Chapter 142
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 142
It didn’t hurt Gio when people feared him.
‘It’s understandable that they’d be scared.’
Even before the Great Catastrophe, many people had been afraid of Seo Gio.
His facial muscles, which seemed to have uniquely atrophied, had forgotten how to smile. Since he didn’t particularly enjoy socializing, his social circle was narrow. On top of that, Gio was exceptionally strict about etiquette, making him a difficult person to casually befriend.
Perhaps because of this, just when he thought people had stopped fearing him, someone new would inevitably appear.
‘They always said my aura was intimidating…’
Always expressionless, toweringly tall, and perpetually clad in a black suit.
‘Black is such an easy color to manage, though.’
It was a choice made for convenience as much as personal taste, but more than a few people were frightened by Gio’s appearance. He, too, was aware that he didn’t have an approachable look.
“…”
But seeing them this terrified made even Gio feel a bit troubled.
“Are we almost there?”
“I deeply apologize for causing you discomfort.”
“There’s no need to apologize.”
There was really no need to react with such sheer panic to a simple question like, “Are we almost there?” The guiding priest wasn’t making a scene, but his stiff, rigid steps and the slight tremor in his voice betrayed his terror.
Giovanni thought to himself.
‘I really feel like I’m being a nuisance here.’
He hated it.
‘The Collector’s employees just get openly startled, so I can at least laugh it off…’
Even though it was the same fear, the quality of it was different. The people at the Collector had great resilience, and above all, they seemed to have adapted well to Gio’s existence. It was probably because they were a group of exceptionally indifferent and nonchalant people.
But the emotion the priest guiding him now felt was genuine, unadulterated terror.
‘To think he’d be this terrified.’
Yet, seeing the priest do his absolute best to treat him as a guest made Gio—who felt compelled to return any kindness he received fivefold—feel incredibly uneasy.
“…”
“It is just ahead.”
“I see.”
Gio expressed his gratitude to the priest, who had stopped in front of a massive gate.
“Thank you.”
“…The honor was entirely mine.”
The priest bowed deeply.
“Please do not look upon us with displeasure for merely following our Father’s words.”
“I have come as a priest seeking to pray, and as a mere visitor. You need not worry.”
“Hearing you say so lightens the heart of this humble priest.”
At that, Gio asked, “If you do not mind, would you accept a small gift from me?”
“…A gift, you say?”
“Do you enjoy sweets, Priest?”
“Sweets… Yes, I do.”
“What I am offering is just a small token of my gratitude.”
Gio handed over some dried fruit neatly wrapped in traditional Korean paper.
“They are sun-dried fruits.”
“Ah…”
“You may eat them, or you may not.”
Then he added, “Just, please do not fear me.”
Because he felt too guilty.
“Would you do that for me?”
“…I shall never forget the warm grace bestowed upon me by the Divine.”
“Please, do not think of it so grandly.”
Ah, please don’t do that.
‘Why are you being like this?’
To be honest, he felt a bit like crying. Every single word felt so burdensome. If they had just treated him like a monster from a ghost story, he could have laughed it off, but being treated with such extreme reverence while they trembled in fear was incredibly awkward for Gio.
What on earth had he “bestowed,” and what “grace” was there? He didn’t want to be treated as if he had granted royal favor over a single piece of dried fruit. He wished the priest would recognize the desperation behind his bribe.
“I hope that the next time I visit, your expression will be a bit more relaxed than it is now.”
Believing that lingering any further would be bad manners, Gio stepped back.
It was a fact that he looked scary, and it was only natural to fear scary things. Whining to someone he had just met, repeatedly begging them not to be afraid, was simply poor etiquette.
“…”
Thinking this way made him miss Mr. Ju-hyeon, who would be resting at home.
‘Let’s become close friends quickly.’
My prospective pen pal, who is kind, well-mannered, and not at all afraid of a haunted portrait.
He hadn’t been particularly sociable to begin with, but ever since he became a ghost story, the number of people who feared him had only increased, making things rather difficult. Making friends had become far too hard.
“Should I open the door and go in?”
“If you stand before it, I will ring the bell for the gatekeeper.”
“Understood.”
Ring—
The priest rang a softly glowing white bell.
“…”
The door opened smoothly, without a single sound.
‘…The opening of a horror movie?’
A silently opening door in a dark, massive temple—it felt quite like a haunted mansion, which was a rather novel experience.
‘But if we’re talking horror concepts, I, a haunted portrait, won’t lose.’
Gio thought that if he ever had to build a temple in the future, he would definitely ask for copyright permission and implement this system. Seeing how his public image was leaning closer to that of a ghost story, there was indeed a lot to learn.
‘By the way, is it too rude to compare an elder whose face I don’t even know to a ghost?’
To Gio, the God of Death seemed to be on the same level as the Sun God, who was currently a teddy bear father. Having already experienced the Sun God, the perception of "God = elderly person living alone" had become firmly engraved in his mind.
He confidently stepped inside the doorway, where not a single speck of light entered. It seemed the elder of this house was also living a very lonely and solitary life, and Gio was confident in his ability to act cute and entertain such a person.
“…Hmm.”
A shallow, gently flowing stream of dark water—black, yet transparent—covered the entire floor.
The massive door closed silently behind him, and soon, a pure white lantern flared to life not too far away.
“Are you the bishop of this place?”
“Please do not use honorifics with me, nameless divinity.”
The one who spoke was a woman wearing a hanbok as voluminous as a peony.
“Thank you for tolerating our rudeness. May we understand your personal visit here as an acceptance of our Father’s invitation?”
“Of course.”
“I am Eun-ryeong, the manager of this place, though I am lacking. If there is anything you require, please call for me at any time. I shall remain within this room.”
The bishop set the lantern she was holding onto the floor, then quietly stepped back and vanished into the darkness. Wearing a pitch-black hanbok and her face veiled by a pitch-black neoul, the bishop quickly blended into the shadows and disappeared.
Only then did Gio realize with whom he was supposed to converse.
“Ah.”
He raised his head and peered into the darkness.
“I didn’t expect you to already be here.”
Then, a damp, rustling sound echoed from the gloom.
“I greet the Death of Earth.”
“…You…”
Through the small but bright lantern light, ‘Death’ revealed his face.
“You… treated… my children… well…”
It was a colossal entity, seemingly one with the darkness.
His face resembled an ancient tree that had stood firm through the ages, and from its various cracks and crevices, a pure white light like that of the lantern seeped out.
He possessed countless long, thin arms, and his lower body, illuminated by the lantern, resembled a pitch-black river stretching out to an incredible length.
A body spreading out like a spiderweb, wrapped in black silks. Gio realized that this entire room was Death’s manifested body.
“You look magnificent.”
He was in awe.
“You are both a river and a tree.”
“Did I… appear so…”
“What I am stepping on is your knee, and what I see is a mountain made of arms.”
“…You are… very… favorable toward me…”
“Is there any reason not to be?”
Gio liked elders.
“I came here today to ask about the Evil God.”
“…Is that so…”
“Would you tell me why you summoned me?”
“I… you…”
Death’s voice was massive, like the echoing of a cavern.
“Saw.”
And it was silent.
“You dwell in sin, yet you are no sinner.”
“You resemble Providence, yet you are not that either.”
“In your wickedness, you cannot be called a hero…”
With mouths hanging in the air, Death defined Gio.
“You who sacrificed your body, why do you dwell in hell?”
He said, “Though condemned as a sinner, you are no sinner. You refused to enjoy peace within Providence, and even as a divinity coveting blood and sacrifice, you were once a hero. I hold you dear. My heart aches for your soul.”
“…”
“You wish to be condemned, but it will not be easy. You desire to dwell in mind-clouding pleasure, yet abundance and peace shall remain by your side. You wish to be remembered as a foolish ghost, but you shall remain a master of history.”
Death asked, “Who are you?”
It was a pure question filled with wonder.
“Have you already decided?”
“…”
And Gio…
“……?”
…was dumbfounded.
“I’m a human.”
“I see. So you have decided.”
“No, I’ve just been a human from the very beginning.”
“I understand…”
“Elder, please listen to me.”
Gio felt a bit wronged.
“I admit I’m a bit of an unusual case, but that doesn’t mean I’m not human.”
There were people flying around with crow wings the size of houses on their backs, people with slitted, glowing reptilian eyes, and people who were immortal and so strong they could sway the world with a single snort—and they were still considered human.
So why couldn’t he be?
“This is discrimination.”
“Discrimination…”
“Human diversity is vast enough to easily embrace someone as unique as me.”
“Indeed… it would embrace you well…”
“It’s not about embracing me; I was already inside it to begin with.”
“I shall take it as such…”
For some reason, Death seemed to sigh. Gio felt even more wronged. Human diversity had expanded so vastly, so why couldn’t a haunted portrait be treated as human?
Whether indifferent to Gio’s grievance or simply unwilling to debate, the mouths of the God of Death, having seemingly reached their own conclusion, murmured continuously.
“How pitiful.”
“How lovely is that devotion and affection.”
“A broad embrace higher than mountains and longer than rivers.”
“Breathing within that embrace.”
“Sleeping within that embrace.”
“Life and death dwell within.”
“Yet you call yourself human.”
“You shall love without end.”
“You shall bestow without end.”
“Shall there ever be an end for you?”
“There is only the beginning.”
“For you…”
Among the countless voices resembling mist, whispering as if in a secluded mountain valley, only one continued.
“There is no death.”
“…”
Gio thought.
‘…Good heavens. Am I really walking the path of an eccentric legend like this?’
To suddenly receive confirmation of his immortality out of nowhere.
‘As expected, I’m amazing.’
It was a fact he had already vaguely accepted ever since he acknowledged becoming a portrait, but it seemed Gio’s body could no longer be called ordinary. Today, his self-esteem rose yet another notch.
It felt like it was about time for it to stop rising, but the only human who could have pointed that out to him—Seo Gio’s grandmother—had already passed away. It was a matter over which Yoo Seong-un would scream and humanity would lament.
“…”
Gio soon reached a conclusion.
“…I’ll just have to make a lot of friends.”
That would do.
“Then I’ll never be bored for the rest of my life.”
“…Indeed…”
“May I visit you from time to time? I will prepare a table of food for you.”
“A table… you say…”
“If there is no death for me, wouldn’t we be friends who never have to say goodbye?”
“…Friends…”
The pitch-black room made of death echoed in a round, resonant tone.
“I like that.”
Gio recognized that it was a laugh.
“Come often, young friend.”
“Thank you.”
“I shall look forward to your gifts.”
And just like that, Gio’s circle of friends grew.
Ta-da.
*
“Oh, really?” Yoo Seong-un, who had been waiting in the prayer room, asked. “So basically, as long as they aren’t afraid of you, they’re all your friends?”
“I do also hope they are kind and polite, if possible.”
“Right, every kind and polite being who isn’t afraid of you.”
“If so, there’s really no reason not to be friends.”
“I see…” Yoo Seong-un nodded. “Since you called them an elder, I didn’t think you’d go as far as making them your friend.”
“They didn’t seem as old and lonely as I expected…”
“Is that 'old and lonely' standard based on your father?”
“He was indeed quite lonely before I visited him.”
“I don’t really know how one can define an intangible existence like a god as being 'old' or 'lonely' in the first place, but…”
“It’s just… you can tell at a glance, can’t you? Death didn’t particularly look lonely either. He has a big family.”
“…”
That part piqued his interest. Yoo Seong-un’s bad habit reared its head, prompting his curiosity. He asked, “Then what did the God of Death look like to you?”
He was curious about the world Gio saw.
“You said he didn’t look lonely, for starters.”
“Hmm… if I had to compare him to a human, maybe someone in their middle age…”
“Middle-aged. And?”
“Extremely broad-minded…”
After a moment of thought, Gio continued, “Someone who finds everything a hassle?”
“…”
“I got the feeling that as long as it wasn’t anything foolish, he’d go along with it if you pushed him.”
“Uh…”
“Above all, he really hated the idea of leaving his room.”
“…Uh, well…”
“I think we’ll get along great.”
“…I see.”
Yoo Seong-un nodded.
“If you say so, then I guess it is.”
Right, yeah. Sure.
It seemed this was still a realm too difficult for a human to comprehend.