Yu Seongun’s reaction when he visited the gallery at dawn was little different from Ju-hyeon’s.

“I dealt with those bastards myself.”

Though, being a capable Hunter, he had taken somewhat more direct action.

“A deranged cultist attacked Hunter Seo Jio while he was enjoying an outing with an acquaintance during his recovery from physical and psychological trauma. Collector was hardly going to let someone like that off, was it?”

“I didn’t expect someone as busy as you to handle it personally, Mr. Yu.”

“I doubt you really didn’t expect it, but as you know, my job is to look after the portrait that is you. I got a dressing-down for neglecting my duties, and had to write an incident report, too.”

In other words, handling the aftermath of this incident had naturally fallen to him.

“I really have been getting lax with you lately, so I took my punishment properly. It’s at times like these that I have to follow company rules myself, or problems start cropping up everywhere in the name of exceptions.”

“Life in a group seems awfully difficult.”

“Anyway, nothing serious happened, so don’t worry too much.”

He smiled easily, then asked, “Did you enjoy shopping?”

“Of course.”

Jio beamed at the question.

“There were quite a few modern clothes I liked. The quality of the fabric was excellent, too. I could have worn them straight onto a battlefield and moved comfortably. And there was a wide variety of unusual weapons and accessories imbued with special powers.”

“You’re Arjio, aren’t you?”

“Now you can tell immediately even when I’m not red.”

“I wondered why you and Hunter Sa Narae got along so well. So you had this unexpected thing in common... I’m glad nothing as frightening as the uproar at Haeryeong suggested actually happened.”

Even among the members of Haeryeong, Sa Narae was particularly good at putting his looks to use. Seongun had wondered why a foul-tempered, unpredictable punk like him was spending time with Jio.

‘Looking at it this way, Arjio seems to enjoy dressing himself up, too.’

The dazzling figure that occasionally appeared in the frame was proof enough. That was the biggest difference between Arjio and the other Jios. The other two were relatively plain in their tastes.

It was only their faces that were striking.

“It’s a good thing Hunter Sa Narae stepped in for you this time.”

“Yes, I was grateful he handled it so neatly.”

“I heard it wasn’t particularly neat.”

Hadn’t Jio personally healed the lunatic, who would otherwise have been left partially paralyzed?

“Do you understand why Hunter Sa Narae stepped in?”

“I imagine he was trying to protect the world from the bomb that is me.”

“That’s remarkably close to what I was thinking. Well, you said he’s more or less figured out what you are.”

“Given how quiet things have been, he probably has no intention of telling anyone.”

“Ultimately, that must be another way of protecting his colleagues, right? Honestly, until you told me, I never imagined he cared so much about his guild...”

“He’s an admirable young man.”

“If you say so.”

Seongun asked, “Speaking of shopping, how about going with me next time? We could invite Ju-hyeon and all get suits tailored together. There’s a master craftsman whose place I visit regularly.”

“Aren’t you busy?”

“I just have to make time.”

With the war against the monsters over and its aftermath more or less under control, his workload was gradually easing. More importantly, accompanying Jio on his outings could be considered part of his job...

“...”

“Mr. Yu?”

“Hmm, my mind wandered for a moment.”

“May I ask what you were thinking?”

“I was wondering if you were human.”

“Oh.”

Fortunately, Jio didn’t tease him over that decidedly unglamorous concern.

“Have you begun to consider seeing me that way?”

“I think it’s a perspective worth considering, so I’m trying. But I’m not sure whether it’s really the right path, or just a foolish idea. It’ll probably take me quite a while to reach a firm conclusion.”

“Whatever you conclude, I respect your judgment.”

“Those are weighty words.”

This mystery did not divide every path into right and wrong. Even if Seongun walked a path that was unsatisfactory or immoral, Jio would not tell him it was wrong.

‘No, he doesn’t judge the world’s concepts in terms of right and wrong in the first place.’

Jio did not distinguish good from evil in any given incident. Since that wording would contradict the proposition that “Jio’s Portrait likes good people,” a more precise description was that he did not let personal feelings enter into that distinction.

As evidence, even when Jio dealt with evil people, he did not “punish” them. He merely “classified” them. He affirmed the existence of all concepts, then simply made choices that suited his ideals and tastes.

‘To an insignificant human like me, that’s chilling.’

So Seongun could not lean on Jio. Not this time, at least.

‘The choice and the responsibility are entirely my own.’

He had no choice but to consider it carefully. His soul and body would remain bound to a snowfield of endlessly falling snow until the day he died.

‘As a human. As a Gardener and a Curator. And as the individual named Yu Seongun...’

What should he deem the being before him? Or what choice would leave him with the fewest regrets?

“...”

He needed time.

“...”

“People really do make life difficult for themselves. Do they enjoy suffering?”

“I’m trying to have a serious, contemplative moment here. Are you going to keep doing that?”

“I’m terribly sorry, but I do wonder whether this requires such serious contemplation, my dear Mr. Yu.”

“Not everyone has your clarity about everything.”

Of course, there were surely people who reached judgments and decisions as simply and clearly as Jio did. But Seongun, at least, could not be one of them. Too many burdens weighed on his shoulders and tethered his feet for him to think and act so lightly.

In any case, that was only his personal problem. He rubbed his neck, then grinned and asked, “... What are you going to do now?”

“I’m going to try resting.”

“Honestly, that’s rather welcome news.”

“I have been far too active lately.”

He had finished everything he needed to do.

“I’ll see you later.”

It was time for the introverted Seo Jio to rest.

* * *

And so Jio shut himself away at home again.

“It’s dangerous outside the covers.”

“Mrow...”

“You agree, too.”

The enormous cat, coolness pouring off her at the slightest touch, was the perfect companion to cuddle.

Jio rolled around on the bed with Dana in his arms. Its cloudlike softness swallowed his figure whole.

“Whew...”

As he lay still, his impassive expression softened a little.

“...”

He stroked Dana’s long, soft body, running his hand over the cold jewel cat’s belly.

“How many people are in here?”

“Meow.”

“I see. More than I expected...”

“Meow.”

“They must all be sleeping inside you.”

But he would feel terrible keeping them shut away inside Dana forever.

‘I need to finish the gravestone for Ju-hyeon, too.’

He had put it aside for a while because he could see Ju-hyeon working to overcome his past and move forward. But now that the mermaids who would have envied a new painting had fallen silent, it was time to finish the work.

When Jio got out of bed, Dana, who had been gazing up at him, slowly climbed down as well. She had grown enormous, nearly as large as a wolfdog. Jio petted his daughter.

“Shall we go to the studio?”

“Meow.”

Honey flew over to them and landed gently on Jio’s head.

“What have you been doing?”

“Gurrrgle!”

“I see. I’m glad your siblings seem to be doing well.”

“Gurr.”

“I should visit soon, too. What could I bring them that they’d enjoy eating...?”

Chatting idly, Jio entered the studio.

He sat before a pristine, blank canvas. The small wooden stool with its round seat, made from his memories of his student days, was smoothly finished and warm with sunlight.

He picked up a palette carved from wood and spoke with a low chuckle.

“Not yet.”

His voice was firm, as though giving a lesson.

“It isn’t your turn.”

“■■...”

“You have to wait.”

With a brush in his other hand, Jio gazed at the clean white surface.

“...”

He did not fear death. There was neither terror nor despair.

There might be sorrow, but it was only right to let people go on their way afterward. Lingering attachment belonged only to those left behind; the dead ought to continue toward another fate amid unknown concepts and spaces.

His thoughts differed somewhat from the religions he knew. This place was too narrow and partial a world, admitting only those he liked, to be called heaven or hell. Nor did it complete a full circle, as Buddhist reincarnation did.

‘It’s simply a state of being.’

Like catching a cold one day. Like crying when sad and smiling when happy. That was all death meant to Jio.

‘How is it any different from falling asleep?’

It was sometimes called a very long sleep, and Jio agreed.

‘Everyone will experience it at least once, in the end.’

Whether their own death or someone else’s. People lived their lives encountering deaths large and small.

Didn’t they even unknowingly bury the deaths of the tiny insects they trampled along their way in that indifferent ground?

“It’s all right.”

With the back of his brush-holding hand, Jio stroked the cheek of Dana, who stood beside him. He spoke as though soothing a child fussing over bedtime.

“You decide where you’ll be.”

It might have been of their own volition, or someone else’s. They might like it, or they might not.

They might have happy memories, or painful ones, or simply remain without any memories at all.

They remained. This was their home, their traces, their everyday life.

‘Each of you lived occupying a different volume of the world.’

What should I call you?

“...”

After painting a single frame with nothing depicted inside it, Jio gave it a name.

“... Let’s call it a diary.”

Dana called out.

“Meow.”

A cat’s bell-like cry.

It echoed within the frame on the canvas.

* * *

Her lover had died.

“...”

The lover she had promised to marry had died in the war the mermaids had waged.

The woman had sobbed until she collapsed, over and over, falling quiet only after spending every last ounce of strength. He had been her childhood friend, someone who had shared those childish, rough-edged, yet happy years with her.

She had thought they had finally escaped those goddamn back alleys and stepped into the sunlight...

“... Fuck.”

A curse slipped out.

‘Why am I the only one here, you bastard?’

Hadn’t they agreed to find a home together where the warm sunlight shone in?

Though they hadn’t married, the bereavement compensation came to her. In an age rife with death, did anyone think she had been this much of a wreck from the start? She signed for one of the homes they had viewed together, sorted through their odds and ends, and tried to build her life, telling herself the living had to go on living.

Yet this was what she had become.

“If it’s going to be like this, you could at least stop showing up in my dreams...”

She kept dreaming of him being dragged past the defensive wall and into the sea.

‘Would things have been different if I’d been there?’

‘At least he wouldn’t have been scared if I’d stayed with him. He was always so afraid. I needed to be beside him...’

‘What’s the point of any of this? He’s already dead.’

Dozens of times a day, she would be staring into space when the thought suddenly struck. She would suffer for ages before barely managing to escape it. Then she would fall asleep and have another nightmare. Longing and guilt spread like ink, choking off her breath.

Then one day, an acquaintance from the back alleys told her something.

“You know Black Cloak? I hear there’s a new series...”

“You called me here to tell me that?”

“No, hear me out. This is really valuable information. I’m only telling you because I feel so sorry for you.”

“Sorry for me, my ass.”

“This settles what I owe you from last time, all right?”

“Who the hell said you could decide that, you little...”

“Apparently, Black Cloak painted heaven.”

“...”

She asked again.

“... What?”

“They say Black Cloak’s new painting is heaven. Everyone who was young and good is in there, apparently.”

“What kind of bullshit is that? That makes no sense. Even if Black Cloak really is a Divinity, that’s... that’s absolutely...”

“Still, what have you got to lose?”

He said it wouldn’t be easy to find. Very few people had seen it, and those few were keeping their mouths firmly shut, so word hadn’t spread.

“...”

Painted heaven?

“...”

A heaven where only the weak and good were gathered?

‘... Bullshit.’

Despite that thought, she set out in search of the white frame said to be Black Cloak’s new series. She knew it was nonsense, but just in case, she was careful about her conduct as she searched everywhere.

Perhaps the rumor hadn’t spread yet; she saw no one who looked to be doing the same thing. But she still couldn’t find it, so she looked for another way: bringing the frame to her.

“... They said Black Cloak likes good people.”

So she tried doing good deeds.

“E-excuse me.”

“Hmm?”

“... May I help carry your things?”

“Oh my, out of the blue? No, that’s all right.”

“If you’re worried, I’ll only help you up these stairs.”

“No, I’d just feel terribly bad imposing...”

She carried the elderly person’s belongings; it was obvious they had little strength. Though she felt impatient, she didn’t push too hard. In a world like this, who would readily trust a stranger offering help?

To her surprise, however, they smiled and thanked her.

“I wasn’t worried at all. Are you one of those people, miss? The ones doing good deeds?”

“Pardon? Good deeds...?”

“Never mind if you’re not. There have been so many more earnest young people lately, I thought you might be in the same club.”

“What sort of people? Um, I know I’m hardly one to talk, but trusting strangers in a world like this...”

“They’re the people who go on about how much they love Black Cloak. They’re not dangerous.”

“... Oh.”

She had heard about that.

‘They did say Black Cloak had gained enthusiasts.’

It felt odd to thank them for it, but they really did make it easier for her to meddle. People who had distrusted and shunned good deeds were gradually lowering their guard thanks to Black Cloak’s enthusiasts.

“You look lost... Where are you trying to go?”

“Oh my! No, um...”

“I-I’m one of those people. A Black Cloak enthusiast. I’m doing good deeds because I want to see Black Cloak.”

“Oh! I see, goodness. Then could you tell me where the grocery store is around here? I’ve just moved in...”

“It’s on the main road. I’ll show you.”

“Thank you.”

After she finished showing the way, the new resident gave her a young squash.

“Um, this...”

“Do you have eggs at home? Coat it in beaten egg and pan-fry it. It’s delicious.”

“I’d feel bad... Please take it back.”

“I’m just so grateful.”

It had been ages since she’d seen such a clean, fresh vegetable. The precious gift was too good to waste. In the end, she went to the market that day for the first time in a long while and bought a few eggs.

Come to think of it, she had no salt for the fritters, or cooking oil to keep them from sticking. Thinking of her empty home, she picked up a few more ingredients. She wasn’t particularly well-off, so even the eggs were monster eggs in the end, but they tasted good.

“...”

It had been a long time since she’d made fritters.

“... Hey, I burned them a little. You’ll just have to eat them.”

“...”

“You always did the cooking... I tried my best.”

She even made pointless excuses to the empty seat. Next time, she thought, she would give him better fritters. Remembering her lover, who had been so much better at cooking than she was, she choked up and cried again with a fritter in her mouth. She felt like a fool.

She still missed him, so she kept leaving the house. Thanks to Black Cloak’s enthusiasts, it was certainly easier to poke around everywhere. Little by little, she grew used to this routine.

“Oh, there you are.”

“Who...?”

“I heard you helped my mother.”

“Which person do you mean?”

“Y-you don’t need to be wary... I just wanted to thank you.”

“Oh, yes...”

“These are some side dishes my mother made. She always makes far too much...”

The middle-aged man bowed deeply and left.

“You don’t have to return the containers!”

“No, wait...!”

Things like that happened from time to time.

“...”

When she suddenly stopped to take stock, she realized that quite a few more people recognized her now.

Unlike the faces she had known in the back alleys as a child, theirs held warm interest, gratitude, and delight at seeing her.

A ticklish feeling stirred inside her, and she stood in the middle of the street with tears dripping down her face.

“Huh? H-hey, why are you crying? Did someone bother you?”

“What happened? Don’t stand out here like this. Come inside and have some tea.”

“Oh dear, something bad must have happened...”

“It’ll be all right, okay? Why are you crying so sorrowfully?”

Ah.

It was an instinctive realization.

‘... If this keeps up, I’ll forget you.’

And you would want that, too.

‘I don’t even know how long I’ll have to keep doing this before I can see you...’

She had found herself thinking that a life like this wasn’t so bad.

Not long afterward, she returned to working as a Hunter.

* * *

“...”

“...”

(To be continued)