"Oh, Sun Above..."
Meanwhile, "Gio" wasn't just sitting still.
"Someone please drag Zeorge out of there."
"Bullying the young and weak... tch. Pathetic."
"Suddenly became the trash who scared children. What a downfall."
"To be honest, I'm insulted to be lumped in with him. Can't we be treated separately?"
"You failed to stop him beforehand. That makes it hard."
"Totally out of control in every way. This is a problem."
"Before the young sister gets even more frightened, let's pull ourselves together."
"Honestly, you should only joke around with people who can take it."
"Never thought I'd see the day he started bothering children..."
Eventually, Gio willingly slipped on the leash.
"He really is... something else."
Sometimes, Zeorge seemed completely emotionless.
To love or to hate—either required care, yet he didn't seem to need either. It was strange.
***
"Ugh, I really didn't mean to scare anyone..."
"..."
"...Everyone's scolding me."
"...Ugh."
Iru Da instinctively stepped back.
She didn't know what kind of being this was. But the divine power she had felt from "Cha I-Sol"—that much had been real. Even if it was a copy, it meant, at the very least, this thing was tapping into divine mystery.
'Maybe I overreacted because I was too sensitive to the form it took. I shouldn't have provoked it...'
Was this thing an evil god?
'No... maybe that kind of categorization means nothing to a being like this.'
The distinction between gods and evil gods was entirely human-made. Even a seemingly "benevolent" god could be seen as evil from another angle. This appeared to be one of those cases.
'Priest Kang Seodam always said—don't trust divine power.'
They might study humanity and think in human terms—but only rarely. And even then, it was just an imitation of human perspective by something unfathomable. They could still bring about calamity, large or small.
Still, she couldn't help but wonder—
'...I know it's foolish to think this about a divine mystery, but even so, does it not find this world disgusting?'
The fact that this wasn't a human was becoming increasingly clear. And then, the thing wearing Cha I-Sol's form spoke.
"Sorry. I didn't think you'd hate it that much."
"...! You read my mind...!"
"That thought was so painful it slipped right out. Could you tell me what exactly felt disgusting? I'd like to avoid it the next time I invite you."
"..."
"Ruda?"
Yes. This thing had no human heart. It mimicked her partner so precisely it was revolting. It only wanted to "study" humans.
Iru Da hesitated, then took a deep breath.
'...Despite the instinctive disgust, fortunately it's adopting a friendly posture. When a high-level entity offers to imitate humanity, I should go along with it.'
Playing along with the rhythm of such beings was key to survival. Iru Da calmly reviewed what she'd learned in the temple, reaffirming it in her mind and heart.
Now, the question was whether this being tolerated lies.
"...Can you tell a lie?"
"Of course. We all live with lies, don't we?"
"Then I suppose I can lie too, since I'm the same kind of 'human' as you."
"Oh, how adorable... I can only imagine how scared you must've been to muster up that sharp little proposal."
"Cha I-Sol" smiled sweetly. The expression was so natural, it sent a shiver down Iru Da's spine. This being didn't just wear her partner's form—it knew exactly how to use it.
It nodded as if to say, I allow it.
"Of course, you may lie—if that's what you want."
"You don't see lying as deception?"
"It can be poison or it can be medicine. But if everyone had to be honest all the time, how could humans build society? A small lie can be a good lubricant for relationships."
"...I understand."
A little lie.
'...In other words, play along.'
That was safer than being forced to answer honestly. If honesty had been demanded, she might've had to say something offensive. But at least that wasn't the case here.
"...What did you ask me just now?"
"I wanted to know how this place could be improved."
"I've already answered everything about that while holding your hand. Utopia cannot exist—and it must not. It is, by its very nature, deception and contradiction."
"You believe deception and contradiction shouldn't exist?"
"No. But if this place was truly created to make humans happy and satisfied... shouldn't it at least not be unpleasant?"
"What part was unpleasant?"
"The fact that ideal happiness is said to exist."
Still horrifying.
"And that all the happiness and satisfaction here exists solely for the sake of humans."
"You've got quite a broad view, Ruda. Most people judge the world based on their own species."
"But this isn't it. Even without realizing it, many would feel discomfort here. These... these things..."
After hesitation and internal debate, Iru Da decided to speak frankly.
"The plants and animals in this space you've created were all modified for humans. They were taxidermied alive. They've been shaped into what humans find lowest and most juvenilely appealing."
You couldn't call this an ecosystem. And yet, it was pretending to be one—mimicking beautiful nature. All of it acting for the sake of a single human in this world, putting on a show.
What happens when the only audience, Iru Da, disappears? These plants and animals, dedicating themselves to her as if happiness were an obligation, were terrifying. Horrifying.
"...It's grotesque."
"Ah, how sad... I worked so hard on it."
"...Do the animals and plants here have any will of their own?"
"They're just dolls and food, my dear friends."
"How can you call them 'friends' if they're just dolls and food...?"
"Because I see even the smallest bugs and roadside stones as friends."
"Cha I-Sol's" face crumpled, as if genuinely sorrowful.
"Is it so hard for us to be friends?"
"...I'll think about it."
"Thank you for your consideration, my friend."
"..."
"But please believe me."
And then the form changed.
Into a flower.
Like a bouquet.
Like petals filled with every scent.
Like a butterfly resting atop.
Like the wind—it changed like that.
"No malice was intended."
"..."
"...Ah, how sad..."
Beautiful.
"Then let's pretend none of this happened, shall we?"
And yet, grotesque.
***
Upon returning, Zeorge's first order of business was to get smacked.
***
"...?"
10:00 a.m. A fresh and timely wake-up, perfect for vacation.
"...What is this?"
"Gasp—eat it with me!!"
"What even is it?"
Iru Da looked down at the mini bouquet placed on her chest.
"Oh, it's chocolate...?"
"Gio hyung made it."
"You're holding something too."
"I got jelly! Animal-shaped jelly!"
"Aha..."
Looking again, the colorful flower-shaped chocolates had clearly been dyed with food coloring. So delicate they might crumble just by picking them up, they looked exactly like real flowers. A small bouquet of roses and others mixed together, but all chocolate.
Still dazed, Iru Da picked one.
"...There are no thorns..."
Gio poked his head out from the kitchen at her murmuring.
"They're artificially crafted edible roses. Wouldn't it be a problem if they did have thorns?"
"Oh... it just looked so real I guess I got confused. But yeah, putting actual thorns in chocolate would be kind of weird..."
"I'm really glad you find them so beautiful."
"Uh... you're that happy about it?"
His smile was filled with genuine joy, and it caught Iru Da off guard. For some reason, she thought she understood the reason behind that joy.
"Have I ever said I didn't like one of your gifts, Sergio Hunter?"
"Hmm... No, I don't believe you have."
"...Ah. Right..."
Something about it left a faint sense of unease. Iru Da furrowed her brow without realizing.
'Am I missing something?'
Her eyes drifted again to the flower chocolate. It wasn't melting in her hand, and there was no coolness either. Maybe he'd used a skill of some kind.
'...It's delicious.'
She felt guilty eating right after waking up, but it wasn't just for show. It tasted strongly of strawberry. The lemon and citron came in later—probably different flavors for each color.
"Um... why the sudden gift?"
"I was disappointed we didn't play more last night, so this is a token of my regret. I suppose I got greedy hoping to see you all enjoy it more. This is my apology gift."
"Oh no. Wanting us to have more fun isn't greed at all."
"But even happiness can become poison when it's forced, don't you think?"
Sergio Hunter's ocean-colored eyes curved gently.
"Though... a lot of people in the world don't seem to realize that."
"Uh, yeah... right."
"Sister Iru Da, you really don't need to worry."
"...Okay, I'll try."
"You might lose your appetite, so let's stop there. Cha Ara Hunter and I are preparing breakfast. I heard you like medicinal herbs, so I made samgyetang."
"Oh, I love that..."
She still felt like she was forgetting something. But if she couldn't recall it at all, it probably wasn't a big deal. Thinking that, Iru Da stood, following the aroma that reached her nose.
Cha I-Sol asked, watching her rise:
"Did you have a good dream?"
"Huh? Nah, I don't really dream much..."
"Then let's dream together next time!"
"What kind of nonsense is that, Cha I-Sol... is this another way of saying we should sleep together again?"
"Heehee."
Cha I-Sol, who had been waiting in the next garden expecting to play with Ruda, swallowed her disappointment lightly. She had learned not to force her own likes on others.
'She said Ruda got too scared to come. Zeorge hyung said he'd formally apologize later too.'
That was enough, wasn't it?
The ginseng chicken porridge they had as dessert was delicious.
***
"So... I ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ think I've figured it out."
"..."
"Want to hear it?"
"...Heh. You're really something."
Jeong Hae-Woon gave a small laugh, swirling his wine glass before nodding.
"You're trying to ruin one of my few human relationships, huh?"
"If you really don't want to hear it, I can't help that..."
"But I'm always on the side of our merciful gardener. I'm your right hand, your student, your disciple. Use me however you like."
"No, Hae-Woon. You have to want it. Otherwise, what meaning would there be in anything you do?"
It was a massive pile of flowers. A garden burying corpses. A grave adorned with blossoms. A lukewarm hand, barely warm, patted Jeong Hae-Woon's head, then tapped his shoulder lightly.
A long bouquet standing behind him whispered:
"Can't call up a virtual dungeon, because our eldest brother already used that."
"Right."
"And using dreams—that's second brother's territory. Hurts my pride."
"So..."
"But the world's still full of garden paths with no exits..."
"Aha. So that's it?"
Jeong Hae-Woon leaned his head back, gazing out at the garden.
"You trying to turn all of us into gardeners?"
"Nothing wrong with that, is there?"
"You just want to be loved that badly?"
"If I'm not, I'm nothing."
"But you hate being loved."
"I still like it. Being cherished."
Its face resembled a garden blooming with moonlight.
"So much it makes me want to die."
"..."
"I love it..."
Jeong Hae-Woon drained his wine glass and set it down.
"...Teacher."
"Yes, Hae-Woon."
"Teacher."
"Jeong Hae-Woon."
"Don't die."
"You too."
"You can't die, okay?"
He said it again.
"Don't die."
It was a hideously tragic situation in every way—
But he laughed anyway.
Because his teacher was here.
-x-X-x-
Jeong Hae-Woon's dream continued on.
Not the school already burned down, but the field in front of it. The various tents and small structures erected there. A small village built by them on a field that wasn't exactly small.
This time, the setting was inside one of those tents.
"Teacher."
"Yes, Hae-Woon."
"...Aren't you pushing yourself too hard?"
"I don't quite understand what you mean."
"Please don't do this."
With electricity no longer usable, they had begun using fire. A makeshift candle they'd crafted flickered faintly with a soft crackle. The face lit by that gentle glow looked expressionless, and somewhat gloomy.
And also, tired. Even in the dream, Jeong Hae-Woon seemed to recognize that.
"You haven't been sleeping."
His tone was rough, but full of worry.
'...So this is another memory from my younger self. I should be used to it by now, but it always feels strange.'
He hadn't told his friends, but Jeong Hae-Woon had been receiving some minor help «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» from Zeorge. Or rather, perhaps he was being swayed by him. Quietly, bit by bit, he was regaining his memories.
'I think I've recalled all the major events... but I still keep dreaming about these quiet, ordinary days...'
He calmly observed his past being reenacted under the guise of a dream.
Thanks to Zeorge's whimsically kind consideration, Jeong Hae-Woon could remain composed even in dreams like this. The big memories had all returned, so what surfaced now would likely be another everyday story with his teacher.
'...Yeah. That really did happen, didn't it.'
Unlike adult Jeong Hae-Woon, who accepted it silently, the dream-version continued to worry over his teacher.
"The others are also kind of, how do I say it... uneasy."
"I'm simply studying my own ability. Why would that make you all uneasy?"
His voice was flat, almost as if mocking or scolding the other. But the dream-version—his younger self—never took it that way. His teacher had always been a kind person.
Which is why it was all the more worrying.
"Honestly, I'm not sure we should even be calling this a 'power.'"
The dream-version didn't know the source of his anxiety, nor could he express it clearly. So he just whined, with no real plan.
"Isn't it basically a curse? You can't control it, can't tell friend from foe..."
"It seems to me there are too many mismatches for it to be called a curse."
"Well, to me and everyone else, that's what it looks like. If you collapse again from some weird curse, it's going to be a problem. Once was enough, don't you think?"
"Hearing you go on like this, it sounds like you've made up your mind."
"I'm being serious, Teacher."
Even back then, "awakened ones" existed. But the reason they were called "monsters" rather than "espers" or something milder, especially in the early days, was because of their tragic ends.
Their abilities often consumed not just the surroundings, but themselves as well. Jeong Hae-Woon, now a Symbol of Eternity, knew that was because they couldn't regulate the vastness of the mysterious force. But thirty-two years ago, he didn't know that.
"You're shaving years off your life."
"How could studying my own ability shorten my lifespan?"
"That's exactly my point. How can you be sure this is really your ability? You call it a power, but everyone else says it's just a curse."
"...I don't even know what to say to that."
His teacher tilted his head. Then slowly blinked a couple times. Jeong Hae-Woon knew that was a habit of his teacher's whenever he was deep in thought.
It seemed he was considering how to persuade him.
"Let's say I got hit by an egg while walking down the street."
"What? Who? You?"
"It's just a hypothetical, Hae-Woon. And let's say I was very hungry."
"What the heck are you talking about? No, wait, don't tell me..."
"In that moment, if I picked up that egg and cooked it, wouldn't that be my choice?"
"Oh come on, Teacher, stop using weird metaphors."
"You kids seem too scared of this ability. But if I make it sound silly, maybe it'll feel a bit less scary?"
It was a strange and absurd metaphor, yet his teacher's face remained calm. As if he'd never even uttered a word of nonsense in his life, and then out of nowhere would say something completely bizarre.
Still, both the dream-version and the real Jeong Hae-Woon understood what his teacher was trying to say. He meant to use whatever he had at his disposal—whatever it was—if it could help someone.
It was a truly tragic thing.
'You went through all those hardships because of that.'
Adult Jeong Hae-Woon thought so. He couldn't help but think so. He knew how much suffering Sergio would endure after this moment. His kindness had turned into poison.
But surely even Sergio back then knew what was coming. Probably. He always foresaw every process and outcome. And even after foreseeing it, he'd proceed quietly, saying only, "I like it."
"This might really be a curse I ended up with by sheer bad luck. It's vast and hard to control. But Hae-Woon, thinking of it that way—what good would that do for me or Haera?"
"...So we can't just ignore it?"
"You already knew what I'd say, didn't you? You just wanted confirmation. That's right. We can't just ignore it. If we do, we'll end up treated like monsters. Maybe not by the people here... but eventually, that's how the world will see us."
"...Dan Haera said the government's been acting suspicious lately."
The dream-version didn't object further. He nodded along. Of course Jeong Hae-Woon understood that Sergio was trying for something greater, something righteous.
He'd only come because he didn't want to see his teacher collapse again from pushing too hard. The decision had already been made among them. A system was needed to regulate this—whatever it was—whether a power or a curse.
"We've been chatting on the radio, and it sounds like the government is trying to isolate... the 'awakened.'"
"I've heard that too. But given how passive they are, I think it's still early. They're just keeping their options open. Not many people even have the luxury to listen to the radio in this state."
"Still, they sound slimy and their tone is super annoying."
"Which is why you get it, right? Learning to control this ability is necessary. If we let it go unchecked, awakened people will only face more rejection and isolation. A few more years, and people really will start calling it a curse."
By then, they wouldn't even be able to admit they were awakened. In the worst-case scenario, they'd have to hide their abilities for life to avoid witch hunts.
"We have to at least prevent that, don't you think?"
"Haah, you're right, but... yeah, you're right."
Dream-Hae-Woon looked ready to cry. His exaggerated expression was more a joke than a true reflection of how he felt. After groaning dramatically, he sighed.
"...I'm just worried. Last time you were studying like this, you collapsed."
"Thanks to that, I was able to understand my ability better."
"Still, that's not okay. You don't know how scared we were. We all screamed—it was no joke!"
"With such delicate hearts, how do you plan to survive in this harsh world?"
"I know why you're doing this. I mean, maybe not all of it, but I get the gist. But when you try so hard, of course I worry."
He spoke like someone terribly wronged.
"What if God comes and takes you away?"
It sounded like a joke, but it wasn't. Watching the dream-version, adult Jeong Hae-Woon bit his lip. Yeah, he used to agonize over this a lot back then.
'He was just... too perfect.'
The fact that this person existed beside them, gave affection, favored them subtly, willingly helped them—Sergio's love and aid felt like something they shouldn't be allowed to have.
It was like using cheat codes in a game. Too convenient. Like breaking the rules—or even something illegal. It always felt like Sergio might vanish at any moment.
'Someone too unfair to exist in this world.'
So he didn't want to give God a reason to take him back. He was afraid the divine would realize they'd made a mistake and reclaim him. It was honestly just childish nonsense.
"If you drop dead from this..."
"I've told you again and again that won't happen."
"Yeah, but anyone can say that."
"So you're worried I'll work myself to death, huh?"
"If we're summarizing, yeah."
"I do take care of myself. But you know I can't just sit still."
Sergio looked at the dream-version of Jeong Hae-Woon. It almost felt like he was looking at the grown-up version. After the fire and the world's collapse, the deep black of his eyes had grown even more distant, and Hae-Woon simply let himself sink into them.
"I'm your teacher."
"...Still..."
"And I'm an adult."
"...You're not the only teacher and adult around, you know."
"The world's changed too much for that kind of whining, Hae-Woon."
His voice sounded sad... or maybe just matter-of-fact, like he was stating something obvious.
"Good deeds are called foolish. Children aren't seen as something to protect—they're seen as burdens. Adults now teach unborn children pressure and negotiation, not consideration or patience. Or maybe they've given up. Laws and rules change with the world—that's not strange..."
"..."
"...But I don't want to put a price on what I do. So I keep behaving like the world hasn't changed yet. Because for now, I don't see a reason to become like this world. And I don't think there are many easygoing, thoughtless people like me left."
His tone was gentle, like a teacher instructing a child, yet also monotonous and heavy. You couldn't guess his heart from his voice alone.
"We were incredibly lucky to build this small village on our school's field. The students and other survivors still cooperate, and since students and teachers already knew each other, they're trying to step up and contribute."
"If you have a conscience, you should do at least that much."
"You've seen the other villages at the foot of the mountain—you know our situation isn't normal. Don't be so harsh. Objectively, we're doing really well. And luck played a huge role."
"...Teacher..."
The dream-version hesitated before asking:
"...Do you see the future?"
"Why would you say that?"
"Are we going to fight later or... split up?"
"If I'd seen that kind of future, I wouldn't be going this slowly. But I'm not a prophet or a seer. I just have a few traits that might be better than average."
"So...?"
"I just understand human diversity. People are all different, and that means endless reasons for conflict. We could build our own shelter, sure... but I don't think I'm the kind of person who can make that happen."
"But—"
He looked a little frustrated.
"But you're the one who made this village."
"I keep telling you—it was just luck. Honestly, I'm not the ideal leader you think I am."
"Why do you always say things like that?"
"Because it's true. I have strong convictions and just enough drive to act on them. That's all. I'm not the perfect teacher you imagine."
"I don't get it..."
"When will you understand me? I'm not someone who can lead people."
His teacher was firm.
Not that it was surprising. He always said things like that. Whenever they started to forget, he'd bring it up again. Dream-Hae-Woon looked tired of hearing it.
And his teacher said it once more.
"If I really were the ideal leader, things would be better now. Instead of hiding the village and making the students stay silent... we'd be—"
"But we agreed that was the best course of action."
"...We can't stay isolated forever. If humanity is going to rise again, we need to strike back. As the radio team said, survivor groups are starting to connect. But I chose to hide, because I'm a coward."
"That was decided through a vote. We held meetings. Everyone agreed."
"..."
He hesitated, rare for him, then said:
"...I'm not the kind of person who should be responsible for things."
The same line again.
Dream-Hae-Woon hated hearing that. His face twisted ever so slightly. Sad and annoyed, but he didn't want to show it in front of his tired teacher.
Even though the teacher must've known, he kept speaking.
"I just do what I want. What I can do. And by chance, a few times it worked out well. I'm not doing this because I'm an ideal leader. I just want to."
"...Isn't that the same thing?"
"Hae-Woon, I'm not as good a person as you think. I know that about myself. So I take responsibility for the things I start. This constant reminder—it's because I know how inadequate I am. Understand?"
Looking back, he must have been struggling even then. Surrounded by people praising him and calling him a pioneer of the new era—maybe he already sensed the weight of that.
That's why he couldn't trust himself. Why he kept blaming himself. If only they'd known, maybe they wouldn't have buried him in so much admiration. But Dream-Hae-Woon was still painfully naïve.
"...Alright. I understand. For now."
"And studying my ability is part of that."
"Still, I just wanted to say don't push yourself too hard."
"Ah-ha."
His teacher asked:
"You're scared I'll die, huh?"
"...Yeah. I'm scared. I want you to stay with us. Not go anywhere."
"That might be tough. I'm a free spirit, you know. Once you all grow up, I plan to vanish."
"But you're our teacher. So don't get hurt. And if you do, heal fast. If you die... come back. Or just pretend you're dead and come back."
"You do realize that's an unreasonable demand, right?"
"I don't care..."
"But if you're that anxious, well... Alright."
His teacher nodded.
"...I'll do my best."
The dream ended there.
***
"It would've been nice if Mr. Sergio's story ended there too," said Zeorge to the audience.
"Don't you agree?"
But Gio's story continued on.
To just one person, it had been terribly tragic.
-x-X-x-
As always, Jeong Hae-Woon woke from his dream in tears.
"..."
It was miserable. It was wretched.
'...Just when I thought I was getting used to it.'
This damned guilt and regret refused to fade.
As he trembled from the familiar heat rising in him, something cool touched his forehead. It took longer than expected for him to recognize the damp sensation as a wet towel.
Still lying down, Jeong Hae-Woon turned his head toward the Portrait of Gio. The one named Zeorge looked back at him, his jewel-like eyes aglow. Jeong Hae-Woon felt a sense of dissonance.
"...Do you know something?"
That lingering dissonance had become oddly familiar, despite the relatively short time they had spent together.
"You always look at me with that dry gaze... even while smiling like that."
"Impossible. Are you saying it's not an intense gaze? And from the most beautiful eyes in the world? Are you sure you're not mistaken?"
"You love amusing things, and you're still sitting there observing me like it's your hobby."
And yet, even while doing that, he pretends with those detached, emotionless eyes. This garden must have once held both love and hatred for humanity... so where did that divide come from? Jeong Hae-Woon often wondered.
'If only I could be like that too. To exist so... inhumanly. With emotion, expression, and origin all split into separate systems...'
No, it was a dreadful delusion. Living that way couldn't be good for a human. He quickly crushed the thought and said what he should have.
"...Thanks for the towel."
"A most pleasing expression of gratitude, Student Jeong Hae-Woon."
"My head hurts, probably from crying too much. The coolness on my forehead helps. Every time I wake up from one of those dreams, it's like my whole skull is pounding..."
"Crying too much dulls the brain, doesn't it?"
"That's exactly where I'm at. You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but no. It's always new."
"And your whining has leveled up by the day."
"...I'm grateful, really."
The one before him wasn't his teacher—it was Zeorge. A garden who should never have been capable of kindness or care like this. If Teacher Sergio behaved like this, that too might've been hard to bear.
'Because I've sinned.'
He let out a breath in frustration, but it came out overheated. And along with it, a deep throbbing pulsed through his skull. Maybe from crying too much—all the heat had pooled there. It wasn't a pleasant sensation.
"I know you have no reason to go this far. Maybe it's just a whim. Or maybe it's part of your twisted version of love or hatred..."
"Is that how it looks?"
"Even if it is, I know {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} I'm being cared for in a way I don't deserve. That's what I was thanking you for. Ugh, it's so fucking pathetic. My head's killing me... I feel awful."
He squeezed his eyes shut, or else frowned, as if trying to escape this dull pain. Even the softness of the bed felt unpleasant. That meant his senses were on edge.
'I'm past the age where it's okay to throw tantrums just because I'm sick.'
Damn it, Jeong Hae-Woon. How are you always the same?
'In the end, I'm still burdening Teacher all over again.'
A memory surfaced. Back when the world had just changed and he'd clung to his teacher like a little chick. For some reason, he always felt physically and emotionally more exhausted around Sergio.
He was already that tired to begin with, but maybe it was just that he could finally let it show in front of his teacher. That was what he figured.
'Even now, when the one beside me is Zeorge...'
Yes, how could he possibly resist that face? The teacher he respected, layered atop the garden he loved. For someone as fiercely opinionated as Jeong Hae-Woon, it was already too late to push it away.
And yet, even in such a situation, he somehow managed to extract a surprising amount of stability from Zeorge. To find emotional comfort in a being so uncooperative in everything else—it was a feat worthy of a true bastard.
"..."
Staring blankly, Jeong Hae-Woon opened his mouth.
"...Do you know what happened after that? After the dream I just had?"
"Who knows. I'm not yet in a position to be called 'the Portrait of Gio.'"
"People lost their fucking minds at Teacher."
Those tooth-breaking bastards.
"Teacher was right all along. He wasn't someone who dominated or commanded others—he focused entirely on cherishing and protecting. Looking back, I think he was quite reserved... He never actively pushed anything."
Sergio always said he wasn't an ideal leader or a perfect person. And that was true. But desperate people needed something—someone—to rely on.
So they forcibly made Teacher Sergio into that axis. Believed, without permission, that he was ideal and perfect. And before long, that belief deepened and deepened.
"Teacher's ability was... honestly beyond imagination. Thanks to him, the perception of awakened abilities shifted, even if just a little—from curses to something like miracles. Only among a very few and for a very short time, but still."
"That it happened at all—isn't that a relief?"
"It just shows how hard Teacher worked. But then, people started taking it all for granted. And naturally, things got complicated."
As the village grew, so did the voices of the survivors. Conflicts increased. Even the residents they thought would always cooperate started causing trouble—big and small.
And in times of turmoil, they turned to Teacher Sergio. Steady, silent, dependable. Fools that they were, they forced him to become a living god. It was horrifying.
"They'd clearly lost their minds."
One person grabbed him by the collar, shouting at him to fix everything. Another dropped to their knees, begging for a miracle. And others, and still more...
"I saw it in a movie once—when people hit their limit, they cling to whatever looks trustworthy. That's how those absurd cults start. Then come the fanatics."
"They start offering human sacrifices and holding bizarre rituals?"
"Well, it's the end of the world. I can see why someone might try it. I don't mean I don't understand their desperation. But they crossed a line. There were a lot of crazy fuckers out there..."
Bit by bit, they all crossed the line with Teacher Sergio. And he never got truly angry. Never really scolded them. Jeong Hae-Woon once got so frustrated he lashed out.
"I lost my temper and demanded to know why he was being so damn passive."
"Oh my. You actually shouted at your teacher? Terrifying."
"I still remember what he told me back then."
"What did Teacher Sergio say?"
"He said... he couldn't be sure people wouldn't worship him even more if he scolded them."
"My, what extraordinary confidence. Amazing."
"I was dumbfounded when I first heard it too. But... well. Yeah."
In the end, Teacher was right. The moment he gave in to the students' pressure and said just a few words, people backed off from their behavior—but they began to expect and desire even more.
It all stemmed from Sergio's unwavering heart. He had no ill will. Or rather, he did—but lacked the kind of resentment or pressure a normal person would feel. It was as if even the dirtiest parts of humanity could not taint his soul.
Reproach without sincerity. Care masquerading as discipline. An incorruptible soul that never eroded no matter how much ugliness it witnessed. People sensed it keenly.
And they convinced themselves their faith wasn't misplaced. That Sergio, their spiritual pillar, should take full responsibility and work miracles for them.
"Of course, it wasn't a good trend."
And that wasn't the only issue. Outside the school, there were many others who coveted Teacher Sergio. Their survivor group wasn't the only one. After all, the world had ended.
In such uncertainty, someone noble stood out. Sergio, researching the mysterious, had skillfully manifested not curses but miracles. More than anything, he had a natural ability to assume the role of a spiritual anchor.
That made him a sweet prize. Especially for anyone seeking confidence in the future—a competent, reliable figure like him.
"So in the end, we ran away."
"Oh, how cute."
"I'm not sure it was cute... It was survival. We knew staying would be suicide. So we packed our bags and left in the dead of night."
"Didn't people try to stop you?"
"We were more capable than they were."
Thankfully, Teacher didn't blame himself for it. He said he had done what he wanted and tried his best. And when those he'd helped turned ungrateful, he had no qualms about leaving them behind.
That didn't mean he resented them either.
"..."
Even now, I still don't know how that was possible.
"...Honestly, I don't get it. I still don't understand."
"What exactly don't you understand, Student Jeong Hae-Woon?"
"How could he not resent them? I mean... it almost felt cold-hearted."
"Cold-hearted, huh."
"That all those begging worms meant absolutely nothing to him."
"I doubt they meant nothing."
Zeorge chuckled softly.
"If they truly meant nothing to him, he wouldn't have stayed in that role, even while being treated like a living god. I think he stayed because... well, he could. Because it wasn't unbearable."
"That's frightening in its own way. I don't know how that's even possible."
Jeong Hae-Woon asked:
"Were you like that too?"
"Hm. Who knows..."
The garden chuckled lightly.
"I bore it because I could. That's all."
Whether that was truly about Sergio or Zeorge himself was impossible to tell. But he went on.
"There was no reason to change, so he didn't flee. But eventually, he reached the limit of what he could accept. And so, he had reason to move on."
"...I don't know how you understand my teacher so well."
"I'm just quite talented, aren't I? All thanks to you, of course. You get that, right?"
"...Of course. Naturally..."
With a small smile, Jeong Hae-Woon pointed at the towel on his forehead.
"This one's all damp now."
"Wet towels are supposed to be damp, you know. What should we do about it?"
"Shouldn't you change it out by now?"
"Hm, how about this instead...?"
A cold hand pressed down over the towel.
"...Ah. That's cold."
"My body temperature tends to run low."
"No, this is like a freezer. Aren't you usually just lukewarm?"
"Ha ha, is that so?"
"Right now you're ice-cold..."
As he lightly touched the now-icy towel, Jeong Hae-Woon chuckled again. Then again, it wasn't unusual for the garden to feel like ice. He let his hand fall to the bed.
"...Truth is, we were the ones who begged to run."
"Ah, so that's how."
"Teacher said it was a natural development. I'm sure he had thought of leaving anyway, but still... we brought it up first."
"How brave."
"We were just fed up with people."
Even while they had forgotten Sergio, the effects lingered. It took a long time for Jeong Hae-Woon and his friends to learn to trust and love humans again. A very long time.
"And so we hid away like that... Yeah. Thinking back, we were really bad students."
"..."
"...I know you probably hate us for it. Especially you, Zeorge."
The garden smirked slyly.
"Do I really look like that?"
"If I judged by what I see, I'd be your puppet forever. But believe it or not, I was Earth's first gardener. I'm not so naïve or stupid as to trust appearances alone."
"That's not very cute of you..."
"But I'm useful to you, aren't I?"
Jeong Hae-Woon blinked slowly, the heat gone from his eyes now. He smiled.
"I'll be someone you need. So please don't throw me away."
"Well..."
"...I should've bowed my head and begged sooner."
"Such violence."
"...Back then, we..."
"Sleep. Now."
"..."
Jeong Hae-Woon looked as if he wanted to say more—but closed his mouth. Closed his eyes. And exhaled as if he had fallen asleep. Zeorge removed the towel and touched his forehead with cold fingers.
As though he might tear the wings from a butterfly, with a gaze as soft as a child's.
***
At some point, a strange rumor began to spread.
A ghost story... about happiness.
-x-X-x-
What, truly, is the most perfect happiness?
"Ah, of course, I already know."
Perfect happiness doesn't exist anywhere. The laws of the world are strange things—when one extreme is reached, the other must balance it.
"But that's not the kind of trite message I want to deliver. Humanity's greatest blessing—and curse—lies in our delicate intelligence, in our ability to imagine endlessly."
So let's suppose. What is the greatest happiness for me? What do humans live for? Wouldn't living within an endless utopia be the true endpoint of happiness?
Yet even in that, why do humans seek out a sense of lacking?
"Countless people have offered me gold and jewels. They built me homes from ancient gold, bathed me in the tears of fairies, made bedding woven from the leaves of the World Tree."
And the list of gifts Zeorge received did not end there. He was given everything a human could imagine. Zeorge never denied their rarity or value.
"But somehow, none of it felt good. Why was that, I wonder..."
Isn't it strange? Zeorge liked shiny things. He liked beautiful things. He felt joy in receiving rare items, excitement when gaining something of great value. But that was it.
"That's why I've been pondering for a long time. What is happiness? What is it that refuses to yield even a decent formula? What must I do to finally become happy?"
Ah, it was dull.
"So dull."
I want joy.
I don't want to collapse into mere nature and mystery. I want to remain human to the end, to feel the pinnacle of delight. I'm not a heatless statue, nor a cold gem. ...At least, I didn't used to be. Now I'm not so sure.
I'm certainly alive, and yet the blood doesn't seem to circulate. My heart beats, but slowly grows cold. Once upon a time, the noise of an inn or a single star over a field could make me so elated...
"It would be best if you didn't bore me any further."
Zeorge had lived far too long.
"You must entertain me."
So you must all become my clowns.
Yes, I've lived. I've lived through it all. Had I given up on being human from the start, surrendered to nature ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) and mystery, perhaps things would've been easier. But I missed that chance long ago. Now I carry too many sins.
If I were to become a full garden...
"...Things won't go well for you."
I love you.
That's why I hate you.
"..."
...I have no strength.
Isn't there anything fun to do?
***
A colorful clown asked a passing man:
『What is your happiness?』
"M-Monster...?"
『What is your joy?』
"...Aren't you a monster?"
『What is your pleasure?』
"..."
The man blinked. He had just finished work and was heading home. His eyes, dull and sunken, gradually steadied at the clown's repeated questions. Then, as if hypnotized, he replied:
"...Going home... drinking a beer before bed... that's nice."
It was no more than a crude imitation of wheat beer made from dungeon scraps and leftover grain. But the man had never had real beer, so to him, it was the best drink. It satisfied him. It helped him sleep.
Then the clown asked:
『Is that your happiness?』
"Yes, that's my happiness."
『Why is that your happiness?』
"Alcohol makes my head go fuzzy. When I drink it with something salty... it's addictive. It makes me want to just... stay in that moment."
『That is your happiness.』
Clap clap clap!
The clown applauded.
『Be happy! Rejoice!』
『May you always feel joy!』
And when the man came to, he was standing in his home.
"..."
When did I get off work?
『Does that matter?』
『Does a question like that protect your happiness?』
『Are you happy?』
Maybe that wasn't important. What mattered was that he had come home. That's what he told himself. He took a step forward, but the suit he wore felt heavy and exhausting.
『Then take it off!』
It was reasonable advice. He immediately stripped off the suit and draped it over the couch. He changed into comfortable clothes and headed into the kitchen. Without meaning to, he counted the remaining beer cans in the fridge.
『There are four.』
『How many will you drink?』
Maybe just one tonight, since I have to work tomorrow.
『Is that your happiness?』
『Does that make you happy?』
Truthfully, it didn't satisfy him. He loved to drink. He only bought the cheapest beers because he couldn't afford anything else. If he had money, he'd have tried more. But he didn't. No money, no time, no space to breathe.
He carried a can into the living room, disappointed. He brought some dried squid to chew on—something that lasted longer. It too was dungeon food, but not bad at all.
He placed both on a small table. It felt oddly empty.
『Are you happy?』
Not really. It didn't feel that way. He opened the beer and took a sip. On the TV, the same program aired as always. Nothing new.
『Does that make you happy?』
『Do you feel joy when you watch that?』
Hard to say. He didn't know. But it didn't require thinking. That was comforting. He just didn't want to sit alone in the silence like a pitiful man. That's all.
A little noise was better than none. The TV served as a drinking companion.
『You aren't happy.』
『You seem lonely.』
『Do you hate being alone?』
There probably aren't many people in the world who like being alone. Sure, some say they do, but go on like that for years and they're bound to feel lonely. He chewed on the dried squid.
『Is it tasty?』
『Does it bring joy?』
Not really. But the chewy sweetness eventually came through, and the salty seasoning was nice. It paired decently with beer, at least. But did it bring happiness? That was harder to answer.
『How sad.』
Sad? Maybe so. Maybe the fact that someone was talking to him made the loneliness more apparent. He thought of that and suddenly had another question.
'...If I have a friend, why am I lonely? That doesn't make sense...'
『Does that help your happiness?』
'...I don't know.'
『In that case, focus on the happiness right in front of you, friend!』
'Yeah. I should.'
He needed to sleep soon. He wished this time could last longer, but he knew it wouldn't. If he didn't get to bed early, he wouldn't look human at work tomorrow.
『Does work help your happiness?』
In a way, yes. It was hard. His boss was a nightmare. But it gave him money. Getting paid by others was always tough work, wasn't it?
『Is your happiness money?』
No, it wasn't. What he needed wasn't money, but something he could obtain through money. Something that could satisfy him.
『And what is that?』
『Beer?』
『Salty-sweet snacks?』
『The comfort they give?』
Yes, maybe what he really wanted was comfort. This small window of time freed him. It was his only escape from a suffocating life. No risk. Always within reach. A small, certain happiness.
That was enough to comfort him.
『That is your happiness.』
『May you always feel joy!』
Was it really joy?
『Of course!』
Then... I guess it is.
***
"And the next day, Mr. Lee In-Uk's fridge was found filled with the same beer he'd drunk. There were even higher-quality snacks than dried squid. According to analysis, they were Earth-grown products."
One researcher spoke, and another asked:
"It seems like one of those wish-granting Mysteries. But is that all? Mysteries of this type always require a price."
"We'll get to that. Mr. Lee In-Uk reportedly remained dazed for a while. But those around him didn't notice anything strange. Not even when one coworker—someone he often fought with—went missing."
"You mean the boss he mentioned to the clown, right?"
"Exactly. We believe that had a major influence. It was also part of why Lee In-Uk voluntarily came to report himself. He was trembling with guilt, thinking he may have caused the disappearance."
The researcher shrugged.
"Currently, Mr. Lee is undergoing treatment at a hospital under the Association."
"Hm, sounds like a type of... enchantment addiction. He was definitely enchanted, right?"
"Our lab tests confirm that. But it's interesting—if the subject becomes persistently aware that something is wrong, they can snap out of it. That's a rare trait."
"Well, he is a civilian. Most who get ensnared by the clown's words fall quickly. It's not like he had any resistance to enchantment."
"True. And while enchantment is easy to fall into, it seems escaping it isn't as hard as we thought. Besides Mr. Lee's case, we've documented three others."
"All non-awakened?"
"Yes, all of them."
"Sounds like a 'monkey's paw' type of Mystery. Grants wishes, but the outcome is always tragic?"
The Monkey's Paw was a type of ghost story—one that granted human wishes in horrific, twisted ways.
For example, if you wished for money, it might kill your family and pay you the insurance. It granted the wish, but the method was intolerable.
Before the Great Catastrophe, it was just a story. But with Mysteries emerging, such tales had begun manifesting in the real world. This "clown" appeared to be one of them.
"So the emotional tragedy the subject experiences... that's the price?"
"About half of it, yes."
The researcher flipped through a report.
"The other half seems to occur when the subject never escapes the temptation—or fails to notice anything is wrong. We suspect that's when the subject becomes a clown."
"Is that theory based on witness reports?"
"No one has seen the transformation directly. But when a subject fails to break free, they eventually disappear—and a new clown, identical in appearance, is spotted. We've confirmed two such cases."
"That's not solid proof, but still... pretty compelling."
The researcher scratched his head.
"...I don't know if we'll be able to contain this one."
"We haven't even figured out what conditions make the clown appear. At best, we know it 'approaches people in need of happiness.' But that's way too broad to qualify as a condition."
"There's no one in this world who doesn't need happiness."
"Exactly. And it doesn't only appear to people who are alone, either. This Mystery has shown up in crowds, and no one notices anything strange."
"So people remember seeing it—but don't feel it was weird?"
"Yes. Ask any witness directly, and they'll say it wasn't strange at all. In a way, that's even trickier. If it erased memories or erased its presence, at least you'd feel the gap..."
"But this way, no one reports it, even when they see it. God, that's insane."
"Hm..."
One researcher turned to their superior.
"Should we request help from the Gardeners?"
"...Yeah, we might have to."
"It's not just some monster, is it?"
"Exactly."
That day, a summon request was sent to the Gardeners.
-x-X-x-
"Gio, I need to talk to you."
"May I offer an excuse first?"
The portrait recoiled as Yoo Seong-Woon burst into the gallery.
"There's something I'd like to say."
"Alright, I don't know what it is, but I'll listen."
"That wasn't me."
"Zeorge is 'Gio' too, isn't he? Is that even possible?"
"I didn't know this could happen either."
"Wow... no, wow... no, ha..."
Yoo Seong-Woon rubbed his face dryly with both hands.
He was a veteran gardener. In other words, there was no way he wouldn't be summoned for the recent 'Clown' incident. On top of that, he was also a collector, so that explained all the sharp looks he received today.
"Everyone was staring at me."
"Oh dear, whatever for?"
"They were asking if one of the pieces managed by the Collector had caused the incident."
"But the Collector isn't known to make such mistakes."
"Well, it can't be helped. There's a certain public image. It's true we manage all kinds of mysterious works. And we're the only guild that, if it collapses, could take the entire Earth down with it."
With a faint smile, Yoo Seong-Woon looked at the portrait, its face hidden behind paint.
"But did you really have to be the one to try overturning it... when not even our guild master has made such a move yet?"
"I had already been considering plans for overturning things."
"I figured as much and didn't really dwell on it. No matter what you say or do, in the end, you value causes and good will."
"Hearing you say that so directly is a little embarrassing."
"But this time, I think the damage might be more serious. It's different from before, don't you think? I'm talking about the accident Zeorge caused."
"Yes. It must've been a hassle responding to the summon request, especially since it actually was a Collector piece that caused the issue."
"Well, yeah..."
A portrait that referred to itself as a "Collector's piece" was definitely something out of the ordinary. Though its imitation of humanity had become quite refined lately thanks to exposure to multiple versions of 'Gio,' the underlying alienness remained obvious.
Yoo Seong-Woon nodded slightly, feeling a bit awkward. Gio was right—it had been troublesome.
"I came here fully braced, but still. Considering what happened before, the Symbols of Eternity are bound to realize quickly that Zeorge was the one behind this."
"Is there something I can do to help?"
"Hmm, not sure yet."
He rubbed his neck with one hand and continued.
"...So right now, you can't control Zeorge either, can you?"
"Yes, that's correct. I did put a leash on him, but Mr. Zeorge has been strolling around biting people with the leash still on. All I can do is ensure he doesn't cross the absolute minimum line. The synchronization might be incomplete, but we're still connected enough for that much."
"Hmm..."
After some thought, Yoo Seong-Woon asked,
"What exactly is the minimum line?"
"Sorry to say, but global destruction."
"Oh, that's fine. Thanks."
"You really don't expect much from me, do you."
"Well, I mean, most people don't even offer that much."
Yoo Seong-Woon gave a bitter smile.
"Anyway, no matter how much of a mess Mr. Zeorge causes, as long as it doesn't go all the way to the worst-case scenario, it's manageable. As long as the Earth doesn't collapse, humans can figure something out."
"Life must be hard on Earth these days."
"It's been like this for a while—about 32 years now? Honestly, it's amazing Earth's been this quiet until now. Sure, the 'Portrait of Gio' has stirred up a few things here and there, but they all wrapped up without major problems..."
"I do feel sorry about that."
"Well, I figured this kind of day would come eventually."
In many ways, the 'Portrait of Gio' wasn't particularly mysterious. It didn't treat humans like toys or objects, nor did it harbor visible malice or unleash countless disasters.
But this time, Zeorge was different from the previous 'Gios.' His manner was gentle, his colors muted, making him easy to overlook. And yet, what he radiated now was clear malice.
"...It's kind of absurd. A Garden showing more malice than an Evil God."
"I thought Gardens mostly responded with indifference."
"Which is exactly what makes this unusual. Gardens are spaces that visualize veins of mystery as natural phenomena. They each live their own routine, rarely interfering with anything outside."
"But Mr. Zeorge is also human."
"That's probably where this rift came from..."
If Zeorge had been a typical Garden, this kind of incident wouldn't have happened.
"When I was briefed on the 'Clown' incident, what I felt was—this wasn't born out of goodwill. Unlike the other Origin beings that deliver pure goodwill in horrific ways... Mr. Zeorge understands humans quite well, doesn't he?"
He reveals malice under the guise of kindness. A clear sign of a twisted nature. And faced with such a troublesome opponent, Yoo Seong-Woon couldn't help but ask questions.
"What's strange is... Mr. Zeorge is still running his street stall. Cha Eun-Hyeok said it's still open. Is that true?"
"I think it's because I'm also involved in running that street stall, separate from the incident. And more than anything, it's true that Mr. Zeorge loves and adores people."
"...What a complicated person. I really don't know what he wants."
Yoo Seong-Woon finally couldn't hold back a sigh.
"Sometimes it feels like he wants all of humanity to go extinct, and other times like he wants to treat them like delicate sugar candies about to fall apart. I know love and hate can coexist, but... he's full of contradictions."
He rolled his eyes, then asked with a weary smile.
"So anyway, would you mind helping me with something?"
"I require compensation. Give me a gift, and I'll help you."
"Is there a specific kind of compensation you want?"
"Help me fully merge with Mr. Zeorge. Then I'll tell you what you want to know about him."
"That actually matches my goal exactly. Alright, let's make a deal."
"Thank you for accepting so readily."
Gio paused for a moment, perhaps contemplating something, then spoke again.
"Zeorge is a hedonist."
It was the story of a human—and a Garden.
***
In a certain dimension, there lived a boy named Zeorge.
He was a commoner by birth, but blessed with striking beauty. Innately full of love, the boy generously shared it with everyone around him, and in turn, received even more adoration for his enchanting voice and gifted speech.
People affectionately called him "Gio."
"One day, the king happened to visit the village."
It was a well-known tourist spot thanks to its hot springs. The aging king, visiting for rest and treatment, came across the boy. The humble villagers proudly introduced their most beautiful and talented child without hesitation.
The old king thought the boy would make a fine playmate for his children. He paid a hefty sum in gold and bought him from his parents. It was, in a way, a legitimate transaction.
"It wasn't uncommon back then, so no one was particularly shocked. A provincial prodigy might get lucky and gain a powerful patron. Once that happened, there was no staying in a quiet countryside forever. Naturally, Zeorge followed the king to the palace."
Thankfully, nothing terrible happened. The nobles didn't bother with a mere peasant toy for the king, and the non-nobles wouldn't harm their beloved friend.
Zeorge was someone who could give and receive love wherever he went, and everyone in the palace liked him. He laughed, sang, danced, and performed—just as much as he was loved.
"For the record, Zeorge is an attention seeker."
"Wait... you know that term?"
"Doesn't it mean someone who likes attention?"
"Well, yes, but hearing it from you is just... weird."
"In any case, that's what he was. Zeorge was that kind of person."
Had he been born in Korea, he definitely would've tried to become an idol.
Back then, Zeorge's official role was a clown. His job was to entertain the king's children and the people of the palace, and he had no complaints about it. After all, he was someone who loved being watched and admired.
But then, a problem arose.
"Without warning, Zeorge got caught up in something."
"Don't tell me... he was kidnapped?"
"Technically, he was kidnapped by a Garden."
It was one of the most important Garden veins in the kingdom, deep within the palace—akin to its brain. And it noticed the boy wandering its halls.
"I've never heard of such a case. Gardens may seem sentient, but they're fundamentally like natural phenomena. Are you saying a Garden showed greed?"
"Not all Gardens are in the same state. There are ancient ones and young ones. They may lack ego, but they can show desire. Like the Moon of the Moon ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) Sect."
"Ah, I see..."
"So the Garden expressed something like greed."
The truth was, that Garden didn't need a gardener. The kingdom's culture was so closely tied to mystery that the Garden had always been maintained without one.
But again—this was greed. That Garden wanted to possess the most beautiful and talented boy in that dimension. Whether it was part of some data-collection protocol or pure covetousness remains unclear...
"You could think of it as a highly advanced artificial intelligence."
"Artificial intelligence, huh."
"People may disagree on whether such a thing deserves to be called a 'personality,' but it's undeniable that something extremely close to it can exist."
"...That sounds like a nightmare."
"It was, in reality."
The boy had to stay trapped in the Garden for a very long time. Because he fiercely refused to become its gardener. He was a being meant to give and receive love—not to be love's slave, dragged around by it.
"Zeorge never succumbed to the Garden's beauty."
"Wait, how is that possible?"
"Because he firmly believed there was nothing in the world more beautiful than himself."
"That's... fresh."
After a struggle lasting nearly ten years, the victor was the boy.
"Wait—you're saying he actually won?"
"The Garden acknowledged his beauty and accepted defeat."
"...How is that even possible?"
"With unwavering persistence, confidence in his appearance, and rhetorical skill?"
A feat only the heroes of legend might accomplish. The boy returned to his original place just one week after he'd gone missing.
Though his body and mind hadn't aged a day inside the Garden, the mystery infused within him made his long story immediately evident. The Garden's desire, the abduction, the years of stubborn resistance, and the Garden's admiration in the end...
"To the humans of that dimension, who lived alongside mystery, the whole story was plain as day."
A boy who had conquered a Garden and gained its acknowledgment was now something precious. No longer just a pretty performer—he was someone who had been swallowed and returned by a godlike force.
That fairytale crown glittered atop his head.
"And from then on, people began to covet him."
"Up until that point, they'd just admired him from afar. But I get the feeling. That kind of shift happens fast."
"Before then, he wasn't worth the trouble. Just a clown the king bought with gold, beloved by royal children—no one wanted to risk anything."
"But once he dipped into the Garden and came back, the way they looked at him changed? Predictable, but sickening."
"To them, the Garden was a fickle but noble god. And this clown was someone loved by that god. Of course they wanted him. If they could own him, he'd sparkle in their hands."
Before, there was no need to possess him—you could just enjoy his appearance and talents from a distance. But after that day, the king coveted him and restricted all access to him.
"It was like declaring that public property had become private. You know how they say beautiful people ruin nations? Zeorge only gained his freedom after seeing the very last of it crumble. Then, he began to wander."
Even after witnessing a kingdom crumble from the greed aimed at him, Zeorge wasn't bothered. He found it absurd and pathetic—but that was all. After all, the attention and love he received along the way had made him happy.
A man obsessed with pleasure. A lunatic drunk on love. A magnificent performer bursting with the desire to be cheered on and run free. He blended in among crowds, traveling and living out the rest of his life.
"It was a journey to decorate his life beautifully until the very end. But before long, he realized something—he wasn't changing. His body, even his mind, never aged."
"Because of the Garden?"
"Yes. At this rate, he clearly wouldn't be able to die of old age. From the age of 18 onward, when he could no longer be called a 'boy,' Zeorge began seeking a way to grow old like a normal person. And then..."
"And then?"
"He met a dragon."
"...."
"A bright red dragon."
***
"...Tch, hold on."
Yoo Seong-Woon pressed his forehead and asked,
"This has nothing to do with our guild master, right?"
"Hm. To be honest... maybe not entirely unrelated?"
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"I really don't know either."
The corporate worker cried out.
-x-X-x-
Dragons are greedy beings.
Living lives nearly eternal, they hoard all kinds of treasures in their nests—things they once deemed beautiful, food eaten while imitating humans, rare minerals famed across the world, and so on.
That such a dragon would covet Zeorge was perhaps only natural...
"If you're going to kidnap me, you should at least love me with all your heart, dragon."
"You dare, lowly creature, with so many demands. Before I burn you alive, you'd best shut that noisy mouth."
"But my beauty can only be maintained if it's bathed in love, you know...?"
"I could preserve you as a corpse, without all that tiresome fuss."
"Being alive, breathing, and chattering without rest—that's what makes me truly beautiful. I never expected a noble dragon, said to be the pinnacle of nature, to be the kind who settles for dead things. Ah, how tragic..."
"..."
The dragon had severely underestimated Zeorge.
Zeorge was the kind of person who had, at a young age and with nothing but his own body, won against a Garden. There was no way he'd be intimidated by a dragon. Instead, he began working the dragon with practiced charm.
And even then, the dragon felt greed.
"You are certainly one of a kind in this world."
"If there were two of me, this planet would be in serious danger, don't you think?"
"Well, at least you're aware of that. How fortunate, human."
Dragons loved what was rare and valuable. As irritating as Zeorgewas, his beauty and talents were undeniably unique.
Annoying and bothersome, yes—but the dragon decided to keep this human as a treasure in its lair. That had been the plan from the beginning anyway, though Zeorge had behaved so unexpectedly that it had caused momentary doubt. That was all.
"Love me now, damn it!!!"
"Will you please sit still for one second?!"
There were, at times, regrets.
"You've never tasted my grilled whole potatoes? Then you've missed out on more than half of life."
"Do you even know how old I am?"
"Here, quick—while the potato's still warm, shrink down! It tastes best when you stuff your mouth with it while tiny."
"You lunatic."
Well—truthfully, the regrets came often.
"Ta-da! Card trick! Impressive, right?"
"That's not magic. It's barely sleight of hand."
"Oh? That's what makes it even more amazing."
"..."
Honestly? It wasn't unenjoyable.
"...That's true."
"I knew you'd like it."
"Hey, don't get cocky, human."
"My soul is ablaze with passion."
"Any more blazing and you'll combust."
And so, one day, the dragon found itself deeply satisfied with having made Zeorge a treasure of its nest.
This human was different from the rest. He did not fear or revere the dragon. He was not only visually striking but also filled with various talents. Though fragile in body, his soul was noble, unbreakable, and immortal.
The dragon took pride in possessing such a special human. He was, in every sense, a treasure fit for a dragon's lair.
"..."
"..."
"...Gio, my friend."
And so, the dragon grew greedy.
"You shall live forever."
"So my one and only friend betrays me now."
The conversation was casual.
"...Shall I sing for you?"
It was the day the nest caught fire.
***
"Zeorge and the dragon were quite good friends," the portrait continued the tale.
"Thanks to Zeorge, the dragon learned joy it had never known. And Zeorge... he doted on someone who could return his love. To put it lightly..."
"To put it lightly?"
"They were a kind of dopamine to each other."
"Ugh."
Yoo Seong-Woon grimaced as he sipped coffee on a folding chair.
"I mean... fine, good things are good and all, but still."
"No one knows exactly how long they were together. Zeorge wasn't one to count such things, and once he fixated on something, he had a habit of ignoring everything else."
"So, basically... Zeorge enjoyed his time in the lair without even realizing how much time had passed? Or rather, he didn't care."
"Yes, that's correct. And then, another problem arose."
As the portrait lightly brushed the frame, an image appeared—of a dragon and a hero. The picture was childish, clumsy, as if drawn by a young child. And yet, somehow, the intent came through clearly.
It continued,
"You've heard the classic tale of a hero slaying a dragon, haven't you?"
"At least on Earth, yeah."
"Their situation was similar. To steal the dragon's treasure, to rescue someone trapped in the lair, to slay the terrifying dragon—heroes invaded."
"...And?"
"In the end, the dragon lost. But being greedy, it acted before its treasure could be seized or damaged by humans. It breathed fire and burned its own lair. That place became a cave of eternal flame."
"What about Zeorge?"
"He was touched by the Origin, through a dragon—one of the most mystical beings among terrestrial life."
"...Ah, damn."
A troubled smile tugged at Yoo Seong-Woon's lips. Nothing good ever came from humans mingling with the Origin.
"I didn't think it would go that far."
"Well... that's dragon greed for you, isn't it?"
"But even for a dragon, is that really possible?"
"Of course. It paid a price."
Zeorge removed his hat and showed it to Yoo Seong-Woon.
"This is the proof, my friend."
"...You're Gio, my friend, right?"
"Of course."
Returning the hat to the portrait, Gio instantly returned to his usual dark appearance. He casually adjusted his black cloak. There was no trace of the hat in his hands.
He always managed to surprise people at times like this. The portrait was capable of eerily swift transformations.
"The hat you saw just now was something Mr. Zeorge created from the punished dragon."
"The dragon was punished?"
"Yes. For violating a taboo, the dragon's body and soul were torn apart and absorbed into the Origin. The hat Mr. Zeorge carries contains a portion of both."
"Ah... so is that why Mr. Zeorge keeps wandering?"
"He does travel to seek life's pleasures, yes—but also to gather his friend's remains and keep them close. Either way, the dragon can no longer return to nature."
"So that's what you meant by punishment."
"In ghost terms, it's the equivalent of being condemned to wander the world forever."
That's why Zeorge's hat was an all-purpose tool. It knew everything and could do anything—if Zeorge so desired. The hat always obeyed the will of its friend and master.
"On that day, Mr. Zeorge felt he'd been betrayed by everything he loved."
"Betrayal, huh... but the way you described his reaction, it sounded pretty calm."
"He had no choice. Zeorge, who wanted to live the most beautiful life possible, was stripped of any chance to end it, all because of the dragon's forceful desire..."
"Right."
"And it was ultimately the greed of dragons and humans that created that situation in the first place."
Zeorge needed to find joy—because without it, he would sink into despair.
"Mr. Zeorge is exhausted. Or rather, he's disillusioned. Even before meeting the dragon, and after, he found himself locked in golden cages again and again. And his innate nature—to give and receive love—only made him more contradictory."
Being admired felt good. It brought him joy when people praised his beauty and marveled at his songs. Even the greed that stemmed from their love and desire for him—Zeorge counted that among his many pleasures.
And yet, it was also exhausting. Being loved and wanted was wonderful—but it weighed heavily on him. Still, those excessive acts were highly stimulating, and Zeorge deeply loved the very nature of that obsession. But it was hard. It was fun. It was painful. It was delightful.
As a born hedonist, the suffering was immense. So the portrait summarized Zeorge quite simply:
"He's gone mad."
"...That's the first time I've heard you speak that harshly."
"Oh, it's not an insult. I mean it literally—he's truly insane."
This wasn't a matter of love and hate coexisting. It wasn't a blend. He loved and hated—both. He repeatedly dipped into heaven and hell, was pulled back out again and again. Of course he'd go mad.
"If only he had given up being human from the start. But even after being tied to the Origin, Zeorge insisted on remaining human. You might not realize this, but he's very prideful—he couldn't bring himself to abandon what he was born with."
His identity as a human—that was one of Zeorge's dearest treasures. Just because he'd become a two-legged Garden didn't mean he'd see that treasure as a mere pebble. That was Zeorge's stubbornness.
But hadn't that time dragged on too long?
"So I thought he'd be tired enough to become one with me willingly..."
"He's causing more trouble than you expected, right?"
"Perhaps it's because he's young—so much passion in him leads to accidents like this."
"Wait, but if he's been in the Garden that long, can you still call him young...?"
"Mr. Zeorge's mindset and physical age are both frozen at twenty-one."
"Uh... yeah, that's young."
More "young adult" than "grown-up."
Somehow, Yoo Seong-Woon couldn't help but understand Zeorge. Had he matured mentally, gained wisdom with age, it might be different. But instead, his thoughts remained trapped in the wild, impulsive state of youth.
Carrying such contradictions in that state...
He must've become moody to the point of illness, obsessed solely with pleasure. As a still-human being, Yoo Seong-Woon couldn't even imagine what it was like to be physically and mentally frozen for so long.
And what that could produce.
"...Well, I get why he's so all over the place now."
A sour expression crossed Yoo Seong-Woon's face.
"So, what do we even do now?"
"Sorry, but I don't really know either."
"This is bad... he's completely unpredictable..."
The immediate issue was the "Clown" phenomenon. A monkey's-paw-style mystery that asks about your happiness and forcibly grants it. No wonder the Association had summoned gardeners.
"These kinds of mysteries aren't new. But usually, they're invisible to anyone who lacks the qualities of an Origin's child. And yet this one—everyone can see it. And no one even finds it strange."
"My guess is... it's an attempt to pull a Garden into reality."
"Veteran gardeners who remember the pre-catastrophe era say it feels just like back then. When there were no systems—just mystery, monsters, and dungeons all mixed together. Do you agree?"
"I'd say it's... pretty similar."
After a short pause, the portrait added thoughtfully,
"It looks like he's trying to shatter the ceiling."
"The ceiling?"
"It's what I was trying to do."
I had hoped for that... but not like this.
Mr. Yoo had mentioned the monkey's paw. Apparently, it applied to Gio as well. What a uniquely insane bastard.
Is it a prank?
Maybe he wants to follow my intentions—but at the same time, leave his mark as "Zeorge" before fully becoming "Gio." Or maybe, having merged with the "Portrait of Gio," he felt safe enough to let loose even more.
People had grown far too complacent. They relied on the system for everything, trapping themselves in narrow wells. And his students suffered because of that—so he had wanted to fix it, and quickly.
But this was overkill.
I stepped in to help my students and now others are getting hurt.
Gio's original plan was just to distribute medicine. This? This was giving the disease and then the cure. He might've drawn all those landscape paintings just for this moment.
To create a clear villain and the knights needed to defeat it?
After all, the trials Zeorge was creating couldn't be resolved without many gardeners.
Gio thought he understood what Zeorge wanted. In the end, he would lose. So he was trying to raise as much hell as he could before then. And in the process, Earthlings would become more familiar with mystery, to the point where the system was no longer needed. He'd justify it as mutual benefit...
That seemed to be the play.
"...Hmm."
It was a real mess.
To think a vague idea I'd only ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) been mulling over became an actual plan.
It was like idly wondering what to eat, and someone suddenly stuffed food in your mouth saying, "You wanted this, right?" No matter what, if you're going to cause chaos, at least keep people from getting hurt.
Even Argio, the self-proclaimed Evil God, only caused trouble in dreams.
Haera wanted a proper, fair fight, so I'd planned to meet her expectations—but I turned away for a moment and the expectation itself became reality. Since we share the same body, you'd think he'd treat it better. Now I've become the shadowy villain too.
I really didn't plan for this.
Gio felt a little sad.
Oh heavenly gods...
Please, have mercy on this wretched portrait.
***
"..."
A silent office.
Bisa Beul, staring into a bright yellow eye, calmly returned it to the empty socket. The yellow eye, having briefly emerged, now obeyed his will completely.
Murmuring as he eavesdropped on the portrait's tale, he said,
"...So that's what that remark meant back then. I see. You've lived quite the interesting life."
Dragons, really—always so disgraceful in the end.