The Soul-Harvesting Puppeteer - Chapter 1

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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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— Before We Begin
I must note in advance that the concepts of Spirit, Soul, and Corporeal Form explained in this account are the author’s own framework.
I awakened a singular Ability: the power to kill anything instantly.
Whether my target is a demonic creature or human, none escape my Instant Death Technique.
In this age of chaos, when the Great Cataclysm connected Earth to worlds beyond, my Ability to tear the very soul from a living body will surely serve my survival and well-being.
— From Han-eol’s notes, jotted after awakening his Ability
Chapter 1
Prologue
The Han River flowed westward, its gentle currents catching the crimson sunset and gleaming with rich, burnished gold.
A middle-aged man stood at the window of his office, gazing down at the undulating waters below.
He wore a navy pinstriped suit that fit him perfectly, his hair neatly combed back in a pompadour, streaked here and there with gray.
The man stood on the 102nd floor of Seongsong Group Headquarters, located on the Han River bank in Mapo District.
Behind him, waiting with quiet deference, stood a subordinate.
The subordinate wore horn-rimmed glasses that added definition to his face, his dark navy suit matched with a slim navy tie, and the Seongsong Group badge pinned to his left collar.
The middle-aged man showed no sign of breaking his silence, whether his subordinate waited or not.
Silence settled over the office.
The horn-rimmed subordinate swallowed silently, his throat tight. The weight of the middle-aged man’s presence bore down on him, shrinking him into himself.
Some ten minutes passed before the middle-aged man, who had been standing with hands clasped behind his back, finally turned around slowly.
“Did you need something, Director of Strategic Planning?”
The horn-rimmed subordinate exhaled in relief at last, bowing forward at roughly twenty degrees while keeping his head and spine aligned in proper courtesy.
The middle-aged man gestured toward the desk with a tilt of his chin.
『Yi Myeong-woo, Director of Strategic Planning, Seongsong Group』
The letters were engraved in reverse relief on a crystal name plate resting on a rich, dark wooden desk. Beside the plate lay a sheet of fine Korean paper.
The paper had been folded precisely in half twice.
The horn-rimmed subordinate approached carefully and took the paper in hand.
Yi Myeong-woo finally parted his lips.
“HR Manager.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The date written there is a Silence Day blessed by the oracle woman.”
Oracle woman.
Silence Day.
The man in horn-rimmed glasses, the HR Manager, showed visible reaction to these two words.
Yi Myeong-woo watched his counterpart’s subtle expression shift, his sharp eyes missing nothing, and continued.
“Not just any Silence Day, either. A swamp day that comes perhaps once every hundred years—when it arrives, nothing that occurs can be caught by divination or fortune-telling of any kind.”
“Director, if you mean—”
“Exactly. I intend to bring that boy on the Silence Day.”
“Ah! At last.”
The HR Manager’s eyes quivered at Yi Myeong-woo’s words. He then unfolded the paper immediately and committed the date written there to memory.
April 28, 2055
Those characters were inscribed in the center of the paper in a neat, rounded hand.
‘Today is April 13, 2055….’
The HR Manager calculated silently.
From now until the Silence Day blessed by the group’s oracle woman, only a fortnight remained.
‘To time the young master’s retrieval properly, I’ll need to move quickly. Fortunately, recruitment efforts are underway on the surface right now—that works in our favor. I must align the work with that schedule.’
The HR Manager belonged to what everyone in Seongsong Group recognized as the Yi Myeong-woo faction.
For the HR Manager to survive within Seongsong Group, Yi Myeong-woo had to prosper first.
The HR Manager spread his thumb and middle finger wide, gripped the sides of his glasses, and pushed them up firmly before answering with resolve.
“Understood. I will proceed without delay.”
Yi Myeong-woo added to his words in a low, measured tone.
“There must be no delays. The oracle woman informed me that a string of Days of Great Ill Omen will follow before and after the Silence Day. So bring the boy on the 28th.”
‘Days of Great Ill Omen!’
The muscles of the HR Manager’s face went rigid at the ominous words.
“…I will keep that firmly in mind, Director.”
The HR Manager bowed with deliberate ceremony, his posture revealing his determination.
Yi Myeong-woo at last released his piercing gaze and turned slowly to look out at the sunset spreading beyond the window.
The HR Manager offered one more nod of respect toward the director’s back, then withdrew from the office without a sound.
That night, at midnight.
The HR Manager of Seongsong Group, ruler of Mid-Land Seoul, and one team member descended to Earth aboard a Tube.
Mid-Land Seoul
Chapter 1
Twenty-five years ago, just past midnight on January 1st, 2030, a cataclysm of unimaginable scale struck the entire Earth.
Several of the world’s major cities underwent simultaneous seismic upheaval, tearing free from the ground and ascending to an altitude of thirty-six thousand kilometers.
In South Korea alone, Seoul and Busan were wrenched wholesale from the earth and rose into the distant sky, entering geostationary orbit.
Where Korea’s first and second cities had once stood, only colossal sinkholes remained.
The aftermath of the cities’ extraction was catastrophic.
Buildings that had stood on the boundary between Seoul and Gyeonggi Province were torn grotesquely in half. Roads and water infrastructure lay severed, their cross-sections exposed to the air.
The death toll in Seoul and Gyeonggi Province alone was estimated at two million.
Adding the devastation in Busan, the total exceeded three million dead.
It was as if some god had scooped up Seoul and Busan with a cosmic shovel and replanted them in the heavens.
This phenomenon was not confined to Korea.
New York, San Francisco, Los Angeles from the United States.
Beijing, Shanghai, Chongqing from China.
Paris from France.
London from Britain.
Barcelona from Spain.
Tokyo and Osaka from Japan…….
Countless major cities across the globe detached from Earth and rose to that incomprehensible altitude.
And then they began to orbit.
The world’s great cities became satellites of sorts, revolving around the Earth in sync with the planet’s rotation, as if they were geostationary artificial satellites.
Under normal circumstances, citizens forcibly hauled into the vacuum of space should have burst instantly. Humans cannot survive without air, after all.
Yet in Seoul and the other elevated cities, the laws of physics had been shattered entirely.
For instance, despite hovering at an altitude of thirty-six thousand kilometers, these cities retained the same gravity as Earth’s surface.
Oxygen and nitrogen remained in the atmosphere, allowing citizens to breathe without impediment.
Clouds even formed above the cities.
Rain fell from those clouds, and lightning crackled.
Typhoons emerged, though no sea lay nearby.
An ozone layer formed above each city’s clouds, a protective shield against the sun’s harmful ultraviolet rays.
A year after the Great Cataclysm, in 2031, humanity began calling these elevated metropolises “Mid-Land.”
It had now been twenty-five years since Mid-Land’s birth.
An upheaval as world-altering as Mid-Land’s arrival naturally meant that the existing order would reach an inflection point of staggering severity.
When the great cities that had wielded vast influence over global politics, economy, and culture all vanished into Mid-Land, those left behind on the surface fell into chaos.
The decay of civilization.
The collapse of public order.
Looting and arson by anarchists who had seized power.
Wars with neighboring nations, erupting naturally from desperation.
Over the past twenty-five years, the surface population had dwindled to four billion.
While Earth—now officially known as Old Earth—languished in poverty, Mid-Land flourished.
The discovery of High-Land, another dimension connected to Mid-Land, was responsible for this progress.
Through exploration of High-Land, Mid-Land’s inhabitants obtained extraordinary new materials, energy sources, and knowledge that humanity had never before imagined.
But an even greater transformation befell Mid-Land’s people.
Some of those deployed to explore High-Land underwent what came to be called “DNA Mutation.”
Scientists proposed the hypothesis: “As humanity was exposed to High-Land’s alien environment, mutation occurred.”
This hypothesis soon proved true.
However, the results of DNA Mutation varied considerably from person to person.
Of the humans exposed to High-Land’s environment, approximately two-thirds underwent grotesque physical transformation. Their intelligence plummeted catastrophically.
They descended into beasts, stripped of human reason, enslaved only to animal instinct.
Thus were born the “Regressors.”
The unfortunate Regressors could not return to Mid-Land; they were abandoned in High-Land.
The remaining third, conversely, gained remarkable Abilities through DNA Mutation.
This phenomenon came to be called “Awakening.”
The types of Abilities that awakened varied wildly from person to person—some wielded fire, others commanded ice or wind, water or lightning. Still others were granted superhuman physical strength or agility beyond measure.
Moreover, even those who awakened the same type of Ability did not wield equal power.
One person might summon only a matchstick-sized flame from their fingertips, while the Summer Queen, ruler of Osaka, was rumored to cause cataclysms as if an active volcano had erupted in its entirety.
Such disparities in power created class hierarchies.
In Mid-Land Seoul, for instance, the Seongsong Group’s owning family wielded authority that exceeded even the royal families of early Joseon.
Power, wealth, honor.
All of it concentrated in the owning family.
Below them, the board of directors of Seongsong Group formed their own elevated rank. The higher-ranking directors could be considered equivalent to the prime ministers, chief engineers, and councilors of the Joseon era.
In this manner, the hierarchy extended downward through all strata.
Regular employees of Seongsong Group Headquarters occupied the rank of lower-middle administrative officials or regular soldiers in the central military.
Employees of Seongsong Group’s subcontractors were no more than minor bureaucrats and security guards in the provinces.
Explained this way, the hierarchy of Mid-Land Seoul became easy to understand.
In any case, less than ten years after the Great Cataclysm, humanity’s political system had reverted to something resembling an age of dynasties.
Yet people harbored no resentment.
Unlike the old world, where power flowed merely from royal bloodline, this order of rule was rooted in formidable Abilities.
Moreover, the owner families themselves had to venture constantly into High-Land to secure new materials and energy sources, honing their own Abilities in the process just to survive.
In a democratic world, parliament could distribute power among the many in fractional shares; but in a monarchy, power concentrated entirely in a single person’s hands, and all rivals faced only one fate—annihilation.
As a result, internal politics within the group intensified.
Successors vying to become the next owner.
They gathered as many able Ability-users as possible within the group, then deployed them to extract as much as they could from High-Land’s new materials, energy sources, and knowledge.
Look at Yi Gang-hyun, the current chairman of Seongsong Group—he himself is an Ability-user who purged his formidable uncles and brothers wholesale to claim his seat.
So it was inevitable that his heirs would learn and imitate precisely the same.
Chapter 2
Han-eol was currently fourteen years old.
With only a few days remaining until his birthday on April 28th, he would soon turn fifteen.
But he had added two years to his age.
Early last year, the orphanage had acceded to Han-eol’s persistent demands and corrected his birth year in the records.
‘Major corporations in Mid-Land don’t take anyone under seventeen, do they? I want to leave Old Earth and get up to Mid-Land as soon as possible.’
That was why Han-eol had insisted on it.
Nor was it unreasonable from the orphanage’s perspective.
If the orphanage could produce regular employees for Mid-Land corporations?
Then a considerable amount of subsidy could flow in, so the director didn’t press the matter and simply gave in to Han-eol’s obstinacy.
And from that point on, Han-eol gazed up at the dark sky every night.
‘Invisible to the naked eye, but somewhere far beyond the stars—that’s where Mid-Land must be floating, isn’t it? Oh, how I want to see it soon.’
The higher the place he yearned for, the more fiercely heat surged within his chest.
Yet there was no guarantee his dream would come true.
For one, recruitment from Mid-Land corporations rarely happened in the Daejeon region.
This area was a buffer zone between Seongsong Group and Geosan Group.
Second, Han-eol was smaller in build than his peers, which lowered his chances of selection.
Of course, that wasn’t his fault.
In this chaotic world, it was difficult to expect children who’d lost their parents young and ended up on the streets—like Han-eol—to grow robust and tall.
‘Even taking that into account, my build isn’t good.’
Han-eol pressed his lower lip between his teeth.
‘I’m not strong, and my agility is poor.’
Han-eol had matured early.
With that maturity came sharp self-awareness.
More than that—he judged himself with a harshness that bordered on cruelty.
In this harsh world, the cautious survived longer than the arrogant.
His dream was to live safely by keeping his head down.
Yet for all that, Han-eol clung to one dream: recruitment as a regular employee at a Mid-Land corporation—that rare hope grasped by only a handful among billions worldwide—and two reasons sustained this grip.
First, the security situation in Old Earth was deteriorating by the day. In Yuseong District alone, death toll averaged around ten per day.
Therefore, to survive long and safely, Han-eol had no choice but to escape this dangerous world and ascend to Mid-Land, the city of dreams.
Most people on Old Earth, Han-eol included, harbored a vague belief that this place was hell and Mid-Land was heaven.
And here came the second reason Han-eol dreamed of Mid-Land.
‘I must have the talent to Awaken an Ability. There’s no other way to explain the strange things I see.’
It was a secret no one in the world knew: Han-eol could see things others could not.
More precisely, on his retinas was imprinted the very form of the soul dwelling in another’s inner being.
And beyond that, through the shifting colors of another’s soul, Han-eol could read their emotional changes.
He had discovered his ability in earliest childhood.
Because of it, he had become remarkably adept at gauging the moods of those around him.
For instance, the soul of an angry person, as it appeared to Han-eol’s eyes, blazed with intense scarlet.
The moment Han-eol spotted such a person nearby, he kept his distance and sidestepped their wrath.
But it didn’t end there.
When someone harbored hostility toward Han-eol, their soul gleamed with a blood-dark crimson.
In those cases, Han-eol did his best to clear up the misunderstanding or redirect the person’s attention elsewhere.
This too had proven vital to his survival.
A friend who envied Han-eol, meanwhile, would have a soul wreathed in roiling violet mist.
Then Han-eol took care to prevent the envy from hardening into outright hostility.
When someone felt no particular interest in Han-eol at all, their soul appeared nearly colorless.
Honestly, he found such people the easiest to be around.
Conversely, when someone harbored affection for Han-eol, their soul typically displayed pastel tones—soft greens or yellows.
This wasn’t a bad thing either.
In any case, Han-eol’s unusual ability had proven invaluable to him.
From the day he first arrived at this orphanage at five years old, through all ten years since, he had put his ability to practical use.
As a result, Han-eol earned the trust of the orphanage director and several teachers, while positioning himself as an obliging junior among the delinquent older boys who led the orphans.
In exchange, the other children at the orphanage called Han-eol a “lackey,” a “sycophant,” “human garbage.”
Han-eol paid little mind to such gossip.
He understood all too well that children who only whispered behind his back posed no real threat.
They might curse him in unison, but they were too afraid of the delinquent boys at his back to take any action.
Chapter 3
That same Han-eol now stood before a mirror.
His deep brown hair caught his eye first.
Then his round face came into view.
Han-eol rose onto his toes.
His disappointingly small stature had always been a sore point for him. He was approaching the age when his growth plates would close, yet he hadn’t even reached one hundred and seventy centimeters.
But there was no forcing height to grow.
‘Tch.’
Han-eol clicked his tongue once, then let his gaze drift to the ‘R’ pendant hanging around his neck.
This worn pendant, bronze in color, had been with him since the day he first arrived at the orphanage.
Though its original owner was someone else, not Han-eol.
His eyes moved from the pendant back to his face as a whole.
‘Really grimy-looking. Ugh.’
Han-eol swallowed his sigh internally.
The figure reflected in the full-length mirror was an unremarkable teenage boy.
Not muscular, nor particularly nimble-looking—simply ordinary.
Han-eol flexed his arms deliberately, trying to show some definition.
He’d been doing push-ups like mad lately, yet his arms still showed little improvement. Compared to the muscles of the delinquents who lived half-drunk every day, it was pathetic.
‘Ugh, for real.’
Han-eol felt profoundly discouraged.
Still, there was no reason to despair just yet.
‘Hmm.’
After staring at the mirror for a moment, Han-eol suddenly narrowed his eyes and focused his consciousness inward, away from his outward appearance.
Then a soul nearly ash-gray came into view.
‘My body may be weak, but that’s fine. My soul is strong, so I must have potential.’
With this thought, Han-eol found some comfort.
In fact, the soul he perceived was far stronger than those of the delinquent boys, and even felt more solid and substantial than the director’s.
But that wasn’t all.
As Han-eol focused deeper, four distinct ‘inner images’ slowly revealed themselves, rotating within his gray-lit soul.
The term ‘inner image’ was one Han-eol had coined himself, though he couldn’t be certain it was the right word.
In any case, the first inner image he possessed was a ‘hand.’
A right hand, lifeless and gray.
The second inner image he had was a ‘needle and thread.’
A fine thread was threaded through the needle’s eye, though these too remained trapped in dull gray.
The third inner image he possessed was ‘plaster clay.’
The gray clay sat contained within a rectangular mold, and the mold itself was gray as well.
Han-eol found it nearly impossible to guess the purpose of this plaster clay.
Finally, his fourth and last inner image was ‘pursed lips.’
The dull gray lips were pressed shut with such force that they seemed to carry a certain weight.
A hand.
Needle and thread.
Plaster clay.
Pursed lips.
Since childhood, Han-eol had tried to understand what function these four inner images possessed.
Unfortunately, he’d made almost no progress.
There was only one thing he’d managed to learn.
What he’d discovered was that no one around him carried inner images within their soul.
Not the director, the highest authority in the orphanage, nor the delinquent leader who commanded the gang—neither possessed inner images within their souls.
This gave Han-eol a glimmer of hope.
‘Am I the only one who’s special? Could these inner images be connected to an Ability Awakening?’
This was Han-eol’s hope.
And to confirm whether this hope was real or merely fantasy, he had to escape the musty confines of Old Earth and climb to that lofty realm called Mid-Land, no matter what it took.
‘How can I seize this opportunity?’
Han-eol had sunk deep into this despondent wondering.
Ring-ring-ring-ring-ring!
A loud bell clanged across the orphanage.
The orphanage director was calling all the children to assemble.
‘It’s not mealtime yet. What’s this? Could it be…?’
Han-eol’s heart suddenly began to race. He bolted from his tiny room and dashed out into the orphanage courtyard.
There, waiting for the children, stood a man in a crisp business suit and horn-rimmed glasses, alongside a blonde woman of striking beauty.
Thump!
Han-eol’s heart lurched violently in his chest.
His pupils dilated to their fullest extent.
It was the Seongsong Group badge affixed to the blonde woman’s chest.
The Puppeteer Who Harvests Souls
Author |
Junon
Publisher |
Samyang C&C Co., Ltd.
Editor-in-Chief |
Editorial Department
Published by |
Samyang C&C Co., Ltd. – Dream Books
Address |
7F, Gwangseong Building, 28 Bongeunsa-ro 114-gil, Gangnam-gu, Seoul
UCI |
G720:N+A063-20260703071
Blog |
blog.naver.com/dreambookss
Twitter(X) |
@dreambookss
Submissions |
[email protected]
No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any form or by any means without the written permission of Samyang C&C Co., Ltd. – Dream Books.

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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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