chapter 220

Chapter 220

“The death of life is an end, not a beginning.”

Earth’s Death said so.

“Someone once said this: that death is, in fact, another beginning.”

“Is that not true?”

“My death is not. And it must not be, either. If there is another beginning after death, then it should not be my share...”

“Earth’s Sun said that all life touched by sunlight is her child.”

“Then the lives here live on the backs of countless parents, do they not? But I do not regard them as my children. My children are... those who live here with me... those who accepted me as family...”

Not every divinity considers all life to be its children.

“I am a gate.”

“A gate?”

“A process every life must pass through in the end. If the Sun called herself a mother... then she is different from me. I do not demand relationship or trust from life... for it is simply something that will come, as it ought to... that is all.”

“I see.”

A few small questions also arose.

“Then do you deny life?”

“You ask while already knowing...”

Death answers that he does not.

“Death is a fate that will surely come. It is not a process of providence, nor a process of nature. I am merely one world that receives the approaching life into my arms, and countless hands that tie off the end.”

There was a part of that that matched Gio’s view as well.

“Death is only a state.”

“Yes... I am glad you understand.”

Death showed a “smile.”

“Even if it is the same life, the gaze with which one looks upon it differs... depending on the divinity. Not only the Sun and Death—every divinity is so. Even if they seem the same, their essence differs. Even if their essence is the same, their method differs. The life I hold is a wanderer drifting with its light extinguished... and I am the craftsman who announces the end to them.”

“Do you not place a lamp in their hands?”

“That is not my share.”

Death is always the share of those left behind, he said.

“The extinguishing of life’s light is a state, but the sorrow of the living is an emotion. My existence is, in the end, a process of soothing and helping those who remain understand. Making them accept the farewell—that is my share.”

“Then where do the extinguished wanderers go?”

“That is their share.”

The lamp held in the hand, the wealth carried away, love, lingering regret, sorrow. All of it belonged to the dead. Death receives everything fairly, yet it is neither a loving parent nor a gentle friend.

Only a craftsman who ties off knots.

“To whom the tied knot will be sold, where it will be hung as an ornament... is not something I must teach, nor am I even a teacher who teaches. Do you not think so?”

“I agree.”

“Thank you.”

The affirmed divinity was pleased.

“You, too... I earnestly hope... that you will find your... method, your path, your love...”

“Thank you.”

Fortunately, Gio reached a conclusion.

Perhaps that is why people say you should make friends well.

* * *

Back at Death’s temple parking lot, Yoo Seongun greeted Gio.

“Did the talk end well?”

“Of course.”

Was that not why he had even packed a bribe?

“It seems the bribe worked well.”

“So he really did eat it.”

“You didn’t say anything at all when I took it with me, but it seems you were worried after all.”

“Normally, divinities don’t have a concept of appetite. I know you’re not normal, but still—surely I have something like common sense, right?”

At least he could be a little less shocked thanks to the Sun God teddy bear and the Sancalute case. Yoo Seongun, briefly recalling those two, led Gio to the car. Gio followed and got in.

As he drove, Yoo Seongun asked.

“Any results?”

“Yes, I’ve decided.”

“...Hold on.”

Feeling déjà vu, Yoo Seongun looked back at Gio with strange eyes.

“You... you’re not going to do something, are you? Like, something...”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I remember you talking about some Demon King whatever on the way back like this.”

“You’ve guessed exactly right.”

“No, I didn’t guess it right.”

He absolutely had not said that trying to guess it right.

“...”

With a slightly wilted face, Yoo Seongun asked.

“...What did you decide?”

“Until now, I have asked various divinities about the posture of a god.”

“Yeah, you did. You asked without distinguishing between traditional divinities and wicked divinities.”

“And so I have arrived at a conclusion.”

Gio answered clearly.

“I should live as I please...”

“You’ve gotten way too eloquent since Argio.”

“My eloquence was always like this.”

“Now you’re good at lying, too.”

Admirable, and yet at the same time, chilling.

‘He’s growing to the point it wouldn’t even feel strange to call him human.’

At this rate, if Gio caused an incident later, it was obvious Yoo Seongun wouldn’t even notice right away. Well, of course, it wasn’t as though Yoo Seongun could stop Gio in the first place. Still, it was undeniable growth.

Rubbing his neck, Yoo Seongun finally let out a hollow laugh.

“So? You’re going to live as you please?”

“I feel as though my will and thoughts were rather ignored just now...”

“But what do you even want?”

“...”

Staring at Yoo Seongun, dumbfounded by the natural topic change, Gio ultimately gave up and answered.

“I’m going to turn people into pigs.”

“...Ah, uh, pigs. Mm, oh, right...”

“When the granary is full, the world becomes peaceful as well.”

“Peace... Then is your ‘method’ similar to Ms. Juhyeon’s? That blasted world peace?”

“It’s a little different. Ms. Juhyeon’s goal is world peace, but my goal is turning them into pigs, so you could say the process and result have been swapped.”

“That’s scary in its own way.”

It was better than the end of the world, but still.

“No, but—doesn’t that not really differ from what you’ve been doing? Even without intending anything extra, aren’t you already a unique ghost story who hands out snacks saying passersby are admirable?”

“It’s hard to say that’s wrong, but there is a mindset I have adopted somewhat differently.”

“And what is that?”

“I need to make more friends.”

“...More?”

“Yes.”

The common trait of divinity was the fact that it “exists anywhere at any time, regardless of all flows.” Most divinities existed somewhere, even if a dimension shattered. Whether in the form of religion, or the form of history.

That was the power of divinity’s permanence, and Gio saw that very favorably. A single community that continued like a living organism had such an attractive quality.

And since Gio, in his own way, possessed divinity, he could refer to those methods.

“Then I’ll live a life filled with friends for my entire existence.”

He liked it very much.

Yes—what Gio had been curious about all this time when he asked divinities was not “whether my identity is human or god,” “how to treat and rule life,” or “what I should do to be godlike,” but “how do you live that long and still have so many friends?”

“Isn’t that wise?”

“...”

Yoo Seongun was left speechless for a moment.

‘...Officially, he’s saying he’ll form a religious group. How does he say it in such an innocent, childlike version?’

For a fleeting moment, he considered what results Gio’s decision would bring about, but soon realized that none of it had any value at all, and let out a sigh.

“Do as you like.”

“You’re so brisk.”

“Even if I try to stop you, you’ll just do it anyway.”

“Hmm, you’ve gotten to know me too well. I’ll have to silence you.”

“When you say it, it doesn’t sound like a joke at all, so don’t scare me...”

“Was it really a joke?”

“Please.”

“Fine.”

Gio laughed as if delighted.

“Only now do you realize my words were a joke.”

“...I guess so.”

Whether he had gotten stupid, or adapted.

‘Did he catch it from Ms. Juhyeon?’

It was truly frightening.

* * *

There was a woman.

The woman, by nature, did not hold compassion for others. Born and raised under the parents of a 1st-grade citizen with everything abundant, she would sometimes even think beggars crouched in the dim shadows between buildings were filthy.

“I don’t want to get involved.”

“That’s a good posture, my daughter. If you get involved with people like that, it becomes tiresome.”

Her parents affirmed her like that. Even so, it wasn’t as though the woman had ever stepped forward to abuse or insult those who had nothing. She simply treated them exactly as the words said—as people she did not associate with, and therefore as though they did not exist.

Growing up in an environment with no lack, the woman began to enjoy refined hobbies. She collected beautiful works one by one. She became such a regular customer of a collector-merchant that, one day, the woman encountered something called the “Black Cloak.”

“This is...”

“It’s a Black Cloak work, miss.”

“Black Cloak? It has a strange atmosphere—watercolor, is it...?”

“It’s dangerous if you go too close.”

“But isn’t it truly beautiful?”

In the time when the Black Cloak was once known as a monster. The woman, facing the “Void City,” was utterly captivated by its artistry. After that, as it became known that the Black Cloak was a mystery that held divinity, her favor soared.

“A work painted by a god.”

It was a work of art that suited her refined life all too well.

And it seemed she wasn’t the only one who thought so; among 1st-grade citizens, strange groups formed. Gatherings that adored the Black Cloak, and the like. It was only natural that the woman tried to join the most renowned group among them.

“...?”

But it wasn’t what she’d expected.

“...Volunteer work?”

“Did you perhaps come here without knowing much about the Black Cloak?”

“No, that can’t be.”

At the gaze that seemed to be looking at something extremely stupid and repulsive, words of denial burst out on their own. And she wasn’t even lying. The woman prided herself on knowing the Black Cloak fairly well.

“It’s a humanoid divinity that holds the divinity of providence, isn’t it?”

“And what does the Black Cloak favor?”

“Uh... they say he likes good people, and if he meets them, he gives them gifts. Conversely, if he meets wicked people, he drags them into a frame and they meet a terrible end.”

“And yet you question our volunteer system?”

“No, but...”

It was hard to accept.

“If it’s sponsorship, I can do as much as you like.”

If it were at most paying activity fees, the woman could accept it. Many salons operated by collecting dues like that. But the Black Cloak enthusiasts said that wasn’t it.

“Do I really need to step in personally?”

“Are you asking sincerely?”

“It’s not like there aren’t few people who want to work, and if you want to do that much good, you can just hire people... sponsorship is a good deed too, isn’t it?”

“That would make it meaningless.”

They insisted you had to volunteer yourself in order to have the qualification to be among them.

“Hah, how obvious. You tried to get into our club with shallow greed. At best, you expected to show off a bit with money, pick up the title of ‘good person,’ admire the Black Cloak’s works, and if you’re lucky, get a gift too... that’s what you were hoping for, right?”

“...What’s wrong with that? Is sponsorship the wrong way?”

“It’s not that it’s a wrong way, but if you expected that, you don’t seem like you’ll fit with us. We’re doing an honorable thing you can’t buy with mere money.”

“Hah, this is ridiculous...”

“There are many gatherings that adore the Black Cloak, but you don’t seem to understand why we, among them, come into contact with the Black Cloak most often. We’re different from those cheap imitators. Because we insist on genuine good deeds, the Black Cloak has acknowledged us.”

A member even sneered heavily.

“I’m truly sorry to say it, but we choose diligent, noble volunteers. This isn’t a club made for someone like you to show off with money and chatter happily. If we start taking people like you one by one, the quality of our club will drop.”

“You’re even saying the quality will drop?”

“If that happens, the Black Cloak will withdraw his affection for us. We can’t stand to see that. Do you know how hard we worked to earn that trust? We can’t let an outsider diminish something so precious.”

“You’re really hilarious.”

Furious, the woman raised her voice.

“Then I’ll do it, won’t I—if I do it...! I was just asking because I wondered why it had to be done personally; I wasn’t saying I wouldn’t do it. Do you think I’m not doing volunteer work because I don’t know how? I didn’t do it because it’s inefficient!”

She truly thought so. People who wanted to work were overflowing, and so were the back-alley poor who collapsed because they couldn’t earn even a single coin.

If she hired such people, they would earn money and she could perform a good deed—how could there be a more efficient good deed than that?

But this damned club had bruised her pride.

“You think I can’t do it?!”

“Oh, so you said it.”

“...Th-this, what is this?”

“Doesn’t it say ‘contract’?”

“No, what kind of club has a contract...”

“If you’re not going to do it, then don’t. I’m busy to death, and you’re just wasting my time.”

“...Give it here.”

In the end, the woman secured a seat in the club.

“I’m a bottom-rank?”

“You’re a new member who’s done nothing yet, so it can’t be helped, right?”

“If I, if I pay more dues...”

“Are you going to keep talking about money?”

“...Ugh...”

And she began going out to volunteer.

“...”

Honestly, she was a bit dazed.

‘Why am I doing this here?’

She couldn’t understand it.

The club did all sorts of work. And the higher you rose in rank, the more troublesome and dangerous the volunteering became.

The person called the president would even go find 3rd-grade citizens hiding and living in unreconstructed zones, and help with their lives.

‘This is insane.’

The higher the rank, the more work there was to do?

‘They don’t even hesitate to go outside the city.’

Why do so many people gather in the city? It was all because the city guaranteed people’s lives. The farther out you went, the more dangerous it became, and the higher the chance of dying.

But the woman endured, if only because of that damned pride. She picked up trash along the roadside, treated slum-dwellers to meals, and even sent support to citizens of 2nd-grade and below who lived hard lives.

“Your room is a bit cold, isn’t it...? I’m sorry—I want to give you something, but...”

“N-no, it’s fine. It’s... so-so. If I cover myself with a blanket, it’ll be fine.”

“What should I do, I’m so sorry. I don’t have a blanket... would it be all right if I gave you bedding instead?”

“...Uh...”

One day, she was told, “You’ve really been doing well lately, so I’ll trust you and leave it to you,” and was sent to keep company with an elderly person living alone. She made verbal mistakes a few times, but tried to make up for them somehow.

“Ah, ahaha...! I-I can buy it for you...!”

“Hm? No, that would make me too sorry...”

“Oh my, what do you mean? I can buy you that much as much as you like. How many sheets do you need? No, wait—I should replace all the bedding. Right?”

Of course, it seemed a little difficult for her way to be affirmed by the members.

“We told you not to solve everything with money. Some people receive those gifts and are purely happy, but there are also definitely people who feel deprived. In those cases it backfires—it’s a dangerous way.”

“B-but... what was I supposed to say there...? I worked hard in my own way! I already made a mistake, so what am I supposed to do!”

“...Mm...”

But she also received affirmation.

“Well, it does seem like you’re really doing your best.”

“...R-really?”

“You probably just don’t have much experience yet. You’ve been steadily participating in activities lately, and it’s really nice to see. The elder even sent a thank-you letter saying the new bedding is so good.”

“A, a letter...? T-to me? It came to me, right? Show me!”

“Of course. I brought it right here.”

“...Ah...”

On the faded stationery, two full pages written in small, neat handwriting, the woman felt something like a sense of accomplishment. She’d been so jealous watching the members boast, “The Black Cloak gave me a gift!”—yet the moment she read the letter, she had no thoughts at all.

“...Ahem, I can take this with me, right?”

“Haha, of course. It came to you.”

“I’ll keep it safe.”

When her parents learned what their daughter was doing, at first they worried—“If you like it, we won’t stop you, but it could be dangerous,” and acted as though they were seeing something they couldn’t understand. But after seeing the letter the woman brought, they showed an awkwardly changed reaction.

“...That slum person gave you this?”

“Not a slum person—a 2nd-grade citizen!”

“Ah, right. Yeah...”

“...”

“...I see.”

Her father looked dumbfounded yet somehow bitter, and also smiled faintly.

“There are still people like this.”

“What do you mean? All the elders I meet in the club are like this.”

“...Yeah? Dad didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”

He looked as if he regretted it.

“I thought only scary people were left.”

He said he’d thought that was the only way to survive without having everything he had taken away—that there would only be people desperately trying to steal what was his. He laughed, and then praised his daughter.

“You’re doing well. The members there seem like good people too.”

“Huh? Uh, y-yeah... right? I told you—I’m not doing anything weird.”

“Still, be careful when you go. There are lots of scary people in the world. They’ll swindle you right under your nose.”

“Ah, I get it...”

Then, one day, a call came from the hospital.

“...Your mom woke up.”

“...What?”

“T-the hospital... called, and right now...”

“What? H-how?”

News that the mother they had barely kept alive by pouring in money had awakened. Even at the best hospital in South Korea, the best they could do had been to keep her alive—yet she had completely recovered.

The woman learned the reason only days later, in an alley of the poor district.

“I affirm your good deed.”

“...”

A frame painted over with black paint.

“I see you. Your father truly has lived tirelessly.”

“...”

“In a chaotic era, he lost all of his family, and nearly lost his wife to a citizen of the poor district. The world became frightening. Hatred toward humans increased, and individualism grew strong.”

“...Ah...”

“You, too, lived such a life, yet you did good deeds. The beginning was greed, but now you feel happiness. I see you. I affirm you.”

The portrait with no visible face spoke.

“Thank you.”

As the frame vanished, it whispered.

“Did you like the gift?”

“...”

Then, left alone—

“...”

Rather than the long-awaited praise of a vast mystery, the woman cried for a long time because what she had done had returned as a benevolent gift. She didn’t even know why she was crying.

She was just so, so ashamed.

(To be continued in the next part)