The Idol

Ordinarily, he would have stayed at Grandmother Soon-ja's house until morning.

But that was no longer possible.

An emergency had been declared.

"I'm afraid I'm worn out, so I'll head back first. Please look after things in my absence."

He asked for the understanding of the Yeonok-dong residents, who could only stare at him in a daze. Having witnessed genuine holy power with their own eyes, Elder Heo and the rest of the neighborhood saw him off in the same dumbfounded silence.

For the record, the excuse about being tired was no lie.

Naturally, running dry on Holy Power left him drained — his mental strength above all.

At that moment, his Holy Power had been a perfect zero. The cost of the healing he'd performed during the day, the power spent on the grandfather with dementia, and the deduction from the Revelation had added up to leave him utterly spent.

Without even a moment to check how his believer count had changed, he hurried back to the small one-room dwelling he'd secured near Yeonok-dong — and the instant he arrived, he sat down in the middle of the floor and gave himself over to prayer.

That was the only thing he checked before beginning — and even in that brief span, a little Holy Power had recovered.

There were two ways to replenish it. Resting while offering prayers of one's own would refill the reserves, and so would believers praying while holding him in their thoughts.

The power that had just returned was thanks to the latter.

"I come before the Mother of All Things."

Having confirmed his recovered Holy Power, Lee Seop closed his eyes and lightly tapped his forehead, nose, lips, and solar plexus with a loosely clenched right fist — the otherworldly sign of the cross from his past life.

Praying as he traced that holy sign, he drifted naturally into the deep world of meditation.

The mindscape was a familiar one. A rooftop room at the peak of a hillside shantytown, with the night lights of Seoul spread out below.

"You're here."

Waiting at the railing was a young girl who looked to be about five years old. Barefoot and dressed in a white dress, with bluish-silver feet and striking dark-gray eyes, she was an unmistakably mysterious child.

"Mother."

At the sight of her, Lee Seop sank to his knees in reverence, without a trace of doubt.

"Yes. It's been a while, hasn't it, Revelation?"

"It has."

"Your last Revelation was... a week before your past-life self died, was it not?"

"That's right. You praised me for all my hard work."

"Ah yes, that's right."

Gazing at the god in the form of a young girl, Lee Seop smiled faintly. In his past life, his god had not been a girl at all — she had worn the warm, kindly face of a middle-aged woman.

"Is Earth still not settled for you?"

He could guess why the Mother of All Things, the Weaver of Providence, appeared before him in such a childish form.

"That's right. I have so few believers."

"I see."

"You know perfectly well what kind of believers you need to gather, don't you?"

"Of course. I will gather believers who are upright and true."

Believers could not be counted by sheer numbers alone. Only the right people, believing in the right way, were counted as faithful.

"Is there anything you need?"

Smiling with satisfaction at his answer, the girl turned her gaze to Seoul's glittering nightscape and asked.

"I need an idol."

"An idol, hmm... It won't be one of those dead teachings I forbade you from, will it?"

"No. Quite literally, I need a symbol on which faith can be aimed."

Humanity could never escape the idol. Jesus, nailed to a cross, became an idol himself; Buddhism enshrined the statue of the Buddha; Islam raised the city of Mecca into an object of veneration. Cults idolized their own leaders.

Those without religion worshipped an even wider variety of idols. They bowed before politicians and celebrities, and depending on the era, made idols of stocks, cryptocurrency, real estate, and money itself.

Which meant that to found a church on Earth, an idol had to come before doctrine.

"Shall I grant you Holy Light, like in Icadia?"

"It won't have much effect on Earth."

He answered the girl's question while gesturing toward the city lights below. In his past life on Icadia, the church had used orbs of light called Holy Light as its idols. Clerics able to wield holy power would conjure the light inside fist-sized glass beads and set them into churches and staffs. In a world without science, Holy Light — banishing both darkness and low-tier monsters — had made for a supremely effective idol. But in a modern Earth flooded with LEDs, it was hardly suited to the task.

"What would work, then?"

"For the record, I'd rather not become the idol myself."

"It's not like refusing means that can't happen, you know?"

At his words, the girl broke into a mischievous grin.

"Soon you'll undergo your class change, and you'll be baptizing devout Earthlings, won't you?"

"Yes. On my own, there's a limit to how far I can expand the church."

"Is that so? Then let's go with this!"

"I'm sorry?"

"I've found an idol that's just juuust perfect for Earth!"

The god cried out with radiant, childlike delight.

"What kind of...?"

"You'll find out when you wake up!"

With those words, the world of the mindscape went dark.

"Hahhk!!"

Back in reality, Lee Seop gasped and heaved for breath for a long while, like a man whose held lungs had finally burst open.

Chirp, chirp, chirp.

Beyond the window, birds were singing as dawn broke into view. He had exchanged only a brief conversation with his god, yet the night had vanished in the blink of an eye.

Even so, his body felt as refreshed as if he'd enjoyed a deep, full night's sleep, brimming with strength. The Mother always threw in this little bonus service after their consultations, so there was nothing particularly surprising about it.

"What on earth kind of idol did you grant me?"

Far more pressing than his condition, of course, was the idol itself.

"...?"

He looked around, but not a single thing had changed.

That's right! My believer count.

He was standing there blankly when the question struck him out of nowhere.

Let's see...

Just as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he was about to summon his status window through imagination, as he always did —

Pop!

Before he could even picture it, a window unfolded in front of his eyes like augmented reality.

He was so stunned that he shot to his feet.

"This... is the idol?"

It seemed the Mother of All Things had chosen the status window — in Earth's own idiom — as her idol.

A funeral hall fifteen minutes by car from Yeonok-dong, on the outskirts of Seoul.

The funeral of Kim Chang-soo, husband of Yeonok-dong's Kim Soon-ja, was being held. Given that he had suffered from dementia for so many years, they expected few acquaintances to come pay their respects.

They were wrong. The people of Yeonok-dong came flooding in to stand together with the deceased through his final hours.

And so the first night of the funeral was drawing to a close.

"Forgive me for arriving so late."

The man who had become an indispensable presence in Yeonok-dong — Lee Seop — appeared. A faint halo, visible only to the most devout believers, glowed behind the head of the strikingly handsome young man.

"You've come."

"We were waiting for you."

Master Seop! Master Seop!

The moment he stepped in, the first to react were Elder Heo and the old-guard residents of Yeonok-dong, bowing to him with reverence.

"What's gotten into those old folks all of a sudden?"

"Why on earth are they talking formally to Seop-ie?"

"Huh? Soon-ja, the boy's even bowing to you!"

"What? What's going on?"

The Yeonok-dong folks at the funeral hall could only look on, utterly bewildered.

Familiar, and yet an unbearable burden.

Counting his past life, his age certainly put him above all of them — but in this life, not remotely. The Confucian order of elders-first was screaming that this hierarchy was all wrong — the order of Hyers, not of Lee Seop.

"Elders, please, just call me the way you always have."

"We couldn't possibly..."

"Quite right. Master Seop is clearly a messenger sent down by God Himself. How could we ever?"

"Honestly, it makes me uncomfortable. I feel like I'll be dragged off to hell for no good reason."

He begged them to treat him as before, but they would not budge an inch.

"Then how about this — speak formally only when people who know about me are gathered together. Outside, in everyday life, treat me exactly as before."

"Is there a reason it must be so?"

"Because the time is not yet ripe. At this stage, drawing attention to myself would do me no good at all."

And so, that was the compromise they struck.

"Ahhh...! That makes sense."

"To be fair, there are bound to be those who doubt your divinity, Master Seop. They might very well drag you off and do you harm."

Fortunately, Elder Heo and the old-timers of Yeonok-dong nodded along, appearing genuinely convinced.

At the same time, their faces betrayed a swelling sense of being the chosen: We alone know Master Seop's true nature! We're the first! The Twelve Apostles of Jesus have nothing on us!

Well, that was simply human nature, so he let it pass.

"..."

"..."

"Ahem, ahem..."

Once it was agreed that they would address him casually in public as they always had, not a single soul approached him. He found the formality awkward and strained — and to them, he supposed, no less so.

"Seop-ie."

It was Grandmother Kim Soon-ja who broke the ice first.

"All I have left in this world is that one house in Yeonok-dong. When I die, at least take the house."

"Goodness, no — we've moved past the age of living to a hundred; these days they say a hundred and twenty. What's with the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠talk of dying already? Put that thought away. Besides, that house should go to your children."

"Children? The ones who couldn't even show their faces at their own father's funeral? My only child is you, Seop-ie."

"...In any case, I'll accept the sentiment, and nothing more."

While he traded words with Grandmother Kim Soon-ja, Lee Seop kept an eye on his status window.

Over the course of a single night, twelve regular believers had become devout. Word had spread here and there, and the regulars had grown as well.

The fanatics, however, remained at zero.

A devout believer only counted once they were willing to offer up a considerable portion of their assets, like Grandmother Kim Soon-ja standing before him now. A fanatic, meanwhile, had to be in a state of mind prepared to give not only their own life but their family's as well.

In that sense, the count of zero fanatics stung.

To have built this many believers in such a short time is impressive enough — though.

Of course, even this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠much had only been possible thanks to Holy Power. If he had founded a religion from bare ground without a drop of it, he doubted he could have mustered even ten regular believers by now.

So how do I make that one remaining fanatic?

With Holy Power at his command, there was no need to rush the expansion of his flock. Sloppy proselytizing wouldn't register as believers anyway.

And yet, strangely, he found himself wanting to hurry.

Because with just one more fanatic, his class change would finally be within reach.

"Seop, my boy."

He was lost in these thoughts for a moment when Elder Heo called out to him.

"So your aim is to found a religion, is it?"

Elder Heo was no longer addressing him as casually as before. But neither was he using the extreme honorifics of earlier. This, it seemed, was Elder Heo's own compromise position.

"That is correct."

"I see. And what manner of being is the god this religion serves? Could you tell me its doctrine?"

"The doctrine is still being drafted. But the one I serve is the same being worshiped by the good religions of Earth."

"The same? You mean the god worshiped by the Christians or the Muslims?"

"That being is the master of all things. Which means every religion on Earth belongs to them as well — only the manner of worship differs."

"And worshiping them in your way is the most correct way, I take it?"

"I couldn't declare any single way the most correct. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠A faith that harms no one and leaves the believer at peace with themselves is a right path in its own way. That said, if you wish to receive their miracles and work them with your own hands, you must walk forward with me as your lighthouse."

"If I hold my faith with you as my lighthouse, will I go to heaven when I die?"

"Heaven, hell, and reincarnation are decided by the Weaver of Providence alone. I cannot say."

"This god of yours... Is there a particular name for them? The way people say God, or Allah, or Buddha?"

"Any name will do. But I call them the Mother of All Things, the Weaver of Providence — or simply, Mother."

In a quiet corner of the funeral hall, an impromptu seminar on Lee Seop's religion was underway.

"In any case, to sum it all up — you're the Firstborn Son of our Providence Sect. That about covers it, yes?"

Having listened to Lee Seop's brief explanation, Elder Heo gave a satisfied nod.

"The Providence Sect, you say?"

"We came up with it ourselves while you were away, Seop, my boy. Say 'Lee Seop' backwards and it comes out 'Seopri' — which sounds just like the word for providence."

"'Providence,' hmm..."

"What, you don't like it?"

"No. I think it's quite fitting, actually. It happens to be one of the very titles by which I address the Weaver of Providence — my Mother."