[Everyone Has Saved the World at Least Once.]
This was a phrase often muttered with a self-deprecating attitude in gaming communities. It referred to the sense of loss felt from the stark contrast between the “special self” in games and the “ordinary self” in reality.
The hero who drew the legendary sword, the champion who collected rare monsters, the high school student destined to be loved they all become regular people the moment they turn off their gaming consoles.
Games, comics, animation, and reality are different.
The two worlds are disconnected.
[The world we dream of does not exist in reality.]
This was an immutable proposition—one no one had thought to challenge.
– Subculture was sufficient as it was.
Changing minds and grappling with profound philosophical dilemmas were tasks left to pure artists. Subculture creators simply aimed to soothe the weary minds of modern individuals with their works.
– It’s just a game… How could you express philosophy with it?
A serious discussion about the existence of subculture—a topic nobody had taken seriously, not even in Japan, the birthplace of subculture.
But then, a young genius girl from another country directly addressed this topic.
Through a simple yet profound concept, she provided empathy and solace to people by allowing them to accept the world of subculture as real, not just as a fleeting illusion.
[We can save the world we created.]
She didn’t need elaborate costumes, countless plot details, or intricate graphics.
She only needed one simple condition:
[Believe it exists.]
One dream created under that premise stirred people’s hearts. They began to dream of their own worlds, laughing and crying as if they were the protagonists of the games they played.
– At an elementary school, a class inspired by Sanctuary of Saint Chris had students create their own avatars and debate, sparking attention for its impact on creativity.
– It’s hilarious. The teacher only hid their face behind a cartoon character, but suddenly the dull foreign language class became so fun.
– I’ve always struggled to talk to people, but when I started thinking of myself as ‘Saint Chris,’ words just started flowing.
The tipping point came with the reactions from existing academics and artists. They were the first to recognize this “interactive method” as something unprecedented in existing media.
– “The story she presented bridges ancient sacredness and modern media communication, creating a new spiritual realm.”
– “Role-playing? Virtual? Idolization? I don’t even know how to define it. Existing concepts are all tangled up, yet none of them fully explain it. One thing is certain—it’s utterly captivating.”
– “In 2006, a new cultural identity for the masses and for subculture was established. That’s the only way to explain it.”
– “Even knowing it’s fake, to genuinely believe… Isn’t that the same as truth?”
Scholars and creators were engrossed in analyzing this “innovative concept.”
Until then, subculture had always been derivative—absorbing and imitating existing cultural elements.
But now, for the first time, something entirely new had emerged from subculture, captivating and transforming people. It was a task previously reserved for “pure art.”
Many were stunned by this development. They eagerly sought to meet the young genius who had enraptured so many in just two months.
And then, she arrived.
[At Takashima Itsuki’s special lecture on ‘Media and the Fusion of Asian Culture,’ Go Hana will deliver a special presentation.]
“!”
“!”
“!”
*
What I had underestimated was just how much the project Sanctuary of Saint Chris resonated with people.
The presentation I had agreed to without much thought was scheduled to take place in the largest auditorium at Tokyo University of the Arts.
“Was this planned like this from the start…?”
Every one of the thousands of seats was filled.
The density of attention was suffocating.
– “Is that the student?”
– “She’s younger than I thought.”
– “Adorable…”
– “Wait, is she that person?”
– “She’s been called a genius creator all along…”
The murmurs in the hall resembled the atmosphere of a lecture or convention hosted by a famous author. Students from the workshop, faculty and undergraduates from Tokyo University of the Arts, and even people invited from external organizations like game companies and publishing houses had gathered.
‘Where on earth did they find real-time interpreters for this?’
“Why? How?”
They weren’t asking about Go Hun.
They were asking about Go Hana.
In the face of those unspoken questions,
I found myself unable to speak easily.
Gulp…
“….”
It was overwhelming.
And yet, my heart raced.
The sheer number of attendees made it eerily quiet…..so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Ba-dum. Ba-dum.
To be honest, I hadn’t started this with great expectations. While it wasn’t a hastily prepared project, its nature was fundamentally rooted in “deviation.”
Why had I deviated?
Because, for me, painting was an inheritance from Go Hun.
The introspection born from the teachings of artist Oh Yujin and the encouragement of CEO Kim Palgon culminated in Go Hun’s final work, Birth of a Moment.
The birth and death of a person is like a ripple.
Ephemeral, endlessly spreading, repeating, and eventually fading.
Beautiful in its brevity and continuously interconnected.
– “Amazing…! How could you think of this?”
– “It’s not just nihilistic despair but an appreciation of fleeting beauty…”
– “Could an elementary school student even conceive of such a thing…?”
Back in 2005, people were enraptured by the themes in my painting.
These were people who had glimpsed the work of an artist from 2024 a painter who would go on to never receive even a single exhibition opportunity.
It was, in every sense, a regression cheat code.
A 13-year-old child possessed the techniques of a 30-year-old artist, earning the extravagant reputation of being a “young genius.”
Thanks to this, they were able to hold a solo exhibition and sell their paintings at auctions.
In its own way, this could be considered “success.” The paintings of “Go Hun,” who had left nothing behind in the past, were now acknowledged. Perhaps, the journey of my return to the past had already come to an end.
“…”
‘But what if I become a 20-year-old, a 30-year-old Go Hana? Will I have to live, endlessly reminiscing about the memories of ‘Go Hun’? If so, does ‘Go Hana’ truly exist?’
I had to keep living. I couldn’t keep replaying the thoughts Go Hun left behind forever.
…I was gradually changing.
What if I were to become an ordinary woman?
Chatting with friends about beauty tips, tucking a flower in my hair, and lying awake at night, excited by a love that flutters like the breeze in my hair… becoming such an ordinary woman.
What should I say then?
As an artist,
does Go Hana, apart from Go Hun, truly exist?
“…”
That is why.
Before this magical time, the opportunity given to me…..comes to an end, I wanted to express these worries in my own way.
Even if it means advancing like a coward, hiding behind the cowardly mask of a “genius” and the armor of “future knowledge.”
Because…
『Art is fun.』
And when something is fun,
you naturally want to excel at it.
Even now, I want to be someone who conveys ‘the beauty I believe in.’
With that thought, I barely managed to open my mouth.
“Thankfully, there’s a simultaneous interpreter here, so I don’t have to speak in a foreign language.”
First, I greeted the audience.
“Hello, I am Go Hana, a student at Hanul Integrated Arts School. It’s a great honor to stand before you and give this presentation. I’d also like to express my gratitude to Mr. Takashima for making this event possible.”
The interpreter translated my words into Japanese and English immediately. Takashima, seated in the front row, nodded in acknowledgment.
“…All of you.”
As I began, the interpreter stood ready. The audience held their breath, listening intently.
I repeated my words.
“All of you, do you truly exist in reality?”
*
“Do you truly exist in reality?”
A youthful voice echoed from the speakers.
“…!”
Goto, a student participating in the workshop, swallowed nervously. Though the explanation had barely begun, the weight of that single question gripped her.
‘Honestly, Go Hana had always seemed like a mysterious girl from the first moment I saw her…’
She still couldn’t forget it.
On orientation day, Goto had been enduring the annoyance of a strange boy (his name was Chai, though Goto quickly forgot it) pestering her, passing the time with growing boredom. Then, two girls sat next to her.
The moment Goto saw them, she gasped softly.
They were breathtakingly cute to the point of making her head spin for a moment.
-…!
One had a refined appearance that could outshine idol trainees, while the other had a Western look that seemed straight out of a fairy tale.
‘When characters from a manga sit next to you, your heart can’t help but skip a beat…’
To top it off, both of them were from elite schools in Korea. They were more than enough to pique Goto’s interest.
But when she tried to talk to the blonde girl in English, she didn’t get a reply, leaving her disheartened.
‘And to think that the girl sitting on the other side was Go Hana herself…’
The genius girl, Hana.
Her name, often mentioned among Korea’s many prodigies, was familiar even in Japanese news. As someone interested in art, it was impossible not to recognize her name. And there was something familiar, almost comforting, about it.
‘I want to get closer to those girls in the future… but will they ever talk to me?’
“…”
Goto turned her attention to Go Hana, who was presenting. Her voice, though calm, was strikingly clear, drawing everyone’s focus with an undeniable pull.
In the vast conference hall,
the words spoken by that small girl had the power to seize attention without effort.
“Most people believe that the things they can see ‘exist.’ They live thinking that what they can’t see ‘doesn’t exist.’ Since they can see themselves, they assume their own existence as a given.”
“…”
“…”
“…”
Go Hana paused here to take a breath.
“But this idea has been challenged by many philosophers. Seeing or not seeing cannot be the definitive standard for existence or non-existence. If it were, then we’d also have to deny memories and recollections. We’d have to reject everything about humanity that relies on memory and recollection.”
The denial of what seems most self-evident.
And a reasonable justification for that denial.
“Then, when does a human truly exist?”
“…”
“…”
“…”
No one could answer.
It was because the question had not yet been solved.
“When humans contemplate for themselves, whether through faith, enlightenment, or profound realization, they truly exist”.
For thousands of years, humanity’s efforts to find this ‘truth’ have continued. And yet, the question remains unanswered because our reality is endlessly ambiguous.
“What we perceive as reality is ultimately a world interpreted by our senses and consciousness. Then, in this framework of interpretation, what significance does the virtual world—crafted by our consciousness hold?”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“Therefore… I believe it’s time for us to revisit the things we once dismissed as ‘fake.’ For instance, those childish imaginings jotted in the corner of a notebook, or the fleeting stories that cross our minds before sleep.
Are those truly ‘nonexistent’? Are they merely worthless, hollow delusions? Who gets to decide that?”
Hearing her words, Goto suddenly remembered his childhood self, who once threw a tantrum, shouting, “I want to become a magical girl!” And he wasn’t the only one revisiting old memories.
Yet, no one could outright claim those memories were ‘foolish.’ The people gathered here were artists who understood such ’emotions.’
“The ‘fakes’ we love—subculture—has often been seen as a means of escapism. Yet, through subculture, we gain lessons and find the momentum to move forward in reality.
That’s why I saw something ‘real’ here. If we can share this ‘true emotion,’ then it undeniably exists.”
Gradually, people began to grasp the philosophy embedded in Go Hana’s Sanctuary of Saint Chris. Goto, too, understood.
“The way humans comprehend existence…”
“Even by sharing dreams, humans can exist.”
Perhaps noticing the expressions of her audience, Go Hana ended her presentation with a significantly gentler demeanor.
“The avatars, voices, or stories you use to express yourself online—though they may be virtual—if they resonate with someone else, they are undoubtedly real. At least… that’s what I believe.”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“And perhaps… this could be our next ‘mode of existence.’ That is my belief.”
Go Hana finished her presentation with a bow.
“…”
“…”
Everyone was overwhelmed. That small, young girl had just articulated humanity’s next ‘mode of existence.’ It was an idea no one had ever conceived before.
Everyone had the same thought:
‘…That girl is a genius.’
So no one could open their mouths.
“…”
“…”
“…”
Some sought to deny it, while others savored her philosophy and drew inspiration from it. Thus, silence persisted for a while.
Clap, clap-clap.
“An excellent presentation. This is the vision a young artist can provide us.”
Takashima’s applause broke the silence. Soon, the grand hall was filled with thunderous applause.
Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap, clap, clap, clap!
*
I was caught off guard for the second time today.
The first was right after my presentation—because of the chilling silence.
The second was… because of the chaotic brawl among the students attending the workshop lecture.
“You! Get lost! I got to this table first!”
“What are you talking about?! I was here first!”
“Go Hana, why don’t you join our table instead?”
“And who are you?! Go Hana is taking the class with us!”
“Uwaaaah! Go Hana-chan, you’re the bestttt!”
“…”
Haha.
What a circus.