“The death of a living being is an end, not a beginning,” Earth's Death said.

“Some say that death is another beginning.”

“Is that not actually the case?”

“Not the death I bring. Nor should it be. If there is another beginning after death, that must not be my responsibility...”

“Earth's Sun said that all living things touched by sunlight are her children.”

“Then the living beings here go through life with many parents at their backs, do they not? But I do not consider them my children. My children... are those who live here with me... those who have accepted me as family...”

Being a Divinity did not mean considering all life one's children.

“I am a gateway.”

“A gateway?”

“A process all living things must eventually pass through. If the Sun calls herself a mother... then she is different from me. I ask neither a relationship nor trust of the living... for I am simply what must come to them... That is why.”

“I see.”

A few small questions came to mind as well.

“Then do you reject life?”

“Do you ask knowing the answer...?”

Death's answer was no.

“Death is a fate that must inevitably come. It is not a process of providence or of nature. I am merely a world that embraces the living as they come to me, and the many hands that tie off their ends.”

There were points on which that agreed with Jio's own views.

“Death is only a state, after all.”

“Yes... I am glad you understand so well.”

Death showed a “smile.”

“Even when looking upon the same living being, each Divinity's perspective... differs. That is true of every Divinity, not merely the Sun and Death. Even if we seem alike, our essences differ. Even if our essences are alike, our methods differ. The lives I embrace are wandering travelers whose lights have gone out... I am the craftsman who announces their end.”

“Do you not place lanterns in their hands?”

“That is not my responsibility.”

Death, he said, always belonged to those left behind.

“The extinguishing of life's light is a state, but the sorrow of the living is an emotion. My existence is ultimately a process of comforting those who survive and helping them understand. Helping them accept parting—that is my responsibility.”

“Then where do the dead travelers go?”

“That is up to them.”

The lanterns placed in their hands, the wealth they carried away, their love, their lingering attachments, their sorrow. All of it belonged to the dead. Death accepted everything impartially, but he was neither a loving parent nor a kind friend.

Only a craftsman who tied knots.

“To whom those finished knots will be sold, or where they will be hung... is not for me to teach. I am not even a teacher. Would you not agree?”

“I agree.”

“Thank you.”

The Divinity was pleased to receive that affirmation.

“I shall sincerely hope... that you, too, find your own... way, your path, your love...”

“Thank you.”

Fortunately, Jio had reached a conclusion.

Perhaps this was why people said one should choose one's friends well.

* * *

Yu Seongun greeted Jio when he returned to the parking lot at Death's temple.

“Did the conversation go well?”

“Of course.”

Wasn't that why he had packed a bribe?

“The bribe seemed to work nicely.”

“So he really did eat it.”

“You said nothing when I took it in, but it seems you were worried after all.”

“Well, Divinities generally don't have a concept of appetite. I know you're not normal, but I do still have some notion of common sense, you know?”

The examples of the Sun God teddy bear and Sankalut merely made it a little less surprising. Thinking briefly of those two, Seongun led Jio to the car, and Jio followed him inside.

As he pulled away, Seongun asked, “Did you get anything out of it?”

“Yes. I've made up my mind.”

“... Wait.”

Struck by a sense of déjà vu, Seongun gave Jio an odd look.

“You're... you're not g-going to do something, are you? Something, like...”

“I'm not sure what you mean.”

“I remember you going on about being a Demon King on our way back, just like this.”

“You guessed it straightaway.”

“No, I didn't?”

He certainly hadn't said that to make a correct guess.

“...”

Looking somewhat deflated, Seongun asked, “... What have you decided?”

“I've been asking various Divinities how a god should conduct themselves.”

“Yes, you have. Traditional Divinities, evil Divinities—you asked them all.”

“And that has brought me to a conclusion.”

Jio gave a clear answer.

“I really should just live however the hell I please...”

“Your vocabulary has improved so much since Arjio.”

“My vocabulary has always been like this.”

“You're good at lying now, too.”

It was both admirable and chilling.

'He's growing to the point where calling him human hardly feels wrong anymore.'

At this rate, if Jio caused trouble later, Seongun clearly wouldn't notice right away. Not that he had ever been in any position to stop Jio in the first place. Still, it was remarkable progress.

Rubbing his neck, Seongun finally let out a hollow laugh.

“So? You're going to live however the hell you please?”

“I feel as though my wishes and opinions have just been rather thoroughly disregarded...”

“But what exactly do you want?”

“...”

Jio stared at Seongun, incredulous at that seamless change of subject, then finally gave up and answered.

“I'm going to turn people into pigs.”

“... Ah, uh, pigs. Hmm, oh, right...”

“Full storehouses make for a peaceful world.”

“Peace... So your ‘method’ is something like Ju-hyeon's? That whole world-peace business?”

“It's a little different. World peace is Ju-hyeon's goal, but my goal is to turn people into pigs, so you could say the means and the ends are reversed.”

“That's frightening in its own right.”

Though it was better than the end of the world.

“Actually, isn't that more or less what you've been doing all along? Even without any particular intention, you're already that peculiar urban legend who hands out snacks to random passersby because you find them admirable.”

“I can't exactly say you're wrong, but there is one respect in which my mindset has changed.”

“What's that?”

“I should make more friends.”

“... More?”

“Yes.”

What Divinities had in common was that they existed anywhere and at any time, regardless of how anything else unfolded. Most Divinities continued to exist somewhere even if their dimension was shattered. Whether in the form of religion or of history.

That was the power of a Divinity's permanence, and Jio thought very highly of it. There was something immensely appealing about a community that perpetuated itself like a living organism.

And since Jio possessed divinity of a sort himself, he could take inspiration from their methods.

“Then I'll have a life full of friends forever.”

He liked that very much.

Yes, what Jio had wanted to ask the Divinities all this time was not “Am I human or a god?” or “How should I treat and govern the living?” or even “What deeds befit a Divinity?” It was “How can I live as long as they do and still have lots of friends?”

“Isn't that wise?”

“...”

For a moment, Seongun was lost for words.

'... How does he make officially founding a religious organization sound so full of childlike innocence?'

For a fleeting moment, he considered what consequences Jio's decision might bring. Then, realizing that none of his deliberations mattered, he sighed.

“Do as you please.”

“How refreshingly decisive.”

“You'd do it even if I tried to stop you.”

“Hmm. You know too much about me. I'll have to silence you.”

“When you say it, it doesn't sound like a joke at all, so stop scaring me...”

“Was it really a joke?”

“Please.”

“Good.”

Jio laughed with apparent delight.

“You finally know when I'm joking.”

“... I suppose I do.”

Was he getting stupider, or simply getting used to it?

'Has Ju-hyeon rubbed off on me?'

It was a truly frightening thought.

* * *

There was a woman.

As a rule, she felt no sympathy for others. Born and raised by Grade 1 citizen parents, she had always had everything she needed. Sometimes, seeing paupers begging quietly in the dim shadows between buildings, she even thought them filthy.

“I don't want anything to do with them.”

“That's the right attitude, my girl. Getting mixed up with people like that only brings trouble.”

Her parents approved. Not that she had ever gone out of her way to abuse or insult those who had nothing. She simply treated them as nonexistent, because they quite literally had no place in her life.

Having grown up wanting for nothing, the woman began indulging in refined hobbies. She collected beautiful works of art, one by one. She became enough of a regular customer at Collector that, one day, she encountered a being called “Black Cloak.”

“This is...”

“A work by Black Cloak, miss.”

“Black Cloak? What an unusual atmosphere it has. Is it a watercolor...?”

“It's dangerous to approach.”

“But isn't it truly beautiful?”

This was back when Black Cloak was known as a monster. On encountering the City of Emptiness, the woman fell completely under the spell of its artistry. Later, when it became known that Black Cloak was a mystery harboring divinity, her admiration soared.

“A work painted by a god.”

It was art so perfectly suited to her refined life.

Apparently she wasn't the only one who thought so, because curious groups began forming among Grade 1 citizens. Societies devoted to admiring Black Cloak, for instance. Naturally, she sought to join the most prestigious of them.

“...?”

But something was not as she had imagined.

“... Volunteer work?”

“Did you come here without knowing much about Black Cloak?”

“No, of course not.”

The look she received—as though she were something utterly stupid and repulsive—made the denial slip out of its own accord. Nor was she lying. She prided herself on knowing quite a lot about Black Cloak.

“A humanoid Divinity said to harbor the divinity of providence, isn't that right?”

“And Black Cloak's likes and dislikes?”

“Uh... Black Cloak likes good people and gives them gifts upon meeting them. Conversely, evil people are dragged into the frame to meet a horrific end.”

“And yet you question our volunteer program?”

“No, but...”

She found it hard to accept.

“I can donate as much as you need.”

She could understand paying a fee to cover activities, at most. Countless salons funded their operations by collecting dues that way. But the Black Cloak enthusiasts said that wasn't what this was.

“Is there really any need to do it in person?”

“Are you seriously asking that?”

“There are plenty of people who want work. If you want to do good so badly, you can just hire someone... Donating is a good deed too, isn't it?”

“That defeats the purpose.”

They insisted that only those who personally volunteered were qualified to join their ranks.

“Ha. It's obvious. You wanted to join our club out of the shallowest greed. You thought you could show off a little money, claim the title of a good person, admire Black Cloak's work, and perhaps receive a gift if you got lucky... That's what you expected, isn't it?”

“... What's wrong with that? Are you saying donating is the wrong approach?”

“We can't call it wrong, but if that's what you expected, I don't think you'll fit in here. We do honorable work that mere money cannot buy.”

“Ha, this is absurd...”

“There are many groups that admire Black Cloak, but you don't seem to understand why ours encounters Black Cloak most often. We are different from those paltry imitators. Black Cloak has acknowledged us because we insist on genuine good deeds.”

The member even went so far as to sneer.

“I'm terribly sorry to say this, but we recruit diligent, noble volunteers. This group wasn't created for people like you to show off their money and laugh and chatter. If we started admitting people like you, the quality of our membership would decline.”

“You're going so far as to say I'd lower the quality?”

“And then Black Cloak would withdraw that affection from us. We won't stand for that. Do you know how hard we worked to earn that trust? We can't let outsiders erode something so precious.”

“Are you kidding me?”

Furious, the woman raised her voice.

“Then I can do it too! I can...! I only asked because I wondered whether there was any need to do it personally, not because I was refusing! Do you think I haven't volunteered because I don't know how? I haven't done it because it's inefficient!”

She genuinely believed that. There was no shortage of people who wanted work, or of back-alley paupers collapsing because they couldn't earn a penny.

If she hired such people, they could earn money while she did good. What could be more efficient?

But this damned club had wounded her pride.

“You think I can't do it?!”

“Oh, we'll hold you to that.”

“... Wh-what is this?”

“Doesn't it say ‘contract’?”

“What kind of club has a contract...?”

“Then don't join. We're busy enough without you wasting our time.”

“... Give it here.”

In the end, she secured a place in the club.

“I'm at the bottom?”

“You're a newcomer who hasn't done anything yet. What else would you expect?”

“If I paid m-more in dues...”

“Are you going to keep talking about money?”

“... Ugh...”

And so she began volunteering.

“...”

Honestly, she felt rather dazed.

'Why am I here doing this?'

She couldn't understand it.

The club did all sorts of work. And the higher one's rank, the more troublesome and dangerous the volunteer work became. The president even sought out Grade 3 citizens living in hiding in unreconstructed areas to help them get by.

'This is insane.'

The higher your rank, the more work you had to do?

'They even go outside the city without hesitating.'

Why did so many people flock to the cities? Because the cities kept them alive. The farther out one went, the greater the danger—and the greater the chance of dying.

But the woman persevered, if only for the sake of her damned pride. She picked up litter along the streets, served meals to people in the slums, and sent aid to struggling citizens of Grade 2 and below.

“The room is a little cold, isn't it...? I'm sorry. I'd like to offer you something...”

“N-no, it's fine. More or less. I can just put a blanket over myself.”

“Oh dear, I'm so sorry, but I haven't got a blanket... Would a quilt do?”

“... Uh...”

One day, after being told, “You've been doing really well lately. We'll trust you with this,” she had been sent to keep an elderly person who lived alone company. She put her foot in her mouth a few times, but tried her best to make up for it.

“Ah, ahaha...! I-I can buy you one...!”

“Hmm? No, that would be too much...”

“Oh, what are you saying? I can easily afford that much. How many would you need? No, I should just replace all your bedding. Right?”

Of course, it seemed the other members found it somewhat difficult to approve of her methods.

“As we've told you, you can't solve everything with money. Some people are genuinely happy to receive such gifts, but others will certainly be reminded of how little they have. Then it backfires. It's a risky approach.”

“B-but... I didn't know what else to say... I was trying hard in my own way! I'd already made a mistake. What else was I supposed to do?!”

“... Hmm...”

But sometimes, she did receive approval.

“Well, you really do seem to be doing your best.”

“... D-do I?”

“You just don't have much experience yet. It's genuinely lovely to see you participating so consistently these days. The elderly person you visited even sent a thank-you letter, saying how much they love the new bedding.”

“Oh, a letter...? T-to me? It's for me, right? Let me see!”

“Of course. I brought it here.”

“... Ah...”

Looking at the faded stationery, filled with two whole pages of small, neat handwriting, the woman felt a sense of accomplishment. She had been so envious of the members who boasted, “I finally received a gift from Black Cloak!” Yet for the moment she was reading the letter, none of that crossed her mind.

“... Ahem. I can take this, can't I?”

“Haha, of course. It was sent to you.”

“I'll keep it safe.”

When her parents learned what she was doing, at first they worried, saying, “We won't stop you if it's what you want, but it could be dangerous,” or acted as though they couldn't understand it. But the letter she brought home prompted a different response, however awkward.

“... That person from the slums gave you this?”

“Not a pauper—a Grade 2 citizen!”

“Ah, right. Yes...”

“...”

“... I see.”

Her father looked bewildered, and somehow rueful, but there was a faint smile on his face as well.

“There are still people like this.”

“What do you mean? All the elderly people I meet through the club are like this.”

“... Really? I didn't know that. I'm sorry.”

He even looked regretful.

“I thought only frightening people were left.”

He smiled as he said he had thought that was the only way to survive without losing what he had—that everyone out there was desperate to steal from him. Then he praised his daughter.

“You're doing well. The members there all seem like decent people, too.”

“Huh? Oh, um... Right? I told you, I'm not doing anything strange!”

“Still, be careful out there. There are plenty of frightening people in the world, you know. They'll rob you blind before you know what's happened.”

“Oh, I know...”

Then one day, the hospital called.

“... They say your mother is awake.”

“... What?”

“The h-hospital... just called...”

“What? H-how?”

Her mother, whose breathing they had barely sustained despite spending immense sums of money, had awakened. Even at what was said to be South Korea's finest hospital, keeping her alive had been the most they could do. Now she had made a complete recovery.

Only several days later, in a slum alley, did the woman learn why.

“I affirm your good deeds.”

“...”

A frame painted black.

“I see you. Your father has struggled tirelessly through life.”

“...”

“He lost all his family in those turbulent times, and nearly lost his wife to a citizen from the slums. The world became a frightening place. Hatred of humanity grew, and people became more concerned with themselves.”

“... Ah...”

“You, too, lived such a life, yet you did good. It began with greed, but now you feel happiness. I see you. I affirm you.”

The portrait whose face she could not see said, “Thank you.”

As the frame vanished, it whispered, “Did you like your gift?”

“...”

Then, left all alone...

“...”

The woman cried for a long time—not so much because she had received the praise of the immense mystery she had so eagerly awaited, but because the work she had been doing had come back to her as a merciful gift. She herself did not know why she was crying.

She simply felt so very ashamed.

(To be continued)