The so-called “Black Cloak Enthusiasts” thought of themselves rely as mbers of the sa club—but in truth, they were cultivating a much firr organization.
Upon first joining, one underwent a brief interview and completed a written agreent. Over ti, depending on participation and results, mbers could rise through the ranks. And this “participation” mostly referred to volunteer work.
“Do you think I ca here to do that kind of thing?”
Most new mbers reacted like this at first. Anyone daring to covet the works of a monster—now a divine being—was usually soone with wealth, power, or an unshakable worldview.
But such attitudes were bound to change.
“This week’s activities are complete. You’ve fulfilled your quota.”
“What do you an I can’t do more? It’s not like it’s anything bad—I want to help!”
“Other mbers are entitled to their share of activities as well. If you do more than your quota, you’ll reduce what’s available for others. We ask for your understanding.”
“What kind of nonsense... How can there be so little to do?”
“Activities within the city are limited. If you want to do more, you’d have to go outside the city—but that requires official approval and help from the Association.”
“Then I’ll go talk to them myself. I’ve got so contacts there anyway.”
“We’d rather you didn’t... But, well, there is a team being deployed to the provinces this week. The requirents are a bit strict, but if you wait, we’ll check the situation.”
The reason for such a dramatic shift in attitude was clear.
“While I was picking up trash at the crossroads, the City of Void petted my head!”
“Wow, I’m jealous... Which sector were you assigned to this ti?”
The rewards were undeniable.
“I want to see one of Black Cloak’s works too.”
Most ca for the Black Cloak himself, or for the opportunity to view his art. Art one could interact with. And to think such mystical pieces gave direct rewards. Even by first-class citizen standards, they were unimaginably luxurious gifts.
“The new recruits are really into it.”
“Once they get a taste of the rewards, it doesn’t take long.”
And given a little more ti, mbers began finding aning in the acts themselves. The Black Cloak Enthusiasts had always ford their salon this way. From ti to ti, they even received official support from the governnt or the Association.
“Have you selected the next deploynt area for next month?”
“Yes, I plan to send a team to this region.”
“Hmm, that terrain is rough. It’s a zone with frequent monster activity—best to coordinate with us. We’ll send the Hunter roster within a day or two.”
“Thank you, as always.”
Among the salon mbers were many Hunters, but also plenty of civilians. Operating outside the city—where danger lood—required a team of capable Hunters. Even civilian mbers being deployed needed above-average stamina and strength.
Still, many were eager to join.
“Um, I heard you’re putting together the next deploynt list...”
“The Association is supporting us with many Hunters, so even non-awakened mbers can join.”
“Then could I be added? I’ve completed training. Here’s my certification.”
“Hmm... with grades like this, you should qualify. Add your na to the list—we’ll review and contact you with the results.”
Opportunities like this weren’t common. Usually, non-awakened individuals weren’t allowed in unreconstructed zones. But through collaboration between the salon and the Association, such exceptions occurred now and then.
It was a result of many factors aligning. Chief among them: the salon’s wealthy, well-connected, and highly enthusiastic patrons.
And the outcos of these efforts weren’t bad at all.
“I can’t believe soone was hiding out here all this ti.”
“Monts like this remind you it hasn’t even been a hundred years since the Catastrophe.”
“Still... it’s so dangerous to live out here.”
There were still people, scattered across the wilderness, who had fled during the Catastrophe and never returned. mbers assisting with monster extermination or structural repairs sotis encountered them.
In such cases, the Association would formally thank and reward them. It was a way to acknowledge those doing what the governnt or Association ought to have done. mbers couldn’t help but feel proud.
“It feels like we’re doing sothing aningful.”
“Even more neighbors greet these days...”
That was the kind of group they were.
To them, the Black Cloak wasn’t just the most beautiful artwork in the world—he was a god to be revered. He’d even recently been officially recognized as part of a formal religion. That only deepened their sense of belonging.
And curiously, they began to mirror his temperant.
“What’s all this?”
“Ah, these are side dishes for the families we’ll be visiting.”
“Wait, we can give things like that? No one told . Aren’t gifts regulated?”
“Lavish gifts are restricted. But food isn’t considered a luxury, so there’s no problem. No matter how much you give, it’s fine as long as it’s edible.”
“Well, I guess that makes sense...”
Technically, giving too much food could beco problematic. But that thought didn’t even exist in their minds. What harm could co from letting soone eat well?
So even tried to look at the group—and themselves—objectively.
‘Maybe we’re just trying to turn everyone into pigs.’
‘Happy pigs...’
‘Whatever. If it tastes good, it’s a good thing.’
‘When you’re full, the world looks better.’
Objectivity didn’t lead to critique or resistance.
After all, followers mimicking their gods wasn’t unusual. Believers in the Sun Goddess were bright and bold. Followers of the Moon were silent and calculating. It wasn’t hard to see the pattern.
Then one day, they beca aware of “Colors.”
“...What’s that?”
“The sky...”
mbers on provincial dispatch looked up into the night sky.
“The sky’s showing us a path.”
It started with “sky blue.”
In cities lined with gray walls, you could see waves shimring like rmaids. In forested areas, deer blood in vibrant browns. In places of tragic death, a violet jewel erged from a white fra to guide the deceased.
It didn’t take them long to realize they were witnessing Black Cloak’s apostles.
“...Amazing.”
“He really is a portrait artist.”
“So his essence is still painting, after all?”
“But also divine. He carries the Sun’s sanctity.”
“And because he’s art, he can be anything.”
“Either way, it’s just... so romantic.”
They took pride in the uniqueness and artistry of their god.
“Who else in the world gets to serve a god this beautiful?”
“And he’s rciful too—imagine how much he must love humanity...”
“You can feel how much effort he puts into eting our standards.”
So even saw the truth buried within.
“To witness such scenes even outside of his work... Look here, see that rmaid trapped behind the gray wall? I think that’s the one who used to haunt Korea’s seas.”
“Look at the sky—it ripples softly like the ocean’s surface. Those clouds above look like schools of fish. Even the living birds that fly across Earth’s sky... it feels the sa as viewing his paintings...”
Others pointed to different domains.
“My sponsored Hunter recently ca back from the Dream Amusent Park. One of the final survivors. He told all sorts of stories—and that deer, it resembles one of the creatures he described.”
“I’ve heard those stories too. I’ve got contacts in the Association. As for the violet, I’m not sure who it represents, but it's always a huge male figure... It has to be an ancient wraith.”
And still others brought up entirely new topics.
“Then does that an Hunter Sergio, the Black Cloak’s apostle, also represents a color?”
“I wonder what happened to the divine spirit of Wrath who vanished... This is seriously fascinating.”
So couldn’t follow at all.
“......”
“...Wow, this is strange.”
“They’ve always been like that.”
“Is this what counts as cultured?”
“Oh, right—they’re first-class citizens.”
“Totally forgot.”
Among the enthusiasts, every single first-class citizen had joined to view and commune with Black Cloak’s artwork. So when they glimpsed his Palette—it was no wonder they were enchanted.
Most second-class citizens didn’t get that far. They simply found the works eerie—or comforting. They could see where Black Cloak’s power was being used and what it was doing.
“In the past, miracles only happened within his paintings.”
“Maybe his influence is spreading. He’s guarding Earth now.”
“Or maybe... he’s trying to tell us sothing. When I look at this grand flow...”
“To be embraced so gently... This really is the most peaceful place.”
So envied it deeply.
“Is that the closest form of hell to Black Cloak?”
“Could be heaven.”
“It could be either. Depends on your perspective.”
“I wish I could be part of his Palette...”
“It’s a dangerous thought—but I understand the longing.”
“Sa.”
It was a new kind of afterlife.
It had long been known—since the Catastrophe, when Earth’s religions collapsed—that each divine being carried a different afterlife. The chaos it caused was why the governnt and Association intervened so quickly.
It was already understood that Black Cloak had created an afterlife for humans...
“...But maybe only non-humans can stand on his Palette?”
“Or maybe he only accepts those with a defined color. Seeing a rmaid there, it might not be just an afterlife—but also a punishnt.”
“True... Being used as his paint for all eternity isn’t exactly restful. It’s definitely a different kind of afterlife.”
“But hmm...”
One mber, shaking off the lingering lancholy, suddenly said:
“Maybe our President could make it in.”
“She really goes all out—always working on sothing. I’ve got so hope.”
“She is incredible.”
Others agreed.
“She acts like she’ll die if it’s not today.”
She tackled every activity like it was her last chance at life.
“And maybe she’s not wrong.”
“She’s the one who built this salon to change the world...”
“Her ambition is massive.”
They laughed as if joking.
“She might be the one who actually ends up face-to-face with Black Cloak.”
“She might end up a bishop or sothing.”
They didn’t realize she had already achieved both.
***
Na: Canary.
President of the “Black Cloak Enthusiasts,” once one of the original Carnation Kids. Her unique na ca from the “coal mine canaries.”
She was often dragged into dungeons associated with disease or poison, used as a living warning system—a at shield to test danger. Even as she scraped her way into adulthood, she never changed her na.
“......”
She didn’t want to forget how cruel the world could be. She wanted to change it, even just a little.
“...Ah, ah...”
“Miss Canary.”
Today, she ca face to face with the god she served.
“Live joyfully.”
The pitch-black portrait handed her a small bird.
“Thank you for helping.”
“...Um, excuse —”
“I affirm your will.”
And so, Canary gained ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) a tiny friend.
“......”
“Pii~!”
“Oh, what... How cute.”
A waterbird flapping its wings, bursting with yellow flowers.
***
And then, Yoo Seong-Woon visited the gallery.
“Gio.”
“Yes, I hear you.”
“They say you’re giving out waterbirds to people you pick as cult leaders.”
“Where are these rumors coming from?”
“Then why’d you give one to Miss Canary?”
The portrait replied confidently.
“I gave it to her so she could play hard in my place.”
“This is insane. Who made our portrait so introverted?”
“I’m quite shy, actually.”
“So you did make her a cult leader.”
“She’s a president, not a cult leader. I didn’t make her that way—she already was.”
“Sa thing, isn’t it?”
“She was an ideal leader. And now, I’m free.”
Gio was extrely satisfied.
Let that loud and glamorous party carry on—without ever inviting .
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