The Artist Who Paints Dungeon-Chapter 310

“I am no one,”

said the garden.

“I walk barefoot across all kinds of land, look up at the sky, and taste the air.”

Those ecstatic eyes smiled.

“Wouldn’t you say that’s something quite a lot of people can do?”

“...You’re right.”

“But this is different. It’s a magic hat.”

“Magic, huh.”

“Yes, magic. Isn’t it amazing?”

He turned the empty hat upside down.

“What do you think is inside?”

“I... I have no idea. Nothing, I suppose....”

“Oh dear, are you afraid? I understand that feeling. But look, it’s empty. Don’t you want to fill it? Aren’t you curious what might be inside? Don’t you want to reach in?”

“But how could I possibly....”

“Reach out and touch it.”

“......”

The gardener reached in.

“What do you feel? Ah, tell me, I’m dying to know.”

“...It’s hard... like a mineral, I think.”

“What’s the temperature of that mineral? Is it cold? Hot? Lukewarm? Cool? Warm?”

“...I-it feels... cool?”

“Does it move?”

“It does not.”

“Hm, I see.”

Pale-colored hair slipped down.

“What if I do this?”

The hat in his hand gave a playful shake, and the mineral the gardener was holding—hard and cold—shook with it, reacting to the joke.

And the garden asked,

“Did it shake?”

“...Yes, it shook. So did I.”

“Is it still not moving?”

“......”

“Is it still cold?”

“......”

“Is it still hard?”

“...Ah...”

The gardener unconsciously pulled his hand out and looked at what he held.

“...No.”

It was a mole.

“A mole... It’s a mole.”

“My goodness! What a precious little thing—it’s so cute I could cry! A mole, of all things. There’s no bigger rascal for a lush field like this.”

“Moles eat crops. That’s a bit worrying.”

“But it’s fine. Look. This one doesn’t eat crops. You touched it, didn’t you? You saw it with your own eyes. Now, go ahead. You’ve waited long enough. Give your friend a name.”

“......”

“Come now.”

“...My... my...”

A smile formed on the gardener’s once dry face.

“This is my garden. My field.”

It wasn’t hard—it was soft soil.

It wasn’t cold—it was lukewarm earth.

And it moved—it was living ground.

“Ha... hahaha... A mole in my field. My field....”

“They’re creatures that live deep underground. You won’t see them often.”

“I’m not good with words, so maybe that’s better. That’s better. Yes. It’s better for them to stay in the warm earth than be around someone boring like me. That’s what moles do, after all.”

“You’ll raise it with love, I’m sure. That eases the burden of this irresponsible man’s heart.”

“What are you?”

“I am a person.”

The garden said it was a person.

***

“I am no one,”

said the garden.

“The only thing I can do is make flower crowns with these pretty blossoms. That’s all.”

“...Could you make one for me, too? I was just... curious.”

“That’s not difficult at all. I’m quite good with my hands—and you seem to know that already. Amazing. How did you know? Tell me—just me.”

“Your fingers... they’re long and delicate. I thought maybe you would be good at it.”

“A wanderer’s hands must always be graceful. Since you guessed correctly, I’ll reward you. This is a crown that suits you perfectly.”

A fluffy flower crown.

“...It’s far too beautiful for me to wear.”

A crown full of gentle life.

“Ah, still so beautiful... Even though it’s been cut, it’s alive. Still alive, even woven. What should I call this? People might call it a mutation.”

“That’s for the viewer to decide, not others.”

“Flowers that live even when cut are always beautiful. That’s how I see it. To me, it’s an unworthy crown. A crown made from the flesh of my own garden. It’s splendid—truly.”

“If you wish, you could wear it atop your head.”

“It’s far too much for me. I’m just grateful to have seen it. I wonder when I’ll reach that level... To be one with the garden, with life, with mystery, without harming anything... like they do....”

“You’re too busy lowering yourself—so I can’t help but follow suit.”

The garden flipped the hat over, placed the crown inside, and covered it with a hand.

“What do you think will happen inside?”

“I... I can’t possibly know.”

“Such pure love. As a lonely wanderer, I find it very tempting. Your garden has received a wonderful priest.”

“To be acknowledged by such a noble being... it feels like a dream. Will a day like this ever come again? Do I even deserve it...?”

“Come now, guess.”

“......”

“Close your eyes.”

“......”

“Listen.”

He closed his eyes. Listened. Brought his hands together in prayer.

“What do you hear?”

“...A faint rustling. Like a soft breath.”

“A soft breath, huh. How are they breathing? These fragile petals?”

“They’re so delicate... maybe they’re flying? Like the petals that cover the garden? Like warm air?”

“That rustling breath—where did it come from?”

“From their wings.”

“Exactly, priest of the garden. You heard the answer.”

The garden lifted its hand. The hat opened.

From within... butterflies.

Hundreds, thousands of butterflies took flight.

“...Ah... ahhhh....”

“Look—your flower crown has become butterflies and flown away. What shall we do about this?”

“In my garden... in my garden, butterflies are flying. It’s... so beautiful. So....”

“They’re so light, they might land on you and you wouldn’t even notice. Wouldn’t that make them terribly sad? They have no lips to call your name....”

“How could I ever... I worship them. I adore them. I love them. If they wish to use me as a perch, I will gladly oblige.”

“Then focus, my friend. You must.”

The garden took the gardener’s hand.

“Focus.”

On the back of the gardener’s hand, a multicolored butterfly—like a petal—landed.

“The weight of the garden is calling you, priest of love.”

“...Is there a call softer than this...?”

“Can you hear the flapping that your garden uses to plead with you?”

“...If I lose focus even for a moment, I won’t be able to catch it with my ears.”

“Always love. You must, too. If you lose your form, they can no longer call you.”

“I will remember.”

“Remain human,”

said the garden.

“As I once tried to do.”

The garden told him to love.

***

“I am no one,”

the gardener objected.

“No, you are a garden. A garden that walks on two feet and sees the world with all eyes.”

The garden shrugged.

“Well, I didn’t expect to be contradicted this quickly.”

“I heard you’ve been creating families for the gardeners. Will you do the same for me? Is this your mercy as the one who is the garden?”

“It’s love.”

“I don’t understand.”

The gardener couldn’t comprehend.

“How can it be love if you love everyone?”

“Some have called it heartless. Do you think I’m that cold?”

“You’re so abundant that you can hold anything... that makes you even more heartless.”

“Maybe that’s my kind of love.”

The garden spread its arms wide.

“Look broadly—very broadly. Because I am nothing, I could become everything.”

The gardener didn’t dare refute it.

“...One day I want to be like you. But I probably can’t. So instead, I want to be your eyes, your flesh, your blood.”

“Seems you don’t wish to remain human.”

“Sometimes I imagine that my end will be becoming a cell of the garden.”

“That’s a very romantic thought. I like that sort of thing. Wonderful.”

“You’re quite generous with praise...”

So different from his own taciturn garden.

“......”

This place was truly hot.

“...What should I call you?”

Atop a dune in the desert, he looked at the garden’s feet—feet without shadow. They were pristine, like white marble... yet also seemed to be one with the sand. Indistinguishable. Just one.

Like a mirage. That’s what the gardener thought as he called out.

“Garden-nim?”

“That’s fine.”

“If you prefer, I could call you person.”

“Oh, I like that too.”

“Then... how about wanderer?”

“That’s lovely too.”

“Why don’t you reject anything?”

“Because that is my love.”

“...That just sounds like garbage...”

A strange emptiness came over him.

“You claim to be human, take on a human form, and then say such irresponsible things.”

“Well observed. I’m truly an irresponsible love. One of my favorite things is to mess with delightful people like ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) you and then leave without a trace.”

“Those who fall for that love—won’t they yearn endlessly just to be touched again?”

“There’s a phrase in Chinese, ‘beauty that ruins kingdoms.’ How many kingdoms do you think I’ve ruined? One? Ten? A hundred? Maybe it’s beyond counting.”

“You’re incredibly harmful. Honestly, I’m scared.”

To sway mere humans so easily.

“You’re cruel.”

“That’s how love is.”

“How do you love like this?”

“Why should I put limits on my love for people? If you try to see me through narrow eyes, you’ll miss the whole picture. Why not just look?”

“People don’t stare directly at the sun.”

They’d go blind.

“This is a desert. Not a blade of grass. Not a drop of water. Just parched, cracked earth. But I love this desert. My garden makes me feel at ease.”

“Do you want to become a cell of the garden?”

“I want to be a grain of sand here. Someday, hardened into stone, or buried flesh sinking beneath, reaching the end—then I too might be granted that peace. I don’t need life. I don’t need shade.”

“Is that the garden’s will, too?”

“......”

“It’s not, is it?”

The garden sat down.

Sat down like a child and filled the thick hat with sand. Fine, reddish sand piled inside.

Suddenly, the gardener pitied that hat. It really was being dragged around.

“...If you treat it roughly like that, won’t it get angry?”

“It’s a dear friend that’s carried much of me. I trust it’ll let this slide.”

“Still irresponsible.”

“So are you.”

The hat flopped over, then was lifted again. Another small dune formed on top of the desert rise.

“Now, let’s see—who might be in here?”

“Maybe nothing at all.”

“Aren’t you curious? Won’t you come help me clear the sand?”

“You’re trying to burden me with responsibility even you won’t take...”

Even so, he played along.

“......”

Maybe it was his desert calling. His love and loyalty for that figure—those were no lie.

“Like this?”

“I’ll start. First, I stick in the magic wand...”

“I’ve seen children play games like this.”

“Just because we age doesn’t mean we should lose our inner child.”

“Haa...”

The garden scoops once. The gardener scoops once. Again, the garden. Again, the gardener. Hand by hand, they clear away the sand.

Even after all that, the sand didn’t seem to lessen.

Such a childish prank.

“......”

“...Tada.”

From the sand, a fennec fox shook itself and appeared.

“My goodness, I’ve gotten a new family member. What now?”

“Why do you want so badly for me to remain human?”

“Why does there need to be a reason to live and die as a person?”

The garden lifted the small fox and placed it atop the gardener’s head.

“Such a perfect match.”

Then kissed the toppled fox.

“Please, don’t run from fate or responsibility. The garden does not wish to be treated lightly. Even dying as a human may still be a path returning to the garden’s law....”

“...That takes too long.”

“That is the very burden humans must bear. Born of nature, granted reason—live as a human, see the world with those eyes. That’s what it means to be a person. That’s your duty. Your right. Don’t forsake it.”

“You are...”

This mystery... this world...

“...so utterly irresponsible.”

“That’s love.”

“It’s nature, too. Law. Destiny.”

He laughed hollowly.

“...Goddamn.”

The fox on his head was incredibly soft.

“Living as a person is fucking hard.”

“And yet we keep struggling. That’s humanity.”

“Will you grant mercy?”

“No. I’ll love.”

“You sure love a whole fucking lot.”

“I favor everything in this world and hold it all in my eyes.”

A lukewarm hand brushed over the gardener’s head. So light—it felt like a ghost.

“......”

“Live as a person,”

said the garden. Told him to survive.

***

“Uh, wait a sec.”

Yoo Seong-Woon asked Gio, who had returned home.

“Why do I have 194?”

“Is it still 194, though?”

“Don’t make me more anxious. Is this favoritism?”

“Then it’s the garden’s favoritism.”

“Aren’t you the garden?”

“If that’s how you want to see it, then maybe so.”

“This is the most ambiguous Gio I’ve ever seen, seriously...”

“Maybe that’s my charm, Mr. Yoo Seong-Woon?”

Jeorgea just smiled.

“You’ll take good care of me anyway. You’ll visit all the time and ask how I’m feeling today. You’ll keep me in a pristine gallery and enjoy watching my color change again and again. I really treasure your diligence.”

“...Hearing you say that is... surprisingly new.”

“I’ve never lied, but your reaction is kind of disappointing. What a shame.”

“Anyway... why are you making families for the gardeners?”

“...? Well...”

Gio answered simply.

“Because family is the easiest thing to love.”

Of course, Gio knew full well not all families were like that. But even so, the word “family” held magic. It made people love others who didn’t even share their blood. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

Especially for lonely gardeners. They needed love. A deep, childish, blunt kind of love.

“In other words, it’s my love gift.”

“You sure love a lot.”

“If I didn’t, how could I have stayed human this long?”

“...You still want to call yourself human? Like this?”

“Is there any reason I shouldn’t?”

Gio raised the brim of his hat like a fan to his lips and smiled.

“Love is what lets people endure.”

In whatever form it takes.

“So now, what we really need is...”

“A union?”

“Welfare, probably.”

Gio called out to Cha Eun-Hyeok, who had been waiting at the hut.

“Cha Eun-Hyeok.”

“......”

“Let’s go.”

“...Where to...?”

Cha Eun-Hyeok quietly wondered to himself.

To the afterlife?

That seemed like the most plausible destination right now.

***

A Collector’s Guild staff member asked Joo-Hyun,

“I heard Gio’s food cart now includes fish-shaped bread?”

“Ah, not added—he’s been planning it for quite a while.”

“Wasn’t Cha Eun-Hyeok doing it with him? Sounds rough. Better bring snacks.”

“...True. That’d be nice.”

Joo-Hyun nodded.

“In the end, Gio’s going to stuff him and drag him along anyway.”

“Wait, isn’t this a business trip? Not a food tour? Really?”

“Gio’s cooking—there’s no way he wouldn’t eat it himself.”

His possessed portrait friend had quite the stomach.

“And when he eats, he’s not the type to leave others out...”

Joo-Hyun smiled bitterly. Just hearing someone say they should bring snacks says it all.

Fatness was contagious. Gio had that kind of power. Why that power, of all things... She still didn’t know.