chapter 210

Chapter 210

Yoo Seongun’s reaction when he came to the gallery at dawn wasn’t much different from Juhyeon’s.

“I dealt with those bastards myself.”

Being a capable hunter, he showed a more direct kind of movement, but.

“A deranged cultist who attacked Hunter Seo Gio while he was resting due to physical and mental shock, and then went out to enjoy himself after meeting an acquaintance. There’s no way the Collection Merchant would just let someone like that go, right?”

“I didn’t expect busy Mr. Yoo Seongun to step in personally.”

“I don’t think you truly didn’t expect it, but as you know, the work I’m assigned is managing you, a portrait. Thanks to that, I got chewed out for dereliction of duty and even wrote a statement.”

So it meant that the follow-up for this incident naturally fell to Yoo Seongun.

“It’s true that lately my attitude toward you has loosened too, so I went and took my punishment properly. Times like this, if I don’t follow the company rules too, problems start popping up everywhere in the name of ‘exceptions.’”

“Group living sounds very difficult.”

“Anyway, since nothing happened, don’t worry too much.”

Yoo Seongun, smiling mildly, asked next.

“Did you enjoy shopping.”

“Of course.”

At Yoo Seongun’s question, Gio smiled brightly.

“There were many clothes these days that I liked a lot. The fabric quality is considerable, so it seems like it would be comfortable to move even if you went straight out to the battlefield, and there were also many unique weapons and accessories imbued with special power.”

“You’re Argio.”

“Now you can tell right away even when my color isn’t red.”

“I wondered why you and Hunter Sanarae clicked so well—turns out you had an unexpected common trait... It’s a relief that nothing as scary as Haeryeong Guild becoming uproarious meant something terrifying had happened.”

Sanarae was one of those Haeryeong Guild members who made especially good use of his face. I wondered why a foul-tempered punk who could jump anywhere would get along with Gio, and then—

‘Looking at it this way, Argio seems to like dressing himself up too.’

You could tell even just by the dazzling form that sometimes hung over the frame. That was the biggest difference between the other Gios and Argio. The other two sides were on the plain side.

Though his face was flashy, of course.

“It was lucky Hunter Sanarae stepped in for this incident.”

“Yes, thank you for handling it neatly.”

“I heard it wasn’t all that neat?”

Didn’t they say Gio even treated the madman who was supposed to become half-paralyzed?

“Do you know why Hunter Sanarae stepped in?”

“Perhaps he thought he should protect the world from the bomb that is me.”

“That matches my thoughts to a surprising degree. Mm, and I hear he’s roughly figured out your identity too.”

“Seeing as he’s stayed quiet, I suppose he has no intention of opening his mouth separately.”

“In the end, that’s probably also a reaction meant to protect his guild members, right? Honestly, before hearing your story, I never imagined he’d be someone who cherished his guild that much...”

“He’s an admirable young man.”

“If you say so, then it is.”

Yoo Seongun asked.

“Since shopping came up—next time, shall we go together? We could call Mr. Juhyeon too and have suits tailored together, which wouldn’t be bad. There’s a master craftsman’s place I often visit.”

“You must be busy.”

“Time is something you make.”

Since they’d finished a war with monsters and things were gradually being put back in order, Yoo Seongun’s workload was also decreasing little by little. More than anything, accompanying Gio’s schedule could be seen as part of the job too...

“...”

“Mr. Yoo Seongun?”

“Mm, I was thinking about something else for a moment.”

“May I ask what you were thinking?”

“I wondered if you’re human.”

“Oh.”

Fortunately, Gio didn’t tease him after hearing this unglamorous worry.

“Why would you think of viewing it that way?”

“I’m trying it because I think it’s a perspective worth chewing on. But I’m not sure whether this is really the right path, or whether it’s just a useless thought. It’ll probably take quite some time before I reach a clear conclusion.”

“Whatever the result, I respect your judgment, Mr. Yoo Seongun.”

“That’s a heavy thing to say.”

This mystery did not divide every path into right and wrong. So even if Yoo Seongun walked a path that was unsatisfying or immoral, Gio would not tell him it was wrong.

‘No, this guy doesn’t judge the world’s concepts by right and wrong in the first place.’

Gio does not distinguish good and evil in arbitrary events. If you organize it like this, you’d create a contradiction with the proposition that ‘Gio’s portrait likes good people,’ so to be more rigorous, it meant he did not put selfish motives into it.

As proof, even when Gio dealt with evildoers, he did not “punish” them. He simply “classified” them. He affirmed the existence of all concepts, but only made the choices that suited his own ideals and tastes.

‘To a paltry human like me, it feels chilling.’

So Yoo Seongun couldn’t lean on Gio. At least not for this.

‘The choice and responsibility are entirely his own.’

He had no choice but to think carefully. Because his soul and body would be bound to a snowfield where snow fell thickly until the day he died.

‘As a human. As a gardener and a curator. And as one person named Yoo Seongun...’

What should he judge the being before his eyes to be? Or what would leave him with the least regret?

“...”

He needed time.

“...”

“People really live life the hard way. Do they enjoy pain?”

“I’m trying to set the mood and think seriously—are you going to keep doing that?”

“I’m deeply sorry, but I wonder if this is something you even need to think seriously about, my dear Mr. Yoo Seongun.”

“Not every existence is as clear about everything as you are.”

Of course there would surely be people like Gio who make judgments and decisions simply and clearly, but Yoo Seongun could not be that, at least. To think easily and act easily, there were too many burdens hanging under his feet and on his shoulders.

Anyway, that was only Yoo Seongun’s personal circumstances. He rubbed his neck and then smiled as he asked.

“...So what will you do now?”

“I plan to rest.”

“Honestly, that’s a pretty welcome thing to hear.”

“I’ve been too active.”

Everything that had to be done was finished.

“I’ll see you later.”

Introverted Seo Gio needed rest.

* * *

And so Gio shut himself inside the house again.

“Outside the blanket is dangerous.”

“Meooow...”

“You agree too, I see.”

The giant cat that overflowed with coolness at just a touch was a friend perfect for hugging.

Hugging Dana, Gio rolled around on the bed. Softness like a cloud swallowed Gio’s form completely.

“Hoo...”

Gio’s blunt face, lying still, softened slightly.

“...”

He stroked Dana’s long, soft body. He patted the cold jewel cat’s belly.

“How many people are inside you?”

“Meow.”

“I see. More than I thought...”

“Meow.”

“They must all be sleeping inside you.”

But keeping them confined only inside Dana like this felt too sorry.

‘And I still have to finish the gravestones to give Mr. Juhyeon.’

He’d set it aside for a while because he could see Juhyeon working to step over the past and move forward, but now that the mermaids who would be jealous of a new picture had gone quiet, it was right to finish the work.

When Gio got up from the bed, Dana, who had been staring up at him, also slowly climbed down. Dana, who had grown quite large, boasted a body nearly as big as a wolfdog. Gio petted his daughter.

“Shall we go to the studio.”

“Meow.”

Honey flew over to the two of them and landed softly on Gio’s head.

“What have you been up to?”

“Gurrrr!”

“I see, I’m glad your siblings seem to be doing well.”

“Gur.”

“I should visit soon too. What should I bring so they’ll eat deliciously...”

Chatting lightly, Gio entered the studio.

He sat in front of a brand-new, pure-white canvas with nothing drawn on it. The small, round wooden chair, made by recalling memories from his student days, was well finished—smooth and warm with sunlight.

Gio picked up a palette made by carving wood. Letting out a low laugh, he said,

“Not yet.”

A firm voice, as if teaching.

“It’s not your turn.”

“■■...”

“You have to wait.”

Holding a brush in the other hand, Gio stared at the clean white page.

“...”

He did not fear death. He had no fear, and no despair.

There might be sadness, but the path beyond is something that should be let go. Lingering attachment belongs only to those left behind, so it is right that the dead continue another fate in an unknown concept and space.

Gio’s thoughts differed little by little from the religions he knew. This was a narrow, biased world that accepted only those it liked, so it wasn’t heaven or hell, and it didn’t even make a full round to be called the reincarnation Buddhism spoke of.

‘It’s just a single state.’

Like catching a cold one day. Like tears coming when you’re sad and a smile forming when you’re happy. To Gio, death was only that.

‘How is it any different from falling asleep?’

Some call it a very long sleep, and Gio agreed.

‘In the end, it’s something everyone experiences once.’

Whether it is your own, or another’s. People live while encountering big and small deaths.

Even the death of a small bug you step on along the way—don’t you, without realizing it, bury it in that careless ground?

“It’s okay.”

With the back of the hand holding the brush, Gio stroked Dana’s cheek as she stood by his side. Like soothing a child who whines because they don’t want to sleep, he said,

“Where you will be is something you decide.”

That could have been by one’s own will, or by others’. They might like it, or they might not.

There could be happy memories, painful memories, or no memories at all—simply remaining.

Remaining. This is their home, their trace, their everyday life.

‘They lived while each occupying the volume of a different world.’

What should I call you?

“...”

After drawing a single frame with nothing inside, Gio gave it a name.

“...Let’s call it a diary.”

Dana cried.

“Meow.”

A cat’s cry like a bell.

Inside the frame in the canvas, the cry lingered.

* * *

A lover died.

“...”

In the war the mermaids stirred up this time, the lover she had promised to marry died.

The woman cried until she collapsed again and again, and only after pouring out all her strength did she finally quiet down. He was a childhood friend who had been with her since they were young, someone she had shared childish and rough but joyful times with.

She thought she’d finally escaped that dogshit alley and made it under the sunlight...

“...Fuck.”

A curse came out.

‘Why am I the only one here, you bastard.’

Hadn’t you said we’d find a house where the sunlight came in warm together?

Even though they weren’t married, the bereaved-family compensation went to her. Would she really have ended up like a wreck from the start just because she was a woman in this era where deaths were rampant? She signed a contract for one of the houses she’d looked at with him, cleared away the clutter, and tried to tend her life, telling herself the living had to live.

And yet it was like this.

“If it was going to be like this, you shouldn’t have shown up in my dreams at all...”

She kept dreaming of him being dragged beyond a barrier and into the sea.

‘Would it have been different if I’d been with him?’

‘At least if I’d been with him, he wouldn’t have been scared. He was so timid that I had to stay by his side...’

‘What’s the use of any of this, for someone already dead.’

Dozens of times a day she would sit blankly, then suddenly remember, suffer for a long time, and barely crawl out again. Then she would fall asleep and have nightmares again. Longing and guilt spread like ink until it choked her breath.

Then one day she heard this from a back-alley acquaintance.

“You know the Black Cloak? They say a new series came out...”

“You called me just to say that?”

“No, listen to the end. This is really precious information, and I’m telling you because you’re so pitiful.”

“Pitiful, my ass.”

“I’m paying back the debt I owed you last time, alright?”

“Who decided that, you bastard...”

“He drew heaven.”

“...”

She asked back.

“...What?”

“They say what the Black Cloak drew this time is heaven. That all the young, kind people are in there.”

“What kind of bullshit is that—don’t say things that make no sense. Even if the Black Cloak is sacred, that— that could never...”

“But isn’t it nothing to lose?”

He said it wouldn’t be easy to find. Hardly anyone had seen it, and a small group was keeping their mouths tightly shut, so information hadn’t spread.

“...”

He drew heaven?

“...”

A heaven that gathers only the weak and kind?

‘...Bullshit.’

Thinking that, the woman still went looking for the white frame said to be the Black Cloak’s new series. She knew it made no sense, but just in case, she was careful with her behavior and searched everywhere.

Maybe because the rumor still hadn’t spread, there didn’t seem to be people dressed like her. Even so, she couldn’t find it, so she looked for another method.

To summon the frame to herself.

“...They said the Black Cloak likes kind people.”

So she tried doing kind things.

“E-excuse me.”

“Hm?”

“...Would you like me to carry your luggage.”

“Oh my, all of a sudden? It’s fine.”

“If you’re worried, I’ll help just up these steps.”

“No, it’s just that I feel so sorry...”

She carried an old person’s luggage that clearly looked like they had no stamina. She felt impatient, but she didn’t push herself too hard. In a world like this, who would easily trust someone just because they offer help?

But unexpectedly, the old person smiled and expressed thanks.

“I didn’t worry at all. Miss, are you perhaps one of those too? People who do good deeds?”

“Pardon? Good deeds...?”

“If not, then never mind. There have been a lot more diligent young people lately, so I thought maybe you’re in the same club.”

“What kind of people are they? I mean, it’s not my place to say, but in a world like this, if you believe strange people...”

“They’re people who make a fuss saying the Black Cloak is good. Not dangerous.”

“...Ah.”

She’d heard that story too.

‘So they said enthusiasts formed.’

It’s funny to call it thanks, but thanks to them it became easier for the woman to meddle. People who avoided and distrusted good deeds began to loosen their guard little by little because of the Black Cloak enthusiasts.

“You look like you got lost... where are you trying to go?”

“Oh my, no, well...”

“I-I’m that. A Black Cloak enthusiast. I’m doing good deeds because I want to see the Black Cloak.”

“Ah! I see, oh dear. Then could you tell me where the grocery store in this neighborhood is? I just moved here...”

“That’s on the main road. I’ll show you.”

“Thank you.”

After guiding the way, the woman received a zucchini from the person who said they’d moved in.

“Um, this is...”

“Do you have eggs at home? Beat an egg and fry it, it’s really delicious.”

“I feel sorry... please take it back.”

“I’m just so grateful.”

Clean, fresh vegetables for the first time in a while. It was too precious to throw away, since she’d received a rare gift. In the end, that day she went to the market and managed to get a few eggs for the first time in a long while.

Thinking about it, she didn’t even have salt to put in, or cooking oil so it wouldn’t stick. Remembering her empty house, she picked up a few more ingredients. It wasn’t much of a home life, and the eggs were monster eggs in the end, but they tasted good.

“...”

It’s been a while since I made a pancake.

“...Hey, I burned it a bit. Eat it yourself.”

“...”

“Cooking was always your thing... I tried hard in my own way.”

She even made pointless excuses to an empty seat. She also thought, next time I should give you a better pancake. When she thought of her lover who cooked far better than she did, her throat tightened; she put the pancake in her mouth and cried again. She felt stupid.

She still missed him, so she kept going outside. Thanks to the Black Cloak enthusiasts, it was definitely easier to poke around everywhere. Little by little, she grew used to this everyday life.

“Oh, there you are.”

“Who...”

“I heard you helped my mother, so.”

“Who do you mean?”

“You don’t need to be wary... I just wanted to say thank you.”

“Ah, yes...”

“This is a side dish my mother made. She always makes a lot, so...”

A middle-aged man bowed and left.

“You don’t have to return the container!”

“No, wait...!”

Things like this happened sometimes.

“...”

When she came to her senses, she realized that quite a few people now recognized her face.

Unlike the back alleys of her childhood, these were faces filled with gentle interest, gratitude, and welcome.

Feeling ticklish, the woman cried right in the middle of the street.

“Huh? Hey, sis. Why are you crying? Did someone bully you?”

“What’s going on? Don’t do this here—come inside and have some tea.”

“Oh dear, looks like something bad happened...”

“It’ll be okay. Yeah? Why are you crying so sadly.”

Ah.

It was an instinctive intuition.

‘...At this rate, I’m going to forget you.’

And you would want that too.

‘And I don’t even know how many times I have to repeat this to see you...’

She ended up thinking that this kind of life wasn’t so bad.

Not long after, the woman started working as a hunter again.

* * *

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“...”

Identification Number 0S-000-B

Response Rank F(-)

Entity Type Object-type

Entity Name White Frame(-)

Authority Diary(-)

A painting of yet another frame drawn inside a white wooden frame. It is understood to be the Black Cloak (0S-328-D)’s third work following Breathing Sea and City of the Void, but considering the importance of the concept, it is recorded as a separate mystery.

It is rumored that you can see the deceased who lived a good life while alive, but no witness who has actually seen it could be found. The probability of witnessing is extremely low, far worse than the Black Cloak (0S-328-D)’s previous works. Considering this point, some citizens begin social activity to summon the Black Cloak, and this work exists with a high probability near such specific targets.

“Ah, a report came in, so I’m organizing it into an audio file. Uh... this is about an 82-year-old man. Name: Lee Jeongha. Region he lived in: Yesan, Chungnam. Is the Black Cloak already reaching into the provinces...? The speed at which he’s expanding his activity range is faster than expected—shouldn’t we take measures? No, anyway. Not that.”

“They say he lost his granddaughter during the ‘Sea Garden’ incident. Name: Seo Yunha, age 19. C-rank hunter, and... position is dealer. Cold-element, so it seems she participated despite having a relatively short career. A ‘good deceased’ and a ‘living person’ required by the temporary name ‘White Frame.’”

“Mr. Lee Jeongha died on the 15th, and they say there was a pure-white diary in the arms of the dead Mr. Lee Jeongha. According to people around him, shortly before he died, Mr. Lee Jeongha started saying he could see a frame... but since others couldn’t see it, they treated it as hallucination symptoms. It seems that because it’s a province with little information, they couldn’t immediately suspect a phenomenon like this.”

“The research team, with the bereaved family’s consent, brought the ‘White Diary’ and checked it, but we couldn’t read the contents. We can’t interpret the letters, and the form appears differently for each viewer. But Mr. Lee Jeongha’s fingerprints were detected on the diary... Mm, it seems that among those looking for the ‘White Frame,’ only specific targets can see the frame and read the diary.”

“What’s the difference between Mr. Lee Jeongha and other witnesses? I thought it lay in their attitude toward life. The degree to which they long for dead ties... their will to return to society... or their remaining lifespan. Mr. Lee Jeongha was close to the age of dying naturally, and they said he was calm even though his granddaughter died.”

“I don’t know what the White Frame is trying to do. Even if they start social activity in the same way to see the White Frame, there are those who end up seeing it, and those who still can’t. It’s also a question why the frame exists only in nearby zones where the person searching for it can’t see it. And what is written in the diary the frame created.”

“That’s all. Ha, won’t someone come out who saw it more properly...”

“...”

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