The man's only friend had died.
"He must have thought himself a match for even the gods in greed."
Why had he gone so far—driving his own fate into ruin—just to keep the man tethered to the earth?
Because of that, the man was forced to continue a life of immortality he hadn't planned for. The life was pleasant... yet somehow grotesque.
"You're truly beautiful."
"Thank you."
Sweet words burned the tongue.
"Your singing voice is like a divine instrument from the heavens!"
"You recognize my worth."
Sincere admiration pleased the ears.
"To think such a perfect being exists...!"
"..."
Profound reverence fattened the soul.
"...Haha!"
And yet, it eroded much of the man.
He was no longer human. When he had been, whispers of love had only tasted sweet. But now that he had become a flower, a tree, the earth itself—it somehow grated on him.
'Why is that?'
Their praise still tasted sweet, but the sensation had grown rough. It no longer felt like a lush field of golden wheat, but like a dry cake choking the breath. At the very least, he wanted to breathe.
Had the world begun to scorn him not as a man, but as something other?
"...It's ridiculous..."
When he was human, his beauty had been an honor. He proved that a mere human could be something greater. But once he ceased to be human, it became nothing more than a fact. Simply, a fact.
People spoke with awe, claiming he had become more than human—but the man didn't feel that way. He felt less than human. And whenever that faintly miserable feeling crept in, he whispered of love.
"I love you."
"Ah, there will never be a beauty more perfect than you..."
"Whisper it again, with more sincerity—my love."
Unless they proved it endlessly, he could not accept that their love was real. Their confessions, praise, and reverence felt like mockery unless those who loved him made an effort. Only then did it feel right.
"More... just a little more."
And so, those who claimed to "love" him always walked into ruin.
"..."
He knew—it was all his fault.
'I was the one who pushed them to the edge.'
Proofs of shapeless illusions never ended well.
He had never pushed them with his hands, but he whispered: Beyond this cliff lies your paradise. Who could resist jumping? He found himself laughable—just as foolish as those blind lovers, repeating this ritual of love.
And in such moments, he always thought of that cursed friend.
"If only you hadn't made me like this. Don't you think?"
He resented him.
"You reduced me to nothing more than wood or a gemstone."
Sure, trees have their own worth. So do gems. But if he had remained human, what meaning would any of that worth have?
There was nothing. No substance. Nothing that lingered. Nothing of this world. The man would sometimes grow sorrowful and mutter to himself.
"Come play with me again."
He missed those days.
"I'll make you something tasty."
He wished that adorable pig-dragon who loved to eat would return. Then all this meaningless business about love could stop. Then he could show him his friendship. But the dragon never returned.
And so, he had no choice. The man set out to find the dragon himself. He wasn't a hero, much less righteous—but he had to track down the sinful dragon. One by one, the remnants began to gather in his hands.
"..."
It wasn't easy.
"...What are you, a sugar sculpture?"
Shattered into pieces and melted away—he couldn't even find a trace.
It was absurd. What happened to the powerful dragon's body and might? The man had wandered through countless dimensions and lived countless lives, yet found fewer than five fragments.
Even so, having a goal brought great comfort to the wanderer.
"When I finally find you again, you're getting scolded."
So he grumbled as he continued walking.
A patch of dragon's skin melted black. Unrecognizable bones. A thread spun from his tears into spider silk. A single claw turned to underground gold. A breath trapped inside an artifact...
"Excuse me, sir."
"...Hello?"
"Yes, hello."
Around that time, someone spoke to the man.
"I don't know what kind of fairy you are or what you're searching for in this city..."
Polite yet dry voice.
"But I wouldn't recommend walking around with all those visible treasures."
"Oh? Is that so?"
"Of course. Even in this glittering city, there are starving children. And desperate children move fast. I don't want to blame either their desperation or your purity. Will you help me?"
"How can I help you?"
"It's simple—just hide those treasures somewhere safer. Don't parade around with them and that flashy face of yours."
It was a woman dressed in a stylish suit.
She was a bit taller than the local women the man knew, and though the fabric wasn't high quality, the outfit itself was quite fashionable. The man remembered—it was the current city trend.
"I'm the owner of this shop."
She introduced herself as a tailor.
"Shall we exchange names, sir?"
"I don't like it when people vanish after learning my name, miss."
"Oh my, how sweet. Call me Jay."
"Is that your name?"
"That's what everyone calls me."
"Then please call me Gio."
That was the name the human and dragon had once called him.
"I'm glad to have made a good friend as soon as I arrived."
"With a face that sweet, calling me a friend will make me fall for you instantly. You're dangerous, you know. What a lovely day for expanding my network."
"Is expanding your network something to be happy about?"
"Look at my shop. In a small tailor shop like this, the most important thing is how many people you know. Well, I guess that's true for all clothing stores..."
Jay was a good friend. She had manners. She often whispered sweet things—but she was light about it. All her love confessions were just a way of speaking. The man liked that about her.
Then one day, the man made a request to his friend.
"Would you mind working on this?"
"...It's damaged, but isn't this expensive leather? It's one of the treasures you always carry around."
"Of course. It's priceless."
"I don't know how to tan leather."
"Please ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) learn."
"What kind of absurdity is this?"
But in the end, his friend gave in to the absurdity and learned leathercraft. Still, working on the man's treasure-hide was no easy task. Jay sometimes got angry.
"Where did you even get this kind of leather?!"
"Look at my face and calm down."
"How could I calm down when you're handing me ruined leather and asking me to fix it?! You've got no shame! I make clothes—I don't process raw materials!"
"You already learned it, so don't complain..."
"You think this is complaining, you universally beloved bastard?! If you had even a shred of the conscience equal to today's pile of love letters, you wouldn't be doing this to me!!"
"Ahaha!!"
"You're laughing?! You laughed just now?!"
But in the end—she did it.
"Next is this."
"...Who are you?"
"Please take care of this too."
"...Who even are you to me?"
"Your lovely friend Gio."
"I don't remember having a friend like that?"
"Oh come now, such jokes..."
"You think this sounds like a joke?"
Fortunately, she was a talented craftswoman, respectful of her friend, and someone who always finished what she started. In the end, Jay completed work on five of the "treasures."
With them, she made the gentleman a hat.
"This is the gift you wanted."
"..."
The man had asked her to make something from those materials—and she'd been bothered by the fact that he, always dressed like a layabout, didn't even own a proper hat.
"...Thank you."
The dragon's melted black skin gleamed like obsidian.
The unrecognizable bones, combined with a breath trapped in an artifact, became a blue ribbon.
The thread of spider silk spun from dragon's tears and the golden claw turned into embroidery threads adorning the hat.
"Thanks to you, my friend is clean now."
"..."
By then, his friend had grown old—an aged artisan.
"I must be going now, Jay."
"...Damn fairy bastard."
"I told you, I'm not a fairy."
"Screw off, you plague."
"Then I'll come visit again."
It wasn't a lie.
The man wandered through more lives to collect more traces of the dragon. Then, on a sunny patch of wildflowers, he sat down and wove a flower crown. Even if she had aged and turned to soil, he could still leave a gift on her grave.
After countless cycles of reincarnation, when he returned in a young body to find his friend again—of course, she was dead. Time had passed here too, while he'd been living other lives.
"..."
"Ah, just as I thought..."
But contrary to Zeorge's expectations, Jay was not resting in a clean, peaceful grave.
"The record was right. There really was a fairy!"
"...And who are you?"
"Please call me Bell. I've been waiting a long time for you to arrive."
"That... that's definitely my friend."
"To think you'd be such a young gentleman. It must be cold with the snow—shall I prepare a banquet for you?"
"That hand belongs to Jay."
"Oh my... how could something be so beautiful..."
"..."
The familiar remnant soaked in preservatives was hardly different from his memories. At the very least, it likely hadn't been a natural death.
No matter who had crafted them, the assorted works were too neatly preserved—yet time showed in their finish. Drawn in by a familiar scent, what greeted the man was merely the figure of a friend turned into bait.
He had forgotten—thanks to meeting such a good friend like her.
"...Ahaha."
Zeorge had always been beautiful—coveted by all.
"Do you love me, Bell?"
That was why he had whispered love.
***
"...It may not be the clearest example,"
Aram began to speak after finishing her analysis.
"There are monsters that can be lured by hanging the corpse of their mate in an open field. And there are many recorded cases of using a loved one as bait to summon a specific mystical entity."
The success rate of such summoning methods is high—but equally high is the chance of provoking the entity's wrath. Modern Earthlings generally avoid using such crude techniques. Nonetheless, Aram nodded as if she generally understood the context.
"This dimension clearly had Mystics. And the owner of the accessories we've found so far belonged to a class of people who had frequent contact with those Mystics. They would have known how such baiting methods work."
"I think I also understand why they used such a brutish form of preservation. The dimension was saturated with Mystics, but the techniques for handling them were primitive. They had no choice but to preserve the 'bait' in a way that allowed it to degrade."
"Still, to go as far as collecting all of them and storing them together... They must've believed that the more medium they had to summon the 'Fairy,' the better. It might seem crude to us, but by the standards of that era, it's not entirely irrational."
A Collector's Guild member, who had been quietly listening to the Moon Cult priests' analysis, asked,
"Then this flower crown..."
"Was probably made by the 'Fairy,' like the letter's author."
One of the priests stroked their chin and said,
"Seems like the 'wrong answer' was Bell's trace of love for the Fairy. The 'correct answer' is the trace of friendship the Fairy left for Jay. It's fortunate that the owner of this garden made their story so clear."
"So it was the garden's master themselves who wanted this story reflected?"
"It's possible the story was reflected unintentionally. As you Collectors are aware, this entire garden was transformed into a dungeon by the Black Cloak, wasn't it? There's a high chance it was forcibly projected."
"Then how exactly are we supposed to strategize this dungeon by finding things like these 'answers'? I don't really get it. Even if we do find something called a correct answer—then what?"
"Hmm, well... If there's anything we can conclude here..."
One priest, making a sour face, continued,
"It's one of two things, isn't it?"
"...Ah."
"The right and wrong answers are already laid out."
"I see."
The Collector's Guild member nodded.
"It's up to us to choose."
To become Bell—or to become Jay.
The direction the garden would take would depend on that choice.
***
Then, Jeong Hae-Woon asked,
"So?"
His expression was somewhat indifferent.
"Are you really going to show yourself in front of them?"
"...I don't know. Stuff like that."
"Our Black Cloak sure set the stage well."
"The dungeon's set up well, that's all. If we're talking schemes, I'm better at them."
"That's a stretch."
"Hey, it's true! Do you know how terrifyingly intricate my plots can be?"
"Scary, for sure."
The Moon Cult and Collector's teams were busy talking about right and wrong answers. So they must've already figured out how to conquer this illusion of a dungeon. In the end, they would have to summon the being behind it—Zeorge.
'They'll have to at least summon this garden if they want to do any real damage... and seeing this beautiful face is part of the strategy, isn't it?'
But there were only two reasons that would ever compel him—who hated to lose—to show himself to humans. Either to whisper love for their happiness, or to be drawn in by a friendship too compelling to refuse.
Which meant he might really show up. He was that mercurial. Like a garden with no visible logic, his thoughts were impossible to read.
"..."
Jeong Hae-Woon, still silent, asked again,
"...Do you hate humans?"
"I do."
"But you love them."
"I do."
"You're fickle."
"Could I be more fickle than humans?"
Probably not.
-x-X-x-
"I don't think Zeorge hates people."
"...Is that because he said he 'loves' humans?"
Dan Haera, walking down the path, asked this of the platinum-haired Hunter Sergio.
"More than that, it's because I see some similarities between Zeorge and myself. I just imagined something."
"What sort of imagination?"
"I thought—what if it were me instead?"
"..."
Dan Haera's expression twisted ambiguously.
"...That sounds like a conclusion only you could reach, Teacher. You're not someone who knows how to resent or be angry—so would you really hate humans, just because they turned on you?"
"Well, even I harbor some degree of like and dislike... and I'm not that thoughtless. I considered Zeorge's terrible personality quite thoroughly before coming to this hypothesis. At the very least, his love isn't fake."
"It's not something easy to understand with ordinary sensibility. From what I can tell, the owner of this dungeon clearly hates humans. And you're saying that's all part of love?"
"His love and hatred are completely separate concepts. But they coexist."
Gio muttered seriously.
"Like wanting to eat jjajangmyeon, but also craving pasta at the same time."
"..."
"Even if they don't go together, if circumstances allow, someone will eat both. That someone is Zeorge. He's greedy enough to afford that sort of indulgence."
"...That's some metaphor..."
"But it's a pretty fitting one, don't you think?"
He loves humans—but part of him wants to see them utterly ruined. He wants to enjoy only good things, yet part of him longs to be wrecked. Giovanni found Zeorge's inner world frankly pathetic.
"In a way, it's like having decision paralysis and dumping your fate onto others. He probably feels like, 'whatever happens, happens'—but the poor souls who die because they made the choice for him, what crime did they commit?"
Gio blinked slowly.
"Besides, it's not like there are only bad people in the world."
"...That's true."
"Then he must know there are people worthy of being loved."
No one knew how long Zeorge had lived.
But he must have walked many lands and lived many lives, seen more human faces than anyone. Surely, within that mass of humanity, there were plenty of bad ones—but just as surely, there were people good enough to make him forget the rest.
"His love isn't flimsy enough to overlook that fact. Which is why, I believe, he went mad even more easily."
In the end, he must have abandoned his own right to choose.
Torn between love and hatred for humans, unable to lean either way, he must have felt like a tree or a gemstone—stripped of the right to choose anything at all.
"I understand what he's going through. But that doesn't mean I condone the absurdity of it."
"Not many people would, when there's this much blood involved."
"In any case, what I want to say is—if you want to summon Zeorge, you need to show him a human archetype that suits him. Either truly provoke his hatred, or genuinely evoke his affection."
"Neither sounds easy, but if I had to pick, provoking him would be faster. It'd make the raid harder, but at least we could summon him sooner."
Dan Haera lifted her head and looked out at the world of the garden. Despite being called a "garden," the scene resembled modern Korea more than anything idyllic. After a moment, she spoke.
"...I don't think this dungeon belongs to any of us. From what I can tell, this garden isn't one that was built to expose truths—it's just a passing space."
"Are you preparing to part ways?"
"Yes. I've been away from my position for too long. I never intended to let this drag out so much. I just hope my staff haven't been wiped out in the meantime."
"Being the Association President seems like a very difficult position."
"I'm just now starting to feel the weight of that responsibility. It's been a long time since I felt this way. I'm worried—can I still play the role of President like this?"
Gazing at the garden shaped like a city, Dan Haera turned back toward Gio.
"...Teacher."
"Yes."
"I still feel desire."
Though wearing the form of a priestess, to Gio, she was a student. But Dan Haera spoke like a person confessing in a way she'd done many times before—it was no longer difficult.
What could she do? Human desire was, at its core, ugly in its honesty. It wasn't much of an excuse, but that was how Dan Haera thought. She was already an adult, a wicked one, twisted beyond repair.
"Now more than ever, I'll be swayed by my emotions and follow my desires. You may end up regretting sparing me. I can't imagine you regretting anything, Teacher, but still..."
"I do regret things, sometimes."
"That makes it even more dangerous. I still think you should have killed me. Not just for the past, but for the future."
Dan Haera smiled like someone wincing.
"...Don't you think Mr. Zeorge and I are quite alike?"
It was contradictory. Her guilt toward her teacher already made her a sinner—and she wished for either redemption or a second chance. Yet at the same time, she still wanted to use her teacher, who had become more than a god.
She wanted to die—and live. She wanted to repent—but also remain filthy. She wanted to atone—but also felt, deep down, that she had been right. Maybe she should stop here—but she also wanted to go even further.
"But you still have no intention of becoming Earth's... master, do you, Teacher?"
"Are you out of your mind?"
"I thought so."
Dan Haera nodded.
"...Well, I suppose karma really does exist in this world."
And it was about time that karma caught up to her. That's what Dan Haera decided. All across Earth and its many dimensions, the balance between good and evil had always been kept that way.
She lifted her head and looked her teacher in the eye.
"See you later."
"Don't cause any incidents."
"Of course."
"I'm not just saying that. Don't take it lightly, Haera."
Gio smiled.
"The reason I treat you this way is... because I understand you—but I have no right to forgive your sins."
Even now, she wanted to kneel at his feet and ask for punishment.
"...Yes."
But because she was far too greedy—she didn't.
***
"President...!"
"Everyone, assemble."
Dan Haera called her subordinates together.
"Remember this."
"..."
"The Korean Association's top priority is the subjugation of Gardener Jeong Hae-Woon."
"Yes, President!!"
Whatever the end might be—it was time to finish it.
***
Meanwhile, Gio had also returned to his original team.
"Gio...!!"
"Mr. Yoo Seong-Woon."
"Gio, why did you take so long?!"
"Mr. Yoo Seong-Woon, people are staring."
"What if even a strand of your hair got damaged—do you know how much I worried?!"
"I'd prefer you not stress over something like hair."
Yoo Seong-Woon was the most visibly agitated, but unfortunately for Gio, he wasn't the only one. The guild members were visibly relieved to see the piece from Basement Floor 5 of the Gallery return safely after acting independently.
"We're so glad you returned unharmed."
"You weren't hurt anywhere, were you?"
"Did you encounter anything unpleasant?"
At a glance, it sounded like they were worried about a colleague who had come back from a dangerous mission—but the Moon Cult priests weren't so easily fooled. Aram and a few others whispered among themselves.
"...Did someone just say 'damage'?"
"I'd heard the Collectors treat Hunter Sergio as a kind of artwork, but still, this is a bit much."
"The atmosphere feels... strange. Is it really okay to leave this be?"
"But commenting on how another guild handles its members could be misinterpreted... It might be seen as improper."
"Still, I don't think it's great that they're acting this openly..."
Through it all, Bisa Beul simply smiled. It was the kind of look one gives when watching their young child take their first steps.
"You seem amused, Guildmaster."
"I am."
Watching these clumsy, adorable human relationships—it made him smile without even realizing it.
"Coming into the dungeon myself in this frail body was worth it."
"You're not frail, sir."
"I used to worry how I'd manage in such a delicate state..."
"You're not delicate, sir."
"Well then. Time to share intel. Bishop?"
Bisa Beul called for Aram to refocus and settled the group. In the now-calm atmosphere, they shared all the information they'd learned while Hunter Sergio was away on his solo action.
Gio's response?
"...I see!"
"Did you catch that from Mr. Joo-Hyun?"
"I understand."
"Understand what?"
"You've all worked hard."
In any case, that was the tone of things.
Gio then shared what he had experienced. And the group's reaction?
"Ah, amazing. To think you helped the President in her time of crisis..."
"? I didn't say anything of the sort."
"Truly, you are a saint beloved by the Black Cloak."
"Are ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) none of you hearing me?"
In any case—this was the mood.
Gio didn't share the parts about "Teacher Sergio" or "Student Dan Haera," but the priests were already looking at him with a mix of reverence and intense curiosity.
After the info exchange, Gio sought out the Cha family.
"I walked around, wondering if I might run into another clown or Zeorge, but it seems the garden's flow is being tightly controlled. I may have failed. Perhaps Gardener Jeong Hae-Woon has a hand in this."
"...Gardener Jeong Hae-Woon? Why would he..."
"Maybe he's going through a late rebellious phase. But piecing the story together—it seems we may be able to summon Zeorge soon. Also..."
If possible, Gio really didn't want to get any more entangled in this.
'Judging by how things are going... that seems unlikely.'
Not the kind of thing to say out loud right now, so Gio just smiled instead.
"Considering how much attention he usually demands, it's a miracle he hasn't shown up yet."
"Uh... about that..."
"While I was moving on my own, I learned something."
For a long time—through many versions of Gio—he'd always liked kind people. He preferred stories where those people were rewarded. After all, who enjoys tales of sincere, hardworking young men ending in tragedy?
Gio smiled slowly. It was not the smile of Giovanni.
"Thankfully, Ms. Cha Ara was a truly good person. She once gave her cherished scarf to someone slowly freezing to death on a cold winter day..."
"..."
"And that day, she received a gift from me. I was so struck by her pitch-black hair that I drew her a black jewel in that color."
"...Yes, that's right."
"That jewel belongs to Ms. Cha Ara. Since no one can take it from her, I'm sure she still has it."
So—
"Everything will be fine."
...Gio really was a strange one.
He had been so deep in the life of a painting, he must've forgotten it for a while.
***
"Gio."
"..."
"You've changed a little."
At Yoo Seong-Woon's remark, Gio blinked.
"Is it that obvious?"
"It's hard not to notice. I know the 'Promise of Eternity' was broken."
"Then are you aware that the broken system merged with me?"
"Oh... So the system Bishop Aram saw—that wasn't another bug?"
"A gift should come with a letter, after all. But I don't particularly like systems without blood or tears."
It only measured right and wrong. Even if it heavily referenced Sergio's values, it was still overwhelmingly inhuman. The system wanted to remain on Earth indefinitely as a teacher and textbook.
Gio found that a little unsettling. Not for his own safety—but because he couldn't be sure it would be a good teacher. It judged good and evil by calculation. And it never hesitated in execution.
"But I suppose we each had something to learn from the other."
He had only realized this after healing from his identity fracture.
"Is it wrong for me to just do what I'm capable of doing?"
"...Not necessarily."
"Right?"
-x-X-x-
Yoo Seong-Woon's reaction to Gio's newly proactive attitude was as follows.
"Just don't try to conquer the Earth, and I'll be thankful."
"I'll try to govern wisely."
"..."
"I'm joking."
Really.
Even after quite some time, Yoo Seong-Woon didn't drop his suspicious gaze. Gio decided to reflect on himself. It felt like he had done something terrible to someone who was already under a lot of stress.
"I was wrong."
"Are you sincere?"
"I am."
"Give me trust."
"That doesn't mean I can physically manifest trust."
"If it's you, you could."
"Are you trying to challenge me or something?"
Still, even so, there wasn't anything in particular to do right away.
"You sounded like you were going to perform a miracle or something."
"That's unfair. I never said I would perform a miracle."
"When you speak as if you'll somehow take care of everything, it just sounds that way."
"I don't think I even said I would take care of everything... did I?"
And at the moment, what he could do was limited.
"Would you like to eat?"
"You're being serious."
"I've never joked about things that go into someone's mouth."
"Good grief."
"Times like this are when meals matter most."
It was true that Gio was the one who redrew this garden as a dungeon, but the owner of this place was undeniably Zeorge. Now that he had entered Zeorge's stomach, Gio couldn't go about painting recklessly or handing out gifts the way he did on Earth.
After all, whether possessed or not, Gio was still a portrait. And he was nothing more than an ordinary person who had stepped into a painting that already had its own master. Perhaps if he were outside the painting, he could've shown some of his authority as a teacher...
'But right now, that's a bit difficult.'
Because Zeorge wasn't an ordinary person either.
"Hmm, maybe I shouldn't have come in here."
"That would've been unsettling in its own way."
"I don't know which tune I'm supposed to dance to."
"You're turning a little red—you're not angry, are you?"
"Of course not."
Even Argio didn't lash out all the time.
"By the way..."
With his golden eyes, Gio looked over at Yoo Seong-Woon.
"Is Aram getting along with my gift?"
"Hmm, want to go take a look?"
"I'd like that."
And so, a brief moment of rest followed.
***
The first person Gio visited was Aram, who was currently wrestling with a little dragon. They were bickering like siblings born a year apart, and the scene was quite endearing.
In response to Gio's question, Aram answered,
"The dragon? Uh, well... it appeared when I got angry."
"Unless you were seriously angry, there's no way the child of wrath would show up uninvited."
"To tell you the truth, I entertained the idea of not giving this dungeon's master a pleasant death."
"Goodness."
It seemed the little dragon assigned to Aram had caught the scent of noble bloodshed and leapt out. It probably had taken interest in the battle Aram displayed last time at the 'Dream Amusement Park.' And sensing Aram's rage, it had no choice but to appear.
"Thanks to that, I did end up finding the 'correct answer.'"
"Come to think of it, there was a 'correct answer' elsewhere too, wasn't there?"
"Yes. But now that I've figured out the purpose behind the right and wrong answers, I think continuing to search for them would just be a meaningless war of attrition."
"So you've concluded it's now essentially a matter {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} of who can hold out longer."
"Exactly. From here on out, it's a matter of whether we survive longer, or whether the dungeon master's patience lasts longer."
"On that note—Aram, is there something you'd like to eat today?"
"I'm not sure what that has to do with anything, but... I'd like the scones you baked last time."
"Oh, I'll try my best."
And so, Gio actually baked the scones. The Moon Sect priests couldn't hide their amazement—"How did he even do that?"—but even more surprising was that this time, it wasn't something Gio painted. Unfortunately, the current situation didn't allow him to draw anything.
"There was flour and an oven inside that house over there."
"Do people normally think to bake scones inside some eerie house formed inside a dungeon?"
"People still have to eat, you know."
"But, I mean..."
"I swear on my god—it's safe food. Not only harmless to humans, it's a perfectly good snack."
"...Anyway, Hunter Sergio is right."
The Moon Sect priests quickly agreed. Even before the wrathful evil god incident, Gio had let them taste countless foods. And wherever, whenever—his cooking was always insanely good. The priests quietly helped themselves to snacks.
"...?"
"What's wrong, Yoo Seong-Woon?"
"Uh... nothing..."
Though Yoo Seong-Woon was mentally short-circuiting—You're eating food made from the garden's matter?!—he soon understood and let it go. If you really wanted to argue, Yoo Seong-Woon should've become part of the mystery a long time ago.
Next, Gio went to visit the Collector.
"How are your eyes?"
"They're dim. It's fascinating—I imagine this is what actual presbyopia would feel like."
"Those shouldn't be eyes that ever develop presbyopia..."
"They're special in many ways. Haha, to be honest, I briefly worried Mr. Zeorge might come to take this eye back."
"He may be your friend, but perhaps also a bit of a frenemy—maybe he views it like a chicken rib: too valuable to discard, but inconvenient to keep?"
"For a chicken rib, it performs pretty well, don't you think?"
Bisa Beul touched the corner of his eye.
"Even so, here it's completely underperforming. But it doesn't seem to hinder me in battle, so I suppose it's fine. Nothing worth worrying over."
"Forgive me for saying so, but I haven't worried much. I didn't think that eye would cause any real issues... Like the Guildmaster said, it's a good eye, isn't it?"
"It's a sad thing, not being able to make a fuss. Then why did you ask about this eye's condition? I doubt our miraculous son would ask something so meaningless..."
"Why does everyone always assume I have some grand intention behind everything I say? But—yes, this time I do. That eye is... rather unique in this situation."
"In this situation, huh..."
"In this place, dragons are considered criminals."
"Ah."
At Gio's words, Bisa Beul's face—rarely—twisted. He lowered the hand that had been touching his eye and muttered with a distinctly displeased expression.
"One misstep and I'll go blind."
"You've wronged your friend enough already. Even if that friend committed a sin, you wouldn't want to block his path. You'd want to spoil him, wouldn't you?"
"That's... an absurd thing to say. Don't you think?"
Bisa Beul said with an incredulous tone.
"If that were the case, he shouldn't have created a reason for me to hesitate in the first place."
"Doesn't seem like you feel all that kindly toward the eye's original owner."
"Ah, our dear son should've seen that miserable scene himself. That dragon told me to 'let go of my friend.' He caused all that chaos and now claims he regrets it."
"That's a rather desperate kind of advice."
"I'm generally kind to things that can no longer speak. In death, they're complete. They become artwork. But I could never accept that dragon—not until the very end."
"Do you think Zeorge feels the same?"
"..."
At Gio's question, Bisa Beul folded his arms, lost in thought.
"...Considering he calls him a frenemy, probably."
"That's helpful insight."
"I'm glad to hear that, Hunter Sergio."
Surprisingly, it seemed Bisa Beul didn't have a good relationship with that eye. After venting a few more complaints about the dragon, he eventually left with a laugh. He seemed ready to explain the situation to his security agent, Garasani, just in case.
Next, Gio went to visit the priests of the Church of the Sun.
"How have you been?"
"Thanks to your care, quite well."
As Priest Kang Seodam bowed his head, the hesitant Cha I-Sol folded herself in half.
"...I'm sorry!"
"I get the context, but nothing bad happened, and I'd like to end things amicably, so can we stop here, I-Sol? Could you consider how awkward it is for me to receive such an apology from a kid like you?"
"I'm sorry!"
"I didn't mean for you to keep bowing..."
What a loud-voiced priest she was.
"At this rate, your voice will reach the heavens without prayer."
"...There actually is a training practice like that in the Church of the Sun."
"Ah, I see. So such things do exist."
While Kang Seodam and Gio conversed, Cha I-Sol continued to issue bold and frank apologies.
"Sorry...!"
"Please, stop."
"..."
Next to her, Cha I-Sol's partner, Iru Da, looked back and forth between her, Kang Seodam, and Sergio with a subtle expression. The apology made sense, but she wasn't sure it fit this situation.
Seeing them, Gio gave his characteristic soft smile.
"You look healthy. I'm glad."
He had been worried, since she'd seemed greatly shaken after encountering the clown version of Cha Ara. But it seemed the adults had taken care of her while Gio had been acting independently. Cha I-Sol hesitated, then nodded.
"...I know I caused trouble."
"A kid in trouble asking for help from a trusted adult—that's not causing trouble."
"But... you're not just any adult... you're busy..."
"If you see me as special, then that alone is reason enough for me to act on your behalf. Besides, I didn't even bring back meaningful results when I left like that."
"That wasn't your fault."
"And neither was it yours. But remember, not every adult will love you like I do, I-Sol. You should be selective about who you ask for help."
"O-of course. I'm good at that kind of thing."
"I know."
Cha I-Sol was, somehow, a child specialized in the skill of 'stretching her legs depending on where she lays.' She was innately kind, but probably overly conscious due to being raised by a family all too good-hearted.
She was a good kid. A kind kid.
"You know I don't get mad about stuff like that, right?"
"...I do, but..."
"It's okay."
"...Okay."
Gio gently hugged her and patted her back. She burrowed into his arms, rubbing her face against him like a puppy. Just like the puppy they once raised together in the village.
After a long cuddle, Gio looked past Cha I-Sol, who showed no signs of letting go, and addressed her partner, the novice priest Iru Da. The girl was looking at Gio with a curious expression.
"Would you like a hug? My arms are wide, Sister Iru Da."
"...I'll come in once Cha I-Sol comes out."
"A wise decision."
No matter how wide his arms were, two would be a tight fit.
"Are you communicating well with the one you serve?"
"Ah, I already reported to the Collector Guildmaster, and so far it's stable. It's hard to call it seamless—probably due to the dungeon's nature—but there are no issues using that power."
"That's good to hear."
"If it's alright... may I ask a question?"
As Gio nodded, Iru Da hesitated before asking,
"...Is the god you serve... at peace?"
"Oh."
That adorable question moved Gio. A god who could hold such a sweet and kind child in their arms was truly blessed. Smiling warmly at the thought, Gio said,
"That's a lovely question."
"Love... I—I'm sorry if that was an inappropriate question."
"Not at all. The Black Cloak would be pleased too."
"You must be very close."
"Indeed. We're like one body."
"...Ah...?"
"Ah."
Still smiling, Gio blinked and looked over at Kang Seodam, who had just facepalmed.
"Was I not supposed to say that?"
"...Sister Iru Da is sharp—sharp enough to graduate early..."
"That's impressive."
Well, it didn't matter. It seemed she had begun to suspect Hunter Sergio might be the avatar or incarnation of the Black Cloak—but that level of suspicion wouldn't cause any problems in social life.
Gio smiled and asked the clever young priest,
"Then, Sister Iru Da, may I ask you—do you think perfect happiness exists in this world?"
"...I—there's no such thing. Happiness can't be perfect."
"And if such a world could exist?"
"Then it shouldn't. That's what I think..."
"I see."
It was the answer he'd expected, though a little disappointing.
'If only it were light enough to enjoy... I'd wondered.'
She had been so miserable he'd gone soft, but ultimately, Zeorge's desire had been nothing but obsession.
What a pity.
***
"...Ah, damn."
Yoo Seong-Woon raised his head.
"The garden is shaking violently."
"There's no message—could the equipment be broken?"
"Most likely, yes."
"No wonder we've had no contact lately."
Clicking his tongue, Bisa Beul asked,
"Can we file a report?"
"This looks like... a mid-boss has appeared."
"A mid-boss?"
"It's definitely the gardener's power."
Scratching at the frost clinging to his skin, Yoo Seong-Woon smiled that characteristically calm smile of his.
"It's big enough to be deceiving, but this kind of resonance... only a gardener can show it."
It seemed Zeorge's patience had run out.
-x-X-x-
This was how the incident unfolded.
"It's peaceful."
"Isn't peace a part of happiness?"
Jeong Hae-Woon asked, incredulous at the dissatisfied expression.
"I thought you liked happiness?"
"No, my kind of happiness is far removed from peace."
Zeorge said this with a seriousness that somehow still felt resolute.
"People usually call it dopamine, right? My pursuit definitely leans that way. I'm not into ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) that kind of happiness that's light, fresh, and soft like peace..."
"Not into it?"
"I prefer happiness that's more vivid and sticky. The kind that makes it hard to breathe, sends tingles across the body, and leaves your head spinning. Less like fresh fruit, more like rich, dense chocolate."
"..."
Hearing that, Jeong Hae-Woon was momentarily speechless and just smiled. For someone who looked like they embodied that light, soft peace perfectly, the cognitive dissonance hit hard.
But Zeorge continued.
"Ah, my dear Jeong Hae-Woon, please don't misunderstand. It's not that I think peace is bad. But we have something called TPO, don't we?"
"I never imagined a garden would know about TPO."
"There's a kind of happiness appropriate for each Time, Place, and Occasion. This is the 'Garden of Pleasure,' isn't it? The word 'pleasure' is right there in the name. Trying to mix that with peace is bound to feel off."
"Good grief, did you just say it feels off?"
"It was stimulating at first, at least..."
Zeorge adjusted the outfits of the clowns lying scattered like broken dolls. He retied ribbons neatly, adjusted knots to look presentable, and embroidered elaborate patterns on their clothes.
"Most of the remaining intruders seem to have already adapted to me."
"Even if the system meant to help humans broke down the way you intended, who wouldn't adapt with you pressing on them like that?"
"Of course, I'm well aware of the human survival instinct. But in the end, survival and instinct are just matters of the brain."
"Here we go again—what kind of quote are you trying to leave behind this time?"
At Jeong Hae-Woon's dry reaction, Zeorge smiled in his usual way.
"Have you ever seen addicts show a strong survival instinct?"
"Did you just compare yourself to a drug?"
"Yes. Confidently so, don't you think?"
"I don't know about 'good,' but it's definitely confident."
"Well, it's in the same vein."
Zeorge could say it with certainty. He had, without a doubt, made the intruders happy. Even if that state was far removed from clear-headedness, it was still happiness.
"And... a little pain and misery are addictive."
That was the core of the happiness Zeorge offered.
"Humans definitely have a tendency to enjoy their own suffering. Sometimes people go out of their way to seek out unrelated sorrow, shedding tears over others' misfortunes or watching them with curiosity. Or they get lost in self-pity and sink into bottomless sadness."
For intellectual creatures like humans, it was always about carrots and sticks. Shadows made light seem brighter; bitterness and sourness brought out sweetness.
"Why do people who can't fly go so wild for those thrill rides that drop from the sky? Why do they try them at least once, and even after riding, get back in line?"
"...I dunno, because it's thrilling?"
"Because they feel awe at the tiny world seen from up high, fear from an exotic experience they could never have naturally, and clearly sense the attention directed at them."
"That's... oddly fascinating."
"Human happiness—real thrill—needs a bit of pain and misfortune. The more there is, the more intense and vivid the happiness becomes. That's the kind of happiness I showed them."
Zeorge, smiling as he spoke, then let his expression go dull with a tinge of boredom.
"But the downside of that kind of happiness is that it can get boring if it lasts too long. If I'd kept providing novel stimuli, it might've been a different story, but under current circumstances... even those fiery intruders couldn't help but adapt. I get it."
Even as he said that, his expression wasn't all that pleased.
"The problem is that those intruders turned out to be too seasoned. If they hadn't been, they wouldn't have adapted and would've kept experiencing new thrills and new kinds of happiness..."
"I think the ones who didn't adapt all died already."
"Even so, I still feel like too many are left, my friend. I suppose the key factor was that people had already grown somewhat accustomed to the garden and its mysteries before the gate to this place even opened."
"Are you blaming me now?"
"Oh dear... would I ever do something so terrible to my dear friend? I'm merely saying I hope this situation doesn't drag on for too long."
The exposure of each other's vulnerabilities had become ample stimulation, entertaining the intruders. Their shared dreamscapes and the clowns among them had been perfect supplements.
But not anymore. There were no longer any amusing situations unfolding. The intruders had adapted to the garden's mystery, no longer grew tipsy like from alcohol, and stopped fighting among themselves.
"At this rate, our clowns won't have any stage to perform on."
"Oh no, that would be tragic. I put so much effort into making them pretty..."
"On that note, Jeong Hae-Woon."
The garden looked up at the human.
"You're my gardener, aren't you?"
"I'd appreciate it if you used the accurate term: slave contract?"
"If not for Jeong Hae-Woon, there'd be no one to manage me..."
"Then maybe try not throwing tantrums so often."
Jeong Hae-Woon chuckled.
"This garden's so beautiful that most people would've wanted to settle in. But you threw such fits that even those love-struck suckers couldn't endure and died off."
He was a special kind of gardener. He drank his teacher's blood and inherited his power. In other words, he was a gardener blessed by the Origin. He had the power to govern gardens without being bewitched by them.
If he weren't weak to a garden bearing the exact face of the man who gave him that power, it would've been odd. Even if fundamentally they were nothing alike, Jeong Hae-Woon was still a gardener—and Gio's student.
"Jeong Hae-Woon."
"..."
Dammit.
"...I'm only tolerating you because we understand each other, Gio."
The poor 'system' was finally free. Now it was time to get rid of that damned Symbol of Eternity.
***
"So I came."
"..."
After a beat, Dan Haera, sounding like the chairwoman she was, asked a respectful question in response to Jeong Hae-Woon's bold statement.
"Are you insane?"
"How many years have we known each other? Why act all serious now?"
"You really have lost your mind."
"Your vocabulary seems to have expanded—guess the Promise really is broken."
"There's still the dignity I've built over the years, Hae-Woon."
"My dignity got shredded when I took this gig as a mid-boss."
"At least you're aware."
"What, does that make your head spin?"
"In a way..."
Dan Haera pressed her fingers to her temples. In the thirty years since she sold off her memories and emotions to the Promise, not once had she felt this dizzy. She reached out to her secretary.
"Painkillers, please."
"Yes, Madam Chairwoman."
"Please understand. That friend of mine aged without maturing."
"I understand."
At their exchange, Jeong Hae-Woon tilted his head with mock offense.
"So what am I then, huh? You people know me and still treat me like this?"
"Look at him throwing a fit now, after ruining his own dignity."
"You wanna bring that attitude out?"
"You're not the only one with a temper, Jeong Hae-Woon."
Despite their immature back-and-forth, the Association staff didn't flinch.
It wasn't that they weren't confused. Many internally wondered things like, "Is this actually happening?" or "Am I seeing things?" But they were thoroughly trained enforcers of public authority. This level of chaos didn't shake their discipline.
Seeing how hard the staff tried to hide their dismay, Jeong Hae-Woon clicked his tongue.
"You must've had these kids under your thumb to the point they can't even squeak in this mess. This is why authoritarianism is bad. I knew from way back that your personality wasn't just for show."
"Oh, someone listening might think I was the one messing around in back alleys. Weren't you the one smoking and drinking as a minor, getting dragged to counseling by our teacher?"
"Hoooh?"
"Huuh?"
The faces of these two titans twisted as much as their moods.
"...Even so, I didn't hit random kids. Unlike you—an honor student full of pent-up rage—I was a bumbling thug, but at least I only messed with my own kind. Right?"
"'Bumbling thug' my foot—you were downright vicious. I remember you throwing our teacher's homemade lunchbox on the ground and flipping him the finger. Maybe you hit your rebellious phase late?"
"That was one time, you ass. Are you seriously bringing up the teacher again? Like you were so great to him? You wanna go, huh? See whose conscience holds up better at our age?"
As the bickering showed no sign of ending, Dan Haera's secretary cleared her throat softly. When Dan Haera turned, the secretary whispered quietly.
"Shall we begin?"
"My people are always ready, aren't they?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Right. Anything more from this conversation would just be wasteful..."
With the elegance only someone truly petty could manage, Dan Haera smiled. Unlike the mechanical grin known to the public, this one had life—and a distinct chill.
"So what did you come here for?"
"Did you ignore my entire explanation?"
"If that was a declaration of war, I apologize. It didn't come off that way. Guess it wasn't very threatening."
"Hmm, yeah. I did come here to fight."
Jeong Hae-Woon's lips curled with irritation.
"Pretty nice, right? For our graves?"
Dan Haera chuckled lightly.
"Couldn't ask for a grander send-off."
It was a childish war perfectly suited to a campaign of mutual revelations.
***
If there was a problem that wasn't quite a problem, it was that this dungeon was ridiculously large.
"If Yoo Seong-Woon weren't here, we wouldn't even know a fight had started."
"I feel like I'm dying."
"Whoa, don't die. If you do, I'll just reanimate you as a cursed doll. You know I'm not joking, right?"
"Why are you doing this to me..."
In line with the Collector's labor contract, Bisa Beul gave a fair warning. Yoo Seong-Woon whimpered.
"God, it's freezing."
"Would you like some tea?"
"Where do you even keep pulling this food from?"
"With respect, tea doesn't fall under the category of food."
"...Thanks, I guess."
Yoo Seong-Woon took the teacup with trembling hands. He couldn't feel his fingers.
In this dungeon—or garden—the ones best suited for communication and defense were gardeners. Some veteran participants, if lucky, could even interact through the garden itself.
"It's a blessing the Association has a gardener. Otherwise, we'd have no idea why the garden's gone to hell."
"Didn't he say he was a researcher?"
"Yeah, he joined this too. Used to be my boss... A creepy but competent gardener. Expresses love for gardens in this chilling, dry way."
"Didn't he work at the Association's lab?"
"Right, be careful around him. His idea of love is learning everything about you. If you're not careful, you'll end up dissected... Anyway."
Yoo Seong-Woon, exhausted, looked out at the ever-shifting interior of the garden. Ever since the moment the disturbance spread—a sensation only a gardener could sense—the garden had been like this. And there were few who could shake it this much.
"...He really does live up to the title of Earth's first gardener."
The only ones who could affect the garden were the garden itself and its gardener. Usually, if the garden stirred this violently, it was the garden's own will. But Zeorge, who took pride in his own beauty, wouldn't get this messy just from impatience.
'Up to now, he's always transformed gracefully. He wouldn't throw a tantrum like this just because he lost his patience. Gardeners don't usually impact a garden this deeply either...'
But Jeong Hae-Woon, the gardener who supposedly slaughtered most of Earth's gardens, just might.
"But at this rate, we can't even see one step ahead."
"Feeling overwhelmed?"
"It's dizzying. Up to now, I could still use the garden to pull tricks, but now even that's hard. The garden's owner is way too erratic and temperamental."
"Yoo Seong-Woon."
"Yeah?"
"You're not looking well."
"I can't deny it."
Yoo Seong-Woon's eyes had turned to frozen glaciers, and frost clung to his skin. He often felt unwell when influenced by the garden, but this was unusually severe.
The garden's temperature should've been mild, yet his organs felt like frozen stone, and even breathing was hard. Each exhale from his stiff lungs came with pain, like shards of ice breaking.
Yoo Seong-Woon gave a bitter laugh.
"Wow, this really ought to be recorded in history..."
"..."
"...Gio?"
In the chilling silence, Yoo Seong-Woon turned to look—Gio was clutching something on his shoulder.
"Gio?"
"My apologies."
"That's... is that Honey?"
"Sadly, it's very, very angry."
Expressionless, Gio then smiled. It was the familiar smile of 'Giovanni,' but Yoo Seong-Woon felt a strange dissonance. A pressure he hadn't sensed from the usual 'Portrait of Gio.'
Suspicious, Yoo Seong-Woon asked,
"Are you angry?"
"...Hah..."
His golden eyes gleamed brightly.
"...I told you not to make a mess."
Maybe the teacher's words had sounded a little too much like a joke.
-x-X-x-
"Forgive me, but may I excuse myself once again?"
Though the voice was calm and not loud, every member of the Collector's staff, including Yoo Seong-Woon, turned to look at a single point.
"..."
Yoo Seong-Woon, who was closest to 'Hunter Sergio,' called out as if trying to confirm something.
"Gio?"
"Yes, Mr. Yoo Seong-Woon."
"..."
Gazing at his own piece, Yoo Seong-Woon gave his characteristically mild smile.
"Where are you off to? You only just came back and now we're separating again—I feel a little hurt."
"Oh no, were you hurt?"
"And also... I'm kind of shocked you want to act alone in this situation. I'm in this condition, and you're just going to leave? You're my friend—you should be looking after me."
"You're right. Taking care of and supporting a sick friend is the duty of a friend."
His voice was still gentle, but there was something uniform and mechanical about it. Even the Moon Sect priests turned their gaze toward 'Hunter Sergio.' They too had sensed something was off.
Yoo Seong-Woon gave up trying to explain it. What mattered most right now was calming the painting that was angry. And managing anomalies in artwork was the curator's responsibility.
"If you disappear now, I think I'll be really sad."
"Would you be sad?"
"Yeah. What do you think?"
"I believe that's a lie."
"You're wrong. If you disappear now, I'll truly be sad."
"Then you must be afraid I'll do something terrible."
"Honestly? Yeah."
The 'Portrait of Gio,' having become endlessly close to human through mimicry and learning, was fickle and fluid. As the Eye of Origin, it had already learned 'falsehood.' It had also become skilled at dominating human interaction and hierarchy.
Yet, even so, its nature remained. The 'Portrait of Gio' liked good and disliked evil. It only recognized the good as human. While its treatment of evildoers seemed to differ depending on past ties...
That line just now was definitely about the Symbols of Eternity.
It didn't seem to be on that scale, but the one currently causing a quasi-"incident" was Gardener Jeong Hae-Woon. And Chairwoman Dan Haera, his opponent, likely fell into that same category. But even if his anger was justified, they couldn't let this continue.
This was what I'd worried about from the moment this guy started getting closer to humans...
The wrath of the Origin wasn't something you could describe with mere words like "disaster."
"We haven't even made real progress in the raid yet. No point in burning out now, is there?"
"I'm angry."
"Yeah, that's genuinely terrifying to hear—but can you hold back for just a bit? Like I said three seconds ago, we haven't even broken through yet. Losing any more people now would be a huge blow."
"I never said I intended to kill anyone."
"Well, that's... a relief, I guess."
He was talking like he didn't plan to kill, but whether that was the truth or a lie, no one could say. Again, the 'Portrait of Gio' was a being that had learned falsehood.
"Zeorge is waiting to see whether we'll become 'Bell' or 'Jay.' Depending on that, the difficulty of this dungeon gets decided. If you punish those people, what will this garden's master think of humans?"
"I think he'd consider them more like 'Bell.' That's how I judged it."
"Which means the difficulty level will skyrocket. Isn't that a problem? I'm already in bad shape, and most of the other raid teams are trapped, exhausted, worn down. It could lead to total annihilation."
"You're right, Mr. Yoo Seong-Woon."
Gio nodded.
"This situation is Mr. Zeorge's trap. I chose to change, I've now changed, and he created a situation to make me angry. And in fact, I am angry right now. Because you're badly hurt."
"..."
"I wish you weren't in pain..."
As Yoo Seong-Woon, already ragged, pressed his lips together without answering, a nearby Collector staff member called to him.
"...This really isn't the time for sentimentality, Curator Yoo. Anyone watching from the subway could see that Hunter Sergio is performing being forlorn to gain Mr. Yoo's approval."
"My kid says he's angry because I'm hurt—what am I supposed to do about that?"
"When you say 'inevitable,' are you referring to losing your words just now, or to Hunter Sergio being angry? If it's the latter, then please get it together. If this raid fails, Earth is in danger. This is about humanity's survival."
"This is why social life is so difficult."
Yoo Seong-Woon returned to his usual mild smile.
"I sincerely appreciate your concern—no sarcasm there—but I'm not going to die from this."
"But it hurts, doesn't it?"
"I always think this—but it's really hard dealing with a piece that can't lie. Yeah, it hurts. But I'm used to this level of pain. I can handle it. I was exaggerating earlier."
"But it still hurts, doesn't it?"
"So unless I lie and say I'm not in pain, we can't move on to the next step? And if I do lie, you'll get angry? What a dilemma. Hmm... Gio, I'm getting more and more hurt the longer I try to stop you."
"I understand."
As always, Gio smiled gently.
"That's why I'll remove the cause."
"You said you wouldn't reduce the number of raiders."
"I said I wouldn't kill them."
"Ah-ha. The classic wordplay."
He meant he just wouldn't kill them.
"...But your condition isn't normal either. Think about what's outside Earth—you're just like our Guildmaster, restrained in various ways. The Symbols of Eternity are powerful... and if you jump in right now, you might get hurt."
That was the real concern. Currently, the 'Portrait of Gio' was heavily limited to the level of 'Hunter Sergio.' The guy was already enduring the pain of severed limbs—charging in for a friend's revenge wouldn't make Yoo Seong-Woon happy.
"Judging by the way the garden's shaking, they're fighting pretty hard in there."
"Which is exactly why I must move."
"What about our raid? Your health? My sanity?"
"You don't need to worry."
Gio's eyes curved into a smile.
"Everything will be fine."
"Yeah but... what, exactly, will be?"
For the first time in a while, Yoo Seong-Woon felt like crying.
***
Sergio was a man without anger. That didn't mean "rarely angry"—it meant it simply did not exist.
By design, Sergio lacked the function of rage. No matter how unfair or painful the experience, Sergio "understood" everything. There was never any internal or external reason to get angry.
But this case was different.
"Are you tired?"
"A bit... yeah."
"I hope you can rest peacefully."
"When you say that, I feel like you're about to carry me off to eternal sleep. That's terrifying."
"As if I would."
Gio was angry.
"It won't take long."
He had once been a teacher to many students. He had been a system of right and wrong.
He was Giovanni, who could not bear to see the innocent bleed; Argio, who raged at the betrayal of friendship; and Zeorge, who extended 'love' even to the ungrateful.
He had never been consumed by emotion, yet now, he was a person who had learned how.
And so, Gio had every reason to be angry.
"Zeorge drew me into his little tantrum, but that doesn't mean the difficulty of the raid will go up. Would you like to know why, Mr. Yoo Seong-Woon?"
"...Why?"
"Because whether we become 'Bell' or 'Jay' doesn't matter. Regardless of the method or the process, both of them died by Zeorge's 'love.' Isn't that right?"
"..."
"That's why Zeorge's tantrum doesn't matter. In any case, he will give love—and that love always ends in ruin. In pain and death."
"...Hah."
"We defined this as an 'exposé war.'"
And it fits.
"That's all it is. There will be no winner or loser—only the wounded remain."
An exposé war alone could produce no conclusion. It was simply tearing each other apart. Grabbing each other by the hair and shaking, hurling insults and saying you're this disgusting.
And in the end, nothing would remain.
"Zeorge probably wants all the participants to be trapped here forever. 'Jay' hopes to live in a utopia instead of a horrible reality. 'Bell' wants everyone to die in a sweet nightmare."
"...Could you at least say we didn't waste our time?"
"You didn't. In the end, we had to summon Zeorge. And to do that, we had to learn his story. This is an exposé war. Even if the garden's owner had already decided on the outcome, the letters and items were essential to reach this point."
"And if we hadn't found the letters or items?"
"You wouldn't have even seen Zeorge's face—you'd just be trapped in this garden. So yes, well done. I commend you. Everyone gave meaningful effort."
If Zeorge predetermined the ending, then the participants could simply change it. But the damn garden master wouldn't even show his face unless you played along with his rhythm, so this was a process they had to go through.
"So don't worry about the master's mood. Zeorge is always in a bad mood. His personality is even worse. That's why I'm allowed to do what I want."
Gio tilted his head.
"Do you need more explanation?"
"If I say yes, will you get mad?"
"I don't get angry at patients."
"Oh, right—you're a doctor..."
"I get angry at those who make patients. Now I can. So I've decided to."
"Oh dear."
Only the top-ranking officers of the Collector's Guild were present. Yoo Seong-Woon looked at Bisa Beul.
"What do we do, Guildmaster?"
"You always toss the hard stuff to me."
"Isn't that what superiors are for?"
"Getting cheekier by the day. Hmm, well..."
After a moment's thought, Bisa Beul smiled.
"Once, the divine wrath that shook Earth taught us that even anger could be a way forward."
"..."
"Even if it's ugly or crude, something now exists that your teacher didn't have. That means you've progressed. Isn't that right, Teacher Sergio?"
Bisa Beul squinted his eyes in a grin.
"I think it's quite a good method."
Gio smiled back at Bisa Beul, who had agreed with him.
***
"Oh dear."
KWAGAGAGAK—!!!
"If you dodge, I can't send you off in peace."
"Like hell I'm just going to sit there and take it."
"If you've lived like that, you should've expected divine retribution."
"Putting aside the fact that you're no better—divine retribution, really?"
Dodging lightning bolts falling from the sky, Dan Haera raised her pen.
"Punishment, maybe."
FWOOOSH—!
As she wrote, the stormy sky cleared.
"Not even sixty years old and already getting senile?"
"Our Chairwoman Dan Haera has such a silver tongue."
Jeong Hae-Woon clasped his hands together playfully, as if in prayer.
"What are the gods doing, letting this woman roam free?"
KWAHHH—!!
A typhoon laced with lightning swept through.
The natural disaster created by these two left Association staff struggling to hold their ground. They had already been ordered to stay far away, but even without a direct order, surviving the onslaught was challenge enough.
Dan Haera watched her people. Perhaps it was the aftermath of the broken Promise, but they looked pitiful—like scarecrows.
"What kind of foul-tempered god are they serving to end up like this? My poor staff—no amount of incentive pay will fix that trauma. Poor things..."
Jeong Hae-Woon's ability: [Punishment].
"A god? Please. Just a foul-tempered garden."
The effect and power of that ability depended on the god he borrowed it from.
If he served a god like Seo Seo-Hee's, who valued objective justice, only true evildoers would be harmed. If he served someone like Dan Haera's efficiency-centered god, then only the useless would be punished.
Right now, Jeong Hae-Woon could punish nearly every human on Earth.
"You still didn't know our master's got a rotten personality?"
"No way I didn't."
Zeorge judged anyone who received the system's blessing as guilty.
"I figured it out ages ago."
Dan Haera moved her pen through the air again.
[The tea that day was warm and sweet.]
[The storm soon passed.]
As the text vanished, so too did the storm crackling with electric charge.
"What a waste."
One of her memories with her teacher in the hut was now awkwardly ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) blank. She couldn't recall what had once been there. That moment she'd just sacrificed in exchange. As more battles passed, the more memories faded. Dan Haera clicked her tongue.
"This cost-benefit ratio isn't worth it."
"What, memories suddenly feel precious now?"
"You're the one who made me remember, and now you pull this? You really don't hold back."
"I don't do any of this for some noble cause."
Clad in priest's robes, Jeong Hae-Woon grinned viciously.
"I just want to watch you suffer."
"Just me?"
"...No. Us."
At that moment, Jeong Hae-Woon's eyes turned to solid gold. Though a foreign hardness weighed in his sockets, he smiled with curled lashes, rolling pupils that had long since become gemstones. He seemed almost euphoric.
Jeong Hae-Woon, too, was a 'sinner' in Zeorge's eyes.
"Let's see who dies first."
At the end of this, no one would walk away whole.
That was why Jeong Hae-Woon stood here.
-x-X-x-
Sergio was a dull person.
Because of that, he analyzed the existence of many emotions through reason. To him, joy was the strength to endure, sorrow was the strength to reflect, and anger was the strength to move forward. Knowing that, there was no need to be buried under the weight of the emotions themselves.
But hadn't he decided to try changing?
"Grrrk."
"..."
"Grrrng, grrr...."
He thought: let's look at reality a bit more, admit the truth honestly, and do what I can. In a situation like this, for example....
'Something like giving form to a phantom enemy.'
So, he had many reasons.
He was angry because a friend was in pain, he had to stop students who wouldn't listen, and he had to acknowledge something beyond himself in order to let people out of this garden. He had to change, °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° and he already had. The path before him had already connected into one long ago.
But when he finally set foot on that path, Gio suddenly found himself wondering—
"..."
How does one get angry?
"Grrrrrk...."
What is 'anger itself,' not 'justified anger'?
"Grrrrrrrrr...!"
"Honey."
"Grrr."
"I don't really get it."
He had never once expressed anger in that way. For him, all emotions had reasons and meaning. He was probably a bit different from others. But that didn't mean his emotions were fake.
Still, he admits it. He understands. Because everything had been rational and meaningful, "Sergio" failed. In the end, it was a bad ending. The system never evolved. "Gio" died a pitiful death.
"What should I have done differently?"
The way of living he liked was "Sergio's." It was "Giovanni's." It was "Argio's."
But among all the versions of Gio, the only one that still held a spark of life—even if ugly—was "Zeorge." Only he continued to tell the story.
So what that meant was clear.
"I guess sometimes you need to be filthy too?"
"..."
"No, maybe it's more like being honest about your emotions. Still, I'd rather not imitate Zeorge's petty temper. That's just embarrassing for someone his age."
"..."
"So I should hold back, but it's really hard. Emotions that can't be calculated or predicted...."
As he muttered, Yoo Seong-Woon's face came to mind.
"He looked like he was in pain."
With a calm smile and practiced words, his friend had hidden many things. Like cold and agony beyond the necrosis creeping over his frostbitten body, or the fear that he might be consumed by mystery and no longer be able to live as a human.
He hated that.
"It feels kind of wrong to go this far just because I dislike something."
"Grrrrk...!"
"But before I'm a teacher, I'm a person, right? So maybe it's okay?"
Humans are selfish. They dare to measure the world by their own standards and commit countless sins in the process.
'I'm the same.'
Even after fusing with the system that survived thirty years alone, even after regaining the memories of being worshipped as a living god, even after understanding his own existence and concept—he still believed he was human.
He still had likes and dislikes. He preferred salty and sweet over bitter and sour. He felt comfortable alone, but sometimes wished someone would look into the canvas. He cried, laughed, loved, and hated.
"If I weren't human, how could I do all this... don't you think?"
With his signature expressionless face, Gio stepped into the heart of the calamity.
"...I don't really know."
And that, it seemed, was the right answer.
Not knowing.
***
"─Take me in."
Overwhelming sorrow, anger, and joy surged forth.
"I can do that better than you, Gio."
The ugly one savored that weight purely.
"Isn't that right?"
The portrait acknowledged "Zeorge."
***
"...!"
Yoo Seong-Woon felt around his body.
"Uh, wait a minute...."
"Curator Yoo Seong-Woon?"
"Why am I okay?"
His face turned pale.
"I'm not supposed to be okay?"
A garden, by nature, is a prolonged organ of origin and a water vein. A sudden change in it is a disaster. Especially if it's a garden as stubborn and rowdy as "Zeorge."
That's why the current stillness came as terror.
"Guildmaster, right now...!"
"..."
"...Guildmaster."
"...Haa...."
With a deeply distorted face, Bisa Beul murmured with his eyes closed.
"I knew this would happen."
Tap, drip....
Bloody tears fell without end.
"Don't be alarmed. We were aware of this beforehand."
"No, but... your eyes... Guildmaster...."
"These eyes are guilty in this place. With Zeorge now fully active, it seems they've closed on their own... Or maybe I shouldn't say 'see' anymore?"
"I didn't say that to guilt-trip you. If it's funny, you can laugh."
Bisa Beul wiped the bloody tears with a handkerchief and laughed.
"Hmph, no one's laughing?"
"...Should I laugh for you?"
"No need for that. I meant it sincerely."
"S-class hunters all have a terrible sense of humor."
"I told you I wasn't trying to be funny."
Speaking as if it were no big deal, Bisa Beul gestured toward his loyal subordinate, Garasani. Living up to his alias as Chamber Master, Garasani calmly and steadily tied a black cloth over Bisa Beul's eyes. It was a cloth that fixed the state of whatever it covered beyond it.
"It won't get any worse."
"Looks like I won't be recovering inside the garden, so this is the best option."
Once the cloth was tied, the ceaseless bloody tears stopped.
"...Still feels pretty shitty."
Though he acted calm, not being able to see was a discomfort he couldn't enjoy. And since it was a cursed item, it began triggering auditory hallucinations and ringing in his ears—but Bisa Beul showed no sign of it as he turned toward Yoo Seong-Woon.
"So you're feeling better, are you?"
"...Is this the time to be asking me that?"
"Curator Yoo Seong-Woon?"
"...Yes. It's as peaceful as the eye of a typhoon. That's how quiet it is. Just a moment ago it was all chaos, and now this... it feels so awkward."
"Looks like Mr. Zeorge was granted permission to crawl into Hunter Sergio's body. I just hope our son doesn't suffer too much from this."
Aram, hesitating at the collector's cryptic words, finally spoke up.
"...I refrained from speaking since it seemed like classified knowledge, but with things as they are, I believe we deserve to know about Hunter Sergio's unique circumstances. Just who is he...?"
With an annoyed tone, Bisa Beul casually replied.
"Ah, it's nothing. He's just a disciple and incarnation of the Black Cloak."
"...Oh my god."
"Because the Black Cloak loved humans, he tore off his own flesh and blood and sent it to Earth. That's who Hunter Sergio is. But don't worry. Though sometimes a non-human persona peeks through because he absorbs all sorts of calamities as a seal, for the most part, he lives as an 'ordinary human.' Because the Black Cloak intended it that way."
"Then... during the mermaid incident, like with the wrathful god, did Hunter Sergio also...?"
"You've understood correctly, Bishop Aram."
To Bisa Beul's smooth-flowing nonsense, Yoo Seong-Woon glanced toward Garasani.
'Is that really okay?'
'He didn't say anything wrong.'
Sure sounds wrong, though.
'...No, if you nitpick, technically it is all factual....'
The way it was all strung together just sounded weird. The "portrait of Gio" that Yoo Seong-Woon knew was a friendly neighbor god who roasted sweet potatoes with divine neighbors.
"..."
Now that it's said like that, I feel like the one who's corrupted.
"Anyway."
"You seemed lost in thought."
"What should we do now?"
Convincing or deceiving people like the Moon Sect about "Hunter Sergio's" identity could wait. This explanation was enough for now. The immediate priority was managing the situation.
"I told you we shouldn't have let Gio go alone."
"? When exactly did you say that, Curator Yoo Seong-Woon?"
Bisa Beul, who had left the choice up to Yoo Seong-Woon, looked confused, but Seong-Woon simply laughed it off. As he said, what mattered now was cleaning up the mess that "Hunter Sergio" and "Zeorge" had stirred up.
"First, we need to assess the situation. How are you feeling, Curator Yoo Seong-Woon?"
"Not speaking in terms of measurable data, but this is the best condition I've been in since entering the garden."
"Given how a gardener's health is determined by the mood of the garden, and how my eyes just sealed themselves, it's clear that the master of this garden has entered Hunter Sergio's body."
At that, Aram recoiled.
"T-That can't be! Hunter Sergio already holds the divinity of Wrath within him! If the temperamental master of this garden enters as well...!"
The other priests murmured at her words.
"Wait, the divinity of Wrath...?!"
"Even for a divine avatar, this has never happened!"
"How is he supposed to withstand all that burden...!"
These reactions were only natural. A "divine avatar" is by definition beneath the divinity they carry. If such a being holds two or more immense and unruly mysteries, the body wouldn't merely rupture.
But once again, Bisa Beul calmed the commotion.
"It's fine. The avatar of the Black Cloak doesn't die from things like that."
"This isn't about dying! Look here, Collector! I've held my tongue until now out of respect for your domain, but even if he's a divine avatar, if you raised him like a son, then at least...!"
"What nonsense. Not even one, let alone two? Hunter Sergio isn't a weak human. He's a work of art far superior. Unlike common humans, he's already complete. I respectfully ask that you refrain from spreading unfounded rumors about my most cherished masterpiece."
"You...! Do you seriously not care that Hunter Sergio went off alone to confront the master of this garden?! Are you planning to repeat the Moon Sect's mistakes?!"
No, correction. It seems he never intended to calm anyone in the first place.
"Wait, everyone calm down...."
"Our guildmaster is just very straightforward... He didn't mean it with ill intent."
"More importantly, this isn't what we should be focusing on right now."
The collector's staff smiled awkwardly as they tried to smooth things over. Thanks to their terrifying boss's unfiltered mouth, their diplomacy skills were improving by the day.
And truly, the staff were innocent. As the priests finally quieted down and began their prayers of repentance, one of them asked:
"...Yes, what's important now isn't right or wrong. So, how does the Collector plan to deal with the garden's master who has possessed Hunter Sergio's body?"
"What do you mean, 'deal with'?"
"Well... we must find a way to separate the two and strike only the garden's master...."
"Why bother, when this is the perfect opportunity?"
Bisa Beul tilted his head with a smile.
"While Hunter Sergio has Zeorge pinned down inside him, we must not miss our chance to strike. From what I've observed, his entire reason for being in this garden was to do just that. It's practically a divine gift for the raid."
"...What?"
"As you know, opportunities like this don't come often. Given the nature of the garden's master, he can exist without a body, but now that there's a physical form we can hit—this is the time...."
"...That lunatic is really...!!"
And so, the chaos between the two groups dragged on a bit longer.
***
"..."
"..."
Drip.
Blood fell like sweat.
"...Ah...."
"...What the hell is going on?"
"We're fucked."
Dan Haera didn't respond. Jeong Hae-Woon let out a hollow laugh.
"Shit. So this was the plan from the beginning."
His gaze landed on the massive congregation of frames.
'Becoming one with the portrait—that was the goal.'
His vision was filled with endless colors.
A painting of someone collapsing and crying, of someone praying with a sacred symbol, of someone smiling as they swung a weapon, of someone screaming in pain in a thorny field, of someone shedding bloody tears from a friend's betrayal. Paintings filled with the joys and sorrows of humans...
For a moment, the sheer emotional honesty in those human figures plastered across his vision made him frown.
"Looks like the teacher and Zeorge fully merged."
"...With his personality?"
"He must've been really angry. I did this knowing I'd get scolded by him, but I never thought it would go this far. I'm terrified."
"I mean, it would've been nice if you hadn't done anything terrifying in the first place. But we'll talk about that later... I didn't think he was capable of getting angry."
"Oh, I thought the same. He lived like someone whose dictionary didn't even have the word 'anger.' But the situation's changed a lot."
"Mr. Zeorge must've done a lot to make it happen."
To create something that didn't exist before.
'...No, maybe it was everything up till now that made him like this....'
The different "Gios" who lived different lives with different purposes. The thirty-year system where only right and wrong existed. The students who sinned, loved, and were understood, yet remained unforgiven. And Zeorge, who both loved and hated humanity.
'If even one thing had been different, this wouldn't have happened.'
As they say, karma and the rules of mystery had led to this moment.
Dan Haera wiped the flowing blood with her hand. As if she had been soaked in sweat after a long workout, there was no part of her that wasn't bleeding. Once she cleared her sight, she looked to Jeong Hae-Woon.
"Were you one of the garden's targets too?"
"Anyone who came here would be. But yeah..."
Jeong Hae-Woon wiped the strange-colored blood from his chin and nodded.
"We're pretty rare as sinners go."
In the midst of that massive and beautiful cluster of paintings, the largest frame—
With profound sorrow and base joy,
It watches you.
And it glared down at the humans.
"Grrrrrrrrrrrrr...!!"
It revealed its hostility.
At last, the final enemy appeared.