The Pseudo-Cult Leaders

With a small laugh, I gazed upward.

What was it demanding of me?

Did it want me to actually become a saint?

To have every action I'd ever taken scrutinized and proven. To become some genuinely respected great man?

Or was I meant to confess all the sins I'd committed before my followers, repent, and wash clean my defiled flesh?

Then, reborn in that purified, snow-white body — was I supposed to become a god, literally?

I know myself. That was the one thing Han Guwon had going for him, even before the apocalypse.

Without a single exaggeration or delusion, I know the man standing in front of the mirror.

'I am not a god.'

I am simply a Pseudo-Cult Leader.

For a man who had nothing, it was the only way to stand at the summit. The desire it had offered, and the desire I had wanted. There was nothing sacred or noble in that desire.

No devotion, no purity, no sanctity. Nothing but a sticky, festering craving — that was all there had ever been.

And that was exactly why this moment felt so alien to me.

It had seated me in a place to prove sainthood. It had called me a "Pseudo-Cult Leader" there. And across from me, it had set up "me" — the one who had to be denied.

Contradiction.

I stood before the courtroom called the mirror. The Plaza of contradiction, where nothing reflected quite as it should.

High above the Plaza, I watched the brilliant sunlight shattering into fine glitter, and thought back to the first day. From that day when sunlight could no longer be taken for granted, all the way to today. Uncharacteristically, I ruminated on the past and steadied my shaken heart.

My story, from the moment I opened my eyes and awakened until ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠now, had been one long succession of dividing up one-tenth of what I had. Whether it was safety, food, or comfort, the kind of thing never mattered much.

For those who had lost everything — who faced, in the truest sense, the Great Calamity — the small home I granted was their only shelter. The small loaf of bread I handed them was their only fullness. The small word of comfort I offered was their only solace.

Everyone who received a "day" I had alms-begged for them wept with emotion. They gladly sang my praises, worshipped me, and bowed their heads.

And thanks to that, I could very comfortably sift out the ones who would never bow to anyone. Then I killed every last one of them.

Zombies, mutants, the semen-shaman, Sergeant Kim's gang, Seo Joowon. Everyone who had ever crossed paths with me had to choose one of two things.

Submit, or die.

I lowered the head that had been turned to the sun and swiveled it to the right, nodding as I looked at the "Han Guwon" standing on the opposite podium.

The first opponent I'd ever met whom I could neither save nor kill. And worse — that bastard knows everything there is to know about "me." It was the moment the old saying know your enemy and know yourself, and you need never fear a hundred battles felt bitterly ironic.

So the cliché had finally come for me too: the moment I had to defeat myself. That would be the greatest tribulation and trial the system conceived for its version of a saint.

I'd been drowning in long-winded sentiment, but honestly, nothing had really changed. Just like always — all I had to do was win.

As the Pseudo-Cult Leader, I pointed at the thing and spoke.

"That creature is a serpent growing within our hearts."

"Aigoo~ how dreadfully stale."

I ignored the sneering voice and looked only at my followers.

"Even in the vastest light, shadow must dwell. Indeed, the brighter the light, the deeper the darkness stains it. Do not waver, my children."

The believers, drenched in shock, clasped their hands together once more.

"Behold the serpent that will torment you without end."

"Heave-ho~ listen to that voice. Confronting a snnake~"

I watched the thing, having dropped its voice into a mocking drawl for the sake of ridicule, and spoke again.

"Bear it in mind. That thing is a serpent."

Fwaaaash—!

The moment my final words ended, light poured down from the sky. It struck the space between the two podiums and formed a single shape.

A set of scales — a balance.

Over the pan tilted steeply toward my side, numbers blazed to life like an electronic billboard.

The layout was so intuitive that no explanation was needed. When the trial ended, whichever way the scales leaned would be the victor. A modern-day courtroom, then.

The "Han Guwons" standing before a jury of one thousand. I slowly swept my gaze over my followers.

The number "50" written beside the scales. I still held nine hundred and fifty believers, but that hardly mattered anymore. The trial had only just begun, and I had already lost fifty supporters — because my true feelings had spilled out into the open.

For the first time in a very long while, an unforeseen variable was shaking their faith.

The instant the system finished speaking, the other Han Guwon snatched up a microphone.

"I am—"

He pointed a finger at the "Pseudo-Cult Leader" and opened his mouth.

"I wished the world would end. It wasn't anything grand. I was just living a life I couldn't be satisfied with. I wanted to gain things without effort. I was a defeatist who blamed society, blamed someone — anyone — the moment things got even slightly hard, and gave up."

A computer materialized in front of the bastard as he spoke on in that flat, matter-of-fact tone. He fiddled idly with the mouse and continued.

I tried to listen with composure, but it was more than a little difficult. Watching my own face spew out the thoughts I once had, in my own voice, was a thoroughly irritating experience.

"The doom I prayed for every night came true. I gave myself over to evil and slaughtered zombies, clawing at that last chance. And even as I did it, I fretted and sweated that the world might not collapse completely — yearning for an even more perfect playground."

"In that playground, I raped women and killed men who annoyed me. Compulsively, as if I'd been conditioned to believe it was truth — I acted on it. That is the essence of Han Guwon, the man you all believed in."

The bastard pointed at the microphone placed before me and smiled. It meant his statement was finished.

I watched the believer count keep shrinking, then took hold of the microphone.

"The path one has walked does not tell the whole story. Jesus was a carpenter; Buddha was a prince. And yet they ended their lives as beings utterly transformed from their pasts."

One's past could never decide everything a person was. I was trying to appeal that truth to my followers.

"There is a true scenery that can never be glimpsed at the entrance of a blue, verdant forest. That beautiful, mature vista ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reveals itself only when you reach the summit — only at the end of the road. Do not waver, my children. Right now, you stand at the summit alongside me."

"Be not deceived by the serpent's whisper, my children. Believe in the me you have witnessed all this time. If you cannot believe in yourselves, then in whom will you believe?"

"Holy shit, the son of a bitch is just spouting pure nonsense."

The bastard sneered at the numbers that had swung right back.

"Look at him, being all vague and slippery with every single word. He's a proper Pseudo-Cult Leader through and through. Adorable!"

As if I couldn't hear a word of it, I kept my eyes fixed on my followers, smiling faintly as I soothed the wavering faithful.

The other Han Guwon grabbed the microphone yet again.

"Absolutely not. To me, salvation was a means — it could never, ever be the essence. Humans are relentlessly social animals. I'm no exception. I refused to become a king with no servants to wait upon him in a kingdom where I stood alone. And so, naturally…"

Han Guwon pointed at the followers dressed in white.

"I simply needed underlings who would awaken my self-esteem and my greatness. Ah! Of course, it was also a rather pleasant way to relieve my lust. Remember this — salvation was, for me, strictly a byproduct."

"That's it! Just change the way you think about it! Even with that bastard's eyes bulging out of his head, how would he even know? It's not like your doubts are written on your face! Doubt! Doubt harder!"

The scales that had tipped so sharply toward me rose a little.

I took up the microphone again.

"Good intentions do not necessarily end in good outcomes. You ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠have all seen, many times over, how human goodwill can bring about terrible things."

Being kind-hearted was never the same as being capable. You survived in the end, and that is why you stand there now.

"Imagine the moments you would have faced without me. Reason it backward — if the outcome was good, and the process along the way was sound, then calling it goodwill would be no mistake."

"Teacher! You said the outcome matters more than the process, but from where I'm sitting, the process looks pretty important too, wouldn't you say?"

I ignored the bastard's sneer and lifted my head to the sky.

A penalty? So telling them how I'd fed and kept every one of them alive all this time counted as intimidation now?

There it was — the topic I'd been dreading.

Like a fish handed water, the other Han Guwon was already reaching for the microphone. I glanced at him, looked up at the sky, and opened my mouth.

"Is there, by any chance, a right of refusal?"

"…Do it."

Before I knew it, a scale that looked perfectly flat to the naked eye had formed.

"Aww, what's the matter? Got a lot to feel guilty about, do we? Hm?"

The bastard curled his finger into a circle, then shoved his index finger back and forth through it.

Lee Jiwoo and the other women would have been fine — but Seong Gaeul was the problem. The way I'd made Seong Gaeul mine…

If it ever came out of my own mouth, it would sound genuinely sordid and slimy. The moment that bastard spat it out into the open, the whole situation would spiral beyond control.

I had skipped a topic where defeat was simply too certain. If I let that son of a bitch open his mouth on it, the damage would bleed into every question after as well.

I stared at him, expressionless, as he kept flicking his tongue and taunting me.

It was brutal. A system that refused to spell out its rules clearly, an environment stacked overwhelmingly against me — and on top of that, a forced zero-baseline that threw away every foundation I'd built.

Even now, I had no idea by what mechanism the jury — my own followers — was moving the weights on those scales. This was, in the truest sense, the genuine tribulation and trial the system had wanted.

And still.

For now, I held the advantage. The faith I had built did not shake that easily.

Maybe because I'd already burned my refusal earlier, the other Han Guwon lunged for the microphone even faster this time.

"No! Not at all! Followers of the Salvation Cult, hear me! The salvation your magnificent cult leader dispenses is not perfect. The criteria change with his mood each and every day. Let me tell you a fun little story. There was a man at a department store, begging to be saved. An awakened one, no less. And I killed him. Why?"

I barely managed to keep my expression serene. The instant I wavered, everything was over.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Because he was a man! A male awakened, at that! His ability was shit-ugly, but still usable! I hadn't even laid my foundations yet, and a male subordinate? You kill that on sight, obviously! What am I supposed to do if he screws the women I'm supposed to screw? That's an instant death sentence! So, to sum it up simply…"

"I killed him just for being a man."

The scales tipped toward Han Guwon. Seeing the balance lean his way, the bastard bowed his back in an exaggerated flourish, offering me his "gratitude."

I took the microphone and closed my eyes for a moment.

So he dredged up something even my memory kept blurry, and told it beautifully.

Salvation.

It was the word that defined the Hanmaum Guwon Cult — and now that salvation had been denied from my own mouth. I had trampled the very doctrine I was supposed to guard with everything I had.

I should have refuted it, but no words capable of overturning this moment came to me. I felt as though I were standing naked before my believers.

"…"

The system pressed me as I held my silence.

[Pseudo-Cult Leader, please speak.]

Gripping the microphone, I opened and closed my mouth several times.

Should I lie? No. My followers are not fools. And that Han Guwon over there is, after all, me — the ones gathered here understand that better than anyone.

But still…

At the system's words, the hand clutching the microphone went slack.

This topic, too, had been far too lethal for me. No — of course it had. Only topics like these would have been chosen in the first place.

"Aww, your face looks terrible. What is it? What? What? Want me to go easy on you?"

The bastard walked to the center, microphone in hand.

Right — there was a final statement. So there it was.

I kept thinking even as I watched the bastard raise the microphone to his lips, searching for a way I could still win.

"You were brainwashed. Brainwashed as a crowd. It doesn't matter how smart or well-educated any of you are as individuals — individuals and crowds are completely different animals. Hmm, saying it like that doesn't land, does it? Fine, then let's start with the individual."

Did I even have it in me to say things like that?

I let out an empty laugh as I stared at his back. The bastard pointed at the believers.

"Dependent personality disorder. Learned helplessness. Or maybe you're just agonizing over the gap between your ideals and reality. You're all remarkable — but the world refuses to acknowledge it. So what does that leave? You start thinking the world is the one that's broken. And hey, that's a perfect fit even now. The world has gone completely insane, hasn't it? None of that is your fault."

"That craving to depend on someone every human being carries. That lethargy that keeps ruling your body. A gutter for a reality with dreams that soar too high. Who was it that scratched every single one of those itches for you? And what did all that longing amount to?"

The bastard pointed at himself and grinned.

"It was me. That's what it amounted to."

Like a teacher, he laid out his facts point by point.

"First, I gave all of you — clumped together and calling yourselves the Salvation Cult — a shared ideology."

Salvation, and prayer.

"Then I gave you a common enemy."

Zombies.

"And I gathered plenty of fellow believers right beside you, so you could clearly feel that you weren't the only one like this — didn't I?"

The followers turned their heads, checking one another. Their eyes wavered visibly, large enough to be seen even from a distance.

"I know. I know. I know it all. And still you want to believe, don't you? That's just how people are. Women especially. Once you're in a group, you absolutely hate being cast out of it. I get it, I really do. But if you're human, you know gratitude — so don't you want to believe in your Cult Leader, just a little?"

The bastard was seducing my followers.

"So you have to doubt. Is the opposite of 'believing' really 'doubting'? No — it's not believing. Believe. Believe, and doubt anyway."

Click-clack—!

I didn't even need to look to know which way the scales were plunging.

"And you all heard everything, didn't you? He's not quite what you imagined, is he? Something feels off, doesn't it? But you know what?"

The bastard spat out his last words and turned, walking straight back to his podium.

"Even if you cling to a straw out of desperation — in the end, it's still just straw?"

THUD—!

The sound of the weights settling completely to one side.

Consciously trying not to look at the scales, I made my way to the center. Even so, I couldn't ignore the face of the bastard grinning at me.

"Is there any kind of time limit on the statement?"

"Then conjure yourself a chair and sit down. This is going to be a long one."

"Aigoo~ the Cult Leader's mad. He's suuuper pissed~"

Ignoring the bastard needling me right up to the end, I took my place at the center.

My followers — the ones I had saved, gathered, and led all this way. And yet now, they were the jury of a verdict that doubted me.

'…It's been long, hasn't it.'

A month and a bit more since I'd left the Sanctuary in high spirits.

Since a while ago, I'd been drinking in the sunlight washing over the Plaza with my eyes closed. I killed Seo Joowon, and saved people. I opened the Gate of Salvation, and saved people again. I cleared the special stronghold, and saved people once more.

The murals. The jewels. The system's messages. And this Plaza, right now.

Its purpose was finally coming into focus. Another me, and lethal questions — and on top of that, the scales, a visual element designed to gnaw at my composure. It was demanding sincerity from me.

From beginning to end.

From a man whose profession was built on deception. From a Pseudo-Cult Leader.

Fine. I'll give it what you want. The heart you wished for.

I'll speak it in front of these thousands of eyes. However this ends — it ends here and now.

Slowly, I opened my eyes and lifted the microphone.