The Artist Who Paints Dungeon-Chapter 143

Once all the visitors had left, the bishop summoned the priest who had guided “Sergio” today.

The priest, clad in a white robe and carrying a white lantern, entered the room where Death’s manifestation resided and offered his respects. He extinguished the lantern’s flame, stepped forward into the darkness where the bishop waited, and stood silently, waiting for permission to speak.

“You worked hard today,” the bishop soon said.

“It must have been exhausting.”

“It was my honor.”

“You must have spent the day with an anxious heart.”

“I am still lacking...”

“Before divinity, who among us can stand tall?”

“I am grateful for your boundless compassion.”

“Yes...”

The bishop gestured for him to sit and asked,

“Tell me what you saw and heard.”

“Yes, Bishop.”

The priest bowed deeply and began speaking.

“He seemed very skilled at interacting with humans.”

“That was my impression as well.”

“At a glance, he appeared simply as a very powerful human, but... there were moments where it felt like his personality shifted completely.”

“His «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» personality? Do you mean his self changed?”

“No, his self and memories remained intact. It was just... his temperament that shifted.”

“Ever-changing, is he?”

“The voices I heard were heavy like a father’s, warm like sunlight, and sharp with a cruel sort of interest.”

“He is one who has touched the myriad transformations of heaven.”

The bishop nodded.

“And I hear he gave you a gift.”

“Yes, this...”

The priest placed a small, black lacquered tray inlaid with mother-of-pearl on the floor, with a paper-wrapped object atop it. It floated on the surface of the water, gliding smoothly until it reached the bishop’s feet. The bishop lifted it.

A strong, sweet fragrance rose from it.

“I shall not open it, whatever he may have said?”

“He said it was dried fruit. He mentioned it would be sweet.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“He said he hoped we would not fear him...”

“And?”

“He wished that, next time we met, we would wear more comfortable expressions.”

“I see.”

The bishop placed the gift back on the tray and gently pushed it toward the priest, who respectfully bowed and tucked the crinkling package into his robe.

Satisfied, the bishop spoke through the veil of black silk,

“You have received his grace. Do not harm your kin, but offer your thanks.”

“Yes, Bishop.”

“If he should visit our home again, you shall attend to him.”

“Yes, Bishop.”

“I should offer you advice regarding him, but... it is difficult...”

The bishop fell silent for a moment, then said,

“Since the Father has called him a friend, you must treat him accordingly.”

“I will do my best to honor him as a dear guest.”

“He does not wish for grand treatment. Treat him simply as a visitor... but remember, he is a friend of the Father.”

“I am but a foolish priest, but I shall obey.”

“Fear not his divinity nor the title of evil god. Before he is an evil being, he is providence and a hero.”

“......”

“He considers himself human.”

How one walks the harsh road of compassion...

“I too am but a foolish child of the Father, and I have little advice to give. He flows like a river. Do not think to resist; simply entrust yourself to him, and you will avoid misfortune.”

“I will etch it in my heart.”

“I have kept his true identity hidden from the other children. I trust you have done the same. He desires to be treated not as a god, but as a human. Let no grand tales grow here.”

“I understand.”

At the sight of the priest bowing deeply, the bishop spoke in a characteristically gentle voice.

“I consider you my successor. You must act wisely.”

“Yes, Bishop.”

“Since the Father has acknowledged him as a friend, your role has become all the more important.”

The bishop nodded after a pause.

“The gift he gave you will bring no harm. Enjoy it, and if you notice anything unusual, inform me. I will offer guidance.”

“I am grateful for your kindness.”

“Go now and rest. This is the Father’s room, the dwelling place of Death, and it is still poisonous to you. When you are better able to accept stillness and darkness, I will summon you here again.”

“Then I shall take my leave.”

The priest bowed once more and quietly exited the room of Death.

“......”

The only human left in the room, the bishop, placed the long-stemmed pipe onto the surface of the water. Made of black bamboo and gold, the pipe floated, casting only a shadow over the shallow water.

From within the black veil, the bishop called to their father.

“Father.”

“......”

“If you have any other wishes, please call upon this daughter at any time.”

“...My... daughter...”

“Yes, Father. Your child is here.”

“Are you... afraid...”

“You watch over me, Father, so I am not afraid.”

But—

“I was cautious of the divinity’s wickedness.”

The bishop who served the God of Death was not a saint. Death, who humbly used a manifestation, allowed communication without special qualifications. It was something that could be achieved through effort.

Yet, by serving divinity so closely, one inevitably learned certain things. The bishop realized today that the wicked divinity who visited bore certain similarities to her Father.

“Is it alright that I was worried?”

“He...”

“Yes, Father. I am listening.”

“...He flows...”

“Like your river, Father?”

“There is no reason to resist, and resistance would be futile... Cherish him well.”

“...How could I dare to cherish divinity...”

“He is not lonely, but he deserves love.”

“......”

The bishop smiled faintly.

“You are rather talkative today.”

“Is that good?”

“Silence is precious, but so is a day like today.”

“I am pleased too...”

Without a sound, Death’s countless arms and hands explored the room. The river-like body of Death flowed on and on, and the black veils surrounding him swayed with the tiny bells adorned upon them.

Death expressed his joy in silence.

“Though he exists within sin, he is no sinner. Though born under a wicked star, he was once a hero.”

“I did not expect such a mystery to exist.”

“I too would not have seen it until he showed himself. But as he lives as a human and his story is rare and precious, I shall desire that young friend.”

“Will you?”

The bishop lifted the pipe again.

“Shall I find his shrine?”

“He is human. He has no shrine.”

“Then, how shall I show sincerity?”

“Become his friend, as he wishes.”

“A friend...”

The bishop, exhaling mist instead of smoke, nodded.

“I shall warmly welcome him again upon his next visit.”

“That is enough...”

“Will you sleep now?”

“...Yes...”

“May you sleep deeply, far from noise.”

“......”

“I will keep watch over you.”

As Death grew silent, the bishop also fell quiet, exhaling only mist.

Stillness once again cloaked the pitch-black room.

***

By the way—

“I heard I’m immortal.”

“...Is that so?”

“I think it’s quite amazing.”

Not even the news of his newfound immortality could dampen Gio’s spirits.

“I might be carving a line into the history of humanity.”

“If you say you’re still ‘normal,’ I might seriously cry.”

“I would appreciate it even if it were a lie.”

“I really don’t understand that stubbornness.”

“It’s my way of asking not to be discriminated against just because I’m exceptional.”

“Oh... I see...”

Yoo Seong-Woon nodded as he adjusted the car’s direction.

“But is that all?”

“What do you mean?”

“Usually, when someone finds out they’re immortal, they freak out a little.”

“Is it surprising when you’re already a living portrait?”

“Well, I think it’s still something to be surprised about.”

“My mental fortitude is not that weak.”

“I mean, ordinary people would react differently.”

Yoo Seong-Woon muttered inwardly,

‘If you want to mimic a human, you should try harder.’

It felt like Gio’s human imitation was becoming worse day by day. Maybe because Yoo Seong-Woon was an easy person to deal with. Still, watching from the side, it was sometimes bewildering.

‘How do I match his mood without upsetting him...’

Feeling a bit bittersweet, Yoo Seong-Woon gave a soft smile.

“But, you know, about being immortal...”

“Yes.”

“The Symbols of Eternity are immortal too, and you worried they’d be lonely, right?”

“I did.”

“Aren’t you worried for yourself?”

“......”

After pretending to ponder for a moment, Gio blinked.

“Not particularly.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am confident I can live well and happily.”

“Huh... you certainly seem that way.”

Yoo Seong-Woon was convinced. Gio didn’t seem the type to get bored with life easily.

“So when you worried about the Symbols of Eternity, it was because they weren’t you?”

“It might sound arrogant, but yes.”

Gio nodded.

“I’m a free spirit. I can live peacefully inside a portrait. But they... they carry the fate of this country and this planet on their shoulders.”

“You’re right.”

“In that case, it would be difficult for them to simply enjoy life. Every step they take affects countless lives, and everyone fears and focuses on them.”

“That doesn’t sound pleasant.”

“Would you want to spend your whole life working while being revered and cursed at, when you could be enjoying life? It doesn’t sound good to me.”

“Yeah...”

Yoo Seong-Woon thought quietly.

‘You lived a life not much different yourself.’

He recalled Gio’s story—how he had tried to ease the conflict between mermaids and humans, how he had saved countless lives, only to die in the most terrible, tragic way.

‘And even after dying, he ended up preserved as a portrait.’

Because Gio’s portrait had its roots in the origin, there wasn’t much to worry about, but from a human’s perspective, it was still pitiable. To live as a human manifestation of the origin was heavier than being a Symbol of Eternity.

After a moment, Yoo Seong-Woon asked,

“You really are okay, right?”

“I’m very satisfied with my life.”

“Even though being immortal isn’t exactly ‘normal’...”

“I don’t think it’s a big problem.”

“You’ll have to watch many of your friends die.”

Gio was confident.

“And why is that a problem?”

“......”

Oh.

Right.

Yoo Seong-Woon was left speechless.

“...So you’re not trying to pretend to be normal anymore, huh?”

“You’re a trustworthy friend, Yoo Seong-Woon. I want to be honest.”

“Oh, well, thanks for that.”

“Of course, watching friends die will be sad.”

Gio continued,

“But the joy and happiness we shared while alive will be greater than the sadness after death.”

“...That’s...”

“I’m too busy looking for new friends to mourn those who haven’t even died yet.”

“......”

“Death is just a state. It’s not something to avoid or fear. I don’t think deeply about it.”

He asked,

“Isn’t it strange? When you make a friend, do you immediately worry they might die someday?”

“...No, not really.”

“Then why should I fear the death of friends I haven’t even made yet?”

Well, if you were an ordinary human, you might fear being left alone...

‘But then again, Gio would probably just make new friends in no time. I forgot that for a moment.’

Even so, Yoo Seong-Woon thought,

‘He really has no intention of pretending to be an ordinary human.’

But maybe that was fine. Maybe it was only in front of him that Gio showed this relaxed side.

In the end, Yoo Seong-Woon gave up trying to say anything and smiled.

“Well, you’ll figure it out.”

Even if Gio had a way of blending into the crowd when needed, in front of a true friend, he was this honest.

‘Still... maybe I should hurry up and find someone to be Gio’s secretary...’

Thinking that, Yoo Seong-Woon asked,

“So, after talking with the God of Death, did you find your answer?”

“Yes, I realized what I must do.”

Argio declared confidently.

“I’ll become a Demon King.”

“......”

Screeech—

Stopping at the red light, Yoo Seong-Woon laughed wearily.

“...Could you explain that a bit more clearly?”

Conversations with Gio always consumed far too much mental energy.