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Chapter 10
Five days later.
Slurp—
The thief who had stolen the cloak was now eating bone hangover soup. To keep his promise of “I’ll buy you a meal,” Lee Cheo-eum had come to a hangover soup place with Park Gil-dong and Jireum.
Seems like nothing happened.
Cheo-eum glanced at the message window with Ha-yan—the one who had sent him dozens of lines of heartfelt thanks before cutting off all contact—and then closed the screen.
Controlling someone’s actions by layering a new compulsion over brainwashing always left terrible side effects. He had half-expected Ha-yan to reach out again—asking for “after-service,” claiming she was still looking for her brother. But since no word had come until now, it seemed the problem had been resolved.
I still have to finish writing up the counseling records and set a time for the interview…
He knew he should make an appointment, but… it felt bothersome. Cheo-eum buried his face into the steaming bowl in a small act of escapism.
But there were eyes fixed on the crown of his head.
“—That’s Lee Cheo-eum, right? The one who bashed a senior with a soju bottle back in freshman year…”
“But if Apostles came breaking windows in a rush to find him, doesn’t that mean he’s some hidden powerhouse…?”
A group of Gaon University students whispered among themselves at a nearby table. They thought they were being discreet, but they were too close. He heard everything.
Bang!
Unable to take any more, Park Gil-dong slammed the table.
“Watch your mouths!”
The Gaon University students flinched.
“P-Park Gil-dong…”
They hadn’t expected that Park Gil-dong—famous for his wide circle and easygoing nature—to blow up at them.
He glared sharply at them.
“Don’t think I’ll sit by while you smear Cheo-eum with weird rumors.”
“A-ah, we were just—”
“What? Hidden powerhouse? You’re saying Cheo-eum’s a weakling pretending to be strong?”
With people staring, Park Gil-dong roared:
“He’s just a weakling!”
…What the hell was that?
Cheo-eum stopped chewing his cabbage leaf and looked at Gil-dong.
Jireum nodded in solemn agreement while chomping on radish kimchi.
“That’s an accurate assessment. Keep that in mind and don’t spread strange rumors.”
Were these his classmates or his enemies?
“So I should thank you for slandering me at the dinner table?”
“How’s it slander if it’s true?”
“In Korea, there’s such a thing as ‘defamation by truth.’”
“So you admit it’s the truth.”
Cheo-eum stayed silent in tacit agreement. It was true—he was a weakling.
But still…
It’s not strength I’ve hidden. It’s something else.
His eyes drifted toward his old school backpack. Who would guess that inside that battered bag was an item worth hundreds of millions?
The A-rank artifact—the Cloak of the Thirteenth King—was stuffed inside.
“Anyway, apologize to Cheo-eum! You can’t just—”
“Sit down,” Cheo-eum cut him off with a slight nod.
Since Ha-yan had come crashing through windows, all kinds of rumors were swirling around Gaon University. But Cheo-eum, the central figure of it all, was living outwardly unbothered.
‘Wow, it’s just like before. Always breaking things—back in freshman year with that soju bottle, now this…’
‘Damn, he looks vicious…’
‘…Shit, he’s looking this way.’
‘Let’s go. Look down, quick.’
Just as the other students had said, Cheo-eum was a loner. People only gossiped behind his back—no one dared approach. Ever since the night he smashed a senior with a bottle and spent time in a holding cell, it had always been that way.
“Let’s not stir up trouble at the table,” Cheo-eum said flatly.
Gil-dong sulked, dragging his feet, while Jireum ate more slowly than usual, clearly annoyed at the rumors. But Cheo-eum felt nothing at all.
“Why don’t you ever speak up? Everyone knows you’ve got a temper but—”
“Gil-dong,” Cheo-eum interrupted.
“You know who Go Hwarang is?”
That was what interested him.
Rewinding back five days—the incident where Cheo-eum had “stolen” Go Hwarang’s cloak had been without malice. He had intended to leave it neatly behind after escaping.
But then—
Was that… a flamethrower?
Go Hwarang had cranked the flames to full blast after confirming the Apostles nearby had evacuated. Cheo-eum, an ordinary human physically, couldn’t have walked out of that inferno alive. Wearing the cloak had been the only way to survive.
Now that he was safe, he needed to return it. But how did you hand something back to a man you’d never even met? Luckily, he’d overheard enough of their conversation to at least catch his name.
If he participated in resolving an S-rank Trial, he must be famous. Maybe Gil-dong knows…
“You don’t know Apostle Go Hwarang?” Cheo-eum pressed.
Gil-dong stared at him in disbelief.
“How the hell is your information level that of some hermit who’s lived twenty years in a mountain cabin?”
“…You holding a grudge against me lately?”
Snapping out of it, Gil-dong explained.
“You know <Galmel>?”
Cheo-eum nodded.
He knew. To talk about <Galmel>, you first had to talk about the Five Great Orders. And to talk about Orders, you had to talk about the Great Calamity.
The Great Calamity was a disaster on a national scale. The moment it erupted, borders closed under invisible barriers, and in each nation, a single Leader emerged to spearhead the response.
Nations relied on Apostles to resolve Calamities—and those that failed were erased.
That was when humanity learned: in the face of Calamity, no Apostle could fight alone.
Thus, the world shifted. Apostles began grouping together. To prevent rampant nationalism, the World Apostle Organization was formed.
And six months after the first Calamity—
“Kerem is undivided. Kerem is one. Kerem is <Edena>.”
The nation of Kerem, which produced the most Apostles, unified them all under a single Order: <Edena>.
That was the birth of the Order system.
Not long after, Korea established its first Order—
“—So I made an Order, but… the name was… what was it… Kanafi? Kabe?”
“Leader Hwang Nanse, it’s ‘Kanaph’…”
“Bah! So many fine Korean words, and we’re forced to name it in Keremese? Forget it. Call it Ganabi!”
Thus dawned the Age of Orders.
Orders became guilds of Apostles—part companies, part adventurers’ associations. The state supported the system, entrusting Trials within its borders to Orders.
Most Apostles belonged to Orders. Competition was fierce. Many rose and fell, but eventually, Korea’s Five Great Orders became fixed:
- <Ganabi>
- <Burim>
- <Haya>
- <Chela Chal>
-
and <Galmel>
Among them, <Ganabi> and <Galmel> had never lost their seats. Surely even Cheo-eum knew of them.
“So you know <Galmel> but not Go Hwarang? He’s the Leader!”
Gil-dong looked exasperated.
Cheo-eum vaguely recalled an old article—wasn’t the Leader a middle-aged woman?
“But I remember her being a woman.”
Go Hwarang had looked no older than mid-twenties.
“The Leader changed over a year ago,” Gil-dong clicked his tongue.
So it belongs to the Order Leader… That complicates things.
Returning the cloak blindly could raise suspicions. Security checks could lead to unwanted exposure.
Gil-dong sighed. “Look, whatever reason you’re asking, don’t bother. High-ranking Apostles live in a different world. You’ve seen their interviews—they all say once you’ve faced a Calamity head-on, you can’t ever go back to who you were before. Don’t get involved—”
But Cheo-eum ignored the lecture, scraping the last bits from his soup bowl.
Bzzt—
His phone vibrated.
“…For ordinary students like us, the odds of crossing paths are zero—” Gil-dong droned.
“Not zero, it seems,” Cheo-eum cut in.
He glanced at the new messages.
[Osalo: You break a promise and go silent for five days—no message, nothing ^^]
[Osalo: Never met someone so rude in my life.]
[Osalo: Is that why your name is Cheo-eum? Because it’s my first time seeing this ^^?]
Ignoring the sarcasm, Cheo-eum typed:
[You said you were from <Galmel>, right?]
A reply came quickly.
[Osalo: Yeah. Why?]
[Today’s counseling is free. Can you do 6 p.m.?]
After the read receipt, the phone buzzed again.
[Osalo: Add an extra hour to the session.]
Not surprising. After all—this person was a high-ranking Apostle.
