Chapter 7: The First Story

Cheonma, Wi Baekryeong, stared intently at the mortal in front of her.

Even in such a desperate situation, he insists on telling a story.

He must either be incredibly gutsy or just a fool who can’t see ahead.

To her, he looked like one of those two types.

Either way, it was clear he was a completely different kind of being from herself.

But… for some reason.

Wi Baekryeong felt just a tiny bit of curiosity, barely more than a speck of dust in her eyes.

What kind of story could that mortal possibly want to tell?

What absurd nonsense would he try to cover this despair with?

She watched Lee Dam silently for a while.

And then.

Finally, Wi Baekryeong nodded very slightly.

“…Try.”

But how impressive could his story really be?

Is there even a story in this universe that could soothe despair and boredom ingrained to the bone?

She thought so inside.

Yet deep in Wi Baekryeong’s heart.

In a corner of her soul, which she thought was already worn out of all emotion.

A faint but unmistakable expectation was rising.

…Though she herself had not yet realized it.

And then.

The storyteller granted permission by Cheonma.

Lee Dam seemed to breathe a sigh of relief internally, took a deep breath…

And finally began to speak.

“This story is set long ago, in the ancient era when dragons covered the skies and continents burned—the age of the ‘Dragon’s Calamity.’ It was a time when everything was destroyed and despair was more familiar than hope.”

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“The world moves toward destruction; do you think I have more stories for you? No matter what sweet words I whisper, they cannot change this despair.”

I was silent for a moment.

She was right. What could I say?

What story could reach her deep despair?

Reckless consolation or hope could be poison—it was a sensitive matter.

Cheonma spoke coldly once more.

“Now go back. I have no more time to spare on you.”

…She truly meant to drive me away.

But I couldn’t bring myself to step back.

At first, I only saw her as a sharp, cold, untouchable transcendent.

But after hearing her story, I felt differently.

The woman before me now was like a black pebble worn down by many storms.

She might have shined once…

But now she just sank alone into darkness, seemingly unwilling to respond to any stimulus.

The empty pavilion, the shabby cot, and above all…

Her gaze, which seemed both empty and hopeless, yet somehow also silently seeking help, lingered heavily on my mind.

A sly transcendent.

Behind the unpredictable image the Harmony man had spoken of, there were clearly deep wounds and loneliness.

Someone so fragile, someone sinking alone in deep darkness…

I couldn’t just leave her and turn away.

“What should I say… what does she need right now?”

My mind spun with complexity.

As someone newly awakened.

I couldn’t tell her how to stop destruction, nor offer rash hope.

Then…

Yes, maybe… not grand solutions or comfort.

Maybe just a small warmth or a different perspective could matter.

Stories of people who, rather than surrendering to darkness, tried to find meaning in even the smallest things.

Stories of people who lived on despite destined despair.

I slowly opened my mouth.

“Cheonma-nim.”

The transcendent’s gaze fell on me again.

Still cold, but somehow a little softer than before.

“I cannot possibly fully understand your feelings now. I know you don’t want to hear any stories. But… if it’s alright even for a moment, may I tell you a story?”

Her eyebrows twitched slightly.

A look as if to ask, ‘A story?’

“If after hearing it, you still dislike it, I will quietly leave then.”

I spoke with all the sincerity I could muster.

Cheonma stared at me silently for a while, then nodded very slightly.

“…Try.”

I breathed a sigh of relief inside.

What story should I tell?

Suddenly, a movie I saw long ago came to mind.

A painfully beautiful love and sacrifice shown by a man amid tragic times. Yes, that story…

What was the title?

…Right.

“Beautiful World.”

Rather than a modern story.

I would need to change some of the content to make it resonate more with her.

After taking a deep breath, I began in as calm and sincere a voice as I could manage.

“This story is set long ago, in the ancient era when dragons covered the skies and continents burned—the age of the ‘Dragon’s Calamity.’ It was a time when everything was destroyed and despair was more familiar than hope.”

At that moment, a translucent system message window flashed and appeared before my eyes.

\[System: The innate ability of the ‘Born Storyteller,’ ‘Manifestation of All Things,’ is activated.]
\[System: The waves of the story begin to interfere with reality, materializing the story through the listener’s senses.]

…What? Manifestation of All Things?

The sudden message made me almost gasp for air.

I forced myself to keep a calm expression.

…There was no stopping the story now.

And as the system message disappeared.

Like a stone thrown into still water, the space around us began to ripple subtly.

The bleak pavilion’s walls and ceiling grew blurry, and strange scenes began to overlap over them.

…So this is my power.

The born storyteller… this was it?

At first, it looked like a faint gray mist.

But as my story continued, that mist gradually took shape.

Ruined walls, black smoke rising from burned villages, and faint shadows of people fleeing in terror.

Like an ancient mural unfolding before my eyes, fragmented images of a grim era started to surround us.

I faintly heard dragon roars in the distance, the thunderous crash of collapsing buildings, and low, uneasy prayers of people.

A pungent smell of sulfur and damp dust brushed past my nose.

…This is no joke.

Though shocked inside, I focused on continuing the story outwardly.

Cheonma still stared at me without moving…

But her black eyes very slightly followed the unfamiliar scenes unfolding before us.

…Well, even to me, a modern person, it was strange.

I could feel that she was concentrating all her attention on this bizarre phenomenon.

“At that time, the world was covered in gray. The sky was obscured by the beating wings of dragons, making it hard to see the sun, and the land groaned under burning breaths. Survivors endured each day amidst the looming threat of dragon attacks and, worse, starvation and despair.”

As I spoke, the scenery around us painted that bleak era more vividly.

Under the collapsed walls, dust-covered people with vacant eyes looked up at the sky.

In the distance, the shadow of dragons endlessly roamed, while low, uneasy drumbeats played like background music, deepening the gloomy atmosphere.

It felt almost like stepping into an ancient legend.

Cheonma’s brow very slightly furrowed, just a tiny bit.

Had this despairing scene, reminiscent of her own world, caused a ripple in her heart?

…I don’t know.

“But even in that despair, life went on. And there was… a very special man.”

As I changed the tone of my voice, a new scene appeared, as if a faint campfire light leaked from a corner of the gray landscape.

“His name… doesn’t really matter. People simply called him a wandering performer. He pulled an old cart, drifting through ruined villages, always sharing playful stories or songs with the people he met. Even as dragons covered the skies, he played a small wooden flute as if nothing was wrong, bringing smiles to children.”

With my words, the vivid image of a man pulling a worn cart appeared.

He wore shabby traveler’s clothes, but his face wore a mischievous smile.

When he played cheerful tunes on his wooden flute, the gray scenery around us briefly.

Even if faintly, seemed to take on colorful hues.

He discovered a beautiful woman.

With exaggerated gestures, he gave her a small wooden puppet he made, confessing his feelings in a humble yet warm way like a traveling show.

His sincere, though somewhat clumsy confession.

At first, the woman was wary but soon burst into a clear smile at his purity.

With that smile, the surrounding gray scenery was filled, if only for a moment, with a warm sunlight-like glow.

The two made a small home in the ruins.

They shared hard-earned food, leaning on each other, their scenes flashing by like a panorama.

Time passed, the woman’s belly grew round, and finally, a small lovely child was born and cradled in the man’s arms, vividly drawn before my eyes.

Kyarururuk—

The child’s bright laughter echoed through the empty pavilion.

“He had almost nothing, but his heart was fuller than anyone’s. His positive energy and humor gave even those lost in despair a small comfort. Of course, most treated him as a naive dreamer.”

Cheonma still said nothing…

But her gaze was fixed on the one man who shone like the only light in the gray scene, and the wife and child happily smiling by his side.

In her black eyes, a very faint but clear light flickered.

Was it surprise, or… a tiny curiosity?

Not missing her subtle change, I prepared the next story.

About the harsh fate this cheerful man would soon face, and the great love that would bloom even within it.

“But even he was not spared the dark shadow of the times. A powerful dark lord invaded the continent amid chaos. His army finally reached his small refuge. With the wife he loved, and the young son who was the apple of his eye… he was dragged to a horrifying place where all humanity was obliterated.”

With my words, the cheerful man’s surroundings were once again overwhelmed by dark and uneasy energy.