Requiem of Subdued Souls

Chapter 28: Nirvana Painting (11)

Everyone was rendered speechless after being confined in a dark space for several days.

But someone who would save them had come.

They got up, thinking if it was real or not. Their eyes welled up with tears as they realized they could survive.

“Thank you! You are my savior! Thank you!”

They stood up and bowed to the Hwarangs. They were holding hands as they walked slowly and moved out. Everyone greeted the spirit of the child.

“Thank you. Thank you.”

“I will never forget the grace you’ve shown!”

Zaha asked,

“You knew he was a ghost?”

The people smiled and said,

“Yes! Well, this might seem like a fake story.”

“This child is the one who brought us here. He secretly stole food from somewhere and gave it to us.”

“I was worried that he suddenly disappeared, but thank God he is safe! At first, I was surprised because he looked like a goblin…”

“He is not a goblin. He is a child like us.”

The little boy greeted the child.

“Hello!”

[Hello!]

The child also said it back.

A voice people wouldn’t normally hear.

After saying their greetings to everyone and leading them close to the exit, the spirit became weak and eventually turned transparent.

Phew.

Someone sighed.

And in the next moment, there was nothing there. A very faint light, similar to a firefly, floated around, but even that disappeared quickly.

Zaha asked,

“Where is he?”

“Gone.”

Seol Young replied.

Even if he struggled for a long time, he still wasn’t immune to the process.

The place was cleansed as the soul, which was connected to the heartfelt emotions, vanished. A cold wind blew through it.

And then there was a brief moment of silence.

“Is it the end?”

Zaha mumbled.

“The people who were trapped in the painting were saved. The evil pictures that harmed people have been removed, and the souls related to the incident are now erased. Isn’t this over then?”

“Right, it is over.”

Seol Young said,

“In the end, I was right. The strange incident was dealt with, and I didn’t die. The plan has gone awry for you. Now let’s get out.”

But Zaha remained still.

“I said it is now over.”

“So what is with your expression?”

To which he questioned.

“If it is over, then it is over. But is the real issue resolved?”

“…”

“Don’t you still have something to do?”

Seol Young sighed.

“Right. There is one thing left.”

“What?”

“The reason why the painter drew the Nirvana painting wasn’t because of the evilness growing in his heart. It was an intentional massacre with a clear intent to kill.”

“Right.”

“We saw through the child’s memories. The painter grieved the loss of his son and, understandably, he is sad, but no…”

“Remorse.”

Zaha nodded.

“His attitude of beating his chest, banging his head on the wall, and attempting to hang himself could be considered a strong reproach to himself. He was blaming himself.”

“Why did he do that?”

Seol Young mumbled.

“The dead don’t talk, but there are things they can show others. Only when we can figure it out will this case truly be solved. But…”

Seol Young was silent.

“There is no way to find the truth of what happened a hundred years ago.”

“Then try talking to the soul.”

Zaha said.

And the two men headed to the shrine.

The relics left by the painter were there. First, they tried to open the sealed bundle.

There were no more sparks now.

But still, it didn’t budge. Something was still protecting it.

Zaha titled his head.

“What?”

“Every supernatural calamity has a reason. There has to be one for this as well.”

Seol Young put it down. He didn’t force it open and just touched the other items, but he couldn’t feel anything.

He couldn’t even read spiritual energy from them.

“Just what is this?”

The more he learned about things, the more curious he got, and Seol Young, who was exhausted, sat down.

Then he looked up at Zaha.

“You care about everything.”

“Why aren’t you leaving yet?”

“Because you are obsessed with some things, even I am feeling curious about them.”

He glanced outside and said,

“If that is the case, there is a way.”

“…?”

“Look there.”

He walked to the center of the shrine, took his sword out of its sheath, and put it on the ground.

Then he slowly stretched out his hand.

A black fog began to rise. It was as dark as ink and spread out in all directions, and the screams of souls could be heard.

Seol Young was shocked.

Demonic qi.

He drew out a very concentrated demonic qi.

“What are you…?!”

He tried to stop him, but the dark fog turned into darkness.

Then he saw a painter sitting alone.

A certain noble was talking.

“Seriously. To think that your one and only son would get sick and die so suddenly.”

The voice was familiar.

It was the owner of the house and the person who commissioned the painting.

“Even though we took care of you with the utmost sincerity at home, it seems like we were still lacking. I am afraid to even look at you.”

“No.”

The painter lowered his head.

“He wasn’t a strong child from the start. This can even be regarded as a blessing.”

The owner walked out.

And the painter was motionless as he slowly moved to look at the keepsake of his son.

The pain he felt was comparable to having his body torn apart from the inside. But he was an artist.

‘I need to finish my work. At least for him…’

He suppressed the sadness he was feeling and picked up the brush. He forgot about everything else and focused on finishing this painting. The sun had set, the lights weren’t turned on, and he only relied on the moonlight to paint.

Then he heard a voice outside.

It was the sound of people passing by, thinking no one was around.

“What? For real?”

“Shh! Never say anything about it. If this gets into the ears of the painter, everything will be a mess.”

“So it wasn’t that he died from an illness but the second young master…”

“Right! He thought a beggar came in and touched the precious painting, so he got angry and beat the child to death…”

The painter was startled and jumped up.

Wh… what was that?

A vivid scene unfolded before the two men.

A few days ago.

“Now, all we need to do is finish it. I cannot take care of my son as I need to work on it all day, so I will leave him at the house of someone I know. Give me five days to finish it.”

“Five days?”

The owner was impatient. He wanted to show the painting to the world right away.

“You don’t have to do that. We will take care of your child here. It is better for both of you to stay in one house than send the child far away. You just focus on the painting.”

The owner took the child, and contrary to his words, the child was neglected.

The child was bored and sneaked out. He went to his room to find his father, but….

“Yah! Why are you here? Your father is in a hurry to get the new painting done! Don’t come! As far as I can see, the color hasn’t…”

The maid went out.

The child looked at the painting in the empty room. His father’s paintings were the most beautiful. He felt proud.

“Ahem. I am a painter.”

The child walked with his hands behind his back.

“And this is my painting.”

He pointed to his rough painting and explained it to the people looking at him.

It was then…

“It is fine! You can go in! They said that the people are out!”

The outside was noisy, and the second young master came in with his friends to find a shabby-looking kid touching the precious painting.

“How dare you put your filthy hands on it?!”

He kicked the poor child several times, and his friends, who were laughing, stopped.

“Does he look dead?”

There was a commotion, and the owner rushed in.

“What are you doing? This is the son of the painter!”

“Uh?”

Everyone was shocked.

“If he finds out about this, he will ruin the painting. Keep this matter hidden.”

They wiped the blood marks from the child’s face, dusted his clothes, and laid him down on a futon as they called the doctor and gave him money.

“Suddenly, his body started to show signs of fever, and he closed his eyes before we could give him the medicine…”

That was what he was told.

The painter, who learned of this from the servants, screamed.

Ahhhh!

The screams became increasingly distant as the black fog lifted and the shrine appeared in front of their eyes.

Seol Young stood there.

“With this, the last question is solved.”

Zaha said.

“I was shocked at first. He primarily thought that the painting he was so focused on completing was the cause of his son’s death. But then he realized the real cause of his son’s death and decided to take revenge on the house. Even so, rich people cannot be given the right justice, so…”

It was when he said that…

Tak.

The string around the bundle, which was difficult to cut through, broke on its own.

The cloth opened, revealing what was inside.

With his soul being eaten away by the painting, what he cherished until then…

It wasn’t a painting of his own.

But the clumsy painting of his son and the small brush he used.

Seol Young saw it.

“…”

Without another word, he picked them up and put them right next to the painter’s bundle of items.

So that the father and son could be together, at least with their paintings.