Chapter 19: The Merchant of Venice (5)

Why, then, does evil exist?

Is God unable to eliminate evil?

If so, then God is not omnipotent.

Does God simply allow evil to exist?

Then God is not benevolent.

Is God unaware of the existence of evil?

Then God is ignorant.

Should we truly call such a being God?

From Epicurus, “The Problem of Evil”

The owner of the Venice Company, which controls the commercial district of Rivera, is Shylock.

He too, in his younger days, was one of those wandering merchants who roamed the country.

Like being carried away by the wind, like drifting along the river.

By the time he turned thirty, Shylock, who had wandered aimlessly, settled down in the southern outskirts of the Fortress City Rivera.

Because he fell in love with a woman.

She was the complete opposite of the calculating and rational Shylock.

Pure and compassionate, she had a kind heart that always thought of others before herself.

They were so different that the two were drawn to each other like magnets.

The following year.

They married, and Shylock used up all the money he had saved to open a small trading company.

Business flourished with each passing day.

Each time, his wife offered prayers of thanks to God.

‘Shylock, I always feel grateful to God, who watches over us.’

Shylock, who had originally not believed in God, gradually began to accompany her to church under her influence.

And the next year.

Lily was born between the two of them.

An angelic child, so lovely he wouldn’t have minded putting her in his eye. Was she a gift God bestowed upon them as a couple?

That was what Shylock thought.

But then.

‘I’m sorry, Mr. Shylock. The illness your wife is suffering from cannot be treated with current medical technology.’

In exchange for the gift of Lily, God seemed intent on taking away his wife.

A hereditary disease.

It was said that it was a rare genetic illness that sometimes occurred on her mother’s side.

From that day on, Shylock searched high and low for all the world’s renowned doctors and pharmacists.

But because the illness was so rare, it was not easy to find a cure.

‘Dear, please take care of Lily. I will always be watching over you from beside God.’

In the end, when Lily turned six.

She left Shylock’s side.

Standing before his wife’s grave, Shylock thought.

Why my wife?

She was more devout than anyone, loved others more than anyone, and followed God’s words more reverently than anyone.

But Shylock was not even allowed the time to drown in sorrow.

The business flourished like an arrow shot from a bow, and Shylock threw himself into his work like a madman.

Even if only to forget the agonizing questions and anger gnawing at his heart.

Eight years later.

The Venice Company had grown to become the most influential trading company, not only in Rivera, but across the land.

Meanwhile, as Lily grew, she resembled her mother more and more.

She was beautiful, delicate, and pure.

Even her devout faith was a mirror image of her mother’s.

Including the one thing she should never have inherited—her mother’s genetic disease.

‘Your daughter’s illness developed during her growth period… so the progression is much faster.’

Lily’s deterioration could be seen with the naked eye, worsening by the hour.

Her peach-like, youthful complexion turned pale and dull, and her once-vibrant body grew thinner and frailer.

Ah.

‘Father, they say God takes the good and kind people early to keep them close.’

That’s what Lily said.

But Shylock could not accept those words.

If it meant dying young to be a good person, he would rather his child be cruel and heartless if only she could live.

Every time he heard his daughter say such things, Shylock thought this over and over.

His wife and daughter, who showed kindness to others, cherished even the smallest life, and served God with sincere devotion, were to be taken away by an incurable illness.

Yet, out there, brutal criminals, drunkards who abused their families, and swindlers who preyed on others walked about freely.

‘……Why? Why does God treat the good this way, and not the wicked?’

Once again, Shylock was filled with doubt.

‘Does God even exist at all?’

And now.

God finally appeared before Shylock’s eyes.

His eyes burned, blazing like rising flames.

“……If you’re truly God, I want to ask! Why, why was it my wife? And why did it have to be my daughter? Not just them. All the disasters, wars, famine, discrimination that fill this world! What is it that God is actually doing?!”

I could only remain silent, listening to Shylock’s words pouring out like a waterfall.

When my parents passed away in a car accident, I had thought the exact same thing.

‘Why……? Why did God take my parents away……? And why did it have to be me……? Why only me……?’

It was unfair and unequal.

But I could never get an answer from anyone.

Because no one answered.

Because no one knew the answer.

But the world had always been this way.

Some people are better at studying than others.

Some are more athletic.

Some are born with artistic talent.

Some are born with a silver spoon in their mouth.

In this way, inequality in life is set from birth.

If God created the world, then surely God is an unfair being.

I quietly looked down at Shylock.

In him, I saw my younger self from five years ago.

At that moment, Jeanne d’Arc, who had been silent all this time, finally spoke.

“Mr. Shylock, until just a few days ago, the Sanctuary Residents here were suffering from hunger and cold. But God embraced us and guided us into the Sanctuary.”

Jeanne d’Arc looked around at the Sanctuary Residents and continued.

“That’s because we are the Creator’s children, and His family. Therefore, the deep sorrow you feel is surely understood by Him, more deeply than anyone else in this world. So……”

“……Nonsense! Where in the world is a father who would just stand by and watch his child waste away from illness?! Haha……. Would your father do that? Hm? Could you even begin to understand a fraction of that pain? Hm?!”

The calm and rational man from before was nowhere to be seen; in his place was a man spewing rage like molten lava.

On the other hand, Jeanne d’Arc quietly and composedly added her thoughts.

“……Right now, all you’re doing is shifting every bit of blame onto God. Isn’t that an awfully convenient and selfish attitude? When good things and happiness come, you claim them as your own achievement, but when it comes to tragedy and disaster, you push all the responsibility onto God!”

Jeanne d’Arc and Shylock once again glared at each other with hostility.

I did not awkwardly try to stop them.

This was not the time for that.

What mattered more than a hundred words was always a single action.

I turned my gaze toward Fortress City Rivera.

‘Now then……’

[Creator’s GPS]

• Please enter keywords.

I entered ‘Shylock’, ‘Venice Company’, and ‘house’ as keywords in the Creator’s GPS.

A red marker appeared above a grand mansion on the northern side of Rivera.

It was the very house I’d already checked out before with the Creator’s GPS.

‘……So it was there after all.’

Around the mansion, servants and merchants bustled about busily.

I zoomed in and carefully examined the mansion.

‘Okay, found it!’

The sunniest room in the house.

A frail-looking girl lay in bed, gazing out the window.

She looked to be about fourteen or fifteen.

In the real world, she would have just entered middle school.

The girl lay weakly, struggling for breath.

Then, in a soft and gentle voice, I spoke.

“Lily, can you hear my voice?”

Slowly, the girl opened her eyes and spoke.

“God……? Is it really you, God? Ah…… So it’s finally my time to go.”

[System]

• A new Believer has joined!

She immediately accepted my presence, just from hearing my words.

It proved how deeply faithful she’d been all along.

“I just met your father.”

Lily smiled bitterly and spoke.

“Then my father must have shown rather aggressive behavior…… But, God, please know that isn’t truly his heart.”

Lily coughed painfully a few times, then continued.

“……Father blames himself for what happened to Mother and me. But he can’t bear the grief and resentment directed at himself, so he pours all those negative feelings out at God. So, merciful God, please forgive my poor father.”

Even as she believed she was about to die, she worried only for her father’s well-being.

Then, Lily reverently pressed her hands together and spoke.

“I know it’s a shameless request, but before I leave, I want to talk with my father one last time. God, please, I beg you.”

The girl lying in bed was faintly smiling.

Ding!

• 1. Grant Lily’s wish.
• 2. Grant Shylock’s wish.

Experience +400, Divinity +20P

[Quest]

The Wish of Father and Daughter

A request from the faithful girl, Lily.

Accordingly, this Quest also promised a high reward.

‘……Reward aside, I just want to help somehow.’

Because in Shylock’s image, full of distrust and anger at the world, I saw myself.

Lily’s wish was to see her father Shylock one last time.

And even without asking, it was obvious what Shylock’s wish would be.

“Please wait just a moment.”

“Yes? God……?”

I immediately returned to the real world.

What I needed now was something to cure a rare genetic disease.

In other words, the so-called ‘Universal Panacea.’

I started rummaging through the first-aid kit in the living room.

“Pain relief patch, not this……. Medicasol, that’s not it……. Pain patch, not sure……. Albochil, absolutely not that…….”

There were also headache pills, digestive medicine, bandages and plasters, burn ointment and the like, but nothing really felt like a ‘Universal Panacea.’

If there really was a panacea in the real world, the job of doctor wouldn’t even exist.

“Uh……? Wait a second……. Universal Panacea……?”

Suddenly, a faint childhood memory came to mind.

Was it when I was around seven? I had the flu and was bedridden for several days.

My father, unable to watch any longer, secretly brought something in a glass cup, saying,

‘Seung-woo, this is the Universal Panacea, you know? When I was little, I suffered with the flu too, but Grandpa gave me a cup of this, and I was instantly cured. It’ll be a bit bitter, but you have to drink it all! Come on, quickly. If Mom finds out about this, I might die today.’

With that, I hurried up to the study on the second floor, following the memory of the object that surfaced in my mind.

The study my father used to love was lined with countless books.

I walked past the bookshelves and approached the glass display case in one corner.

Inside, the display case held an array of homemade liquors my father had collected.

“……This is it.”

Slowly, I reached out and took down a bottle.

A golden liquor with a ginseng root as thick as a baby’s arm inside.

The label on the bottle read:

[Heavenly Ginseng Liquor]