was completely impossible. When touched, they showed certain reactions. Gio realized the clothing they wore was the school's uniform. There were several neat outfits meant for teachers too.
"I just remembered too, they're fairy tales."
"Yoo Seong-Woon once told me about them."
It was the first time they had gone to Gyeongbokgung together. Gio had seen translucent shadows wearing hanbok, swaying about. They all wore masks, dressed in a variety of outfits, and repeated specific actions.
Yoo Seong-Woon had called them "fairy tales."
"They usually like places without people, right?"
For a moment, he wondered—
"Does that mean I don't count as a person?"
But since he was the only human in the school, he decided to let it go. If one wanted to live as a haunted portrait, understanding was essential. And now that he knew what they were, there was no longer a problem.
"It's nice to have many friends."
The beings called "fairy tales," children of the Origin. Like shadows mimicking humans with clothes and masks, they were a kind of natural phenomenon. Living stories, beings resembling human forms.
"They don't think like humans. They only imitate traces," he had said.
Yoo Seong-Woon had described them as "skilled at dressing themselves up." And that this wasn't something learned, but an inherent trait of their nature.
Gio observed them wandering around the school.
"We all used to play once."
Whatever the type, every fairy tale wore a mask. And beneath the mask, there was no substance. They didn't think or move by will—just simple reenactments. When their story ended, they disappeared.
And sure enough, the fairy tales mimicking students and teachers repeated birth and disappearance. As if only the people had evaporated, their clothes and masks collapsed and dissolved into dust.
And then they would be born again.
Gio watched that scene for a long, long time.
"I think I understand now why Yoo Seong-Woon called them a natural phenomenon."
They moved in unison like a choreographed dance, especially when grouped by type. The scene was reminiscent of Gyeongbokgung, but lighter and livelier. Just an ephemeral interpretation and reenactment.
He thought the name "fairy tale" was fitting.
"At least I won't be bored for a while."
"You don't seem too interested."
Honey, as always, followed only his father. Knowing that fairy tales were just natural phenomena, he seemed uninterested. Maybe because they weren't helpful, didn't sparkle like jewels, and posed no threat—there was no reason to acknowledge them.
It was Dana who took an interest instead.
"Dana, are you having fun?"
Dana behaved like a cat watching fish in a tank. She sat quietly in one place, observing the fairy tales move. Her gem-like pupils, nearly indistinguishable, watched them intently.
"I didn't make them, but if she's enjoying it, I'm pleased."
After that, Gio always brought Dana along too. The teddy bear Sun God didn't like the gloomy school and declined. Gio didn't mind, continuing his delightfully strange vacation in the abandoned school.
And more housemates appeared.
Objects in the school began moving on their own, and strange noises echoed from nowhere.
But it was quickly clear that this wasn't the work of ghosts. Gio instinctively recognized them as... what to call it... dokkaebi. And then he remembered—the modern term was "children of the Origin."
"So that's what it is."
More unique-shaped friends gathered. Tiny children no bigger than a finger, old men peeking around with bundles on their backs, jellyfish with graceful lines, specks of dust sparkling in the air like stars, and so on.
"I think it's my fault too."
"Let's just accept it."
It couldn't be helped.
"It's good to have many friends."
As the once-quiet school grew livelier, other children of the Origin began to gather one by one. They didn't seem born of the school, but there was no reason to drive them out, so Gio decided to live with them.
In truth, things would have been fine if it ended there.
"...You saw that too, right?"
"Is that a new dungeon?"
"Tch, looks dangerous..."
Trouble started when hunters began targeting his abandoned school.
"Wanna check it out? It doesn't look too big."
"At this size, we could go in and out real quick."
The rumors started with them.
For Gio, it was outrageously unfair.
"...So that's how the rumors started?"
Yoo Seong-Woon, sitting on a folding chair in the gallery, asked.
"They saw silhouettes outside the school?"
"Yes, that's correct."
"But not many people can see the children of the Origin."
"They played tricks on the guests."
"They're usually quiet, so why..."
'How is that even possible?'
Children of the Origin typically lived their own lives. It was rare for them to harm others, especially humans who couldn't even see them. Usually, it was reckless humans who stirred up trouble.
And now they were the ones causing problems?
'...Maybe they were a little influenced by Gio?'
Honestly, as a gardener, it was a fascinating phenomenon.
'I'd love to study it, but now's not the time.'
He thought he might ask for an invitation later. For a gardener, the most important thing was acquiring information and understanding the Origin. Yoo Seong-Woon held back his curiosity for now.
His current priority was his responsibility and cleanup as a curator.
"But a couple of hunters stopping by isn't usually enough to spark rumors."
"We confirmed that several teams visited, not just the first one. Some even returned repeatedly, others came after hearing rumors."
"How did something this awful happen?"
"I believe I approached it too carelessly."
"You even approached them? How?"
The portrait paused, then answered.
"It was all wrong from the beginning."
Let's rewind to when the first hunters arrived.
One of the trio hesitated.
"Isn't it way too creepy?"
"I'm serious, something feels off."
"Yeah, if this were a dungeon, it shouldn't be this quiet."
By nature, dungeons and monsters were rarely quiet. Lacking higher intelligence, they couldn't restrain their noise. A horde of instinct-driven monsters was always noisy.
"Didn't we definitely see something outside?"
"Honestly, that creeped me out too. I don't even know how we saw silhouettes inside such a dark school. Does anyone remember what they looked like? What if we were lured here?"
"We should consider that... but it's a waste to come all the way to Gangwon and leave now. If a nest really formed in such a remote place, who knows what rare items might be inside?"
"Shit, I'm scared as fuck..."
They had seen silhouettes outside the school. Some humanlike, most monstrous. Even if it wasn't dungeoned, monsters sometimes gathered to form a "nest."
And nests—though rare—could contain unimaginably precious loot. Like unopened lottery tickets. Most were duds, but the rare win could be huge.
"So, is this a dungeon or a nest?"
"No system alert means it's probably just a nest."
"I've never seen one in person. First time seeing a nest. Pretty cool."
"Nests are unpredictable. There's no fixed system like dungeons. Just following one rule won't keep you safe. There are too many variables, so stay alert."
"I heard this once..."
A hunter laughed, jokingly.
"Nests in the provinces have ghosts, they say."
"Spirits are real, but they can't do direct harm."
"Still, some hunters claim to see ghosts. Apparently, there are a lot in these places."
"Hey, DeeDee's scared. Quit it."
They began cautiously mapping out the school. Coming this far into Gangwon meant they were skilled. Experienced hunters remained calm despite strange occurrences.
Like sudden laughter echoing in their ears. Or chalk scribbling math formulas on a board. Or a giant monitor showing a classroom as if filmed live...
But staying calm didn't mean emotionless.
"...Why aren't there any monsters?"
"What the hell did we see outside, then?"
They felt a creeping tension from the unease.
"We've been lured in."
They were sure of it.
"We saw over thirty monsters from outside. And now it's this quiet, with only weird, intangible phenomena happening? It's obvious—the silhouettes were bait. We don't know which monster did it, but we need to get out."
Veteran hunters didn't let greed win. Their bodies and minds were their most valuable assets. They had come seeking treasure, but no one wanted to die for it.
"Escape is top priority."
But it wasn't going to be easy.
"Leader, DeeDee's gone!"
"She was right between us a second ago!"
"Fuck, what the hell...!"
It would've been better if there was something tangible. A clear attack could be countered. But the phenomena wreaked havoc without being seen, touched, or fought.
"Where the hell are we...!"
"This is still the school, right? It's a school. Why is this happening?"
The school's space was warped. There was a CRT TV like from a museum, a neatly decorated bedroom, pristine tableware... None of it matched the atmosphere.
As if a non-human being had expected humans to come, and arranged the school from a human's perspective in a grotesque imitation. That sight disturbed the hunters deeply.
Then the most timid of them finally broke.
"DeeDee! DeeDee! Where have you been?!"
"This person said they'd help us."
"Huh? Here, right here now..."
"...I opened the door for them."
The hunter tilted their head.
"Where'd they go...?"
In the darkness spreading behind him, those unfathomable eyes appeared.
"What is your name? I'm curious."
"Would you like to talk to me?"
The hunters lost consciousness.
"And when you came to, you were in your own home."
To the association researcher's question, the hunter "DeeDee" nodded.
"...Yes. I don't even remember exactly what happened that day."
"We've already confirmed you're not lying with a skill, so you don't have to defend yourself."
"S-sorry. I just... I heard I said I opened the door for... that thing—Hunter Sergio..."
"The Association is aware of the seriousness and has already dispatched hunters."
The researcher spoke calmly, as if to reassure them.
"There will be no casualties."
Thus, with mutual consent, Hunter DeeDee's memory was erased.
By order of the Association President.
-x-X-x-
President of the Association, Dan Haera, smiled as she reviewed the documents.
"So Hunter Sergio showed up at that school."
Jeong Hae-Woon, summoned by her, asked,
"You're sure the information is under control?"
"It's being handled inside the Association. There's no way this gets out."
"Ha, I don't want to say it but... this is seriously fucked..."
He let out a hollow breath.
"This way we really can't even deny it anymore."
"Weren't we unable to deny it from the beginning?"
Dan Haera closed the file.
"Hunter Sergio is indeed the teacher we no longer remember."
The time had come to acknowledge it in words.
"I don't know exactly what happened. But maybe we're not supposed to know. Still, we have brains—we can't help but try to piece together how it might've all unfolded."
"We had this damn good teacher who died, and from those memories, something—or someone—built Earth's entire system. We lived on, clueless, stumbling around like idiots. And now the guy comes back, not even as a human, but as a painting. How's that for a summary?"
"Yeah, well done. Whether it was even possible to build a system from just memories of Sergio—I still don't know. But I'm at least glad one of the questions that's haunted me is finally a little clearer."
Even as she said that, her expression didn't show the slightest joy. Her face, halted in its twenties, was always machine-like—precise, refined, yet utterly devoid of emotion.
Jeong Hae-Woon looked at her and asked,
"...Do you remember? The day we found out we were tied to the Earth's system."
"I offered it up through a Promise."
"How long ago did I tell you that, and you're already pulling it back out?"
"The fact that something happened can be known just through cognitive ability."
"You really never let up."
They hadn't understood what the "Promise of Eternity" was at first. They'd even forgotten they had ever known it. But some things they couldn't help but learn—through a growing dissonance with everything around them.
Jeong Hae-Woon muttered,
"I knew this shitty life would bite us in the ass."
"Are you talking about me?"
"Please. Obviously I mean us."
He sprawled on the guest sofa and looked up at the ceiling.
"...Have we finally learned everything there is to know about the Promise?"
It had started with powers that exceeded human limits. Then came the realization their bodies no longer aged. Then came the horror—they couldn't even die. Step by step, they had peeled back the truth of the Promise of Eternity.
Dan Haera smiled and said,
"It's not a big deal."
What mattered to them now was the present—and the future. There wasn't enough room in their lives to dwell on the past. They were so busy looking forward, they had no time for regret.
"For that kind of thing, we figured it out pretty fast."
If 'Sergio' hadn't shown up, they might've stayed in the dark much longer. Their interest in the Promise had always stemmed from wanting to ensure they didn't unknowingly threaten the Earth system.
And honestly, even without knowing about Sergio, they had learned enough not to disrupt the system. So maybe they didn't need to know any more. What was the point? Jeong Hae-Woon stared up into the pale light.
His eyes didn't hurt.
"...What do you think his goal is?"
"Hunter Sergio's goal?"
"He first appeared last year. That painting stayed silent for over 30 years, then suddenly showed up at an auction. Sold to a collector who believed in the freedom of artworks."
"You think he had a purpose?"
"Let's not be naïve. We don't even know if 'Hunter Sergio' is really the teacher we forgot. At the very least, he's not human. And whether he is that person or not—either way, he's dangerous."
Curiosity began to sour into suspicion.
"Let's say he's not our teacher. Then he's a really smart monster. One that's somehow pieced together and reconstructed a figure we don't even remember, and now he's exploiting our blind spots. No matter how you look at it, you can't say that comes from a good place."
So what if he was the teacher?
"Even then, that's a problem. How can we be sure he's the same person he was as a human? Look at us—we changed this much just trying to remain human. The end result of that effort is what we are now. And people call us natural disasters."
To put it nicely, they were S-Class—Symbols of Eternity.
"And now what, he's a painting? I heard Yoo Seong-Woon the gardener is assigned as his personal curator. So that means he's extremely close to the Origin, doesn't it?"
"Maybe he was assigned because of Seong-Woon's skills. He's someone the Collector personally spent money to acquire. And a piece from the 5th Floor Gallery. The need for caution is obvious."
"You just said it yourself—he's someone we should be careful around. But what does he want? There have been rare cases of people becoming children of the Origin... but..."
Jeong Hae-Woon ran a hand over his face.
"None of those stories ever ended well."
He was speaking as Earth's first gardener.
"Humans are inevitably cruel. Because we have to preserve and advance ourselves, we're inherently selfish. Why? Because preservation and advancement require resources—and resources are always limited. Which means we inevitably take away opportunities that others might've had...! A child of the Origin born from that kind of humanity? That's horrifying. Don't you agree?"
Dan Haera said to him,
"You're getting worked up."
He lowered his hand from his middle-aged face.
"Doing this job constantly reminds me... Damn it, aside from you guys, I've got no one on my side in this world. Everyone's shit. Humans, gardeners, children of the Origin—everyone's fucking shit."
"You seem exhausted. Why not take a break? I heard there's been a small increase in the number of gardeners. Isn't that enough to cover your rest?"
"The new chicks can only handle one garden at a time. Two, at best—and that's rare. Lately, there's been some disturbance in the Origin itself, so everything's on edge... No, I can't. There's no way I can rest."
"How long are you going to keep that middle-aged face?"
"Until the world ends. I'm living forever."
"What do you want from me?"
"I'm saying this because I care."
But was that really "concern"?
Maybe it was the exhaustion talking, but his thoughts turned bitter. Dan Haera had forgotten countless emotions and memories—but she was still his friend. If she was worrying about him, then it was real concern.
No need to be sarcastic.
"...I should take a break soon, yeah."
"My words must've offended you."
"It's fine. No need to apologize."
"If I was wrong, I should say sorry..."
"I can't help it. When you stay young for too long, people get scared. You have to show some kind of effort, some gesture, to make yourself approachable."
His job required meeting many people and having deep conversations. If he looked too young, people wouldn't trust him. If he didn't age, it created a sense of unnatural dissonance.
That unease from the gap between inside and outside—it terrified people.
"So I've got to live hard, at least."
"You're working yourself to death."
Tsk. Jeong Hae-Woon clicked his tongue and sat up straight on the sofa.
"...I know that 'Hunter Sergio' is doing a lot of good. I've heard things are improving because of him. He s personally, volunteers, steps in when problems arise."
"But you're still worried."
"You can't distinguish goodwill and malice in children of the Origin. You shouldn't even try. Those are human standards. Beings born of the Origin are ticking time bombs. You don't know how long until they explode. One wrong touch and they go off."
"There could be duds too, you know."
"The problem is you can't tell. What even defines a dud? Doesn't explode when touched? When thrown? When the wrong wire is cut? Some burn silently even in fire—others blow up just from a little humidity."
In short, they were untrustworthy.
"There's no basis for trust. None."
Their emotions couldn't be interpreted as "emotions." Not by human standards. But humans had no choice—we could only understand from a human perspective.
It was a horrifying disconnect.
"Still, it's comforting that he seems to be a relatively harmless type. If he can interact with people so well, he must understand humans deeply."
"Because he was human once?"
"You know better than anyone not to expect high empathy just because someone used to be human. Fuck. What even happened to make someone like that exist? What's the system's exact link to him?"
"There's nothing good that can come from knowing too much."
"Which is why I'm the only one losing my mind over it."
Jeong Hae-Woon muttered.
"It's not certain yet, but... if the system was made from his memory—he must've been a really good person..."
Even if it brought convenience, the cost and reward had to be equal.
"If a memory of that caliber shaped us... that means we gave up a lot. Forgetting one person changed who I am. It's disgusting. It makes me sick."
"You've got a bad habit of swearing when you're feeling guilty or worn out."
"...I know nothing good comes from being curious."
Digging too deep could damage the Promise. And the Earth was already on a knife's edge. They had to always look away from the past, live the present, and look toward the future.
"Nothing good will come of this, but still..."
His insides were a mess.
"I'm sorry. What if he died because of us? I feel guilty. And I'm scared of what a being like that might do next. I wonder what kind of person he was, to come back from death and still act so kind. There's basic goodwill too—for someone who must've once meant a lot to us."
"That's not a problem."
"If only Hunter Sergio had appeared a hundred years later."
"By then, Earth might've been a lot more stable."
"Which means we need to keep grinding."
Jeong Hae-Woon looked over at Dan Haera.
"What are you going to do about that school?"
"We need to restrict access."
"That's definitely the best move."
"I'm thinking of making a Promise."
"Restricted to authorized personnel only."
"What will you forget?"
"Hunter Sergio's memory?"
It was the most rational choice.
Information about one abandoned school disappeared.
-x-X-x-
The world had changed, yet remained peacefully unaware.
"That's why I had no choice but to come."
This incident had piqued Bisa Beul's curiosity.
"It's easy to say 'the information was erased,' but in reality, it's safe to say no one can find this place anymore. The path here has been artificially obscured, and both the records and people's memories have been wiped."
"Some still ask how that's even possible. Of course, it hasn't been long since that delightful ghost story started spreading. Surely quite a few people have heard or even experienced this creepy abandoned school."
Naturally, people would have questions.
"But it's possible. That's the power of the 'Promise.' A deal of cost and compensation. President Dan Haera offered her memories and experiences related to Hunter Sergio as the price to silence this entire uproar."
Bisa Beul spoke as he stood before the watching "fairy tales."
"If we were to summarize that Promise, it'd be 'No Entry Except Authorized Personnel.' From now on, very few humans will be allowed to visit, remember, or even experience this place."
His eyes narrowed with a smile.
"Well, with all that said..."
Bisa Beul had made the trip to the abandoned school to ask:
"Wouldn't you say I qualify as 'authorized personnel' by now?"
He grinned at the portrait's permission.
"If you're saying this much, then I suppose it's okay for me to keep playing house with you?"
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't go too far with it."
"Can't tell if you're introverted or extroverted, but sure, we'll do that. Your old man has a knack for toeing the line perfectly."
"If you can manage that, it would be much appreciated."
"I heard things have been tough for you in society lately..."
Bisa Beul tilted his head as he looked at Gio sitting in front of the canvas.
"You don't look so troubled to me."
"I don't think taking a vacation at an abandoned school counts as social activity."
"Oh, of course not. But the atmosphere doesn't seem quite as suffocating as I'd heard."
"Being in school again makes my body feel more at ease."
When he talked about his students, when he was in this bittersweet abandoned school—Gio didn't need to borrow anyone else's power to feel natural.
Bisa Beul pretended to look a bit hurt.
"Then should I extend your vacation even longer? My son, who's just completed something so grand, surely I shouldn't expect him to return to work so soon?"
"Forgive me, but I don't recall signing a labor contract."
"So much for making this guild master thing feel worthwhile... what a pity."
Still smiling, Bisa Beul chose a nearby chair and sat down.
"I was just watching."
"Anything and everything."
"As far as one can see."
"My school doesn't feel like it used to."
Sergio voiced his dissatisfaction.
"To think it ended up becoming a rumored ghost spot."
"You must've been pretty annoyed."
"I hadn't realized before, but apparently there are such things as monster-made nests. They usually form in remote places and may contain rare treasures. But at the very least, I knew this wasn't one of those."
"I was only trying to kindly guide them back outside. The new guests who'd entered the school were causing so much mischief that I even tried to hold them back. In the end, I became part of the ghost story..."
"Pitiful. To think that noble kindness ended up being turned into rumor."
With sympathy, Bisa Beul asked,
"Fascinating. And just how exactly did you help them escape?"
"If you're going to pity me, please make your words and actions match. I'm capable of a little more than that."
But the portrait answered honestly.
"I've gone out in this form, appeared as Hunter Sergio, disguised myself as another hunter... and sometimes I didn't show myself at all."
"Oh? Any one of those would be ghost story material."
"Yes. In this kind of setting, any internal figure who interacts with outsiders becomes a terrifying presence. I just didn't expect hunters to be that faint of heart."
"The atmosphere here must be pretty brutal."
Bisa Beul smiled gently, as if humoring his son's complaints.
It was a space overflowing with mysteries. Tucked deep in the wilderness, the temperature was low. With no light coming in, only mysteries suited to darkness and cold could seep in.
And the mystery that followed this rare portrait in—surely it wasn't some ordinary being either.
Bisa Beul looked out the broken window of the school.
The vein of Origin is swelling, turning into a spring.
The bloodstream and organs of Earth's mystery, spread through the Origin. Not the same as a garden, but everywhere—a formless stirring. Judging by how condensed it was here, a full-fledged well might appear soon.
A zone ... anyone without immunity to mystery wouldn't last long.
It wasn't even the kind of mystery that was warm or kind. No wonder people interpreted it as a ghost story. Not everyone lived seeing the same world Bisa Beul did.
Enduring mystery had nothing to do with human strength or weakness. Even though Bisa Beul was S-Class, he had virtually no combat ability.
The kind who could see but not understand.
"That must've been fun."
This portrait had a surprisingly honest side.
"If you enjoy this creepy little vacation spot that much, I suppose I should help out. If there's anything you need, contact me through Manager Joo-Hyun anytime—I'll give you whatever I can."
"That won't be necessary."
"It's essentially your private property now, officially recognized by the government and the Association. Grow crops if you like. Slaughter something, if that brings you joy. Paint... it would be a dream."
"There are times when you act like you didn't hear a single word I said."
"Come on, when have I ever been cold to you? I've always watched over my precious son. I'm so grateful I even had the chance to buy you at that auction..."
Bisa Beul pouted with a smile.
He spoke as if he'd just remembered.
"Seems things got noisy after the fan club of Black Cloak got recognized as an official religion."
"But they're all your friends, aren't they? You should cherish them."
"They're good people. They don't need to be pitied."
Still, the portrait nodded.
"I was planning to visit them soon anyway."
"But I don't intend to get too close."
Watching the portrait, Bisa Beul then asked,
"What kind of teacher were you?"
He meant at this school.
"Were you the stern-faced teacher I remember?"
"Haven't you already heard from one of my students?"
"True, I searched and searched until I finally visited the presidential office."
"But they didn't tell me much."
"Everyone's gotten a lot more timid these days."
"Still, they told me a little. I do hold the nation's purse strings, after all."
"Most would call that blackmail."
"She's not the type to take it personally."
She knew well that she lacked many things compared to her peers. The current president was notably lacking in competence but had exceptional political tact. Fragile on the surface, but tenacious to the core.
"I'd call it a negotiation more than blackmail."
They had completed a mutually satisfying deal.
"But even then, I didn't learn much. The most I confirmed was that there once existed a certain 'art teacher named Sergio.' He still keeps his guard up around me..."
"I thought I was being kind."
Bisa Beul always lived with patience. It was because he endured so much that the world remained less chaotic. Most hunters knew that. After all, Bisa Beul wasn't exactly on humanity's side.
"So won't you tell me? What kind of teacher were you?"
"My students viewed me as a fantasy."
"Not with respect or admiration—but as a fantasy?"
"They treated me as something entirely non-human."
"A being separate from humanity..."
"Doesn't sound too different from now."
"That might be true."
The portrait didn't deny it.
"My students projected many stories onto me. Some were absurd enough to make me laugh just hearing them, others were disturbingly realistic."
"That's not so different from today, either."
"My students found joy in that imagination. School is often boring, so I understand. I didn't work at many schools, but most students treated me that way..."
"Sounds like it was fun."
"There was some fun, yes."
A portrait too honest for modesty.
"But the distance it created was a bit sad. I've said as much to Yoo Seong-Woon and Joo-Hyun—I did wish they'd treat me as someone a bit more familiar."
"I wasn't hoping for that much."
"Then, to be seen as an equal human being?"
"There were moments I wanted that. I do feel a little regret toward the students who only ever saw me as a mythical creature, but it's not enough to call it dissatisfaction."
"Because that was fun too?"
"Ah, I should've met Teacher Sergio the art teacher myself..."
He sounded almost resentful.
"I wonder how you dealt with humans—with that face."
The portrait complained, offended.
Bisa Beul smiled brightly.
"I raised you myself, how could I not know?"
"Every time you talk like that, I feel an overwhelming urge to keep my distance..."
"You do have such a gentle way with words."
"When are you leaving?"
"I should get going. My staff are waiting outside."
"Oh, right. Before I go, I wanted to ask..."
He looked at the portrait.
Those fathomless 'eyes.'
"Do you deny how others perceive you?"
Bisa Beul smiled deeply.
He was a magnificent work of art.
Gio shoved Honey back into his hood before he could pop out.
"You can't just go around trying to eat people."
Still, his skin prickled. That final smile Bisa Beul gave him... was incredible. So incredible that even Gio—who rarely had physiological reactions—felt chills.
It reminded him of the first time they met.
"He's still an extraordinary man."
"He didn't mean harm. Let's forgive him."
"Gung gung gung gung gung."
"And he was wearing so many accessories..."
"You're going to get a stomachache."
"You need to learn to be picky, Honey."
Yoo Seong-Woon and Joo-Hyun had already told him everything. Most of the accessories Bisa Beul wore were "works." In other words, cursed gemstones.
"For someone so physically weak, it's a miracle he carries them all."
That alone made him worthy of S-Class status.
"If you really want to eat something, I'll make you some myself."
And Honey seemed perfectly happy with that.
-x-X-x-
Gio had, in fact, intended to go visit his beloved fans today.
"Even your tiny beak brings your dad unbearable pain."
"Ggng gng gng gng gng..."
Awakened by Honey's alarm, Gio finally rose from bed.
"Shall we eat before anything else?"
Gio successfully lured his son with food.
'At this point, it's getting concerning.'
It seemed Honey cared more about Gio's public image than Gio himself did.
Not that Honey was the only one acting . Even Dana—who had never cared for worldly affairs—had come by to give a meaningless flick of her tail. And the teddy bear that usually basked in the sunlight had quietly come over to stare, then silently left.
'Why is everyone so desperate to shove me into that socialite gathering?'
Introverted as he was, Gio trembled at this injustice. A person was allowed to prefer bed over people. He'd always been a true introvert who recovered through solitude.
At this point, you might wonder: Why is that considered a "socialite gathering"?
'All they did was come together to see one of my paintings, then ended up socializing amongst themselves, and eventually grew into this giant volunteer collective. There's no way those people aren't socialites.'
Even non-socialites would've been converted by now. Gio shrank further into himself. He didn't want to leave the house.
For now, let's just eat breakfast.
"Let's try fried rice."
He'd been eating nothing but meat lately, and something cleaner sounded good.
'Mr. Argio was truly something else.'
Unlike "Giovanni," who preferred vegetarian and seafood-based meals, Argio was a full-blown carnivore. He could eat nothing but meat morning, noon, and night and still only gain muscle. But Sergio wasn't that extreme.
"Tomato and egg fried rice sounds good."
He went to the garden and picked tomatoes of a decent size, then pulled up a sturdy spring onion. A little garlic too. He made scallion oil, lightly cooked the tomatoes and eggs together, set them aside, stir-fried garlic and rice, added sauce, then folded in the tomato-egg mixture.
For reference, Gio's serving was in a ramen bowl.
He should've just served it in his usual large bowl.
'I thought I wouldn't be able to eat much after all that meat.'
Regretting it, Gio went back and served himself a full portion. The rice was well-cooked, not too greasy, and delicious. Nothing beats fried rice for breakfast. It was hearty and clean.
"Not spicy. That's nice."
"I'm glad you liked it too..."
Honey had completely absorbed the plate into its body and was digesting it. Through the plump, transparent body of the waterbird, the floating plate was visible. Gio gently reached in and pulled it back out.
And with that, breakfast came to an end.
But unable to resist the stares from his family, Gio rose from his seat.
"I suppose I should visit Mr. Ather first."
Well, it was a bit sudden.
But it was time to conclude the tale of the sleeping hero.
"I had actually thought it'd be fine to just stay home forever."
At the familiar voice, Ather opened his eyes.
"Everyone seems obsessed with turning me into a celebrity."
"So, you've awakened?"
It felt like he had been asleep for a very long time.
Surprisingly, his voice came out smooth.
The moment he called the name, the haze in his mind began to clear. Even the presence of his body and his final memory. Ather unconsciously raised a hand to touch his neck.
He felt something faintly clink.
"...What was the meaning behind this gift?"
"It symbolized our friendship."
"...I don't quite understand."
A faint laugh escaped him.
The god crouched beside him looked pitifully out of place.
"It's too peaceful and warm to believe this is your house."
"Well, the Sun God lives here, after all."
"Would that disappoint you?"
"I don't really know."
The first thing he felt was exhaustion.
"...I can't feel any strength in my body."
And he was so drowsy.
"It's probably because it's so warm here."
"Warmth is a good thing."
"The way it dulls my mind isn't entirely pleasant..."
"You always try to think too much."
"The human brain's ability to think was its greatest trait."
"You come back from the dead and still act all rigid."
"...I died and came back?"
"I thought this might be the afterlife."
"If you want it to be, it can be."
"You must get told you're fickle a lot."
"I'm more consistent than most."
The hand that had been fiddling with the gem on his necklace dropped limply.
"If I asked to die, would you grant it?"
"You're neither alive nor dead right now."
"That sounds like you're saying it's up to me."
"Of course. From now on, you can become anything."
"You mean I can choose anything too?"
"If it's within what I can help you with."
The evil god whispered.
"You've endured so much hardship. Through a life that was neither short nor long, you fought and strove—for a better self, a better world, a better deed..."
That was probably true.
"But this fickle evil god decided he shouldn't presume to know a hero's heart. So tell me: here, in this picture that is neither life nor death—what is your truth?"
"Is it the end, or the beginning?"
"That's a hard question."
"You can stay as you are, too."
"...I wanted to live."
"I know your stubborn will quite well."
"I just... wanted to survive. And that's probably because... my entire life was centered around my goals."
That must've been it.
"...I still don't know. But if there's one real emotion I feel right now... it's emptiness. It's unpleasant and pleasant at once. I've never felt what it's like to have nothing I need to do."
He had always lived with purpose. He lived fiercely, and now, with every goal accomplished, he stood alone. Neither alive nor dead, he was looking for a road forward—or a home to stay in.
"Will you give me a new goal?"
"Trying to turn me into a ruthless employer? Denied."
"Tell me what I must do."
"Haven't you already done so much?"
"...If I have no task, I have no reason to live."
The evil god asked plainly.
"Is that truly how you feel?"
"What do you want? Tell this wicked dragon. I'm curious."
"...I've done everything there was to do in the human world."
"Not everything there was... everything I wanted to."
It didn't really matter.
"Who is standing behind you now?"
"There is a gaze filled with mercy from the sun."
"And a gaze that grants heavy peace?"
"I'll never fully understand you."
You, my god, are so far, far away.
"...Now I wish to sleep forever."
"I wish to live forever."
"Even after everything, you're still greedy."
"I've always wanted to climb higher."
He wanted the peace that every human deserved. But he also desired the favor that no other human could earn. He was tired enough to crave sleep, but still hungry for heights. Contradictory to the end.
Just sitting still, waiting for fate, was terrible. But carving out fate was equally exhausting. Wasn't that the paradox?
Ather looked at the only god he could serve.
This specter, reborn anew.
"Am I a monster or a man?"
"Whichever you choose to be."
"Is that your mercy again?"
"Maybe just indifference."
"You know me quite well."
Too kind a compliment.
"...I want to know you, but that's likely impossible for a lifetime..."
"That kind of defeatism doesn't suit you."
"...Please bury me in your land."
"Would that satisfy you?"
"...In your earth, your sky, your underworld—put me in all that is yours."
"I will live forever while being dead."
"Isn't that horrifying?"
But Ather had lived this way all his life. Even now, he couldn't veer off that path. He was greedy, fiercely so. He could never give up comfort and honor.
"You said this place could become the afterlife if I wanted it."
"Then please accept me."
"Neither living nor dead?"
"Yes. That's what I wish for."
The god gave a rare smile—one of sorrow.
Yet it brimmed with affection.
"There's a role that suits you perfectly."
"...Would you tell me what height that role sits at?"
"It exists deep below... and far above."
Ather gently closed his eyes.
"...It might get noisy, but I think I can sleep deeply..."
"Then what will you call me now?"
"I'd like to name you after your hair, but someone already holds that title."
"If you'll permit me, I'll take a name from this gem."
"Hmm, yes. That's good."
The god reached out and plucked off the necklace.
"Open your eyes. Look at me."
He held the silver string, raising the transparent gem into Ather's line of sight.
Sunlight from the attic window poured through the gem. The light coming from the sparkling crystal took on color. His vision was filled with red. Pale, brilliant red...
Suddenly, Ather realized.
"...It looks like my eyes."
"It's my favorite gemstone."
The god gave him a name.
"You will be Violet."
Ather closed his eyes.
Peace settled over him, and his soul left his body.
In that way, he melted and colored the world.
A resident of Palette has been confirmed to have vanished.
Confirmed residents: Ather, Deer.
Would you like to assign them to the Palette again?
Color: 'Ather' has been successfully assigned.
Color: 'Deer' has been successfully assigned.
You'll need to leave many spots open.
The child was afraid.
"Mom... Mom... it hurts..."
"What's this kid blabbering about?"
"Look at it bawling."
An adult snickered, and another laughed too.
"What kind of kid thinks a carnation has a mom?"
"Talk about delusional. Shit."
"Hey, let's go. This one's useless now."
"Clicking their tongue... Guess this one lasted longer than most. Kids, huh."
"At least it was free labor."
"True that. Got any sturdier brats?"
The adults left. Only pain and cold remained.
When the child stirred faintly, something white came into view.
"Mom... take me with you..."
Why am I the only one still here?
Children of similar height stood in the distance. Kids holding flowers. Carnation kids. The warm, soft colors drew the child's hand. They wanted to crawl over—but it was too far.
Their body lost strength.
"...Don't want to be alone..."
Being alone was terrifying.
Amid the white figures, a glimmering jewel appeared.
A spellbinding light that stole the child's gaze.
The violet gem approached and gently took the child's hand. Caressed the cold cheek. Then lifted the child into its arms. The big, firm embrace felt just like the father they'd only imagined.
Thump, thump, thump. The gem's footsteps brought quiet tremors—like a heartbeat.
And once inside the frame, it didn't hurt anymore.
One day, a group of illegal guild members vanished.
"What kind of guild?"
"Ones that used Carnation kids in factories."
Only the building remained behind.
"So they just skipped town?"
"No one died, right? Just missing?"
"They said the place was full of waterbirds."
The Black Cloak's waterbirds hated evil.
"They're dead, then."
It happened from time to time.
-x-X-x-
The so-called "Black Cloak Enthusiasts" thought of themselves merely as members of the same club—but in truth, they were cultivating a much firmer organization.
Upon first joining, one underwent a brief interview and completed a written agreement. Over time, depending on participation and results, members could rise through the ranks. And this "participation" mostly referred to volunteer work.
"Do you think I came here to do that kind of thing?"
Most new members reacted at first. Anyone daring to covet the works of a monster—now a divine being—was usually someone with wealth, power, or an unshakable worldview.
But such attitudes were bound to change.
"This week's activities are complete. You've fulfilled your quota."
"What do you mean I can't do more? It's not like it's anything bad—I want to help!"
"Other members are entitled to their share of activities as well. If you do more than your quota, you'll reduce what's available for others. We ask for your understanding."
"What kind of nonsense... How can there be so little to do?"
"Activities within the city are limited. If you want to do more, you'd have to go outside the city—but that requires official approval and help from the Association."
"Then I'll go talk to them myself. I've got some contacts there anyway."
"We'd rather you didn't... But, well, there is a team being deployed to the provinces this week. The requirements are a bit strict, but if you wait, we'll check the situation."
The reason for such a dramatic shift in attitude was clear.
"While I was picking up trash at the crossroads, the City of Void petted my head!"
"Wow, I'm jealous... Which sector were you assigned to this time?"
The rewards were undeniable.
"I want to see one of Black Cloak's works too."
Most came for the Black Cloak himself, or for the opportunity to view his art. Art one could interact with. And to think such mystical pieces gave direct rewards. Even by first-class citizen standards, they were unimaginably luxurious gifts.
"The new recruits are really into it."
"Once they get a taste of the rewards, it doesn't take long."
And given a little more time, members began finding meaning in the acts themselves. The Black Cloak Enthusiasts had always formed their salon this way. From time to time, they even received official support from the government or the Association.
"Have you selected the next deployment area for next month?"
"Yes, I plan to send a team to this region."
"Hmm, that terrain is rough. It's a zone with frequent monster activity—best to coordinate with us. We'll send the Hunter roster within a day or two."
"Thank you, as always."
Among the salon members were many Hunters, but also plenty of civilians. Operating outside the city—where danger loomed—required a team of capable Hunters. Even civilian members being deployed needed above-average stamina and strength.
Still, many were eager to join.
"Um, I heard you're putting together the next deployment list..."
"The Association is supporting us with many Hunters, so even non-awakened members can join."
"Then could I be added? I've completed training. Here's my certification."
"Hmm... with grades , you should qualify. Add your name to the list—we'll review and contact you with the results."
Opportunities weren't common. Usually, non-awakened individuals weren't allowed in unreconstructed zones. But through collaboration between the salon and the Association, such exceptions occurred now and then.
It was a result of many factors aligning. Chief among them: the salon's wealthy, well-connected, and highly enthusiastic patrons.
And the outcomes of these efforts weren't bad at all.
"I can't believe someone was hiding out here all this time."
"Moments remind you it hasn't even been a hundred years since the Catastrophe."
"Still... it's so dangerous to live out here."
There were still people, scattered across the wilderness, who had fled during the Catastrophe and never returned. Members assisting with monster extermination or structural repairs sometimes encountered them.
In such cases, the Association would formally thank and reward them. It was a way to acknowledge those doing what the government or Association ought to have done. Members couldn't help but feel proud.
"It feels like we're doing something meaningful."
"Even more neighbors greet me these days..."
That was the kind of group they were.
To them, the Black Cloak wasn't just the most beautiful artwork in the world—he was a god to be revered. He'd even recently been officially recognized as part of a formal religion. That only deepened their sense of belonging.
And curiously, they began to mirror his temperament.
"Ah, these are side dishes for the families we'll be visiting."
"Wait, we can give things like that? No one told me. Aren't gifts regulated?"
"Lavish gifts are restricted. But food isn't considered a luxury, so there's no problem. No matter how much you give, it's fine as long as it's edible."
"Well, I guess that makes sense..."
Technically, giving too much food could become problematic. But that thought didn't even exist in their minds. What harm could come from letting someone eat well?
Some even tried to look at the group—and themselves—objectively.
'Maybe we're just trying to turn everyone into pigs.'
'Whatever. If it tastes good, it's a good thing.'
'When you're full, the world looks better.'
Objectivity didn't lead to critique or resistance.
After all, followers mimicking their gods wasn't unusual. Believers in the Sun Goddess were bright and bold. Followers of the Moon were silent and calculating. It wasn't hard to see the pattern.
Then one day, they became aware of "Colors."
Members on provincial dispatch looked up into the night sky.
"The sky's showing us a path."
It started with "sky blue."
In cities lined with gray walls, you could see waves shimmering like mermaids. In forested areas, deer bloomed in vibrant browns. In places of tragic death, a violet jewel emerged from a white frame to guide the deceased.
It didn't take them long to realize they were witnessing Black Cloak's apostles.
"He really is a portrait artist."
"So his essence is still painting, after all?"
"But also divine. He carries the Sun's sanctity."
"And because he's art, he can be anything."
"Either way, it's just... so romantic."
They took pride in the uniqueness and artistry of their god.
"Who else in the world gets to serve a god this beautiful?"
"And he's merciful too—imagine how much he must love humanity..."
"You can feel how much effort he puts into meeting our standards."
Some even saw the truth buried within.
"To witness such scenes even outside of his work... Look here, see that mermaid trapped behind the gray wall? I think that's the one who used to haunt Korea's seas."
"Look at the sky—it ripples softly like the ocean's surface. Those clouds above look like schools of fish. Even the living birds that fly across Earth's sky... it feels the same as viewing his paintings..."
Others pointed to different domains.
"My sponsored Hunter recently came back from the Dream Amusement Park. One of the final survivors. He told me all sorts of stories—and that deer, it resembles one of the creatures he described."
"I've heard those stories too. I've got contacts in the Association. As for the violet, I'm not sure who it represents, but it's always a huge male figure... It has to be an ancient wraith."
And still others brought up entirely new topics.
"Then does that mean Hunter Sergio, the Black Cloak's apostle, also represents a color?"
"I wonder what happened to the divine spirit of Wrath who vanished... This is seriously fascinating."
Some couldn't follow at all.
"...Wow, this is strange."
"They've always been like that."
"Is this what counts as cultured?"
"Oh, right—they're first-class citizens."
Among the enthusiasts, every single first-class citizen had joined to view and commune with Black Cloak's artwork. So when they glimpsed his Palette—it was no wonder they were enchanted.
Most second-class citizens didn't get that far. They simply found the works eerie—or comforting. They could see where Black Cloak's power was being used and what it was doing.
"In the past, miracles only happened within his paintings."
"Maybe his influence is spreading. He's guarding Earth now."
"Or maybe... he's trying to tell us something. When I look at this grand flow..."
"To be embraced so gently... This really is the most peaceful place."
Some envied it deeply.
"Is that the closest form of hell to Black Cloak?"
"It could be either. Depends on your perspective."
"I wish I could be part of his Palette..."
"It's a dangerous thought—but I understand the longing."
It was a new kind of afterlife.
It had long been known—since the Catastrophe, when Earth's religions collapsed—that each divine being carried a different afterlife. The chaos it caused was why the government and Association intervened so quickly.
It was already understood that Black Cloak had created an afterlife for humans...
"...But maybe only non-humans can stand on his Palette?"
"Or maybe he only accepts those with a defined color. Seeing a mermaid there, it might not be just an afterlife—but also a punishment."
"True... Being used as his paint for all eternity isn't exactly restful. It's definitely a different kind of afterlife."
One member, shaking off the lingering melancholy, suddenly said:
"Maybe our President could make it in."
"She really goes all out—always working on something. I've got some hope."
"She acts like she'll die if it's not today."
She tackled every activity like it was her last chance at life.
"And maybe she's not wrong."
"She's the one who built this salon to change the world..."
"Her ambition is massive."
They laughed as if joking.
"She might be the one who actually ends up face-to-face with Black Cloak."
"She might end up a bishop or something."
They didn't realize she had already achieved both.
President of the "Black Cloak Enthusiasts," once one of the original Carnation Kids. Her unique name came from the "coal mine canaries."
She was often dragged into dungeons associated with disease or poison, used as a living warning system—a meat shield to test danger. Even as she scraped her way into adulthood, she never changed her name.
She didn't want to forget how cruel the world could be. She wanted to change it, even just a little.
Today, she came face to face with the god she served.
The pitch-black portrait handed her a small bird.
"Thank you for helping."
"I affirm your will."
And so, Canary gained a tiny friend.
"Oh, what... How cute."
A waterbird flapping its wings, bursting with yellow flowers.
And then, Yoo Seong-Woon visited the gallery.
"They say you're giving out waterbirds to people you pick as cult leaders."
"Where are these rumors coming from?"
"Then why'd you give one to Miss Canary?"
The portrait replied confidently.
"I gave it to her so she could play hard in my place."
"This is insane. Who made our portrait so introverted?"
"I'm quite shy, actually."
"So you did make her a cult leader."
"She's a president, not a cult leader. I didn't make her that way—she already was."
"Same thing, isn't it?"
"She was an ideal leader. And now, I'm free."
Gio was extremely satisfied.
Let that loud and glamorous party carry on—without ever inviting me.