Declared a Monster

“It was a miracle.”

At the woman’s voice—flat and mechanical as a machine—the researcher nodded.

“Yes. A miracle.”

“Do you believe the being Team Leader Jeong Da-un witnessed was a monster?”

“We would need to poll more Gardeners for their opinions, but no. It is unlikely to have been a monster.”

The researcher shrugged.

“A monster, by definition… needs hatred for humanity at its core.”

Humans had not called them monsters and beasts for nothing. The word carried the terror and contempt reserved for other-dimensional beings who hated humankind without reason or end.

“This case is far too different. We examined every hunter who returned alive and found no anomalies anywhere. If ‘Black Cloak’ had been a monster, it would never have let them go free in the first place—or it would have brainwashed them before releasing them.”

“Still, for the official announcement, it would be best to call it a monster.”

“Agreed. ‘Black Cloak’ has shown far too much interest in human society to be labeled a god. There is a chance it is a malevolent deity, but… whether it is a true god or something else entirely, the moment it demonstrated the power to affect humans directly, the wise course is to explain it to hunters as a monster.”

“That way they will keep their guard up.”

Gods and monsters had become familiar enough in the modern age, yet the gap in perception remained vast.

Catch even a glimpse of a god’s form and some people would call it a glory. Against a monster, they would strain every nerve to keep their distance and stay wary.

“If it backfires, the very idea of a ‘humanoid monster friendly to humans’ might tickle the romantic sensibilities of the citizenry—but for that to happen, the number of such benevolent cases and the exposure would both have to climb considerably. And the odds of that are low.”

Judging by what they had seen, this was a mystery closely bound to the Source. The closer a being stood to the Source, the more ignorant it was of humanity and the less it bothered to veil its rank. Such a creature would not lightly reveal itself on this small planet, either.

“Of course, ‘Black Cloak’ could go on manufacturing friendly incidents until it is on every citizen’s lips. Even then, people will struggle to accept such a being’s goodwill at face value. ‘Black Cloak’ will never become a familiar, approachable image.”

“We should also keep in mind the possibility that ‘Black Cloak’ is skilled at containing its rank and possesses a high degree of understanding of humans. That said, the decision to announce it as a monster still stands. Beings of the Source are closer to natural disasters than anything else; we need at least a baseline of wariness planted in the public mind.”

“In terms of threat to humanity, gods and monsters are not so different—but this is why image matters. Tell people it is a monster, not a god, and if ‘Black Cloak’ ever turns hostile, survival rates will be higher.”

The researcher stroked his chin and continued.

“That said, the people who actually saw it will never believe the classification. Jeong Da-un alone is already saying ‘monster’ with his mouth while reacting like a man who has just been touched by a god’s hand.”

“Signs of veneration?”

“Not quite that far yet—but if we establish no countermeasures at all for ‘Black Cloak,’ I believe we could genuinely see a religion form. Superstitions catch fire easily in an age like this.”

“Then we will firmly implant the perception that ‘Black Cloak’ is a monster. Please coordinate this with the information-processing team. I will open a project under my name; feel free to cite it.”

“Thank you for the consideration.”

The woman inclined her head.

“This was such an extraordinary miracle that Team Leader Jeong Da-un’s reaction is understandable.”

“…That… is certainly true.”

After a brief hesitation, the researcher agreed.

“Whether ‘Black Cloak’ is a monster, a god, or a being of the Source, the fact that it saved a large number of humans without demanding any price is almost impossible to believe. On every side of that spectrum, entities friendly to humanity simply do not exist.”

Monsters hated humans. Gods treated them as toys. Beings of the Source were indifferent to them.

That conversation had been possible at all was astonishing enough; to receive help on top of that was absurd.

“…This is exactly the kind of thing that will become a problem. People still cling to the fantasy of a monster friendly to humans. The existence of the tamer profession only fans that fantasy.”

“With public education still inadequate, it cannot be helped. That is something to address gradually as we expand compulsory schooling—not something we can fix overnight.”

“True enough, but…”

Among hunter professions, tamers could form contracts with monsters and borrow their power. Because of that, there were fools who dreamed the preposterous dream of turning a monster into a personal pet.

I suppose time is the only medicine.

Barely thirty-one years had passed. The Republic of Korea had grown as fast as possible, buying that growth with as much blood as it could shed—but civic consciousness had not kept pace.

Enough time had passed since the Great Cataclysm for an entire generation to rise and fall, so more and more people no longer knew the true horror and cruelty of monsters. Public education, by contrast, had never been properly established, making it difficult even to teach that danger.

“People in the provinces are actually more thorough about that sort of thing.”

“Provincial residents have no protective walls like the cities. They have to stay on guard. They never know when a monster might come down into the village and slaughter people, or which mountain they might climb only to fall into a dungeon.”

“Nothing teaches quite like learning with your body, I suppose.”

They could not very well dump every urban citizen into a dungeon to experience monsters firsthand, so for Association staff it was a headache either way. No matter where you went, the world was full of fools who could not grasp their own place.

“In any case, taking that into account as well, we will work to create an atmosphere that keeps people from approaching ‘Black Cloak’ lightly.”

“……”

“I know it sounds ridiculous, but… if ‘Black Cloak’ truly is a being that shows goodwill toward humans, some people will start spinning impossible fantasies.”

The old saying—take care of something while it is still being kind—existed for a reason. There had been more than a few cases of someone poking a quiet, unoffending monster and ending up with bloodshed on a massive scale.

Wherever you go, there are always maniacs who take a monster’s goodwill and turn it into some stupid chosen-one complex. They decide they must be special to have received such favor… and those are exactly the ones who cause disasters that look like natural catastrophes.

Not every monster wanted to kill humans. Some hated humanity and, for that very reason, chose to hide.

And yet, barely half a year ago, hunters who had taken such a monster lightly and provoked it had carved nearly half a foreign country off the map.

Staying still did not mean weakness—and yet the judgment of some people remained that stupid.

“We will assume the worst-case scenario when we post the information, then?”

“Yes. Please do.”

“Then I will report back later.”

The researcher bowed his head in respect toward the Symbol of Eternity who held up the world.

“Association President.”

“……”

The Association President smiled faintly.

It was a smile like a machine’s—utterly devoid of feeling.

……

….

…….

“Aigoo.”

Yu Seong-un rubbed the back of his neck as he checked the floating monitor.

“Well, there it is.”

“Is there a problem?”

“No, it’s just…”

Leaning against the wall right beside Ji-oh’s Portrait, Yu Seong-un continued while staring at the screen.

“Your information just went up on the Hunter Association website.”

“Hunter Association—the hunters’ association, I take it.”

“Yeah. One of the main things they do. When monsters keep popping up all over the place and need countermeasures, or when a single entity is a threat all by itself, they compile them and post them on the site.”

Having said that, Yu Seong-un turned awkwardly toward the portrait with a strained smile.

“Not that I’m saying you’re a monster.”

Spending time together lately had loosened his wariness, but that did nothing to lower the danger of a being of the Source like Ji-oh.

Yu Seong-un remembered all too clearly those moments when, still wearing a human shape, Ji-oh would occasionally become nature itself.

A guy who thinks he’s human isn’t going to enjoy being called a monster.

Yu Seong-un added,

“But from ordinary people’s point of view, there’s no helping it. Normal people don’t live inside portraits the way you do, right? If something like that is possible, then at the very least it probably isn’t human—that kind of feeling…”

“That is a sufficient answer.”

“Good to hear.”

Skimming the “Black Cloak” entry that had gone up on the site, Yu Seong-un spoke again.

“They wrote that the face is unrecognizable, so at least your face didn’t get out there.”

“That is fortunate.”

“……”

After a moment’s thought, Yu Seong-un asked,

“Ji-oh, can you change the face on the portrait?”

“I did not properly understand the question.”

“The portrait you’re painted on shows your face exactly as it is. Like I’ve said before, if you’re going to live without people treating you as a threat and blend in properly, we need to separate the identities of ‘Black Cloak’ and ‘Seo Ji-oh.’”

For a being of the Source, the level of danger shifted fluidly according to the “story” told about it. Yu Seong-un had worked to create an environment where Ji-oh’s Portrait could act as a human—but Ji-oh still behaved, more often than not, in ways no one would ever call human.

Honestly, I sometimes wonder if he even intends to imitate a human at all.

That was why Yu Seong-un had to keep “Seo Ji-oh,” whom people saw as human, separate from “Black Cloak,” the unidentified urban legend. Because Ji-oh’s Portrait sometimes acted human and sometimes did not, the split was possible.

Even that much separation could shrink the danger rating of at least part of Ji-oh’s Portrait. And for that to work, the appearance of Ji-oh’s Portrait could not become public knowledge.

“Ji-oh’s Portrait shows your face exactly as it is, so even if you walk around outside as blond, blue-eyed Giovanni… people will eventually realize Black Cloak and Seo Ji-oh are the same being.”

Hair color, eye color, even personality could change—the face itself did not. Pale-faced “Ji-oh” looked the same no matter which Ji-oh he was.

Under that bulky cloak the exact body structure might have differed enough that no one had noticed, but at the very least the face was the problem.

“And you move through portraits, don’t you? If your portrait is hanging in a public place, Black Cloak is sighted nearby, and then that face turns out to match Collector Guild hunter ‘Seo Ji-oh,’ we’re going to be in serious trouble.”

“I consider that a valid point.”

Whether he was thinking it over or not, the portrait was silent for a moment—then it changed.

He raised a hand and stretched it out…

Splat—.

“……”

“…Uh…”

“Would this be enough to keep the face from being seen?”

The face of Ji-oh painted on the portrait had been covered over with paint as black as ink, no longer visible.

“…The face isn’t visible, but…”

A faintly dejected feeling settled over him.

“…It’s a portrait of your face. Is this really okay?”

“You said that my face being exposed was the problem, Mr. Yu Seong-un.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of maybe throwing a cloak over it or something.”

It felt as if someone had taken a masterpiece the world would never see again and slapped house paint across it.

If I’m this shaken, Guild Leader Bi Sa-beol is going to completely lose his mind…

When it came to art and works of art, that man sometimes went a little unhinged—enough to be unsettling.

“……”

Yu Seong-un gazed at the paint-smeared portrait with a look of genuine regret. The broad strokes of a large hand had covered it, yet Ji-oh’s black hair and the lower half of his face still showed through.

Even those were slowly vanishing as the paint dripped and ran.

“…So can you still see out from your side?”

“From my side, I can see perfectly well.”

“And if a portrait appears somewhere else, it’ll stay like this?”

“Unless I wipe it away, this state will be maintained.”

“Then at least the chance of the face getting exposed is gone.”

“The staff here know my face.”

“Ah, that’s fine.”

Collector Guild employees were notoriously tight-lipped. There was no risk of “Black Cloak” information leaking from them.

Which means Ji-oh’s story will only grow fatter, locked inside the Collector Guild. If things keep going this way, even the Seo Ji-oh story probably won’t get reduced—not inside the guild building, and not in front of our staff.

In a Collector Guild building full of people who already knew Black Cloak’s identity, even if this portrait walked around as “Seo Ji-oh,” the dissonance would never fully disappear.

But that alone was enough.

“Those people will never leak information outside.”

“Do you have grounds for that?”

“We only hire people who absolutely hate getting dragged into big messes, so…”

“They will not spread it for the sake of their own well-being.”

“Plus, if they did talk, do you think Guild Leader Bi Sa-beol wouldn’t find out? Once he realizes someone ran their mouth, they could end up in some laboratory somewhere. Nobody’s going to open their mouth.”

It was one of the Collector Guild’s quirks—perhaps because Bi Sa-beol personally scouted every single employee—that the bonds between staff were extremely tight. Every last one of them was a reclusive avoidant, in other words.

“There is absolutely zero chance of information spreading from here.”

Yu Seong-un gave a bitter little smile.

“Hell, if I hadn’t already gotten tangled up in this, I’d have gritted my teeth and pretended I knew nothing. Leak? Please…”

“I see.”

“Even if someone outside offered a reward for a leak, the guild already takes care of people so well that no one here would take that risk for a little extra gain. Threats won’t work for the same reason.”

One of the Collector Guild’s greatest defining traits was that everything—from the building itself down to every last employee—was part of Bi Sa-beol’s collection.

Bi Sa-beol was unusually good about employee welfare, and precisely because of that, no idiot would dare touch one of his “collectibles.”

Who would want to find out what happened if they did?

“So I’ll say it again: everyone here is going to grit their teeth and play dumb. They’ll put up a real fight about it.”

These were people who finished their work and wanted nothing more than to go home and rest. They had a fierce sense of responsibility—but they hated becoming a nuisance even more, so on this point he could rest easy.

“However…”

“Is there a problem?”

“…It’s nothing major.”

“Yes. Please speak.”

“You’ve gotten scarier.”

“……”

“Because of the paint…”

Only after a long pause did Ji-oh respond.

“Ah.”

For once, he almost looked sorry.

(To be continued)