The Foreigner on the Periphery

Park Jeongpal had lost twelve family members.

Most of the deceased, including his elderly mother, siblings, and their spouses, died instantly at the scene. Anyone transported to the hospital with even a thread of life remaining was saved by the mysterious cleric.

The funeral procession took place last week. Following orc customs, the youngest sibling served as the chief mourner. Given his mother's advanced age, Jeongpal had pictured this scene in his mind at least once before: himself walking with a mourner's armband, tightly clutching her portrait.

But never in his wildest dreams had Jeongpal imagined the scene following behind him—a procession of his remaining siblings and his nieces and nephews carrying the portraits of the rest of their family.

Jeongpal felt guilty. It wasn't just because he blamed himself for inviting them to the event.

He believed he had stolen his family's grief. Whenever he closed his eyes, the scene from that day remained painfully vivid. The Shutter clicks roaring like thunder, the murmur of reporters, the relentlessly blinding flashes.

On the day of the procession, a staggering number of reporters and cameras swarmed the funeral hall. The scene was broadcast live across the country. Lacking even a moment to process their grief, the bereaved family froze before the crowd. Some couldn't even weep aloud properly. Cameras tenaciously hunted down the tearful faces of his nieces and nephews, who had just lost both their parents. The sorrow that should have been respected during their final farewell to the deceased was violently robbed from them.

Jeongpal knew he was one of the sinners who had created that situation. Opening the funeral procession to the media was the party's proposal, and as the representative of the bereaved, Jeongpal had agreed to it.

The voice of the senior assemblyman who had persuaded him echoed in his mind.

‘Assemblyman, but...’

‘Human empathy has its limits. People place more value on those who share their background, those they've known longer, or at the very least, those who look like them. The way to surpass that limit is to show that we all share the same things. We must let them know that just as they cherish their families and mourn their losses, so do we. The public easily forgets that obvious truth, or they try hard not to think about it.’

The massacre of a first-term orc assemblyman's entire extended family. They had plotted a display of grief far more effective than that simple sentence.

The result was the pale, terrified faces of his nieces and nephews shrinking from the swarming cameras. Those children, who hadn't even grown all their molars yet, were denied the time to properly send off their parents.

‘I am a sinner.’

To the family members who had already died, and to those left behind.

Jeongpal had stolen their sorrow. If he had taken what belonged to others, he had to pay the price.

How would he repay them? Jeongpal had been agonizing over that question for days.

Vroom!

He heard the sound of several vehicles pulling up outside the villa, one after another. Without getting up, Jeongpal took a few deep breaths. Then, he raised his head. His face reflected in the mirror.

A demon consumed by fury and murderous intent stared back at him.

He struggled to suppress his emotions. When he heard the elevator doors open outside, Jeongpal managed to compose his features into something resembling his usual expression. Or so he thought.

But he must have been mistaken. The moment the door opened, a flicker of shock flashed across his friends' faces.

“...!”

But it only lasted a moment.

Rush!

Cathy was the first to run up and throw her arms around him. She hugged him without a word, and Jeongpal slowly raised his arms to wrap them around her back. A few seconds later, she pulled away and spoke.

“...Look at your face. Mister, have you been eating?”

Instead of answering, Jeongpal greeted them. His tone was utterly dry, devoid of any moisture.

“Thank you all for coming. Please, come in.”

Behind Cathy, Lakefield, and Dong-cheol, bodyguards in black suits followed, each carrying something in their hands.

“The refrigerator is over there.”

Though she wasn't the owner of the house, Cathy smoothly directed them. Jeongpal forced his tone to sound normal in front of his friends and asked,

“What is all that?”

“We packed some food. I know you have people working in this house, but we know what you like better than they do.”

Jeongpal offered a weak smile and joked,

“You didn't make it yourself, did you, Cathy?”

“Hey, of course not. I quit cooking a long time ago. Turns out, there are just some things in this world that won't work no matter how hard you try.”

‘Yes, indeed.’

‘There really are things in this world that effort alone cannot achieve. Truly.’

Instead of speaking those words aloud, Jeongpal guided his guests to the living room. It was the first time his friends had seen him since the funeral procession.

Even after the funeral ended, there was a mountain of matters to handle, but Jeongpal had delegated all of it to a relative and returned to this house. His older cousin, who hadn't been caught in the incident because he hadn't received an Invitation, had volunteered to take charge. The reason Jeongpal pushed himself so hard was to prepare for his legislative duties.

“You're going straight back to work at the National Assembly next week?”

Lakefield asked in a shocked tone.

Even if his body was unharmed, to return to work immediately after suffering such a tragedy?

“There are a lot of pending bills right now. They require affirmative votes from the orc assemblymen, including myself.”

“No, but still.”

Breaking off his words, the elf fell into thought for a moment before speaking.

“Right, I suppose the situation leaves you no choice. The media has been saying that this is a very crucial and decisive... period for your party.”

Actually, the radio news they had listened to on the way here hadn't used such roundabout expressions.

They had bluntly stated that this incident, this period, was a decisive ‘opportunity’ for the ruling party.

“It does seem like the tides are turning rapidly. A lot of people are condemning the Human Rights Alliance and demanding severe punishment.”

Public outrage had quite literally formed. People were empathizing with the sorrow and despair of the Orc Community.

Jeongpal, who had been listening quietly, suddenly spoke.

“Well, will that be enough?”

“Hmm?”

Lakefield hesitated, unable to grasp his meaning. Jeongpal's face, which had narrowly returned to its usual self during the conversation, was once again simmering with a vicious aura.

“People who never cared about these issues before have suddenly started talking about orcs and the Human Rights Alliance. The party leadership wants to seize this chance to quickly pass a few bills. But will that solve everything?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know that people are suddenly empathizing with orcs, or at least trying to. I've even heard voices claiming that failing to do so is backwards or unrefined.”

Jeongpal himself had even participated in the effort to spread that sentiment, following the party's wishes.

But was this truly enough?

The doubt refused to leave his mind.

“Empathy alone cannot change reality. Does putting yourself in someone else's shoes and feeling their pain truly heal that pain? Does sympathizing with a starving child, or even starving and suffering alongside them, cure starvation? The reason people are so unusually sorrowful right now is because they witnessed the atrocity laid bare to the world, and they experienced the fact that non-orcs were among the victims. This kind of empathy fades with time. Everything will go back to the way it was.”

Right after the disaster, in the emergency room, Jeongpal had made a decision. He swore an oath to himself. Ever since, he had been agonizing over how to translate that oath into action.

Not for a single moment had he stopped thinking about it.

“Empathizing with a pain that isn't your own consumes energy. It easily becomes exhausting. Eventually, they will look away again. If that's the case, I must drag them here by the collar and force them to face the uncomfortable truth.”

Or, even if they didn't bother to pay attention, ‘we’ needed to cultivate the power to live without any difficulty, without suffering any pain.

The power to live independently, without needing to intertwine with them.

“You...”

Unable to easily continue, the elf thought to himself.

‘That orc will never be able to return to the man I once knew.’

Meanwhile, there was one other person having a similar thought.

‘Mister.’

Dong-cheol the goblin watched the orc.

Through his eyes, the man named Park Jeongpal looked a little different from the figure Cathy or Lakefield saw.

‘He's grown much larger than before.’

The goblin was terrified.

‘Red... it's entirely red!’

Dong-cheol hadn't spoken a single word since entering the house. He had even mumbled his greeting, swallowing it back down his throat.

He was completely overwhelmed just looking at Jeongpal.

When the front door opened, the goblin had briefly misunderstood the orc's intentions. His entire body had been wreathed in a vivid crimson.

It was the light the intruders and bodyguards had emitted right before attacking each other at the scene of the massacre. The moment it touched its target, bullets or Magic inevitably flew in and struck them down.

Since then, he had occasionally spotted that red color even in places without violence. The moment a despicable figure appeared on TV, Lakefield had fired a crimson ray at it. Dong-cheol now perfectly understood its meaning.

The red light meant the hatred one person directed at another.

And the moment they first met eyes today, Jeongpal's entire silhouette had already been dyed red. Like a very thin layer of clothing covering him.

But now.

Blaze!

He felt like he was hearing an auditory hallucination.

Right now, Dong-cheol was looking at a blood-red flame blazing in the shape of an orc. Instead of aiming and firing at someone else in the room, it condensed and seethed around Jeongpal's own body. A fire blazing with himself as the fuel.

Dong-cheol felt the exact same thing the elf had intuited.

That this orc could never be the same person he used to be.

This was all because of that terrible incident that day.

Squeeze.

Unable to watch any longer, Dong-cheol closed his eyes. He didn't know his own parents or siblings, but he could guess the depth of Jeongpal's suffering. It was tragic. If only that accident hadn't happened. If only that incident had never taken place!

But the goblin also knew. You couldn't change the past. Which meant Jeongpal would have to live the rest of his life submerged in that agony, fury, and hatred.

That fact deeply saddened the goblin.

To an unbearable degree.

“...Hmm?”

Just then, Jeongpal checked his phone and stepped away. He was very cautious, clearly answering a call from someone.

A moment later, the orc returned and said,

“I'm sorry, but could you all leave for today? Something urgent just came up.”

Unable to ask for details, his friends took their leave.

They remained silent in the car ride back, each lost in their own thoughts. Lakefield, in particular, felt a deep sense of concern.

‘He explicitly said he doesn't return to work until next week. What could it be?’

The strangely stiff expression on Jeongpal's face after taking that call.

The elf couldn't quite shake the premonition that whatever it was, it was far from ordinary.

   *

The priests of the Ellahu-Praga Church sat in a circle with grave expressions.

The priest who had been expected to finally discard the title of Acting Pope, but still retained it, struggled to speak. His gaze was fixed on the document in his hands.

“This is practically a declaration of war.”

It was a missive forcibly transmitted through the spirit realm.

The sender was the ‘Pan-Dimensional Sentient Relocation Committee.’

The infamous organization known simply as the Committee.

“‘There is evidence that a wanted fugitive, whom the Committee is pursuing with full force, has infiltrated your dimension. Open the dimension immediately. Failure to cooperate will be considered aiding and abetting the fugitive, and physical force will be exercised.’ Hah!”

The convened Grand Patriarchs exchanged opinions.

“Unlike other dimensions, we owe no Talent debt to the Committee! So why don't we respond aggressively? We cannot lift the Lockdown.”

“But they defeated even dragons in the past. If they invade us using methods we can't even fathom...”

“Is there even a way for them to do that? We shut down the Terminal ages ago. Ever since the heretical judges we sent to Earth returned, we've been managing it even more strictly than before, haven't we?”

While they struggled to reach a conclusion, one of the priests cast a glance toward the corner. It was Yumtus, whose status had been elevated to Grand Patriarch. He was looking at a guest who had been invited to the meeting despite not being a priest.

“In the Princess's eyes, does their proclamation sound like empty threats? Or is it truly a declaration of war?”

Dell, who was not only a member of the Ancient Race's royal family but also someone who had once held a key position within the Committee, answered.

“They will have already dispatched their forces to this dimension.”

“...?!”

The air turned chillingly cold.

“If they're coming out like this, they've already secured proof. Most likely, that day, Cain...”

Ahem, Yumtus cleared his throat. Realizing her slip of the tongue, Dell quickly corrected herself.

“...I suspect it was because the ‘avatar’ opened the mining site door so widely that day. Anyway, what's certain is that they've already caught the scent. This declaration of war is less a message to the people of this dimension and more about establishing a justification for the residents of other dimensions to see. They are saying that, for these reasons, the Committee had no choice but to deploy troops to Dimension #77-102.”

The priests' faces grew even darker. If they had already launched their warships from the center of the dimensional system, they only had a few days left before they arrived.

Just then.

The meeting room door slammed open, and the priest acting as a messenger rushed inside.

“The avatar has summoned everyone present here!”

Ever since the event a few days ago, which the order had named the Feast of Resurrection, Minjun had been staying alone in the Cathedral of Resurrection.

“Oh! Is that true? Let us go at once.”

The Acting Pope trembled with emotion. Had the time finally come to return this seat to the true Pope?

Dell watched them scurry about with eyes swirling with mixed emotions. She, too, hadn't seen Minjun since that day.

‘Seeing that he's looking for the priests first, as expected, he...’

“Ah, Princess. You must hurry as well.”

“What?”

“I just said it. He summoned everyone present here.”

Dell's eyes wavered. ‘Me too?’

She and the priests headed straight to the cathedral. The pillar of light that pierced the sky that day had vanished about an hour later, but until now, Minjun had forbidden anyone from entering the cathedral. Now, they could finally confirm what the avatar had been doing in there all this time and what state he was in.

A short while later, the moment they reunited with the avatar in the deepest part of the cathedral—

The primordial race spoke.

“I will return your Pope to you in his complete form.”

Minjun looked no different than before. At least, that was how it appeared to the priests.

“Oh, you mean!”

The Acting Pope felt that the moment his prayers had been answered had arrived.

“...?”

But he soon grew puzzled. Minjun's ‘tool’ was not by his side. The Dagger in which the Prophet's soul was said to be sealed was missing.

Didn't this mean he was going to perform the Baptism on himself right now with that Sword?

The Acting Pope chewed over the avatar's words once more.

‘In his complete form.’

Only then could he understand.

‘Right! The Prophet in the scriptures took the form of a man. Though his face wasn't described, he certainly wasn't a Sword. I don't know his exact species, but he was also a person!’

He asked in a trembling voice,

“Has our Pope, the Prophet, regained his body? A human body?”

“More precisely, he is ready to regain it.”

The avatar's gaze shifted toward their side. Dell, who had been summoned alongside them, stood there. Minjun spoke her name.

“...Dell.”

Endelion felt a sense of incongruity in that pronunciation.

To use an analogy, it felt as though someone wandering through a massive library had pulled out a registry, traced their finger down the list, found a certain name, and recited it for the very first time.

Reunited after several days, her ex-husband made a demand of Dell.

=Give me that incomplete Homunculus.=

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