Chapter 26
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 26
The elevated train station they arrived at was situated at a considerable altitude.
“…”
“Why? Is something wrong?”
“It’s been a while since I’ve been this high up.”
“I suppose so,” Yoo Seong-un nodded.
I guess a portrait wouldn’t have many reasons to climb this high.
But since Gio had said “it’s been a while,” it seemed he had ventured out of his frame and explored on his own before. Or maybe he remembers climbing a mountain or a cliff back when he was human.
Since he was a being who could move on his own, there were many possibilities. Perhaps he had even traveled while still inside his portrait.
Unaware of Seong-un’s thoughts, Gio was busy looking around the station.
I couldn’t tell when looking up from below, but it’s enclosed by a transparent barrier. It seems designed to prevent falls or block the strong winds, but what is it made of? It’s much clearer and sturdier than glass or plastic.
Gio had a keen interest in growing and making things. Faced with a new material straight out of a science fiction film, he couldn’t resist asking.
“What is this wall made of?”
“Huh? The wall?”
“Yes. It’s blocked by a wall so transparent you wouldn’t even know it was there without touching it.”
“I’m no expert on this kind of stuff… but it’s probably Intangible Crystal.”
“Intangible Crystal?”
“I heard it’s a component extracted from one of the more common monsters.”
Seong-un didn’t know the name of the monster. Unless it was particularly threatening or unusual, it wasn’t worth remembering.
“Most of the transparent windows installed in the city use this, I hear.”
“I see.”
“…”
“…”
“…”
Seong-un’s face turned serious.
“You can’t take it. It’s public property.”
“I know.”
“That is not the expression of someone who knows.”
“Yes, it is.”
“…If you want some, I’ll get you a piece later, so just hold back for now.”
Although Intangible Crystals were used in various industries, they weren’t particularly expensive relative to their versatility. The monsters they came from weren’t rare, and the amount of crystal harvested per creature was quite high.
“What on earth are you planning to use it for?”
“It’s an interesting material. I wanted to observe it and find a use for it.”
“Your curiosity is truly something else…”
Seong-un smiled, his expression complicated. Showing such interest in man-made objects and rules was a classic trait of the Existences of the Origin.
As they chatted, the elevated train soon arrived.
“We’re the only ones in this car.”
Just as Seong-un said, the car labeled ‘Car 6’ held only the two of them.
Gio thought quietly to himself. There really is no one riding this.
It felt like a bit of a waste. To think people can’t ride such a wonderful piece of modern technology because it’s too expensive.
When they had tapped their card at the first-floor elevator, only a green light indicating entry permission had flashed, without showing the fare. He didn’t know the exact cost of the elevated train, but the emptiness left a strangely bitter taste in his mouth.
Is it just my imagination, or has the gap between the rich and poor grown even wider over the last thirty-one years?
Gio asked, “Is it usually this empty?”
“Ah, no,” Seong-un shook his head. “Normally, more people ride it. There are usually at least ten people per car, but today is exceptionally quiet. I’m not sure if it’s because we’re riding during peak working hours… It’s been a while since I’ve ridden at this time myself.”
“…”
Wait a minute. Something was off.
“Peak working hours?”
“Well, it’s 8:38 right now.” Checking his wristwatch, Seong-un continued, “Though it varies by company, the average start time is 7:00 AM.”
“…”
“Gio?”
“Work starts at 7:00 AM?”
“For most people, yeah.”
Do people just not have human rights here?
In my memory, the standard start time for office workers was definitely 9:00 AM.
Gio instantly lost all confidence in surviving this harsh reality. As even his nonexistent patriotism evaporated, it seemed being a portrait was indeed his true calling.
“…”
How on earth did this country end up like this? He soon deduced a plausible reason—one that only someone with a thirty-one-year gap in his memory could conjure.
“Was this decided because most people wake up at dawn due to genetic factors or cultural reasons?”
“Uh… no, not really. If they didn’t set a specific time, a lot of people would probably sleep until lunchtime. It’s just a rule people agreed upon.”
“I see.”
It was a clean answer, but it left an uncomfortable aftertaste. Gio stared intently at Seong-un.
Does this man sometimes not see me as human? He felt like a butler explaining human society to a talking cat.
“…”
“Huh? What is it?”
“I am an ordinary human.”
“Uh… right.”
Even if one searched with a magnifying glass, his reaction was far from believing. It was more like a scholar meticulously analyzing a complex passage.
…Well, if I were in Mr. Yoo Seong-un’s shoes, I wouldn’t view a haunted portrait as a fellow human either. In a world like this, I should just be glad I’m not being treated openly like a monster.
And there were several benefits to being treated like one. Even if he lacked money and common sense, people seemed to let it slide, thinking, Well, he’s not human, so that makes sense.
Although his pride as a human felt a bit bruised, he still believed that living as a portrait would be much better for his mental and physical health than returning to being a faithful slave of capitalist society.
Gio asked subtly, “Do you find me uncultured or impolite?”
“Where is this coming from all of a sudden?”
“I do not wish to cause you any inconvenience, Mr. Yoo Seong-un. I will be careful.”
“…I’m not sure how I’m supposed to respond to that, but, uh, sure. Thanks…”
“Thank you.”
As expected, Seong-un was a reliable and considerate person.
Sitting down next to Seong-un, Gio looked at the elevated train doors, which were still open.
“They stay open for quite a long time.”
“Subways and buses close much faster,” Seong-un said, lightly sharing some common knowledge before continuing his explanation. “Since it takes time to ride the elevator up to the platform, and there aren’t that many platforms to begin with, they keep the doors open longer for people who might be running a bit late.”
“Even though it’s winter?”
“Well, thankfully, the cold is blocked out automatically.”
Indeed, it was the dead of winter.
“Ah, now that I think about it… if we’re lucky, we might find some street food while walking around.”
At Seong-un’s words, Gio’s heart skipped a beat. He was true to his instincts.
“By street food, do you mean things like Bungeoppang?”
“Yeah, or maybe takoyaki… egg bread… or fish cakes.”
“I want to eat them.”
“I’ll do my best to look, but don’t get your hopes up. There aren’t many places that sell them anymore.”
“Why is that? Warm street food should be quite popular on cold days.”
“Not many people want to do it because of complaints that it ruins the city’s aesthetic. Once a complaint is filed, it causes issues with re-entering the city or running a business.”
Seong-un shrugged.
“And in the first place, city dwellers don’t really want to run street food stalls. But it’s also too inconvenient for people from the provinces to travel all the way here just to sell food, right?”
“…”
Oh. Gio was taken aback.
“You seem to draw a very strict line between city dwellers and provincial residents.”
“Huh? Well, uh… I guess so?”
“Why is that?”
“…Sigh.” Seong-un let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know how to explain this, but it’s just the general social climate. It’s shameful, but we rank and categorize each other into grades.”
“What do you mean by grades?”
“For example, someone like me who lives in the city and works as both a Hunter and a Curator is a 1st-Grade Citizen. As far as I know, any Hunter of B-Rank or higher is almost always a 1st-Grade Citizen, unless they’re a Red Hunter who committed a crime.”
Seong-un pulled out his citizen ID, pointed to the words ‘1st-Grade’ next to his name, then gestured out the wide window of the train.
“Those who live in the city but have meager incomes and unstable jobs are 2nd-Grade Citizens.”
“…”
“The provincial residents I mentioned earlier are usually classified as 3rd-Grade Citizens. And some of the poor living on the outskirts between the provinces and the city—those who can’t even get a citizen ID—are tacitly classified as 4th-Grade Citizens.”
“…Is there a 5th-Grade too?”
“From there, it’s criminals. Unlike the 4th-Grade Citizens whose names aren’t even registered, they are recorded in the administrative system. But it’s literally just a record; they aren’t treated as human. In fact, measures are in place so that they can be killed on sight if encountered.”
How could a world be so dreadful? Gio, who was quite sensitive, felt like crying at the unbelievable “progress” of his homeland.
…I always figured that since the Earth’s lifespan is longer than a human’s, a class system would eventually be resurrected. I just never expected to experience it in my lifetime.
Looking at the doors that still hadn’t closed, Gio asked again, “Is there a reason they divide people so strictly?”
“First of all, it’s probably because of the massive gap in infrastructure between the city and the provinces,” Seong-un answered kindly, as if determined to fulfill his role as a guide. “I’m talking about the various facilities and benefits available in each region. The cultural and administrative gap is huge. In the provinces, people farm to make a living, while city citizens buy the food delivered from there…”
“…”
“It’s like a gap of nearly a century. If you go to the provinces, you won’t see elevated trains like this, and even two-story buildings are hard to find. It’s rare for anyone to own a car. At least there’s usually a local railway… though I suppose that’s why they don’t buy cars in the first place.”
Muttering softly to himself, Seong-un continued, “Well… the biggest difference of all is, of course, the defense line.”
“What does the defense line refer to?”
“First, there’s a massive wall like a fortress surrounding the city for primary defense. Second, there are public officials specializing in safety management to maintain order inside. And above all, since there are so many Hunters in the city… even if an incident occurs, it gets resolved quickly.”
Seong-un rubbed the back of his neck.
“In short, it’s a privilege of survival. Most 4th-Grade Citizens would rather live as paupers in the city than outside of it. By the same token, countless people want to enter the city… but not everyone can live inside. Resources and land are limited, after all.”
“Is that why they divided people into grades?”
“Because only 2nd-Grade Citizens and above are allowed to reside in the city. 3rd-Grade Citizens can visit or find work here, but if someone starts living here illegally, the treatment gets pretty harsh.”
“How harsh…?”
“How should I put it? Well, first, their IDs are revoked, so they can’t get jobs… and while it’s not as bad as the 5th-Grade, they’re treated as subhuman. Those who blindly settle in the city because they don’t want to get bitten to death by monsters in the provinces end up as those 4th-Grade paupers.”
In short, a dystopia.
Hearing something straight out of a movie makes it feel rather surreal at this point.
For Gio, who loved friendship, love, and peace, this was a hard world to accept. He felt like he could still find a modicum of human warmth thirty-one years ago, but now everything felt terribly twisted.
Gio began to grow immensely terrified behind his stoic poker face, but Seong-un, wanting him to understand human society accurately, continued his explanation.
“You never know where a dungeon might break. And even without dungeons, there are plenty of monsters that have already settled on Earth. While the city manages to keep these indigenous monsters under control, the provinces lack both the manpower and equipment, so letting your guard down for even a second can mean death.”
“That sounds terrifying.”
“That’s why people in provincial villages are told not to go outside after 5:00 PM. In many cases, villages are run with a Hunter of C-Rank or lower at their center. No matter how weak they might be, an Awakened is far more reliable than an ordinary person.”
Around that time, the elevated train doors finally closed.
“…”
“It’s starting to move.”
“No one else got on.”
“Well, it’s not lunchtime…”
“It is breakfast time, though.”
“What office worker eats breakfast?”
He spoke as if eating breakfast was out of the question. It seemed the phrase ‘three meals a day’ had long since vanished from this world.
And here we are, moving around specifically to eat three meals.
Letting the grim reality of modern society go in one ear and out the other, Gio slowly admired the elevated train, which was structured similarly to the subways he remembered. The most impressive feature was the transparent walls and ceiling.
“Are this wall and ceiling also made of Intangible Crystals?”
“Probably. Its durability and transparency are incomparable to Earth’s traditional materials, so it can withstand a certain level of monster attacks.”
“I see.”
“I heard they used to make windows out of glass or plastic in the past… I wonder how they managed with such fragile materials.”
“…”
Just like that, Gio was instantly relegated to the status of an ancient ancestor. To go from the young blood of the education sector to a relic of the past—the exponential drop made his head spin.
“Are glass and plastic no longer used?”
“They are, but glass… is usually for decorations. It’s much easier to mold into shapes than Intangible Crystals, and you can mix colors into it. Even though it can be made artificially, it’s considered a type of gem, so it’s a bit expensive.”
“What about plastic?”
“Plastic? Almost never. It can’t be recycled easily, and it doesn’t decompose.”
To think they actually cared about the health of the planet—it seemed Earthlings had made some progress over the last thirty-one years. He thought they were only busy evolving into a dystopia, but this was quite impressive.
The Earth’s lifespan must have extended a bit.
Gio turned his gaze back to the elevated train. While the seats up to the backrests were covered in soft fabric and leather, the windows and ceiling above shoulder level were so clean they seemed nonexistent. The gleaming walls of the buildings and the clear sky visible beyond offered a strange thrill.
A gentlemanly roller coaster…
Though there was no sensation of speed or rattling, the rail suspended at this absurd height stirred Gio’s sense of romance. It felt like a scene from a sci-fi movie.
“Ah, Gio. We’re getting off soon.”
“Is that so?”
“The Baekban-jip and hotel I reserved are near this stop.”
“I look forward to it.”
“You should. I booked really nice places.”
Listening to Seong-un, Gio felt intrigued, but at the same time, he had a faint, intuitive realization.
Earth is no longer a place where the epitome of harmlessness like me can survive.
Fragile Gio, who didn’t even possess a Taekwondo white belt—which practically everyone else had—had no power to overcome this terrifying world. He would have to stay cooped up inside his portrait for the rest of his life to ensure his personal safety.
It was a thought that would have made Yoo Seong-un shudder in sheer absurdity had he heard it.