This is how it began.
“They say there’s a pojangmacha in the dungeon. It must be related to the Black Cloak, right?”
“Are we not allowed to go?”
“Seems like so people can, and others can’t...”
“What the hell, there’s a ‘permitted’ group? Aren’t they all dungeons? Aren’t they all the Cloak-nim’s work?”
mbers of the Cloak Cult voiced their doubts.
“Why can’t we go?”
Most of the Cloak Cult followers had gathered to receive the overflowing grace of the Black Cloak. In other words, they were drawn in by the exclusive opportunity to experience the Black Cloak’s works before anyone else. A privilege not just anyone could enjoy.
But recently, there was a place where even they could not go. A quaint, romantic eatery called the “pojangmacha.” A painting, a mysterious safe zone nestled in the wilds of nature.
It was the rank-1 citizen mbers—those who had solved everything in life with money, power, and fa—who were most baffled. This was a new kind of obstacle.
“They don’t even take you if you do volunteer work.”
“Maybe it requires so kind of qualification?”
“No, it’s natural that civilians can’t enter dungeons, so that’s not the issue...”
“The problem is that even hunters can’t enter this one.”
“And this dungeon just happens to be another work by our Black Cloak-nim.”
They didn’t understand the concept of a “garden.” But it didn’t take long for them to realize that this latest work by the Black Cloak was much stricter in its criteria than ordinary dungeons.
Thrown into mild confusion, they tried various approaches. The results were the sa. It was frustrating.
“This really isn’t sothing you can get into just by doing charity, huh.”
“But Black Cloak-nim is soone who places more value on good deeds than anyone else.”
“Which ans... it’s not that volunteer work isn’t enough—it’s that it alone isn’t the key to entering that dungeon.”
“So what’s the condition to enter that place? We’ve just received info that soone finally managed to get in.”
“What’s the standard? Why’s it different from regular dungeons?”
“It’s not just different from regular dungeons—it’s completely different from Black Cloak-nim’s previous works. So what the hell do we need to do to enter this new series?”
They were anxious. They knew it was greed, even gluttony—but they couldn’t help it.
And with good reason: this was Black Cloak’s first series. And true devotees always wanted to possess the first of sothing they loved. The group was made up of people like that—it was only natural they’d stir.
“What, so you’re saying we might never get to see that ecstasy of a natural landscape with our own eyes...?”
“Then what’s even the difference between us and unawakened civilians who can’t enter dungeons?”
“The only dungeon civilians could experience was his, and now...!”
It was the non-hunter, rank-1 citizen mbers who were the saddest. To be precise—those who were not awakened. For them, the only hope of witnessing a mystical dungeon had been the Black Cloak’s works.
“Of course, he probably won’t start blocking unawakened people from all future works... but now that this has happened, we’re nervous.”
“This hints at a future where there will be works the unawakened can’t experience. We pride ourselves on living richly thanks to Black Cloak-nim’s grace, but... ha. My heart aches.”
“To think there’s a qualification I can’t attain... I thought I had finally co to enjoy total freedom within Black Cloak-nim’s embrace.”
But the sorrow didn’t last long.
“...So, what’s the condition?”
“...I’ll try mobilizing our people a bit more.”
“...My friends might know sothing.”
They didn’t give up. These were people who had always made the impossible possible through money, power, and prestige—and within Black Cloak’s embrace, they’d learned a new form of persistence. Even if the door wouldn’t open, they’d knock.
And eventually, they encountered a term: “the Garden.”
“The Garden?”
“What, like the one in your backyard?”
“No, they said it’s sothing different.”
“What the hell does that even an?”
Gardeners weren’t employees of any particular organization. So they didn’t operate under a formal system.
But it wasn’t that the concept of the “Garden” was so grand secret either. It was simply that no one needed to know, and no one had reason to tell—so no one did.
But faced with massive rewards and temptation, a few gardeners spoke. So did so fully aware of the impact of revealing the Garden, while others shared the knowledge out of pure hearts. The result: Cloak Cult mbers hesitated.
“...Is this really knowledge we’re supposed to know?”
“Nothing good cos from it spreading too recklessly.”
Canary, who’d beco cult leader by accident but was adapting well enough, agreed.
“Let’s make sure it doesn’t leak from within the cult. This may also be Black Cloak-nim’s will... but still, we must prevent undue chaos.”
“So how long do we keep it hidden?”
“Let’s not be too rigid. We’re holding it back to avoid chaos, not to hoard it. I think I understand what Black Cloak-nim intends.”
Canary nodded solemnly.
“He’s clearly trying to teach Earth sothing again.”
That wasn’t exactly the case—but there was no other way to fra it. The ripple effects from “Portrait of Gio” had already triggered several sizable tremors. Interpretation was inevitable.
“The Garden and the Gardener... I see. Black Cloak-nim must want this knowledge to be shared. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have conceived the ‘pojangmacha’ or this new series.”
“Birororong.”
“Our Lia thinks so too.”
The yellow waterbird—both a divine child and cult mascot—chirped affirmatively. The Cloak Cult mbers nodded with solemn conviction. They were practically a family by now. Their group synergy was at its peak.
“Co to think of it, that pojangmacha... they said it’s like a safe zone, right? Inside a dungeon?”
“I heard it’s much more refined than your average dungeon safe zone.”
“They say it’s not just that monsters can’t enter—it’s truly safe. They sell food, and it’s much more comfortable to rest.”
“Which ans... it’s basically a restaurant designed to assist hunters and gardeners.”
Having reached their own conclusions, they began to leak bits of information. In truth, even if they hadn’t, other Black Cloak enthusiasts outside the cult had already started moving. Naturally, the concept of the “Garden” began to spread.
Only a few people were left bewildered.
“The Garden is going public like this? Because of a pojangmacha?”
“What the hell even is this...?”
And not just gardeners.
“Team Lead.”
“Another late night?”
“Yeah. Late shift again.”
“You miserable bastard.”
“Let’s go to the conference room.”
“Why is there so much work lately...”
Even the Association’s staff.
“Madam President.”
“.......”
Even the governnt.
“...I heard the news.”
President Cha Eun-Hye smiled.
“The fact that the Garden is already being exposed to the world—that’s surprising.”
“Cracks began forming ever since Black Cloak’s series started appearing.”
“You’re right, I’ve seen it too. So what ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) should we do about this...”
Cha Eun-Hye wasn’t anything special.
She was just a lucky C-rank hunter who’d awakened at the right ti. Unlike her friends, she couldn’t pull off flashy skills or fly around slaying monsters. She wasn’t a gardener, either. In fact, she didn’t even have the eyes to perceive the mystique her friends saw.
Anything she was good at? Not really. If she’d had even a bit of talent in dance or singing, she would’ve debuted back in high school. Acting? Not that either.
The one thing she could do best was...
“I think I should go to school.”
“...School, ma’am?”
“Oh, right. You forgot, didn’t you? It’s okay—I rember.”
“If you just say the word, I’ll have everything ready.”
“Hmm... it’s okay. I think Guildmaster Seo rembers.”
“Would you like a security detail?”
“I think I need to go myself.”
Only Cha Eun-Hye.
Only she remained—the sole vessel that still rembered everything.
“...Please contact Seo Seo-Hee.”
“What should I tell him?”
“Tell him it’s ti for us to go to school again.”
“Yes, I’ll do that.”
“Thank you.”
With that, Cha Eun-Hye looked at the mirror on her desk.
“...Yeah.”
She was still smiling.
Still.
Yes, she had to.
***
Seo Seo-Hee found his friend right away.
“You’re here as a friend, right?”
He asked with a smile.
“You said it was ti for school again, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. I needed my friend Seo Seo-Hee. Can you take to school?”
“To be honest, I’m a little worried.”
Seo Seo-Hee didn’t want Cha Eun-Hye to go.
“There’s sothing wrong with that school.”
He still rembered the way Jeong Hae-Woon had reacted. That pale face, shaking in fear—it hadn’t been sothing Seo Seo-Hee had ever seen on him before.
The guy had returned like that after visiting that school. Up until then, he’d kept up a ‘whatever, he’s just a teacher’ kind of front, but afterward, he’d been drenched in cold sweat.
Seo Seo-Hee was worried about his friend, Cha Eun-Hye.
“Let’s just go in together. I’ll protect you—we don’t know what’s in there. If I rember right, it was practically a monster nest. The spawn of the Origin were gathering too... it’ll be dangerous.”
“What’s more dangerous is you recovering your mories.”
“...What’s even in that school?”
At this point, it just felt unfair.
“In the end, it’s just an abandoned school. No, I have heard things. Unlike Haera or Hae-Woon, I never erased my mories. I did hear that Hunter Sergio... the Black Cloak... spent a lot of ti there. Even if that’s all erased now.”
“It’s not the sa.”
“How different is it, huh?”
“You know I can’t tell you.”
Cha Eun-Hye patted Seo Seo-Hee gently.
“Please understand. We’ve made it this far—I’m just going to confirm sothing.”
“.......”
Seo Seo-Hee smiled awkwardly in silence.
“...He seed like a good person.”
“...He was a good person.”
“Soone you’d want to toss everything aside just to get close to.”
“But we’ve built up too much to do that now, Seo Seo-Hee.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right, but... still...”
His stomach churned. Ever since he learned of “Hunter Sergio,” this nausea had kept creeping up. Forgetting sothing you should rember was an agonizing, horrible experience.
Yes. He just needed to start from the beginning again. Rebuild it from scratch.
But no matter what, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d lost sothing precious.
Because it was true.
“...I...”
He felt a lump in his throat.
“...I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be.”
“You’re probably the one suffering most, and I’m just spewing nonsense here.”
“I’m really okay.”
“Thank you for always holding on. And I’m really sorry.”
“... too.”
Cha Eun-Hye gently hugged Seo Seo-Hee and patted his back. Just like their teacher once had for their dearest students. She rembered how that big, kind adult had comforted them—and copied it.
Cha Eun-Hye was the kind of person who only knew how to do things like that. She leaned on her remarkable friends and borrowed their strength.
“...Let’s talk after we co back.”
“...I’ll take you to the entrance.”
“Mm. Thanks.”
It was ti to see him again.
The one we love. The great wraith.
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