Chapter 228
At that moment, Baek Saebyeok suddenly spoke up.
“Then why are you standing on the opposite side from them? You said it yourself. You’ve killed quite a few fishfolk and mountain yokai.”
Han Myeongho looked slightly startled, but soon a self-mocking expression crossed his face.
“Maybe it’s because I considered myself human. Before my parents passed away, they told me again and again that we were human—just humans suffering from a strange disease.
After that, when I began wandering Ashland, I mingled with humans each time filled with tremendous anticipation. But whenever they discovered my secret, they always looked at me with strange eyes. Eyes as if they were looking at a monster. Eyes that said they wanted nothing more to do with me were the better cases. Quite a few revealed eyes filled with killing intent.
I tried to become a good human. I searched for countless books left behind by the Old World and acted exactly as they described. Sometimes, even when I was scared, I moved forward bravely to save people. Sometimes, even when I wanted to monopolize valuable items, I chose to distribute them fairly.
Sometimes there were people I wanted to kill, but because they hadn’t committed any crime, I ultimately restrained myself. Sometimes I was bursting with the urge to curse people who were abnormally suspicious of others, but I reined in my emotions. To soothe and organize them, I led by example.
Once, long ago, a mountain yokai discovered my secret before dying. He looked straight at me and said this: ‘Selfish bastard.’”
Han Myeongho, whose eyes had already lost their focus, suddenly burst into laughter. It was a laughter tinged with madness. He slowly swept his gaze over the masked rescue team members and sneered.
“Yeah, I’m selfish. Everything I did was for the sake of being treated as human. It was all done to be acknowledged.
But even after doing so much, even after paying such a huge price, in the end I’m still pointed at and called a ‘derivative human.’
If there’s such a thing as human standards, then compared to Helvik and Anghevas, who sold weapons to the enemy for profit; compared to those cowards who trembled in fear and retreated when enemies launched surprise attacks; compared to the followers of the Vigil Sect who can’t even offer the most basic trust—I’m closer to being human. Me, who constantly whipped myself and yet lived to the very end by human standards!
Fine, I’m a derivative human! I’m exactly that! But even if you compare me to most of the humans in this village, in this world, there’s no one more human than me!”
Han Myeongho’s laughter grew louder and louder. Jang Mokhwa had no idea how she was supposed to react to this situation. She even slightly regretted asking that question.
Just then, Seong Geonwoo stepped forward, looked at Han Myeongho for a moment, and spoke.
“I don’t know what to say. I’ll express it through dance.”
He struck a few dance poses, then turned around and left just like that.
At that sight, not only Han Myeongho but every member of the rescue team flinched in surprise.
This was no longer a matter of whether they could keep up with Seong Geonwoo’s thinking or not. It felt as though they and Seong Geonwoo existed in two completely different worlds, operating on entirely different states and rhythms.
The next moment, Jang Mokhwa thought that following Seong Geonwoo and leaving like this might actually be the best choice for now. After hearing Han Myeongho’s confession, she no longer had confidence in how she should look at him or what she should say.
Saying “I’m sorry” didn’t feel right. The rescue team had never crossed a line with Han Myeongho. They had only asked a simple question.
Trying to laugh it off lightly would seem insincere, and pretending nothing had happened and asking another question would feel even more uncomfortable.
Han Myeongho had spoken at such length in such an agitated state. Acting as though nothing had happened would be an outright insult to him.
But responding to his story left Jang Mokhwa’s heart in turmoil. No matter what she said, she couldn’t comfort Han Myeongho’s life. As pure humans, they could never truly understand the life of a derivative human.
So perhaps, even if it was abrupt, dancing for a moment and then suddenly leaving would be absurd—but might also be the optimal solution.
Yes, that was the best way for both sides. Thinking quickly, Jang Mokhwa followed behind Seong Geonwoo and exited the building.
Yong Yeohong and Baek Saebyeok naturally followed their leader’s decision.
In just over ten seconds, Han Myeongho was left alone in the building.
His gaze wandered over the kitchen littered with chaotic footprints and the empty living room, before finally landing on the wide-open front door.
With a dazed expression, Han Myeongho felt slightly confused as to whether the group that had just visited him really had danced in front of him and then left.
Unconsciously rolling up his sleeve, he examined the amber-colored scales on his arm once more.
Just then, a masked face suddenly popped out at the doorway.
It was an elegant fox mask.
Jang Mokhwa laughed awkwardly once or twice and raised her index finger.
“One last question.”
As soon as she spoke, a furry monkey mask with a pointed mouth and a pig mask with a snout that looked like it could have a power plug inserted into it appeared beside her. Baek Saebyeok, wearing a ferocious-looking man’s mask, had also returned to the doorway.
Han Myeongho, his heart swirling with complicated emotions, spoke with a feeling that he didn’t know whether to get angry or laugh.
“Go on.”
Clearing her throat, Jang Mokhwa asked casually, as if nothing had happened.
“The information that Bishop Renato returned to the Vigil Sect headquarters—did you sell it to the fishfolk and mountain yokai?”
Han Myeongho snorted.
“What benefit would I gain from selling them that information? Being welcomed back as a derivative human?”
“I knew it wasn’t you!”
Seong Geonwoo replied in a cheerful tone.
There was certainly a possibility that Han Myeongho was lying, but Jang Mokhwa believed his earlier confession was genuine. In his heart, he considered himself human.
This judgment wasn’t based on verification through an Awakener ability, but on a combination of Han Myeongho’s usual behavior and the logic contained in what he had just said.
Jang Mokhwa let out a sigh of relief.
“We trust you. We just had a question we had to ask. Actually, we have another suspect. It’s not you.”
Han Myeongho, who had investigated this matter the day before, asked as if he had forgotten his emotional outburst moments earlier.
“Who?”
“DiMarco. Or someone representing the Underground Ark.”
Jang Mokhwa answered honestly.
Han Myeongho nodded, lost in thought.
“I thought so too. A derivative human invasion would be a disaster for both the Red River people and the Ashlanders. But not for the Underground Ark.”
Jang Mokhwa agreed.
“If derivative humans can’t enter the Underground Ark, and if the Ark can continue to occupy a large share of this region’s smuggling industry through external material exchange, then the derivative humans could have reached a certain cooperative agreement with them after negotiations. Since they’d stay buried underground the whole time, they wouldn’t be an eyesore to the fishfolk or mountain yokai.”
At this point, Baek Saebyeok cut in.
“Inside the Underground Ark, who would DiMarco be unable to cooperate with? The relationship between the fishfolk, mountain yokai, and the Underground Ark is even closer than that between Redstone Market residents and the Ark.”
Jang Mokhwa chimed in as she recalled things.
“That’s right. Their ancestors, like DiMarco’s ancestors, were all native inhabitants of this city.”
Han Myeongho added,
“In recent years, disputes caused by smuggling have put both the Red River people and the Ashlanders at odds with the Underground Ark. Taking advantage of this, the Ark might want to completely replace Redstone Market. I don’t think I need to worry too much about this issue. I’ll leave what comes next to you.”
Then Han Myeongho suddenly let out a self-deprecating laugh.
Jang Mokhwa immediately responded.
“You don’t need to think that way. Song, the Vigilant, has always had a gentle attitude toward derivative humans. He would never take issue with your origins.
Moreover, he praised the way you’ve acted so far and regarded you as the true sheriff of Redstone Market. He even hinted that as long as you didn’t sell out Redstone Market, he could pretend not to know you were a derivative human.
As for Weller, you know him well enough—he’s not that hard to talk to. If only he didn’t have such a pretty wife, he’d actually be quite trustworthy.
For now, only Vigilant Song, Weller, and the four of us know about your origins. And in a few days, we’ll be leaving Redstone Market. After that, we probably won’t ever come back.”
After a long silence, Han Myeongho slowly opened his mouth.
“It’s just that I can’t endure it. From the moment my identity as a derivative human is revealed, no matter how many people know, it feels like I’m walking around naked.
Especially once people find out that I tried so hard to appear brave, honest, and fair, I start thinking that those who know my origins will see me as a clown who’s been putting on a ridiculous act all this time.
And then there’s the worry that someday—someday—Vigilant Song might tell a newly appointed bishop about my identity, or that someday Weller might let it slip without realizing it after getting a bit drunk while drinking with smugglers.
These worries eventually grow into the thought that if this world simply didn’t have Vigilant Song and Weller, there would be no danger and no unexpected situations at all. A malicious heart is truly terrifying. It might be better to just leave this place far behind, like before.”
Speaking in a heavily lowered voice, Han Myeongho finally let out a sigh and chuckled softly. Jang Mokhwa couldn’t persuade someone who spoke this far any longer. The only thing she could say was this:
“I’ll do my best to uncover the truth before you leave.”
Han Myeongho nodded slightly.
“If Vigilant Song has no ill intent, then there’s no need to flee in a hurry. I’ll stay a few more days and take care of the things that need to be handled. Haha, of course, that includes gathering the materials you asked for regarding Machine Heaven.”
After saying goodbye to Han Myeongho and returning to the jeep, Yong Yeohong let out a long sigh while looking back at the building with its door still wide open.
“I never realized being human was such an important status.”
Jang Mokhwa replied,
“The ancestors of derivative humans were humans too, at first. Disasters, mutations, and the destruction of the Old World permanently changed the fate of them and their descendants. I think Han Myeongho is truly remarkable. He keeps trying to resist that fate without giving in.”
Leaning against the window, Seong Geonwoo watched the building grow farther away, then suddenly spoke.
“Couldn’t we bring him to the company?”
Jang Mokhwa didn’t oppose the suggestion.
“We can try. I’ll send a report this afternoon. Let’s see what the company says. We can’t make a unilateral decision on this matter. Otherwise, we might end up bringing him all the way to the company gates, only to be unable to get in.”
Among Bango Bio’s employees, there were quite a few who looked down on and excluded derivative humans, but at least none of them hated or despised them outright.
Compared to other major factions in Ashland, Bango Bio had a far more open attitude. They had even voluntarily absorbed groups of derivative humans into their own faction.
Moreover, strictly speaking, most of Bango Bio’s employees were no longer purely human. To certain factions who believed genetic modification and enhancement violated natural law, the “chosen ones” and derivative humans were no different at all.
