The Second Coming of Gluttony - Chapter 92

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 92. Addiction

A group may be understood as a type of social collective formed when multiple people gather to achieve a shared purpose. The members who belong to it work through mutual interaction to understand one another, to share that understanding, and to bring it to fruition.
Such collectives everywhere, as tends to be the case, place the pursuit of profit as their first priority. And Paradise, by its very nature, has afforded these organizations a remarkably diverse array of names.
One thing worth noting is that an organization’s title does not determine the strength or weakness of its power.
Smaller organizations or independent collectives simply go by names like association, group, corps, crew, team, or society; those with considerable scale tend to call themselves guilds, alliances, unions, blood pacts, or companies.
By this measure, temples too can be considered a form of group.
Take the Temple of Lusuria, for instance—a vast religious order of priests devoted to the goddess of lust, which once wielded the greatest influence throughout Paradise.
Yet “once” here refers only to glories long past.
The temple’s golden age was during the time when Seo Yuhee and Sung Sihyun were present; more precisely, it was before the two leaders parted ways due to some incident. After that, when Sung Sihyun transferred to Shin Young and Seo Yuhee stepped down as leader before announcing her retirement, the order’s power weakened considerably.
Of course, there is a saying that even rotten fish is still fish, and one might argue that there is little danger of the temple’s collapse given the unique nature of temples themselves. Yet when comparing the past era of cooperation between the two leaders with the present, there was undeniably a difference. Thus, the priests of Lusuria, unable to forget their days of glory, were burning with fierce determination to restore the order to its former grandeur by any means necessary.
For instance, today.
The reason a man wearing the Mitra—the symbol of a Level 6 Bishop—had come to visit the Temple of Lusuria in Haramag, a divided stronghold, was precisely this.
“I beseech you. Help us.”
He lowered himself to one knee on the cold floor.
He was aware that the woman before him found such gestures burdensome. His station was hardly so lowly that he should kneel without restraint, nor did he enjoy such degrading acts. If anything, he possessed an authoritarian temperament—yet the woman before him was worth enduring such humiliation a thousand times over.
“The hierarchy is crumbling. Our leader must return.”
“No.”
A gentle voice cut through his plea.
“I will not return to the Temple of Lusuria.”
It was a tone that brooked no reconsideration whatsoever. Yet the man in the Mitra did not withdraw.
“Did you not promise? That you would return to us on the condition that the Expedition to the Delphinion Duchy Research Institute be completed?”
“I did promise. Quite clearly.”
The woman responded with precision.
“But there is no longer any need for that expedition. The research institute has sunk, and the rescue team survived through their own efforts. With the prerequisite condition now gone, you cannot demand that I fulfill a promise.”
Her flawless logic left the bishop speechless. He knew better than anyone that this woman keeps every word she speaks as sharply as a blade. He had prodded gently just in case, but all he’d done was reconfirm her position.
“Though Seo Yuhee stepped down from the position of leader, Lusuria herself has not granted you permission to depart.”
“You are mistaken. She has granted it.”
“Yet you still possess the Apostolic Authority, do you not? What do you suppose that signifies?”
“I have made my intention clear. If the goddess has not withdrawn that power despite my declaration, then you should ask Lusuria herself about it.”
“…I implore you. Not only our congregation, but Lusuria herself is overjoyed at the news of your return.”
“If you are an Earthian, then you know how contracts work within Paradise. I, too, am merely one Earthian among many.”
Faced with her unyielding refusal, the bishop looked down and gnawed at his lower lip.
It was a wall he had rarely encountered in a long time. One of Seo Yuhee’s epithets, “Iron Wall,” had become famous precisely because she had rejected the romantic overtures of countless men, including Sung Sihyun.
Yet those who had spent a long time by her side understood that there was more to her than that alone. She possessed a naturally compassionate and merciful nature, yet she never allowed anyone closer than necessary, and never permitted anyone to draw near.
It was not confined to matters of relationship—it was true of every aspect of her being. Thus, those who were drawn to her capacity for tolerance eventually collided with an invisible wall.
Even as the man inwardly conceded defeat, he could not stop his impassioned plea.
“Our goodwill with the Temple of Gulla has long since faded, and Seo Yuhee herself has departed. With loyalty waning, defections grow with each passing day.”
“I think you mischaracterize them as defections. Has the temple not long wielded influence over numerous organizations precisely because of its unique nature and the rarity of the Healing Priest class?”
“That may be true, but you must consider the reverse as well. Outside organizations are now cultivating our clergy as their agents and even interfering in the temple’s internal affairs.”
Seo Yuhee said nothing. The temperature in the room suddenly grew cold. Her piercing gaze felt like it might pierce his throat, and the bishop bowed his head ever lower, until the brim of his Mitra touched the ground.
After a long silence, Seo Yuhee finally spoke.
“That does sound like a serious matter.”
His body trembled. His heart hammered in his chest. Could it be—
“But it has nothing to do with me.”
The bishop’s face fell.
“I am already a person who has left. In a sense, I am an outsider myself.”
“What?”
“So what becomes of the Temple of Lusuria is no concern of mine, and I need not know of it.”
“Do you truly… truly mean to abandon it and stand by and watch?”
“Yes. And one more thing.”
Without hesitation, Seo Yuhee continued.
“You may make our conversation today public, if you wish.”
The bishop blinked at her sudden words.
“To be clear: I don’t care at all what you or your people do with this discussion.”
“What do you—”
Just as he began to speak while lifting his head, the bishop’s body went rigid.
‘When did she—?’
Cold sweat trickled down his spine. The woman who had been sitting primly on the sofa just moments before now stood close enough to touch.
Seo Yuhee unhurried extended her arm and removed the Mitra, then slowly lifted it before her eyes.
“So.”
Toward the small jewel gleaming in its center,
“Please don’t trouble me anymore. Yun Seohee.”
She smiled sweetly.
Snick.
The light cut out. One of two things had happened: either the other party had ended the connection, or the crystal had shattered to pieces. Both Seo Yuhee and the Bishop knew it was the latter.
……
After a moment of silence, the Bishop bared his teeth in a grimace.
“…You knew.”
“You replaced the jewel in the Mitra. It’s not like you to casually change even the smallest thing.”
“Is that really all it took?”
“Old wine, old clothes, old friends—all are better. That’s what you always say, isn’t it.”
Seo Yuhee spoke as though reciting a melody, then replaced the Mitra on her head and returned to the sofa. She spoke once more.
“Go.”
It was only a single word, yet he understood perfectly. From that moment of discovery, the gossamer thread of connection that had barely held on had snapped clean. He rose weakly, unable to offer any real protest.
“You don’t condemn me?”
“Not particularly. There are parts of this I can understand, at least a little.”
“I see.”
“Better to join hands with Shin Young than to be picked apart piece by piece elsewhere.”
So she’d known that much. The Bishop laughed bitterly.
“Though I shouldn’t presume, I would truly wish for your return.”
“No matter how many times you ask, my answer will remain the same.”
Seo Yuhee maintained her calm smile throughout. It was only when the Bishop, heaving a sigh at last, turned to leave that—
Click.
The door swung open. Reflexively turning, the Bishop caught sight of a young man crawling in on all fours.
‘Hm?’
His face was heavy with drowsiness, his eyes barely open. The way he looked around in confusion suggested he was not simply waking up. He moved as though sleepwalking, yet it didn’t quite look like sleepwalking.
This inexplicably arrived youth, now wandering aimlessly about the room, suddenly turned his head.
“Who is this…?”
The Bishop, asking a moment too late, fell silent.
Scurrying rapidly as though drawn by a motion-sensor, he made for the sofa and unceremoniously buried his face in Seo Yuhee’s lap.
“Oh my.”
Seo Yuhee, staring blankly, started in surprise.
‘What in the world?’
The Bishop, too, was thunderstruck. He could swear he had never once witnessed Seo Yuhee permit such casual approach from anyone.
“This again… again.”
Seo Yuhee looked thoroughly flustered,
“I told you to stay quiet and sleep… oh goodness.”
She clicked her tongue, gently stroking his hair with her hand. Uncertain what else to do, she was nonetheless clearly caressing him.
Watching the young man contentedly rub his cheek against her thigh, the Bishop was struck dumb once more. Not only did she permit the contact—she accepted it.
‘Impossible. Absolutely impossible!’
For some reason it felt like sacrilege—he wanted to cry out. Had that iron wall truly cracked? He began to doubt whether this was really Seo Yuhee at all.
“Ah, it’s my fault.”
Seeing the Bishop’s expression, as though he’d experienced cultural shock, Seo Yuhee released a long sigh.
“S-Seo Yuhee’s fault?”
“Yes. I keep indulging him, and now he’s gotten used to it…”
Seo Yuhee trailed off, looking troubled.
“Excuse me.”
At last, with a resigned expression, she rose from the sofa first.
“Come now—let’s go back to your room and sleep. Off we go.”
Shuffle-shuffle-shuffle. The young man disappeared, his arms wrapped around her waist, being gently pulled along.
The Bishop stood motionless for a long time, frozen in place.

Cho Hong had rushed toward the border region for Seol Jihoo’s sake. Though those around her tried to dissuade her, she had pressed toward the frontier, yet harbored no intention of reckless assault.
She possessed only a baseless certainty that he had not perished, and she’d planned to prowl the border regions in case she might somehow aid his escape. Not doing even this much would haunt her for a lifetime.
But before a day had passed, Ian’s message brought word of his safe return, and she immediately turned the carriage around.
The moment she arrived back at Haramag, Cho Hong rushed straight for the Temple of Lusuria. After grabbing the Earthian at the reception desk by the collar to learn his whereabouts, she kicked the door open and entered—
?
There, sitting on the bed, was the young man. No matter how many times she looked at his blank, turning gaze, it was unmistakably Seol Jihoo.
He was breathing hard, chest heaving.
“You….”
Her mouth opened for a moment, then closed again.
There was so much she wanted to say. But now that they were face to face, the words wouldn’t come. Joy and regret mingled with a desperate urge to throttle him. It was a strange, bewildering feeling.
“Say something, anything.”
After a long moment of silent exchange, it was Cho Hong who finally broke the silence.
“Why are you just staring? Did you forget what I look like?”
Embarrassed without reason, the words tumbled out curtly. The young man who’d been watching her intently seemed caught off guard.
“Ah….”
He faltered for a moment, then spoke quietly.
“Who…are you?”
“What?”
Cho Hong’s eyebrows twitched.
“Who are you? What are you—have you lost your mind? Is something wrong with your brain?”
At that, Seol Jihoo’s expression crumpled.
“…Yes.”
“What, what did you say?”
“I… took a hard blow, and I can’t remember anything….”
‘He can’t remember?’
Cho Hong’s pupils dilated sharply.
“You goddamn bastard! You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”
She shouted the words, but her voice trembled. Her heart began to pound with unease. Above all, Seol Jihoo, cradling his temples in his hands, genuinely appeared lost and confused.
“Do you… know me, by any chance?”
At his careful question, Cho Hong’s legs nearly gave way.
“…Hey….”
Suddenly, the image from just before their escape flooded back. Seol Jihoo falling, then stretching out his arm with all his remaining strength. How her heart had ached that she hadn’t been able to grab that hand. How guilt had consumed her.
“Do you really… not remember?”
“I… I don’t know. My head’s all muddled….”
Cho Hong steadied her breathing. Unbelievable—no, unwilling to believe. She drew closer, step by step as if spellbound, and pressed on.
“Dylan?”
“Dylan…?”
“Hugo?”
“Hugo?”
“Carpe Diem Office? Samuel? Alex? Ian? Teresa? The Forest of Negation? Raman Village?”
“Um… uh….”
Cho Hong rattled off names as they came to her, but her bewilderment deepened with each one.
“Did you really forget all of it?”
…….
“Not a single thing? No—that can’t be, can it?”
Her voice had taken on a pleading quality, and Seol Jihoo simply bowed his head.
“…I’m sorry….”
He’d done nothing wrong, yet his apology wrung her heart.
“What are you apologizing for… you idiot….”
Her eyes had reddened without her noticing, and Cho Hong sniffled.
“I’m the one who should be sorry….”
In that instant, the young man’s chin jerked up sharply.
“Oh.”
“?”
“Now that you mention it—.”
“Did you… did you remember?”
Seol Jihoo, who’d been studying her intently, furrowed his brow deeply. Then he spoke.
“I think it was a lie.”
“…What?”
“A lie.”
“A lie?”
Cho Hong’s expression went blank.
“Yeah. A lie.”
Seol Jihoo smiled and added with a chuckle,
“That’s what they call Young Man’s Deception.”
It was at that very moment.
Bang!
A sudden thunderous crash split the infirmary. Seol Jihoo’s mouth fell open. Cho Hong’s fist had shattered the drawer beside the bed.
“I… I….”
Trembling, her jaw clenched. Cho Hong’s eyes were desolate, murderous intent radiating from them. A sinking feeling washed over him—he’d crossed a line.
“I’m sorry!”
He pressed both palms together at once in apology.
“You bastard… making a fool of someone…?”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I won’t joke around like that again, okay?”
“You piece of shit… not even reading the room… ugh!”
When tears began to gather in Cho Hong’s eyes—eyes that had been glaring daggers at him—Seol Jihoo panicked.
“Cho, Cho Hong. I really did wrong. I took it too far.”
“Get out!”
Cho Hong shrieked and jerked her body away irritably. Seol Jihoo quickly pulled her into his arms.
“Don’t, don’t go.”
“You’re not leaving?”
“I said I was sorry! Please forgive me!”
“I told you to get out. You asshole.”
Cho Hong twisted her body, but Seol Jihoo clung to her for dear life. It would’ve been effortless to shake him off if he really wanted to, but careful of her injuries, he couldn’t quite manage it.
After a moment, he’d finally succeeded in dragging her back onto the bed, and he begged ceaselessly. He had no words left to defend himself—even imagining himself in her position, ten mouths wouldn’t have been enough to apologize.
In the midst of receiving a thorough verbal lashing, the door suddenly creaked open. She couldn’t quite bring herself to hit him, so Cho Hong wrinkled her nose, still hurling curses indiscriminately.
“You’re being quite loud, aren’t you?”
“Huh? What are you two doing, hugging like that?”
Two women entered, each carrying a basket in one hand. One wore a maid’s uniform; the other had on only a white shirt.
“Maria? Agnes!”
Seol Jihoo was startled by the unexpected arrival, though he brightened at the sight of them.
“What? Why are you here?”
Cho Hong asked, looking utterly confused.
“We got permission to visit. Heard you came to your senses today.”
“Today? No, that’s not what I’m asking. Why did you come?”
“Why else? Obviously to see how you’re doing.”
Maria chirped away, chattering as though the question was absurd.
“You came to visit me? Yeriel Maria?”
“The other one came once too. That’s all there is to it.”
Maria spoke plainly and drifted over, setting down her basket.
“I… came to see my student.”
Without being asked, Agnes offered this explanation as she slipped in quietly.
“Will you have some fruit?”
“Huh? Yes, yes.”
“Fruit, schruit. I brought alcohol—let’s have a proper party.”
“Have you lost your mind? Liquor for a patient?”
At Cho Hong’s outburst, Maria yielded without argument.
“I’ll grant you that, coming from your thick skull, that’s actually a logical point—but how about you take your hands off the basket? That wasn’t bought for you to eat.”
“Leave me alone! This bastard has me so worked up, I need a drink just to calm down!”
Maria and Cho Hong bickered back and forth while Agnes quietly peeled fruit on the side. He’d never dreamed both of them would come.
But the visitors hadn’t finished arriving. In fact, the two of them had only kicked things off.
Bang!
A Black man burst through the door just as forcefully as Cho Hong had, and immediately swept Seol Jihoo into an embrace.
“Seol! Seoooool!”
“Hu, Hugo?”
“Aaaaaagh! You’re alive! You’re alive!”
“Wait. I can’t breathe.”
Starting with Hugo,
“Hey! Seol!”
“Heard what happened. Congratulations on making it back.”
Mikhail and Veronica came as well,
“So you really did survive.”
“Ayase Kazuki? You came to visit me?”
“Just for a moment, but you were on my team. I owe you, and… ah, here. Take this.”
And Ayase Kazuki,
“Oh dear. Are we a bit late?”
“Why are you looking so surprised? I came because I wanted to see you.”
Ian and Teresa had arrived as well.
The healing room instantly grew lively. With ten people crammed into such a small space, it felt packed to the seams.
‘Wow….’
Dizzy, but—how to put it.
‘What am I saying.’
Bewildered and yet, strangely, unfamiliar warmth bloomed in his chest. The thought that so many people had come to see him made his mouth fall open wide. He hadn’t meant to, but laughter kept threatening to spill out.
“Ha ha.”
In the end, he couldn’t hold it back and smiled warmly. Even as Cho Hong chided him for grinning like that, the laughter continued, unbroken.
‘This is joy.’
Though he couldn’t quite name the reason, Seol Jihoo found himself happy in this moment, surrounded by so many people. His heart felt so light he wished time would stop right here and never move again.
So much so that the thought of returning to Earth had become unbearable.

(To be continued in the next chapter)

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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