The Artist Who Paints Dungeon-Chapter 311

Lately, among gardeners, a story had been spreading like an urban legend.

“What do you think about that story?”

“What story?”

“The one about a garden in the shape of a person.”

In truth, it wasn’t just an urban legend. Sure, it sounded absurd and bizarre like one of those outlandish novels floating around the world—but they knew it had really happened.

The man’s expression turned pale.

“...It was real? I mean, it’s not like I thought it was a lie, but still...”

“There’s no such thing as an empty rumor among gardeners, is there?”

“I guess I thought that, too, but the story was so far-fetched... I probably didn’t give it much serious thought because it just didn’t feel real.”

“I can understand that feeling.”

The woman smiled faintly.

“A garden shaped like a person, huh.”

It was terrifying.

“Part of me doesn’t even want to believe it.”

“Then that other rumor must be true, too, right? The one where that garden’s been going around giving gardeners families... I think I heard something like that. Is it true?”

“I’ve heard it from a few people, so it seems to be. Well, nothing like that’s happened in my garden yet. Maybe it never will.”

She shrugged.

“Not every gardener gets to experience that kind of miracle.”

“No idea what kind of rule governs a garden like that...”

“There’s probably something you can only feel by seeing it for yourself.”

“From the way it spreads as rumor, that garden must be pretty fickle.”

“There is a common trait, though—among the gardeners who’ve gained families.”

“What is it?”

The man asked, and the woman replied.

“They were people on the edge.”

Living as a gardener was an incredibly grueling life.

“There were those going mad with loneliness, some being crushed under the weight of their gardens, others who’d given up and were just waiting to be absorbed into the mystery.”

“In other words, people who found it too hard to keep living as people.”

“Probably, yes. One of them was a friend of mine. I honestly thought he’d be gone—reduced to mystery—before the year was out.”

She meant: erased, unable to even die as a human.

“But that same guy—he’s still dragging himself forward, somehow.”

Even as the cursed desert burned and melted him again and again, he tried to endure.

“I asked him why. He said he couldn’t leave just yet—because he had a family to feed. Can you believe that?”

“...What’s funny about that?”

“That ‘family’ the garden gave him—was just a piece of the desert. A chunk of desert flesh, reshaped into a cute little fennec fox.”

And the desert’s gardener knew that too.

“And yet he still said he had to feed it...”

“...Yeah, it’s not like a gardener can feed their own garden. That makes no sense.”

“It’s even funnier because he knew it made no sense.”

“What kind of family did that garden really give your friend...”

The man looked sick.

“The deeper you dig into this world, the crazier it gets.”

They weren’t the only ones talking like this, nor the only ones lost in confusion. Any gardener with even the barest network had likely heard about “the garden.”

Still, the commotion didn’t spread widely. Gardeners were always like that. This was a closed-off field to begin with. Even though the entrances to the gardens had been exposed to the public, they were expected to stay rational.

“Let’s not stir things up.”

“We’re already tired enough. No need to add to the chaos.”

“Gardener Jeong Hae-Woon said it himself, right? That this isn’t a disaster. If that’s true, then it’s just a change. No reason for us gardeners to panic over it.”

“That ‘garden’ is a massive mystery. Even if it looks and acts human, it’s no different from a divine being. Probably similar to our own gardens, too.”

“Even if it has a purpose, that’s still just the way of nature.”

They judged that the ‘garden’ was simply another phenomenon. Just like how the Collector’s Guild staff treated “Mr. Sergio” as a natural event—or a company potted plant. Or maybe a ghost. Or a mist. Or a disaster...

And then another anomaly happened.

“You hear the latest?”

“What now...”

“They say a food cart showed up inside a dungeon.”

“......??”

Even for gardeners, that was a baffling claim.

“Excuse me?”

“They’re selling fish-shaped bread.”

“Why?”

The question just came out automatically.

No, seriously—why?

***

“I thought he’d start trouble in the garden first,”

said Joo-Hyun.

Jeorgea, lying still, looked up at him.

“Why’d you think that?”

“Because the whole plan started with thinking about gardeners’ welfare.”

“You’re right. That’s true. But now that we’re here, wouldn’t it be more... fun this way?”

The garden smiled.

“...I guess so!”

Of course their way of thinking didn’t match.

“But I still don’t get what counts as ‘fun’ for you, Mr. Gio.”

“Oh dear. Are you worried? I never hurt people...”

“That’s a pretty vague standard. The people of this world aren’t as mentally sturdy as you think, Gio.”

“When have I ever hurt a good citizen?”

“At least by your standards, you haven’t.”

But Joo-Hyun’s friend was a bit too big-hearted. So big he thought everyone thought like him. Put another way—he believed too much. Believed too easily that everyone was like himself.

‘Mr. Yoo Seong-Woon said this is a common cognitive flaw among mysteries. That they believe humans can do what they can, simply because they don’t have enough data on humanity.’

Joo-Hyun didn’t disagree. After all, this portrait-friend had occasionally turned people into “paint” without a second thought. He never really considered the psychological toll it took on others.

These days, most who became paint were people who voluntarily begged to be used in Gio’s art. But still.

“...You need to be a bit more thoughtful, Mr. Gio.”

“Mr. Yoo Seong-Woon actually asked me not to be.”

“That was just for curator convenience, I bet.”

The more humanlike “Gio’s portrait” acted, /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ the harder things became for the curator. The better he got at pretending to be human, the more anomalous Gio became. That alone was like a minor disaster.

“What I’m trying to say is—you cause trouble so casually sometimes. And that really confuses the people around you.”

“If there’s no reason not to do something, and no reason I can’t do it, why should I hesitate? After a little confusion, we can all live more enjoyably.”

“Again, where exactly did this ‘fun’ of yours come from for this project? Why a dungeon, and not a garden? Surely you had a reason.”

“Hmm. Let me think.”

He covered his mouth with his hat.

“......”

“......”

“...Isn’t it just more fun this way?”

“I see you don’t plan on explaining.”

But Joo-Hyun had a hunch. He had a brain.

‘He wants everyone to get used to this.’

Clearly, Gio’s motivation was ‘so that his friend Yoo Seong-Woon won’t have a hard time.’ That was true. But even if the reason was simple, “Gio’s portrait” always ended up altering the world.

‘So this is probably no different. That’s why he spread all those garden entrances around the world. And thanks to gardeners being stubbornly rational, the world hasn’t fallen into chaos. I bet he knew that, too...’

If Gio heard Joo-Hyun’s thoughts, he’d feel wronged.

The real reason he painted all those garden entrances was to catch “Jeorgea.” And the reason he hadn’t stopped those gardens from revealing themselves worldwide was simple: they weren’t dangerous. That was all it was.

But to Joo-Hyun, who saw him as the Origin’s eye, the thought naturally ran deeper.

‘He’s trying to reveal a hidden layer of mystery that most people could never see. That’s why he chose a dungeon, not a garden, as the first storefront. So that people’s gaze could move without discomfort.’

Well... in the end—

“......”

—there was nothing really wrong with it.

“...It’s just a bit extreme.”

“Am I extreme? That’s odd. I’ve been told I’m sweet and gentle.”

“This version of Gio is kind of overwhelming.”

Joo-Hyun subtly backed away.

“Where did my quiet, blunt Gio go? What about Giovanni? Or Argio?”

“Right here.”

“I can’t really tell.”

“It hurts when you pretend not to know me, Mr. Joo-Hyun. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“That’s strange. The Gio I knew wasn’t this clingy...”

“Calling me clingy? Oh dear. I guess someone as kind as me should step back now.”

Jeorgea smiled playfully, like a butterfly fluttering.

“So full of fear.”

“...Just don’t go around seducing people for no reason...”

“That’s not fair. I only loved them.”

“Then left them desperate and addicted to that love. That’s trash behavior.”

“Then I must be a pretty trashy kind of pretty, right?”

“Ahh...”

“Well, if I look like this, haven’t I fulfilled my duty already? Don’t you think?”

“......”

“Mr. Joo-Hyun?”

Joo-Hyun just closed his mouth.

‘...What happened to my kind, dependable Gio? How’d he turn into this rogue?’

It hurt, like watching your sweet little brother fall in with the wrong crowd.

***

“Boss. Hey, boss.”

“I’m dead tired, don’t start—”

“They say there’s a food cart roaming the dungeon.”

“Fucking hell, I said don’t start!”

“I’m serious!”

The hunter team leader glared, and his teammate whined.

“I’m not the only one who heard it!”

“We finally found a safe zone. Aren’t you tired? If you’ve got time to talk, sleep!”

“I can’t sleep while you’re awake, boss. I’ve got loyalty.”

“Then what, the others passed out over there have no loyalty? Enough chatter. Rest while you can. I’m going to sleep soon, and then you’re on watch—”

“No, seriously.”

“...Haah...”

The boss sighed and nodded.

“Fine. Let’s hear it.”

They were in a B-rank dungeon. For their average C-rank party, it was rough going. Breaks were precious here. And yet the guy wouldn’t stop talking, which meant he probably had a reason. Maybe.

“Someone’s selling fish-shaped bread in a dungeon—”

“Just go to sleep, you little shit.”

“No, really!”

“Where does the nonsense start in that sentence?”

“It’s not nonsense. I heard it from someone trustworthy!”

“Yeah, but you’re not trustworthy.”

Fish-shaped bread. In a dungeon?

“You mean that wintertime snack from food carts... flour-filled junk?”

These days, fish bread wasn’t exactly in high demand. A niche food at best. Since the Great Catastrophe, food resources had dwindled.

“Still, it’s good on cold days. Warm and filling...”

“A couple bites at best.”

“So why bring it up?”

“My friend went to this really cold dungeon and said he saw a food cart there.”

“Wasn’t that a hallucination?”

That was the most reasonable guess.

“He was probably just starving.”

“Well, he did say he was stranded...”

“See?”

“But he’s not the only one who said that.”

“What the hell... so it’s not even just that dungeon?”

Occasionally, high-grade dungeons spawned “merchants”—story monsters who sold gear or food to hunters.

“But if multiple people said it, it must’ve been seen in more than one dungeon.”

That didn’t make sense.

“A food cart that wanders dungeons?”

“Yeah, and they sell more than just fish bread.”

“Oh, now we’re talking. What else? Street food? Skewers?”

“Fish cake skewers, kimbap, tteokbokki... even blood sausage.”

“...So like a proper snack cart? That’s kind of legit.”

The leader remembered hearing from his parents: before the Great Catastrophe, snack food used to be sold from carts. Now, you needed a real restaurant for that.

“A food cart like that in a dungeon is nuts.”

“Right? Man, I’m starving... I wish it would show up for us.”

“Talking about food when we’re starving to death. Brilliant.”

The boss clicked his tongue.

“Fine. Shut up and rest.”

They were stranded.

The howling snowstorm was constantly sapping their body heat. They’d barely found a cave-shaped safe zone, and it had no supplies. The area was crawling with dangerous monsters.

‘Damn... If there were fewer monsters...’

Trying to pull a fast one brought them here, and now they were all going to die. The thought made him grimace. Then his teammate nervously took something out.

The boss glanced at it.

“Hey, that...”

A blue gem.

“...Is that an artifact? Doesn’t feel like anything. Just a rock, right?”

“No, I... I got this from volunteer work.”

“Volunteer... ah, right. You’re a Cloak Faith club guy.”

“Not a real believer or anything. Just a club.”

“Still, it’s a religion now. So what, can you eat it?”

“Eat it? Are you nuts?!”

The guy hugged the gem like it was sacred.

“This is from Black Cloak himself!”

“...What? He gives out gems?”

“Well, kind of... the senior members all have one. Like a veteran’s badge.”

“So why show it to me?”

“...My friend had one too. And after it cracked... the food cart showed up.”

“......”

“...Should we try?”

The boss nodded.

“...Do it.”

Maybe the kid was right. Maybe not. It could make things worse.

Black Cloak was divine. Friendly, humanlike—but in essence, still a natural phenomenon. The boss didn’t trust those.

‘Plenty of hunters have died trying dumb summoning rituals out of desperation.’

But at this point, being a little crazy wasn’t so crazy.

“We’re already screwed. What’s a little more?”

“Oh, come on.”

Just as the teammate was about to crush the gem—

“―You’re gonna break that?”

“......”

“Don’t.”

A pale hand wrapped around his.

“That would be wasteful.”

“...Uh... uh...”

The two turned toward the voice’s owner.

“You just have to call.”

Someone like a springtime field of flowers—was standing calmly between them.

***

Why do people keep trying to break my gifts?

Tender-hearted Gio was facing a serious dilemma these days.