Chapter 121
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 121
“……”
“……”
Left alone, Yoo Seong-un was the first to speak.
“Gio.”
“Yes, Mr. Yoo Seong-un?”
“Your shadow is gone.”
“……”
At Seong-un’s remark, Gio’s head slowly lowered.
“Oh, dear.”
It was an incredibly artificial reaction.
Did he just decide that was the appropriate response for this situation?
The thought had barely crossed Seong-un’s mind when a shadow bloomed beneath Gio’s feet.
Seong-un was secretly impressed.
It looks alive.
The word “bloomed” felt incredibly accurate. The shadow possessed shapes so lively and diverse that it could hardly be considered a mere silhouette cast by an object blocking the light.
The shadow spread across his retinas.
…A school of fish?
A small school of fish swam in a tight cluster, waves swayed as if stirred by a breeze, and for a moment, he thought he saw a long-horned deer or a thick-clawed beast roaming the earth. Or perhaps it was the massive wings of a soaring bird.
The diverse shapes flashed by in an instant before growing dense like a massive forest, finally tidying themselves into the shape of a single human.
“……”
The elongated shadow settled into a dark, compact shape beneath Gio’s feet, as if finding its proper, “realistic” position. The process was like watching a clumsy sketch gradually refine itself into a complete work. Considering Gio possessed the traits of a painter, it was an intriguing transformation.
In that case, can the Gio outside the frame still be considered a painting?
Gio soon spoke.
“I should have paid closer attention. I seem to have shown you an unsightly side of myself.”
“These things happen.”
“I thought there wouldn’t be any issues, but to think there was such a blind spot…” Gio trailed off. “How embarrassing.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
He had clearly said, “I thought there wouldn’t be any issues.” That was no different from admitting he had anticipated the possibility of a problem.
In other words, Gio is aware that he is imitating a human.
Having organized his thoughts to this point, Yoo Seong-un murmured to himself.
He’s surprisingly capable of objective self-analysis. I thought Gio considered himself human, but if this is the case, what attitude should I adopt?
Were his past remarks, where he regarded himself as human, also part of the imitation? If so, Gio was performing an act so sophisticated that a human could hardly conceive of it.
It’s a trait sometimes seen in gods who enjoy playing games. From a human perspective, even what feels like truth can be a lie. Gio’s very belief that he is human could just be another layer of that imitation…
When a human thinks something sincerely, it becomes a belief. But for a being of a completely different caliber, like a god, even that sincerity could be an act. Despite having intentionally kept his mind open to various possibilities, Seong-un felt a bit blindsided.
It was truly astonishing. Seong-un swallowed a wry smile.
I shouldn’t measure an Existence of the Origin by human standards.
Especially when the one he was dealing with was the Origin itself.
“……”
Quietly catching his breath, Seong-un asked in a casual tone, “Unlike before, you seem a bit clumsy in some areas now.”
“If you could tell me in what ways, it would be of great help.”
“In what ways, you ask…”
Did he want to know the limits of human perception? The scope of an Existence of the Origin’s vision was vastly different from a human’s. The flaws in Gio’s imitation likely stemmed from this perceptual gap—or perhaps even pointing them out was part of the act.
It might be similar to how humans deploy robots to study the ecology of monsters.
When dealing with monsters or beasts wary of humans, robots shaped like them are sometimes sent in to observe their daily lives. To humans, it’s obviously a robot, but to the monsters, it might just feel like a slightly odd member of their own kind.
The situation between Gio and us probably isn’t much different.
Seong-un nodded.
“It’s not hard to explain.”
Whether as a curator or a gardener, he could easily point out the differences in perception.
“As I mentioned, I was a bit surprised that you didn’t have a shadow.”
“It is something that should naturally be there, but I forgot for a moment.”
“Especially since the lights are shining directly down on us from above.”
Bisabeol’s Gallery was exceptionally clean and white, and its lighting was bright. While this helped visitors fully appreciate the artwork, it was also a measure to allow curators to quickly notice anomalies like the one that had just occurred.
“Both the rookie curator and I had shadows beneath our feet.”
Only Gio didn’t.
“The next strange thing would be your weight.”
“My weight?”
“I can’t hear any sound when you move.”
“You can’t hear it?”
“If I had to describe it, it’s like the rustling of dry grass.”
In truth, this was a chronic issue with Gio’s human imitation.
“Even when we toured Seoul before, you were quite light.”
“I thought I had gotten heavier, in my own way.”
“Still, a normal person doesn’t get blown away just because the wind blows a bit hard.”
“I recall I didn’t actually get blown away.”
“Right, but your body floated up.”
“Wasn’t the wind exceptionally strong that day?”
“The wind on Earth doesn’t pick and choose who to blow away.”
Seong-un, who had been right next to him, was perfectly fine. Gio was the only one who almost took flight.
“Similarly, your sounds are incredibly light even now.”
“Light, indeed.”
“There’s no sound of footsteps, like when I walk.”
“That was certainly something I failed to pay attention to.”
Tap…
Gio tapped the floor with his bare foot and tilted his head.
“This is difficult to fix.”
“It’ll be hard to fix everything at once, so don’t rush.”
After all, from a human perspective, the less detailed Gio’s imitation was, the faster they could assess the situation.
“And to mention one more thing…”
“Is there more?”
“I’m not sure if this will translate well, but…” Seong-un pointed to a piece hanging on the wall of the hallway where they stood. It was large enough to envelop a standing person and, like most paintings on exhibit, faced people like a mirror. “Your reflection is a bit strange.”
On the pristine glass, a mass that could only be described as nature itself was reflected.
“Maybe because the gallery lights are so bright, our reflections are visible on the glass.”
“Why does it look strange?”
“In your eyes, do you see yourself reflected clearly as a human?”
“Yes, I do. It sounds like you don’t see it that way, Mr. Yoo Seong-un.”
“It’s a bit embarrassing when you put it like that, but yes, that’s right.”
The reflection of "Gio’s Portrait" in the glass was not a human form.
“I see a forest.”
In truth, it couldn’t simply be called a forest. It was lush trees, grass, and flowers symbolizing a forest. It was creatures like wolves and rabbits running wild within it. It was the ecosystem where they preyed on one another and lived. It wasn’t just a depiction of nature, but a massive entity possessing will and destiny…
It was similar to what he had just seen in Gio’s shadow.
I can’t call this a mere forest.
It was clearly staring at Seong-un and the world. It was the “eye” of some impossibly colossal existence.
I can feel its gaze.
And yet, the Gio standing right beside him wasn’t looking at Seong-un through the glass of the frame.
Is Gio unaware of this, too?
Or does he know and is just pretending not to, to maintain the “imitation”? From a human standpoint, his truths and lies were indistinguishable, so it made little difference. There was no point in trying to tell them apart.
Seong-un spoke casually, as if he hadn’t just seen that colossal entity.
“How should I put it… I can feel a difference in caliber.”
“I don’t quite understand what you mean, Mr. Yoo Seong-un,” the blond portrait smiled gently. “To me, my reflection in the glass looks perfectly human.”
“…Is that so?”
“Do you still see me that way right now, Mr. Yoo Seong-un?”
“……”
When Seong-un checked the glass again, he could see the form of “Giovanni.” The “forest” was nowhere to be seen.
“…Oh.”
So that’s how he’s going to play it.
“Right. I see a human reflected clearly now, too.”
“Perhaps the painting preserved behind the glass distorted my reflection?”
“Could be. The pieces here are all incredibly assertive.”
Seong-un didn’t bother trying to convince him, ‘You aren’t human.’
If he’s behaving this way despite knowing full well, it means I shouldn’t pry any further. He had no intention of drawing the ire of a piece he was supposed to manage. If Gio wants to look human, it’s best to just leave it at that.
If the Origin itself desired it, who was he to argue? Since Gio was trying to act human and wanted to be seen as one, there was no reason not to play along. Gio could be as human as he wanted, even if he wasn’t one.
“Hmm…” Rubbing his chilled neck, Seong-un asked, “I asked this earlier, but when we toured Seoul, weren’t there fewer anomalies? Some flaws have cropped up since I last saw you. Did you have a change of heart?”
“I’m not sure if that’s the right way to put it, but there was indeed something akin to a change of heart. It was the process of me becoming complete as Giovanni, and these anomalies seem to stem from that.” Gio smiled and continued, “I can no longer expect any help from Giovanni.”
His way of speaking was truly unique.
Talking like this, it almost seems like he has no real intention of pretending to be human.
Perhaps he simply hadn’t realized his manner of speaking was strange, or maybe he was just revealing his true thoughts because he felt comfortable around Seong-un. Either way, the situation wasn’t too bad.
Seong-un soon asked, “What do you mean, you can’t expect help from Giovanni?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. Until now, Giovanni wasn’t a complete portrait, so I could rely on his help. But that is no longer possible.”
“Because the Giovanni standing before me has become a complete portrait?” Was that what “becoming complete as Giovanni” meant? “So when you weren’t a complete portrait, you could receive that kind of help.”
Bestowing things a human naturally possessed upon a “portrait” that could never truly be human.
…I once speculated that the true nature of this portrait was countless deaths and lives.
That this portrait was constantly reviewing the lives and deaths of “Gio” across countless dimensions. Now that he knew Gio was the Origin, Seong-un could be certain. This existence called “Gio” was likely the “eye” through which the Origin experienced, understood, and ultimately applied the concept of humanity.
If so, it also explains how a colossal existence like the Origin can grant a System tailored to human standards.
Therefore, those countless “Gios” whom Seong-un had yet to know…
“……”
…likely served to help him, whose essence was the Origin, adapt and function smoothly among humans when acting as one in a given dimension. At least, that was what it sounded like, hearing the purpose of this personality named “Giovanni.”
…Though it seems that even that eventually gets dyed by the caliber of the portrait over time.
Just as paper laid over an inkwell is slowly stained black, the ego called “Giovanni,” which could once have been deemed human, was ultimately swept away by the sheer scale of the Origin. Having lost his reference point, Gio was no longer sure of the conditions required to be human.
This was how a colossal existence like the Origin imitated a tiny human.
“…Then,” Seong-un asked, “what will you do now? Will you discard your current identity as an A-Rank Hunter?”
“No, I find great charm in active participation as a proper resident of this world.”
“But with so many eerie flaws, it’ll be hard to live comfortably.”
“So, I believe I must seek the help of another ‘Gio.’” The portrait was still smiling. “If there are any results, I will send you a letter.”
“Sure, that sounds good.”
Seong-un suddenly noticed yet another flaw.
…His expression is exactly the same.
Like a portrait already painted and unable to change, Gio was smiling with the exact same expression as always.
It’s like he’s been taxidermied alive.
It was an incredibly romantic thought.
* * *
“Kkuruk.”
“……”
“Kkururu?”
“…I thought there weren’t any problems.”
“Kkururururu.”
“But there were more flaws than I thought.”
Having returned to his cabin, Gio kneaded the squishy Honey. The plump waterbird squished and reshaped inside Gio’s large hands. Feeling the springy texture of his son, who deformed flexibly at his whim, Gio frankly confessed his mistake.
“If Mr. Yoo Seong-un hadn’t told me, I really wouldn’t have known until the very end.”
He thought it was a relief that the rookie curator he’d met today hadn’t noticed his anomalies. In truth, the rookie curator had noticed all of Gio’s “flaws” but had gritted her teeth and pretended not to. Gio, however, believed their conversation had been quite successful.
“I was too naive to think there would be no issues being active as a fully assimilated Gio.”
“Kkoong?”
“No, this dad won’t give up. No matter how scary I’ve become, Earth is still my home.”
“Kkurururu.”
“I might sleep in the portrait, but I still need to feel the stimulation of my hometown once in a while.”
Moderate brain stimulation was good for preventing dementia.
“I’m going to live a long, healthy life.”
“Kkuruk.”
“Now, I need to find another Gio…”
Conveniently, there was a suitable candidate.
[Compatibility List]
Animal Kingdom_Arjio
Assimilation Rate: 0%
“…Is it time to pull ‘Animal Kingdom’ out of storage?”
It was time to merge with the second compatible subject, ‘Arjio’.