Chapter 22
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 22
Yoo Seong-un asked the Guild Master for help.
“I need your help.”
“Whoa, what’s all this?”
“I’ve come to practice the virtue of sharing.”
“Am I just everyone’s punching bag?”
Yoo Seong-un had appeared in Bisabeol’s office at exactly nine in the morning, holding a massive glass jar. It was so large that it immediately drew the eye of the Guild Master, who had been caught completely off guard by the unannounced visit.
“You have a unique taste, Curator Yoo Seong-un. That is quite the rare item.”
“Come on, don’t play dumb. Just help me out.”
“Shall I?”
Even though the jar was tightly sealed, a sweet aroma leaked out. Bisabeol immediately realized it was filled with fruit syrup—and that it must have come from Gio.
“Did you run an Appraisal on it?”
“I did, the moment I got it from him.”
“And the rank?”
“Still unknown.”
“My, my.”
Clack.
Bisabeol stared at the jar of fruit syrup resting on his table.
“…”
“Do you see anything?”
“It’s extremely good for the body.”
“I highly doubt it’s just ‘extremely good,’ but I’ll take your word for it for now.”
“Didn’t you say you haven’t even finished the cookies from last time?”
“If I eat too many, I can’t sleep. I may be a cog in the capitalist machine, but even a corporate slave is human and needs to rest.”
“If you handed them out to the employees working overtime or the guards on the dawn shift, you’d be incredibly popular.”
“And risk having the Portrait Association snatch them away? No matter how tight-lipped our people are, you never know where information might leak.”
“I know. That’s why I’m keeping a lid on it,” Bisabeol chuckled softly. “Above all, we shouldn’t treat Gio like some kind of item dispenser.”
“On that point…” Yoo Seong-un pondered Bisabeol’s words for a moment, then nodded in satisfaction. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
‘Gio’s Portrait’ was an entity whose true nature remained shrouded in mystery. While they shouldn’t let themselves be paralyzed by fear, remaining as vigilant and mindful as possible was the best way to ensure humanity’s survival.
“Setting its effects aside, its appearance is practically divine. If you donated this to a temple, they’d sing your praises.”
“Yes, well, I heard it’s exceptionally effective for malnutrition. I’m not exactly starving, so I can’t personally vouch for it.”
“If it’s for nutrition, the Temple of the Sun would go crazy for it. With something like this, you could probably save slum dwellers on the verge of turning into mummies.”
“If even the Sun Cult would welcome it, it must possess a warm energy. Is it really that potent?”
“It’s a concentrate. Even a single spoonful would be a massive help to a dungeon exploration team.”
Exploration teams were Hunters dispatched not to clear a dungeon, but to locate missing persons or map its layout. Because they couldn’t expect a quick exit, they had to carry a vast amount of provisions. The problem, however, was that the harsh dungeon environment limited how much they could carry. Consequently, they usually had to rely on tasteless survival rations or potions.
“But this actually tastes good, a tiny amount of the concentrate is more than enough, and you just drink it as a fruit tea. It’s as easy to consume as a potion.”
“…”
“If word of this got out, the government would probably step in to regulate it. It’s far too valuable to be kept as a private luxury.”
“I figured as much.”
“But for the sake of humanity—as tragic as it is—we have no choice but to keep it to ourselves.” Bisabeol grinned like a mischievous boy. “We can’t exactly sell it, can we?”
“Ah, absolutely not.”
This was a gift given out of goodwill by an Existence of the Origin. They had never received permission to sell it. If Gio ever found out his gift was circulating in some auction house, the sheer weight of the wrath and resentment Yoo Seong-un would face would be far beyond anything he could survive.
That was the ‘Rule.’
“I think this every time, but the government is far too complacent when it comes to the Origin.”
It had been thirty-one years since the Great Catastrophe. While not a short period, it wasn’t particularly long, either. Unlike dungeons, where anomalies were easily detected, the Origin was utterly indifferent to humanity. Perhaps it was only natural that the government’s understanding of it remained so severely lacking.
“The current president is paying a decent amount of attention, and it’s not like there aren’t people who understand the Origin… but realistically, none of that knowledge is being put into practice,” Yoo Seong-un let out a frustrated sigh. “I wish they’d implement safety and prevention training for the Origin, not just for dungeons. It breaks my heart to see people killed by the Children of the Origin without even knowing why, and to see the families they leave behind. There’s only so much we Gardeners can do.”
“Well, we still don’t know much about it, and the immediate threat is the dungeons on the surface, right? It’s only natural to focus on dungeons that throw a fit every other day rather than the Origin, which does nothing if you just leave it alone. Besides, we’re short-staffed.”
“Even if that means we’re barely scratching the surface.”
“The scarcity of people who can actually perceive the Origin probably plays a big part in that, too.”
Unlike dungeons and the monsters nesting inside them—which any random person could see and recognize—the so-called ‘Children of the Origin’ were imperceptible to the vast majority of humanity. Various theories had been proposed, but the most widely accepted hypothesis was that they existed on a ‘spectrum beyond the sensory capabilities of the human body.’ According to this theory, only a select few humans who had evolved or mutated alongside Earth’s changing environment were capable of seeing them.
“I believe you mentioned before that even those with the aptitude can’t see every single Child of the Origin.”
“Yes, because it’s a type of talent. Just as everyone has different hearing ranges, there are some Children of the Origin that certain individuals can see, while others remain completely invisible to them.”
“That part never ceases to fascinate me.”
“There’s also a hypothesis that the fewer people who can perceive a Child, the closer that entity is to the Origin itself. I’m sure there are Children out there that even I can’t see.”
“The idea of a threat being right next to you without anyone being able to see it is truly chilling.”
“Well, if you can’t see or sense them, you can’t interact with them in the first place. And as long as you don’t disturb them, they won’t get angry…” Yoo Seong-un sighed. “I was just venting. Honestly, it’s probably fine if the general public remains ignorant of the Origin for now. They are utterly indifferent to humans.”
“Didn’t you say there were exceptions, though?”
“Yes, of course. But even the exceptions aren’t as actively hostile as monsters, so the casualties are minimal.”
This extreme rarity was precisely why the Children of the Origin had remained hidden from the public eye for so long.
“Well, anyway,” Yoo Seong-un said, gesturing to the jar.
“Yes.”
“We do need to consume this somehow.”
“Indeed.”
“It’s a highly potent concentrate, and there’s so much of it. It feels wrong to keep it all to ourselves.”
“…Are you planning to drag another victim into this?”
“I should call the HR team.”
Much like the secretarial team, the HR team was comprised of the most tight-lipped individuals in the entire guild. Their duties ranged from general member care to executing the Guild Master’s most confidential orders.
“At least we won’t have to worry about it leaking to other departments.”
“I suppose so, but…”
“Besides, they’ve been working themselves to the bone with overtime lately.”
“Why don’t you just give them my cookies while you’re at it?”
“I’ll just tell them I purchased this item separately.”
“I appreciate that, though I highly doubt such a flimsy excuse will work on people that sharp.”
“Oh, come on. They’re quick-witted enough to read between the lines and keep their mouths shut. Those people hate extra work more than death itself.”
“True. That is exactly the kind of crowd we gathered there…” Yoo Seong-un let out a sigh of relief.
‘Gio probably won’t mind if I share it with my colleagues.’
Of course, the Rules of the Origin were not to be taken lightly. There were plenty of cases where a gift turned into lethal poison if consumed by anyone other than the intended recipient.
‘But Gio did say…’
He had explicitly said he wanted to share it with “everyone.”
‘That’s what he said.’
Which meant his offer extended to every single employee in the guild.
“…”
“Are you sure it’s safe?” Bisabeol asked.
“Yes. I’ve replayed the conversation in my head. It was definitely intended as a gift for the entire staff, myself included.”
“I suppose that explains the massive jar. It’s far too much for you to finish on your own, Seong-un.”
“To be honest, I think he just handed it over without giving it much thought…”
The man did everything on a massive scale.
“Though I suppose it would be stranger if an Existence of the Origin actually understood what constituted a reasonable portion by human standards.”
“But didn’t you say he still retains his memories from when he was human?”
“He does, but I suspect they aren’t entirely intact.”
The employees who had encountered the ‘Black Cloak’ testified that Gio had introduced himself as ‘Seo Gio.’ A young man who died at twenty-nine—or was programmed to believe he did. That was likely the extent of the memories preserved within ‘Gio’s Portrait.’
“But the real question is: why was the portrait defined simply as ‘Gio’?” That wasn’t a name given to him by humans. “It’s the name defined by the Origin.”
The skills used by the Awakened—the Hunters—were all granted through the System of the Origin. This fell under the exact same principle. The Origin, which functioned as a sort of deity or a multidimensional system, had specifically designated that name for a single portrait sitting in the basement of a building, on a tiny planet.
“Therefore, the portrait’s true name is ‘Gio,’ not ‘Seo Gio.’ That contradicts his own claim, doesn’t it?”
“Are you saying… the Origin’s designation doesn’t align with Gio’s own memories?”
“Exactly. The name we’re talking about isn’t a label we give ourselves or one another. It is the name of his very essence.” In other words, it was his ‘true name,’ bestowed by the progenitor that was the Origin. “To put it another way, the name displayed by the System represents the target’s essence as evaluated by the Origin. It’s not something a mere human can easily dismiss.”
“And that is the name attached to Gio?”
“Yes, and it’s displayed in a way that anyone can read. Whether it’s a low-level Appraisal Skill or a high-ranking one like yours, Guild Master, the name is perfectly legible. However…”
“The problem is that we can’t find out anything beyond that.”
“Exactly.” Yoo Seong-un made a snipping motion with his fingers. “It’s as if the Origin has blocked the rest, declaring, ‘This must not be read.’ It has only permitted us to see one single thing: the name ‘Gio.’”
“It sounds like something out of mythology.”
“They do say that those who draw the gaze of a god lose their minds,” Yoo Seong-un didn’t deny it. “The Origin is generally benevolent toward humanity. Actually, it is benevolent toward everything it encompasses. That is precisely why it can seem so indifferent.”
“…”
“If it favored only humans, then the dungeons—which are also its children—would never have been born. Instead, it merely ensures that all of its children can fight on equal footing.”
Such unfathomable arrogance was certainly worthy of a ‘god’—even if the deities of the modern era were a far cry from being omnipotent.
“And here we have a sentient portrait that the Origin itself has flagged as dangerous, warning us not to pry.”
“…”
“…He might truly be a god. Or perhaps something even greater. Something that mere humans are incapable of defining.” A ‘something’ that was currently under the delusion of being human.
“…”
“…Though in this day and age, I suppose encountering something with divine traits isn’t that shocking anymore. But regardless…” Yoo Seong-un let out a heavy sigh. “It’s just a theory. He doesn’t fit the mold of a monster, an item, or even a Child of the Origin, so my mind can’t help but wander to these bizarre hypotheses.”
“I actually think it’s a fairly plausible theory. Priests already serve deities, and there are gods in this world who actively seek amusement. It’s entirely possible he’s a god who enjoys interacting with humans.”
“If that’s true, Earth is in grave danger, so let’s drop it. The moment Gio realizes he isn’t human, we won’t just face a disaster… we’ll face a miraculous catastrophe.”
“Hmm, you think so?”
“It would be best if we, too, consciously think of Gio as an ordinary human. The Origin is a ‘living story.’ The level of danger an entity poses changes based on how people perceive it.”
“That is truly fascinating.” Bisabeol looked deeply intrigued. “Isn’t that how Children of the Origin usually manifest in Japan? Perhaps because it’s a country with so many shrines, they have a wide variety of Children who influence reality. What do you think would happen if we started worshiping Gio as a god?”
“That is exactly why I’m telling you not to think along those lines! Don’t go pouring the highly volatile fuel of a divine myth onto an already dangerous entity.”
“Living stories really are terrifying. The moment people learn more about them or incorporate additional lore, they become exponentially more dangerous… I hear incidents are particularly common in cultures with rich mythologies.”
“Stop entertaining these bizarre ideas. What kind of catastrophe are you trying to bring down upon us…?” Yoo Seong-un muttered, looking utterly exhausted before quickly regaining his composed expression. “At any rate, I believe Gio’s memories are incomplete. Setting aside his essence and connection to the Origin… the clearest proof is how utterly unfazed he is by his current state and abilities, despite firmly believing he is human.”
In reality, Gio simply didn’t think about it at all. Yet, his absurd indifference—summing up his transformation as, ‘I used to be human, but I died and woke up thirty-one years later as a portrait, ta-da!’—only served to reinforce Seong-un’s theory. Normal people simply weren’t that detached from their own physical existence.
“If he were a normal human, he would have been terrified of his condition. He went from a person to a portrait; he should have felt some level of horror or revulsion. Furthermore, the fact that he hasn’t been corrupted by the godlike power to create absolutely anything except humans… is completely unnatural for a human being.”
And yet, that unnatural scenario was exactly what was happening. Gio’s miraculous lack of critical thinking was shining in the most absurd way possible.
“It’s a state of mind that is simply impossible for a human to maintain.”
“He certainly isn’t ordinary.”
“Of course, I don’t know enough about the Origin to say for sure. I can’t tell if he was a human who became part of the Origin, or if an entity of the Origin simply assumed a human form.”
“Hmm…”
“Furthermore, while Gio readily answers any questions we ask, he rarely volunteers information about himself.”
To reiterate, Gio simply had an empty mind. He wasn’t the type to dwell on the past, and it had never even crossed his mind that Seong-un might be curious about his history.
“Even as he claims to be human, he accepts his superhuman capabilities as if they are the most natural thing in the world.”
This, too, was a massive misunderstanding. Gio was living so entirely in the moment that he hadn’t fully processed his situation. Currently riding the high of his chaotic new life, Gio had no room for headache-inducing existential dread. Life was too short to do anything but enjoy it. Of course, even if he did fully grasp the situation, Gio was the type of person who would act shocked for about five seconds out of politeness before immediately pivoting to what he wanted for lunch. He was a modern-day master of mental peace, refusing to let any dark clouds rain on his blissfully clear, worry-free brain.
“Normally, no one could remain that composed.”
“That is true.”
“Isn’t it bizarre that he remains completely unfazed, despite possessing the power to unleash mass slaughter or trigger natural disasters at a whim?”
The curators kept overanalyzing, but the truth was simple: Gio just hadn’t thought that far ahead. To Gio, the only true trials and tribulations in life were deciding what to eat for his three daily meals. From the very beginning, he had categorized his transcendent abilities as nothing more than ‘the power to make food out of drawings.’ It had never even occurred to him that this power could pose a threat to humanity.
Gio was the kind of person who would genuinely ask, ‘Why would I do that when I can use this to make roasted sweet potatoes instead?’
“I don’t believe any human could possess a vessel that vast.”
Oh, but his vessel was indeed that vast. Gio’s blissfully empty mind, which naturally filtered out any negative thoughts, had a unique talent for stripping away the ‘seriousness’ from any ‘serious information’ and retaining only the bare facts. Gio didn’t care about anything beyond the fact that he had evolved into a portrait and that he could use his powers to make a comfortable living. He was essentially coasting through his new life on pure vibes.
Of course, since the two curators couldn’t possibly fathom such a carefree mindset, they remained dead serious.
“He’s also missing a significant amount of basic knowledge that any normal human should know.”
“…”
“If that’s the case, there must be a massive disconnect between his perception and reality…”
“And yet, he still insists he is human?”
“It’s possible he subconsciously knows the truth but is actively denying it.”
In truth, he was just struggling to adapt to a world thirty-one years in the future—much like a ninety-year-old fumbling with a fast-food kiosk. But Yoo Seong-un drew his own conclusions.
“If that’s the case, it’s likely a form of deep self-hypnosis. Either way, it would be highly unwise for us to pry into his true identity.”
“Fascinating, truly.” Bisabeol looked at Yoo Seong-un with envy. He spoke in a wheedling tone, like a child eyeing the last tub of ice cream in the freezer. “I’d really love to have a chat with him myself…”
“I’m sure you would.”
“Could you set up an introduction?”
“I’m afraid that’s out of the question.”
“Oh, come on, why?”
“Gio wouldn’t like it.”
“It’s not like he hates me, right?”
“It stresses him out,” Yoo Seong-un said, shaking his head firmly. “You were the one who entrusted Gio to me, Guild Master. It is my duty to protect his well-being. As long as he believes he is human, he requires proper care.”
“Are you saying I’m not suited to help with that care?”
“Do you honestly think you are?”
“Classic Curator Yoo Seong-un. Never minces his words.” Sigh. At least he didn’t try to deny it.
‘Thank goodness he has at least a shred of conscience,’ Yoo Seong-un thought with a wry smile. “The fact remains that we need to learn more about Gio. We still don’t know his true identity, his exact thought process, or if there are other Rules we might be violating.”
“He is a guest under my roof, so make sure he is treated with the utmost hospitality. All I want is for ‘Gio’s Portrait’ to remain satisfied with the services of my gallery,” Bisabeol nodded. “And ensure he can continue to believe he is human.”
"An immense burden, but for the sake of world peace, I’ll do my best."
To that end, Yoo Seong-un laid out his plan.
"...I’m planning to take Gio outside the gallery soon."
The world within the portrait Gio inhabited was far too alien for a human. Perhaps because he clung so desperately to his human identity, Gio rationalized it as merely 'living inside a portrait.' But if he remained cooped up in there forever, he would eventually awaken to his true nature.
"The fact that Gio believes he’s human is an incredible stroke of luck for us. We have to do everything in our power to maintain that illusion. To do that, we need to integrate him into human society."
"To hide a tree, you go to the forest?"
"...The concept is a little different, but essentially, yes. If we immerse him in a human environment, the illusion will be far more stable. With that in mind, I plan to show him around the city."
"And the risk?"
"..."
Yoo Seong-un averted his gaze.
"...We’ll have to be extremely careful."
"Is that your entire plan?"
"What other choice do we have? It’s better to try something than to sit on our hands, waiting for Gio to realize what he is and destroy the world."
"An incredibly bold move, especially for you. But of course, you have my approval."
"I’m well aware I’m playing with fire. I just deemed it a necessary risk."
Although Seong-un had yet to witness it firsthand, he knew this was a portrait that could make a person faint with a single glance.
"Gio is considerate of humans. He’s polite, a gentleman. None of the employees who have encountered him have been harmed… Besides, there are already Hunters in the real world who exude just as much pressure as he does."
"It’ll be a massive headache if a new S-Rank suddenly appears out of nowhere and the media catches on. With Hunters being treated like celebrities and idols these days, international rivalries are at an all-time high. If a rumor starts, it’ll spread like wildfire."
"That might actually work in our favor. Passing him off as a Hunter would make his cover story much easier to swallow. At the very least, it would force Gio into a human framework."
"..."
"A Child of the Origin’s danger level is determined by the scale of the story they carry. If Gio’s 'story' is scaled down to a human level, he’ll become much safer."
Yoo Seong-un let out a sigh.
"...Assuming Gio agrees to it, of course."
"Do you think he’ll agree?"
"I don’t know, so don’t ask me. My head is already about to explode."
"That’s what the extra pay is for."
"Goddamn capitalism."
Yoo Seong-un paused in thought before speaking again.
"Can you tell the staff to stop acting so terrified of Gio?"
"Do you really think that will work? Has all that caffeine finally melted your brain? Or has being cooped up in here finally broken you?"
"No need to be so harsh. I’m just asking you to lay down some ground rules."
He wore a troubled expression.
"Gio was displeased. Everyone he runs into freezes up, and he’s interpreting their reaction as rudeness."
"..."
"There’s only so much we can do to convince Gio not to take offense. Our side—the human side—needs to make sure we show him the utmost 'courtesy.'"
"...Hmm..."
Bisabeol nodded.
"If it’s just a matter of regulating behavior, I can manage that."
"Can you really do it?"
"There’s no reason I can’t."
This was the Collector Guild. In the Collector’s domain, there was nothing he couldn’t do. This was the sheer power a modern-day Guild Master wielded.