chapter 142

Chapter 142

Meanwhile, Gio.

Gio was not hurt by the fact that people were afraid of him.

‘They might be afraid.’

Even before the Great Catastrophe, there were many people who were afraid of Seo Gio.

The facial muscles that seemed as though he had regressed all by himself didn’t know how to smile, and because he didn’t particularly enjoy social activities, his range of activity was narrow. On top of that, Gio, who was unusually strict about etiquette and propriety, was in many ways a person it was hard to build a light acquaintance with.

Perhaps because of that, people who were afraid of him would show up whenever it seemed like there hadn’t been any for a while.

‘They say my 분위기 is scary...’

Always expressionless, tall like a beanpole, and the clothes he wore were always a black suit.

‘Black is such an easy color to wear.’

It was a choice made with personal taste and convenience in mind, but there were not just one or two people who were frightened by Gio’s outward appearance. He was aware that he didn’t give a comfortable impression.

“...”

But seeing them afraid to this extent, even Gio couldn’t help but feel unsettled.

“Are we almost there?”

“I apologize for causing you discomfort.”

“It’s nothing to apologize for.”

It wasn’t as if they needed to react in such terror to the simple question, ‘How far have we come?’ The guiding priest had never made a fuss, but the stiffened steps and slightly wavering pitch, and the like, were telling him of their fear.

Giovanni thought to himself.

‘This really does seem like a nuisance.’

He hated it.

‘The Collector’s employees are at least openly startled and get it over with, so you can laugh it off...’

Even if it was the same fear, the grain was different. The people of the Collector’s had good resilience, and above all, they seemed to have adapted well to the existence called Gio. It seemed like that was because only indifferent and unflappable people gathered there.

But the emotion the priest guiding him now felt was a real, proper fear.

‘I didn’t think they’d be this afraid.’

And yet, seeing them doing their best to treat him as a guest made Gio’s mood twist, because Gio was the type who could only feel satisfied if he repaid kindness fivefold.

“...”

“Up ahead.”

“I see.”

Stopping in front of a massive gate, Gio expressed his gratitude to the priest.

“Thank you.”

“...The honor was mine.”

The priest bowed deeply.

“Please do not hold it against us for following Father’s words.”

“I came as a priest who wishes to pray, and as a visitor, so you need not worry.”

“For you to say so lightens the heart of this humble priest.”

To that, Gio asked,

“If you would be all right with it, would you accept my paltry gift?”

“...When you say gift?”

“Do you enjoy sweets, Priest?”

“Sweets... yes, I like them.”

“What I give is a light gift and a token of my gratitude.”

Gio handed over fruit strips neatly wrapped in hanji.

“They are fruits dried in the sun.”

“Ah...”

“You may eat them, or you may not.”

Then he added,

“However, please do not fear me.”

Because he felt so sorry.

“Would you do that?”

“...I shall never forget the warm grace bestowed by nameless divinity.”

“Please do not think of it so grandly.”

Ah, please don’t.

‘Why are you doing that.’

To be honest, he felt like he might cry a little. Every single word was such a burden. If it were simply being treated like a ghost story or a monster, he could laugh it off as funny, but being feared while being treated this sincerely left Gio terribly embarrassed.

What exactly had he bestowed, and what was this “grace”? He didn’t want to receive a “your benevolence is immeasurable” kind of treatment over nothing more than a single fruit strip. He wanted the priest to understand the desperation contained in the bribe.

“When you come next time, I hope your face will be more comfortable than it is now.”

Thinking it wasn’t good manners to cling any more than this, Gio withdrew here.

It was true he looked scary, and it was only natural to fear what is scary, so in a first meeting, continuing to whine at them not to fear him would not be polite.

“...”

Thinking like that made him miss Mr. Juhyeon, who would be resting at home.

‘Please hurry and get close with me.’

My prospective pen-pal friend, kind and well-mannered and yet not afraid of a haunted portrait.

He hadn’t been very good at building rapport to begin with, but after he became a ghost story, more people were afraid of him, which was a bit troublesome. Making friends had become too hard.

“Should I open the door and go inside?”

“If you stand in front, I will ring the bell for the gatekeeper.”

“I understand.”

Clink—.

The priest rang a bell that shone white.

“...”

With no sound at all, the door opened softly.

‘...The opening of a horror movie?’

A door that opens silently into a dark, massive temple—rather like a haunted mansion, and novel.

‘But if it’s a horror concept, then I, a haunted portrait, won’t lose either.’

If he ever had to build a temple later, Gio thought he should ask for copyright permission and absolutely adopt this system. Seeing as his public image seemed to be drifting closer to a ghost story, there was a lot to learn.

‘By the way, would it be too rude to compare an elder whose face I don’t even know to a ghost like this.’

To Gio, the death god also looked like an existence on the same level as the sun god, his teddy-bear father. It was because after already going through the sun god once, the perception “god = old man living alone” had been stamped into his brain.

He stepped boldly into the doorway where not a speck of light entered. By the looks of it, the elder inside was living very lonely and desolate, and Gio had confidence that he could entertain such a person.

“...Hmm.”

A black, transparent waterway, stained by darkness, spread shallowly across the entire floor and flowing softly.

Sure enough, the enormous door closed without a sound, and then, not far away, a pure white lantern bloomed.

“Are you the bishop of this place?”

“Please lower your speech, nameless divinity.”

The one who spoke was a woman wearing a hanbok as lush as a peony.

“Thank you for permitting our rudeness. May we understand that for you to come here in person means you have answered Father’s invitation?”

“Of course.”

“I am Eunryeong, unworthy though I am, entrusted with management here. If you need anything, please call for me at any time; I will remain within this room.”

The bishop set the lantern she held down on the floor, then quietly retreated and vanished into the darkness. Wearing a pitch-black hanbok and a pitch-black veil that covered her face, the bishop was soon dyed into the darkness and disappeared from sight.

Only then did Gio realize who he was supposed to speak with.

“Aha.”

He raised his head and looked into the darkness.

“I never even imagined you would already be here.”

Then, from within the darkness, a damp sound came.

“I pay my respects to Earth’s Death.”

“...You...”

Through the small but bright lantern light, ‘Death’ revealed its face.

“You treated... my children... well...”

It was an enormous being, as though it were one with the darkness itself.

Its face resembled an old tree that had maintained steadfastness through long ages, and through the large and small cracks that gaped open, a white light like a lantern leaked out.

It bore countless arms, very long and thin, and the lower body visible in the lantern light resembled a pitch-black river, stretching out tremendously long.

A body spread out like a spiderweb, and black silks wrapped around it. Gio realized that this entire room had been created by Death’s incarnation body.

“It is a wonderful 모습.”

He admired it.

“You are a river and a tree.”

“...Is that... how it looked...”

“What I am stepping on is your knee, and what I am seeing is a mountain made of arms.”

“...You are... very... favorable toward me...”

“Is there any reason not to be?”

Gio liked elders.

“I have come here today to ask about wicked gods.”

“...Have you...”

“Would you tell me why you called me?”

“I...”

Death’s voice was immense, like the resonance of a cave.

“saw you.”

And it was quiet.

“Though you are in sin, you are not a sinner.”

“You resemble providence, yet you are not that either.”

“You have wickedness, yet cannot be called a hero...”

With a mouth hanging in midair, Death defined Argio.

“You who offered your body, how are you in hell.”

It said,

“You are reviled as a sinner, yet not a sinner; you refuse to live at peace within providence, and though you are divinity that covets blood and wealth, you were once a hero. I find you lovely. Your soul is pitiable.”

“...”

“It will not be easy for you to be reviled, though you wish it. Though you desire to remain in pleasures where reason is clouded, abundance and peace will remain by your side; though you wish to be remembered as a vain wraith, you will remain a grand master of history.”

Death asked,

“Who are you?”

It was a pure question filled with doubt.

“Have you already decided.”

“...”

And Gio—

“...?”

—was dumbfounded.

“I am human.”

“I see, so you have decided.”

“No, I was human from the beginning.”

“I understand...”

“Elder, please listen to what I’m saying.”

Gio felt wronged.

“I admit that I’m a somewhat unusual case, but that doesn’t mean I’m not human.”

There are people who fly around with crow wings as big as a house on their backs, and people whose eyes are slit long like a reptile’s and glitter, and people who are so strong and immortal they can sway the world with a single breath—and they’re still people.

So why not me?

“This is discrimination.”

“Discrimination...”

“Human diversity can easily embrace even strange people like me.”

“It will... embrace you well...”

“It’s not that it embraces me—I’m saying I was originally inside it.”

“I will... take it so...”

For some reason, it sounded like it was sighing. Gio felt even more wronged. Human diversity had become this vast—so why was a haunted portrait not treated as human?

Whether it had no interest in Gio’s grievance, or whether it had no will to debate, the mouths hanging in midair on the death god that seemed to have reached its own conclusion kept muttering one after another.

“Pitiful.”

“Lovely, that devotion and affection.”

“A vessel broader than mountains and longer than rivers.”

“Breathing within its arms.”

“Sleeping within its arms.”

“Life and death are within it.”

“And yet it says it is human.”

“You will love without end.”

“You will give without end.”

“Is there an end to you.”

“There is only a beginning.”

“For you...”

Among the countless voices like mist, whispering in a shadowy mountain valley, only one continued.

“There is no death.”

“...”

Gio thought,

‘...O spirits of heaven and earth, do I walk the path of a marvelous biography like this.’

To suddenly receive news that he was confirmed immortal and undying.

‘As expected, I’m amazing.’

It was something he had already vaguely accepted from the moment he acknowledged that he had become a portrait, but it seemed that Gio had become a body where he could no longer call himself ordinary. Today, too, his self-esteem rose another notch.

It felt like it was about time for it to stop rising, but the only human who could point that out, Seo Gio’s grandmother, had already passed away. It was something Yoo Seong-woon would scream about and humanity would lament.

“...”

Gio soon reached a conclusion.

“...I should make a great many friends.”

Then that was that.

“Then I won’t ever be bored for the rest of my life.”

“...Yes...”

“May I visit you from time to time? I will set a table for you.”

“A table... you say...”

“If I have no death, then can we not become friends with no parting?”

“...Friends...”

The pitch-black room made of death resonated in a circle.

“That is good.”

Gio recognized it as laughter.

“Come often, young friend.”

“Thank you.”

“I will await your gift.”

And so Gio’s friends increased.

Clink.

* * *

“Oh, really?”

Yoo Seong-woon, waiting in the prayer room, asked.

“So as long as they don’t fear you, they’re all friends?”

“If possible, I also hope they are kind and well-mannered.”

“Right, every being who is kind and well-mannered and not afraid of you.”

“Then there’s no reason not to make them friends, after all.”

“As expected...”

Yoo Seong-woon nodded.

“Since you called him ‘elder,’ I thought surely it wouldn’t go as far as friends.”

“He didn’t seem as old and lonely as I had thought...”

“Are you saying that based on your father being old and lonely?”

“Before I visited, he was quite lonely.”

“I don’t really know how you can define a formless existence like a god as being in a state called ‘old’ or ‘lonely,’ but.”

“Just... if you look, doesn’t it show? Death didn’t look lonely at all. He has a lot of family too.”

“...”

That part was a bit interesting. Yoo Seong-woon’s bad habit slowly raised its head and showed curiosity. He asked.

“Then how did the death god look to your eyes?”

He was curious about the world Gio saw.

“You said he didn’t look lonely, and...”

“Um... if you compare it to a person, about a middle-aged...”

“Middle-aged.

And?”

“Very... good at containing things...”

After thinking for a moment, Gio continued.

“Laziness?”

“...”

“It felt like unless it was something pointless, if you pushed, he’d accept it.”

“Uh...”

“Above all, he didn’t want to go outside the room.”

“...Uh, th-that...”

“I think he’ll match well with me.”

“...I see.”

Yoo Seong-woon nodded.

“If you say so, then I guess that’s how it is.”

Mm, yes. I see.

It must still be a realm humans have difficulty understanding.

(To be continued in the next episode)