Chapter 131
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 131
The man had grown up in an orphanage sponsored by the government and the Association, which functioned as a public institution of sorts.
“Ju-hyeon.”
“Yes, Director.”
In accordance with the orphanage’s rules, his name was simply Ju-hyeon, with no surname.
“If you have a spare moment, could you run an errand to the Association for me?”
“Of course. What am I delivering this time?”
“It’s the list of new children arriving. It needs to be reviewed.”
He had been born four years before the Great Catastrophe.
In other words, he had experienced the Great Catastrophe around the age of four. The boy, who had lost even his name, was clever and diligent, earning the deep affection of the adults around him and surviving under the care of others. That was how he had ended up in the orphanage.
“Understood. I’ll be right back.”
“You’re such a good kid, Ju-hyeon.”
“I’m only doing what’s expected of me.”
Orphanages affiliated with the Association generally selected children who were intelligent, healthy, and diligent. Once the children they raised awakened, they would either become Hunters and gain their independence or receive an opportunity to work at the Association.
Ju-hyeon was one of them, but unlike the other orphans who simply lived day by day, he had ambition.
“Ju-hyeon, you said you wanted to go to the Association’s Research Institute, right?”
“Yes. Even if I awaken, I’d prefer the Research Institute.”
He wanted to make the world a slightly better place. He wanted to prevent as many tragedies as he could.
“That’s how I can help the Hunters.”
Having experienced the Great Catastrophe with nothing to his name, he had witnessed the full misery of the world. He had seen just how deep into the abyss humanity could fall.
Amidst it all, Ju-hyeon had been exceptionally lucky. He hoped to share the good fortune he had received with others so that the same tragedies would not be repeated.
“That’s very admirable of you, Ju-hyeon.”
“Thank you.”
“The Research Institute is always short-staffed, so I’m sure you’ll get a job there.”
“I hope so.”
If he could share what he had, there was no reason not to.
“I want to be of help.”
That was Ju-hyeon’s mindset.
It was embarrassing to say out loud, but it was his conviction. If he could help, he would. If they could walk the path together, they would.
Driven by this sense of mission, even after securing a job at the Association, the man never forgot to sponsor the orphanage that had raised him.
“I’m sure you’re busy just trying to make a living yourself. Thank you, always.”
“It’s all thanks to you raising me, Director.”
“That was just my job, there’s no need…”
“I know how hard it must have been to take care of us.”
Ju-hyeon was of mixed race, with dark skin. The Gita Orphanage, where he had stayed, was a place with a particularly high concentration of children like him who had foreign features.
“Most people don’t care about skin color now, but there was a time when things were really tough for you.”
“It was right after the Great Catastrophe. Everyone was on edge.”
“I know. There was so much talk about why we should care for foreigners when we were struggling to look after our own children. I remember.”
“Ju-hyeon, that was…”
“I know I’m Korean, too. I was born here, after all. It was just a sensitive time for everyone, like you said.”
However, because all records of nationality had been wiped out, people back then were highly wary and dismissive of anyone whose appearance differed even slightly from that of an East Asian.
The era of the Great Catastrophe was just that kind of time.
“I understand, but maybe because the atmosphere of that time still lingers… our orphanage still doesn’t receive much support.”
“It’s because of my own shortcomings. Um, by any chance, do the people at the Association look down on you…?”
“I can’t say they don’t. But it’s fine, you know me. I’m smart and capable. If I play my cards right, I’ll establish myself in no time.”
Association employees hired through the orphanage track already faced discrimination, and the orphanage Ju-hyeon came from was held in even lower regard. His promotions were slow.
Naturally, he was excluded from any proper projects. A researcher who couldn’t get promoted was practically no different from an errand boy.
Nevertheless, with his diligence and a subtle, hidden shrewdness, Ju-hyeon won over his colleagues and demonstrated outstanding ability, eventually catching the attention of his superiors.
“Why do you work so hard?”
“It’s something I can do, so there’s no reason not to.”
“You’re very diligent. I hope we get to work together for a long time.”
While some liked him, others offered worry or sarcasm.
“If you push yourself that hard, you’ll burn out in no time.”
“Thank you for the advice.”
It was true, so he took it to heart.
Ju-hyeon was no saint. His goal was to make a better world, and he cleverly sought the best ways to contribute to that.
Since I’ve set such a massive goal…
He had to pace himself properly so he wouldn’t burn out.
I just need to take it one step at a time.
He was not impatient. He did not crave honor. But he was confident.
He was exceptionally smart among the research staff and a quick learner. Though he wasn’t an Awakened, he took good care of himself, keeping him healthier than the average person.
Ju-hyeon also engaged in numerous volunteer activities.
“You’re from the Association?”
“What a joke. Do you need test subjects or something?”
“Who do you think you are, trying to help us?”
People in the Outer Zone, and others both inside and outside the city who needed help, were highly wary. Even so, Ju-hyeon consistently reached out, talking and interacting with them. After some time, they began to soften.
“Thanks for treating me last time.”
“I heard the kid in that house over there is sick…”
“Do you happen to have any more food? You know, since it’s winter.”
Some were genuinely grateful, while others treated Ju-hyeon like a golden goose. Though some were rude, Ju-hyeon remained unfazed and steadily continued his volunteer work.
“…It’s a busy life.”
But even that was good.
He participated in the Association’s research, and in his spare time, he studied or volunteered. Rude people existed everywhere, and frustrating incidents were inevitable. Still, he was content.
Once I gain more experience, I’ll be able to rise to the position of team leader one day. If I become a research team leader, I’ll be given my own research time and resources. Then, I can conduct research on dungeons and monsters.
It was during those busy days.
“…Huh?”
“Aaaaaaargh…!!”
“What—what is…”
Someone rushed out and grabbed Ju-hyeon’s ankle.
“Save me! Please, save me…! I was wrong! I made a mistake, I won’t do it again!”
“Wait, hold on…”
“You motherfuckers, save me! No! I don’t want to die! At least not like that…!”
“Ugh…!”
The Research Institute staff murmured amongst themselves before the security force appeared. Or perhaps they had been chasing the man from the start, as they subdued him immediately.
As Ju-hyeon stood there in bewilderment, clutching his throbbing ankle, a researcher who seemed to have followed the commotion apologized.
“Oh dear, is your ankle okay? It’s not broken, is it?”
“Pardon? Ah, yes. Actually… no, I think I should get it treated.”
“Our mistake. The Association will cover the treatment, of course, but we’ll compensate you separately for this.”
“More importantly, who was that man…?”
“Hmm?”
The researcher tilted his head, looking at Ju-hyeon’s face.
“Ah, you haven’t joined a proper project yet, have you?”
“Does it have something to do with that?”
“He’s a response agent. A response agent who ran out because he didn’t want to do his job.”
“A response agent…”
He knew the term.
“Are you referring to the people who participate in experiments?”
“To put it another way, they’re just test subjects.”
“…”
“I guess you’re not used to this yet.” The researcher chuckled. “Just think of it as the way things are. It’s no big deal.”
“…From what I understand, response agents are supposed to receive proper treatment and compensation.”
“There are grades for that, too. You wouldn’t know since you haven’t been on a project yet, Ju-hyeon, but that guy just now was closer to a lab rat.”
“But he was clearly begging for his life.”
“He got scared because he’s scheduled to enter the Red Room after meeting the Hourglass. I should have managed him better, but he was surprisingly strong.”
“…The Hourglass? The Red Room?”
“Well, you’ll be working with us soon anyway, Ju-hyeon, so I’ll give you a little preview.”
It felt like a privilege, a reward for his hard work, but his heart pounded and a cold sweat broke out, leaving him no time to feel grateful. Soon, Ju-hyeon was able to see the ‘Hourglass’ and the ‘Red Room’ the researcher had mentioned.
“That is a monster that eats human time. On the outside, it looks like an ornate hourglass, but if it doesn’t consume a human’s time once a week, its decorations turn plain. When that happens, anomalous phenomena occur… but you’ll learn about that later.”
“…”
“See that room attached to the other side? You’ve probably seen it once or twice while running errands, Ju-hyeon. They were placed next to each other to improve workflow. The monster inside is a crimson gem, and it’s only satisfied when it feeds on the blood of the elderly and newborns.”
It was hard to comprehend.
“…Eating time, so that means…”
“In this day and age, it’s hard to source newborns or the elderly, so we just turn them into old people before throwing them in.”
“…Because that way, both the Hourglass monster and the Red Room monster will be satisfied. Right?”
“You catch on quick. I’m really glad, Ju-hyeon. I think you’ll adapt well.”
“Haha…”
In short, they were sacrifices offered to monsters.
“Is that really allowed? What about the ethical issues, or…”
“The response agent we just sent in was a 5th-Grade Citizen,” the researcher added, as if that explained everything. “Don’t lose sleep over it.”
Patting Ju-hyeon on the shoulder a couple of times, the researcher walked away. “He was a murderer who killed dozens of people, after all.”
Ju-hyeon watched as countless researchers bustled about, talking amongst themselves as they entered the rooms of the monsters that were lined up endlessly.
Even in the middle of a crowd, he felt entirely alone.
“…”
Ju-hyeon soon snapped out of it and did what he had to do.
He remained faithful to his assigned duties, went out to volunteer and speak with abandoned citizens, and even went through the trouble of requesting an audience with the Association President. But nothing improved. Everything remained the same. It was the same daily routine.
His family at the orphanage and his friends on the streets asked him, “You look really tired lately.”
Ju-hyeon found comfort in their words.
“The things happening at the Research Institute aren’t as… noble as I thought.”
“If a place like the Association were purely noble, that would be more surprising.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
He pulled himself together.
“Thanks for listening.”
Having family and friends allowed him to stand back up.
I survived the Great Catastrophe. I can endure this, too. I’ll find a better way.
So he tried to do even more. Having gained the necessary authorization, Ju-hyeon even began using himself as a test subject to produce results.
Yet, all he saw was the endless repetition of the very tragedies he so despised—even though he had done all this work precisely to avoid seeing them repeat.
“…”
“You’ve overexerted yourself. We will grant you leave, so please take a month to recuperate.”
“…But…”
“I understand what you want, but in your current state, you won’t even be able to perform your assigned duties properly.”
“…Understood.”
Perhaps he had caught the President’s eye after their previous conversation; it was a recommendation made directly by the Association President, who had noticed Ju-hyeon overworking himself.
Ju-hyeon was tempted to be stubborn for a moment, but realizing how frayed his mind and body had become, he soon acquiesced. He didn’t want to dig his heels in without a plan.
“I’ll take a little rest.”
But he shouldn’t have.
“…”
By the time he returned from his recuperation, his body mostly recovered, his hometown lay in ashes.
Several of his friends from the streets were nowhere to be seen, and everything was in disarray. Before he could even process his bewilderment, Ju-hyeon ran around, trying to grasp the situation.
“What?”
And soon, he learned that the cause lay with him.
“Because of me?”
“It seems a few people who held a grudge against you did this.”
“A grudge? Over what…?”
“They came from all over, didn’t they?”
They said that people from the orphanage he considered home, friends from the streets he thought he had grown close to, and even some of the Research Institute staff he viewed as capable colleagues—they all hated Ju-hyeon.
It wasn’t that he was entirely oblivious to those feelings. Envy, jealousy, disgust, the conflicts arising from differing ideologies—he had been extra cautious because he knew about them, but in the end, disaster struck anyway.
“To be honest, I didn’t look at you too favorably either.”
“…”
“It felt like you were the only one pretending to be so clean, you know?”
That was…
“…Haha.”
…a terrible thing to hear.
The reason he hadn’t heard the news sooner was that his research team leader had intentionally kept him in the dark to break his spirit, suspecting him of harboring strange motives. The team leader had claimed they couldn’t work with someone who had “funny ideas.”
Had he really stood out that much? Not really.
I thought I was being careful.
He had tried his best to understand his colleagues’ perspectives. He had agreed with them many times. But he had also made suggestions. Perhaps those tiny, accumulated points of friction had culminated in this absurd ‘initiation.’
But his family and friends were not 5th-Grade Citizens. They were innocent people. No matter how hard it was to find something like human rights in this world, this was utterly absurd.
Why did no one stop them? Why is no one suffering from guilt? Why am I the only one in agony?
Someone said to him, “Just let it go. If you’re not careful, you might end up as a response agent yourself, Ju-hyeon.”
“Can that actually happen?”
“If we’re short-staffed, even researchers get deployed as response agents.”
“I’ve heard that the Research Institute is short-staffed all the time.”
“Besides, you’ve already played the role of a test subject before, Ju-hyeon.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Maybe not a problem, but it could certainly serve as a justification.”
“…I see.”
Someone else yelled in anger, “Fuck, I knew it! This is why you can never trust those Association bastards!”
“No, I…”
“My friends died because of you! And what about the ones who are missing? I bet they were dragged off as test subjects!”
“…It’s not like that…”
“You hypocritical piece of shit. Did it feel good to act all nice and then stab us in the back? Fucking disgusting…”
“…”
He was tired.
“…”
If only he were just tired. But he was angry. It was an illogical sequence of emotions, but this exhausting rage made it difficult to think rationally.
He was so angry he wanted to sacrifice himself just to burn it all away…
…I suppose it could happen.
Humans were inherently fickle and self-centered, so such things were bound to happen. Ingratitude was one of the defining traits of the human species. They quickly forgot what they received and were highly sensitive to their own losses.
He had started all this knowing that full well. He had been hurt by it countless times. Yet, he had lived with a smile because he wanted to make a better world, because he didn’t want to see the same tragedies repeat themselves, because that was his conviction.
It’s fine.
But a sudden thought struck him: he, too, was human.
“…So…”
When he came to his senses, the Mark of the Evil God was in his hand.
He had crafted the Mark of Sankalut, one of the Evil Gods.
“…This could happen, too.”
He hadn’t used it yet.
They said Sankalut was the Evil God of blood and honor. If one offered the blood of a newborn or an elderly person who died in terrible agony, the god would grant a wish and send the souls of the dead to paradise.
Even so, the reason he hadn’t summoned the Evil God was not because he was good or because he planned to endure it once again. He simply hadn’t thought about whom to kill or what wish to make.
…I don’t even have a wish, yet my first thought is to lash out in anger. It makes no sense. Was I always this foolish?
He felt completely empty.
“…The one who dies can just be me.”
He felt like a puppet suspended by thin threads, moved by a will that was not his own.
He had once gained authorization to access the ‘Hourglass,’ the monster that ate human time, but after everything that had happened, he wasn’t sure if he still held that authority.
“But I should still be able to summon the Evil God.”
That was enough.
“As for the wish… hmm.”
What should he wish for?
Should I ask to bring my dead family back to life?
Ju-hyeon blankly stepped into the ruined, fire-ravaged orphanage.
Though all the bodies had been recovered, the abandoned building, secluded as it was, had not even been demolished. Ju-hyeon silently walked into the children’s room, now blackened with soot. In a corner that was relatively intact, traces of the children remained.
“…This is…”
There was also an unidentified drawing that had miraculously escaped the fire, only slightly singed at the edges.
“Did they draw the Black Cloak?”
It had become quite famous lately.
Plenty of kids talk about or draw the Black Cloak.
Staring at the drawing with lifeless eyes, Ju-hyeon soon let it drop carelessly. A soft thud echoed as it hit the floor.
He sat down on a soot-scented bed, his body weary. He was staring down at the Mark of the Evil God he had crafted when he heard it.
“…”
“…”
“Splendid.”
An exclamation filled with wicked amusement.
He realized someone was standing near the entrance of the room.
“It is a gem that smells of blood and wealth, is it not?”
“…What…?”
“If you give that to me, I can give you an even more beautiful and valuable gem.”
“Who are you…?”
“Hey there, gentleman. Shall I guess what you’re thinking right now?”
A man in a black suit was leaning against a gold-gilded frame.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
“…Pardon?”
It was an entirely unexpected question.