The Artist Who Paints Dungeon-Chapter 317

It sounded like a lighthearted joke, but for some reason, the words “you don’t have to be an adult” were incredibly comforting. She wondered if, maybe, deep down, she had been waiting to hear something like that all along.

She cried—just a little bitterly.

“......”

Because this wasn’t how she had wanted to be.

Like a reflex, she mimicked her “self.”

***

Cha Eun-Hye had always been the type to cry easily.

“Te-heacherhhhhh...”

But still—crying like this, after growing up so much, even she was surprised by it.

“Didn’t you say you were the President?”

I saw you on TV. You seemed pretty good at managing your image. And now, here you are, sniveling like a puppy in the rain because you’re embarrassed about crying. Some things really hadn’t changed.

The President whined.

“I don’t wanna be President anymore...”

“Madam President, please maintain your dignity.”

“I don’t care! I’m quitting everything!”

“All I said was a few words, and now you’re quitting the presidency?”

“You’re so mean, Teacher! How could you do this to me? I’m pitiful, so hurry up and give me some warm, soft, gentle comfort!”

“......”

...It’s been thirty-two years, and she still hasn’t changed?

That’s odd. I was told she’s over fifty now.

But that didn’t make Sergio any less stunned.

She’s definitely older than me now, right?

I’m twenty-nine. You’re fifty-one.

He hadn’t run into Haera yet, so he didn’t know about her. But he’d seen Seo-Hee and Hae-Woon. They still looked like they were in their twenties, but time had at least changed them a little. Cha Eun-Hye’s personality, though? Exactly the same.

It was surreal—but even as he was thinking that, his hands moved reflexively, gently comforting his student who hadn’t fully grown up.

“There, there. Stop crying. People will think I made you cry.”

“Because you did make me cry!!”

“If this keeps up, the parents’ll drag me away and beat me up. I’ll get fired.”

“...Ah.”

For some reason, that sobered Cha Eun-Hye instantly. She froze.

“Stop.”

“Ohh, I see. So now I’m curious. What exactly am I supposed to stop?”

“Ban it. Immediately ban it. Any and all negative hypothetical statements directed at yourself.”

“Ooh... Are there still parents out there gunning for my neck? Even after thirty-two years?”

“Teacher, seriously, stop it. That’s not even funny. I mean it.”

“It’s honestly impressive how your behavior hasn’t changed in thirty-two years.”

Calling me “teacher” with that grown-up face... Maybe her attitude stayed the same because all her friends stayed young too. Same personality as she had back in high school.

Even without being told, Sergio just nodded in understanding.

“I get it now.”

He could understand why Cha Eun-Hye was so worked up.

“Something must’ve happened to me thirty-two years ago.”

“...You don’t remember?”

“...Do I have a reason to remember?”

He asked because he really didn’t know.

“I was trapped in a burning school and turned into a haunted portrait. That’s the last thing I remember from thirty-two years ago. But lately, as I’ve been wandering around, I’ve started to feel like maybe that memory isn’t even real.”

“......”

“So then why is the memory different? Was it erased? Probably something to do with Haera’s ability. And also tied to your ‘Promise,’ right? But I still don’t know what I did or how I got tangled in that promise...”

“......”

“My memory being a complete blank wasn’t something we all agreed on, huh?”

Well, it made sense. The fact that he’d returned as a haunted portrait was probably an unpredictable accident too. Still, it felt unfair.

...Why does even Eun-Hye seem to know so little? Maybe it’s just a side effect on my end, but... weren’t these Promises normally done through mutual agreement?

With conditions, of course. Like, the person had to still be alive. That left Sergio with only two possible assumptions. It wasn’t even worth overthinking—just basic logic.

Either he had actually died,

or things were too urgent for consent.

And either way, it’s not exactly a hopeful situation.

He understood.

“That happens.”

They called the time he couldn’t remember “The Great Catastrophe.” Even if it had only affected a small town, that would’ve been horrific. But this was something that changed the entire world. Tragedies were inevitable.

And tragedy didn’t pick and choose its victims.

Sergio had always made choices he wouldn’t regret. He didn’t dwell long—his judgment was fast, and his ability to act even faster.

That kind of person... probably faced danger and death more than most.

Back then too, I must’ve still been a teacher with students I had to protect.

Their safety would've come before his own.

“I wonder what kind of Promise it was.”

“...I’m not telling you.”

“Why not?”

“......”

“......”

Sergio shrugged.

“Let’s drop it.”

It didn’t feel like the right time for jokes.

I have that much sense at least.

Without it, he wouldn’t have survived teaching.

And besides, she clearly had no intention of telling him. Sergio didn’t feel a particular need to dig, either. Like he’d always said—he was satisfied enough with the way things were now. No need to pry into the past and stir up tears.

Though... if this is where all that crying led us, I’m not sure what to think.

“Judging by your reaction, if I did tell the truth, there’d probably be some side effects.”

“...You sure seem to know a lot for someone who claims he doesn’t remember anything.”

“I wasn’t just stuck in the gallery as a haunted painting the whole time.”

“Haunted painting...”

Cha Eun-Hye looked like she wanted to say something. But the thought passed quickly. This must also have been one of the things sealed by the “Promise.” That surprised even her.

So even me becoming a portrait... had a reason?

She wasn’t especially curious.

“Alright, enough of that. Want a yuzu-flavored macaron?”

“...You remember I like yuzu macarons?”

“You seriously don’t remember coming to the teacher’s office almost every day and robbing me blind?”

At that point, it would've been harder not to remember. She barely ate school lunch because of weight control, but she still showed up at the teacher’s office like clockwork. It made him proud but also felt oddly complicated. She had always been a contradictory student.

He handed her a round, golden-hued macaron and said confidently:

“I made it myself.”

“You really don’t look it, but you’re surprisingly good at cooking...”

“And now you’re crying again while eating my macaron?”

“...I wasn’t trying to cry but you—!”

“And now you’re blaming me. Unbelievable.”

Dear heaven above,

I swear I’ve done nothing wrong.

***

Eating a sweet yuzu macaron in the middle of all this didn’t lighten the situation. Pretending to act light-hearted didn’t make things any lighter.

...My mind’s a little fuzzy.

She hadn’t cried like that in ages, and it left her dazed. Her nose was stuffed, her ears clogged, and her eyes stung. Just moments ago she’d been drowning in emotion, and now only the remnants remained. That lingering emptiness brought a strange hollowness.

They sat facing each other in dusty, creaking chairs.

The absurdity of the scene made Cha Eun-Hye instinctively reach out and take her teacher’s hand.

“......”

“What is it?”

“...Nothing. Just...”

It was cold.

How could something like this happen? she wondered.

She wanted to hold it, but the chill surprised her, and she flinched. She let go as naturally as she could—but of course, her teacher would have noticed.

She cursed herself silently.

What the hell am I doing?

She had never held her teacher’s hand before, even back then. Not because it was shameful, but because that kind of thing just didn’t happen.

But now... she just wanted to hold it, just once.

It was a reflex. Instinctual.

Did I cry so hard my brain leaked out with the tears?

As she clasped her own hands together, the teacher asked:

“Want to hold it?”

“...Can I?”

“I’ve gotten a little cold, but holding me won’t hurt or get you sick.”

“You really didn’t need to say it like that...”

“I meant it to reassure you, but wow—harsh. Not like I was forcing you.”

“I didn’t say no, did I?”

And just like that, she held his hand for the first time—so cold it startled her.

“......”

Like—

“...like a dead person.”

“That obvious?”

“I guess I hoped it wouldn’t feel like that.”

“Well, portraits don’t have body heat, you know.”

“Oh. Right...”

She laughed weakly.

Thinking of him as a corpse made it hard to breathe. But thinking of him as a portrait—that made it a bit easier. The fear, sorrow, resignation, and shame that had been choking her—just a little—lightened.

So she gripped his hand tighter. Then, like a child playing with a parent, she gave it a gentle shake. His large hand swayed with hers, without resistance.

“...Haha...”

She laughed for no reason.

“No body heat... it feels so strange. Is this what it feels like to touch an undead?”

“Are you seriously comparing a perfectly alive person to an undead?”

“Well, I’ve never really fought a monster before. Just some of the native monsters left on Earth. The rest... my friends always handled them for me.”

“Not your subordinates?”

“I mean, yeah, that too.”

Pointless chatter. She needed it. If she didn’t say something stupid, she wouldn’t be able to stand this moment.

Should she cry again, like a child? Even knowing it wouldn’t solve anything...

“...Mm, maybe this is what it’s like to touch a living statue. No warmth, but soft like a real human, and it moves... It’s weird. A contradiction. But fascinating.”

“Just don’t cut it off and take it with you. These hands are for painting and cooking.”

“Do you know how creepy you sound when you say that? It doesn’t even sound like a joke. You’ve always had a weird way of joking that fits you too well. You’re such a strange teacher.”

“That’s what made it fun. You all liked that kind of thing—I know. Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it too.”

“I guess we did...”

Maybe she should cry again. Maybe that would mask the awkwardness and anxiety. She thought about it several times.

But she didn’t.

Crying like a child earlier had been enough foolishness for one day.

“...Teacher, can I ask something?”

“What is it that made you set the mood like this?”

“I didn’t come all the way to Gangwon Province for nothing. There are things I wanted to ask you.”

“Sounds like it’ll be a long Q&A... You treating me to breakfast?”

“......”

Was this the “price” or the “condition” for what he had become? Or was it... a “bargain”?

She hesitated briefly, then let go of his hand.

“...Of course.”

“Alright. What are you curious about?”

“...Who are you?”

She finally asked.

“...Let’s be brave. Please. You cried your eyes out already—so now it’s time to do what you have to, Cha Eun-Hye.”

She might’ve been mocked as a puppet president, but the fact remained: she was the President of a nation. Thrust into the role during a time of chaos—half against her will—many had criticized and distrusted her.

But she endured.

And ultimately, she delivered.

The reason someone like her, with no special ability, could hold on this long—was responsibility.

Yes. She had to take responsibility. That’s what this position was for.

Now, she stood before a being capable of shaking not just a nation, but the entire dimension of Earth.

She had to understand his intentions. She had to know why he existed—what he was ultimately going to do, and why.

“So... stay calm. Don’t approach too quickly. Don’t trigger his guard...”

Her folded hands trembled, so she pressed them tighter together to hide it. They still shook, but not as much. It felt like holding onto a rope dangling off a cliff—just enough to keep from falling.

“...From what I remember... Teacher, you’re not supposed to be here like this.”

How much could she say? How much could she reveal, and how much should she hide, to keep this precarious peace alive?

Cha Eun-Hye silently begged her inscrutable, pitch-black teacher not to overthink it.

Just like he always used to.

“Honestly, it’s impossible. That you’re here now—like this—it’s not just resurrection... It’s beyond that. I still can’t wrap my head around it.”

“What is it that you can’t understand?”

“Whether you standing before me right now... are really my teacher. I think you are. I want to believe that. But rationally speaking, it makes no sense. It’s impossible.”

“What part of it doesn’t make sense? That someone believed dead came back? Or that person is now a haunted portrait?”

“...I’m sorry. I can’t explain it. I must sound insane. I’ve changed a lot... but so have you. Your lower body temperature, that black cloak, the lack of a shadow...”

“Oh.”

At that moment, a shadow formed beneath his feet.

“...Ah, I forgot.”

“...Seriously? How can you forget something like that?”

“This companion of mine is a little moody. Makes it hard to rely on them. The moment I let my guard down, they start teasing me. Maybe it really was a mistake, but I doubt it.”

“I don’t really follow... Companion?”

“The one who helps me function in society as a haunted portrait. Not that important, really. In the end, I’m just as you remember. Nothing’s changed.”

“...From where I’m standing, it seems like a lot’s changed. But... maybe you’re right.”

“I don’t know why I ended up like this either. You say I shouldn’t exist, but... well, I do. So I can’t answer your question.”

“...That’s true too, Teacher.”

A shame.

She had summoned all her courage—

But her question had no answer.

Then what should she ask?

Cha Eun-Hye glanced at the air in front of her, then asked something else—similar in meaning.

“...Then are you really my teacher?”

“As far as I remember, yes.”

“It’s creepy, hearing you say the word remember.”

“Did it give you trauma?”

“...Sort of. I don’t know, really.”

A word that once held warm memories... no longer meant something good.

Now, it was a shackle. A burden that kept them sane—but just barely. A contradiction they all lived with.

“What is it you want to do, Teacher?”

“Live in the countryside?”

“...Oh. Really?”

“I don’t really have anything I want to do.”

“That’s hard to believe. Your name’s even reached the President’s office.”

“If word of me running a food stall reaches the Blue House, that’s a pretty damning indictment of our country’s social safety net, don’t you think, Eun-Hye? Honestly, when I first emerged into the world in this frail portrait body... I was terrified. There were hardly any restaurants.”

“...Ugh. Don’t say ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ stuff like that. Now I feel responsible again.”

She forced a clumsy smile.

“So what you’re saying is... you don’t have some grand plan?”

“I just want to help my new friends. That’s all. Running a food cart, feeding the hungry. That’s it.”

“Did it never occur to you that the scale is a bit much?”

“It just turned out that way. You have to understand—I’ve always been a softie, Eun-Hye.”

“I don’t know if I’d call that soft-hearted.”

“Are you saying the Gardeners aren’t pitiful? I didn’t raise you to be so cold.”

“This is ridiculous...”

After a pause, Cha Eun-Hye asked,

“...Can I trust you?”

“Could you be a bit more specific?”

“I mean... I don’t know if I can trust that you’re really you. I don’t know if I can believe you don’t have some great agenda. I don’t even know if you’re truly harmless.”

“...Well... no human is completely harmless.”

He said it like it was obvious.

“In other words, we need to build new trust between us. Right?”

“...I guess so?”

“It’s simple. Seo-Hee and Hae-Woon treat me the same way. Trust isn’t something you can build overnight.”

“...True.”

“Which means there’s nothing we can do right now. We’ll have to rebuild trust from the beginning.”

“...That’s true.”

“You’re a smart student. I’m sure you realized all this even before you came. Which means you came because... you wanted to see me.”

“......”

“Or maybe both. Maybe it was like unfinished homework.”

She had no rebuttal. Because it was the truth.

Cha Eun-Hye felt a bit sheepish. Hollow—but oddly relieved. There was nothing she could do now but watch. Her heart was heavy with responsibility and longing.

She quietly confessed.

“...I thought everything would change if someone like me—someone who remembers—came here.”

“I’m not the kind of guy who can live up to expectations, sorry. I’m not all that fun.”

“Only you think you’re not fun, Teacher.”

And just like that, the answer was clear.

Nothing changes.

As long as Cha Eun-Hye stayed silent, things would remain as they were. The world would be dangerous, but peaceful. The Black Cloak would continue to cause incidents, but in the process, make Earth better.

There was plenty to worry about.

She still wasn’t sure if he really was their teacher.

And if he was—why had this happened to him?

Would the Black Cloak always remain friendly toward humans?

And her position as President... could not be swayed lightly.

...But does wanting to rely on someone make me weak?

As long as it wasn’t in her official capacity—maybe it was okay.

Much later, Cha Eun-Hye asked:

“...If I believe in you, will the world fall apart?”

“Come on. That’s ridiculous.”

“It would really help if you just said yes or no.”

“No.”

“Are you the teacher I knew?”

“I’ve changed a little. The teacher in your memories... wasn’t a painting. So—no.”

“You won’t betray us, right?”

She asked even though she assumed the answer. Because what mattered wasn’t her belief—it was an objective promise. She needed the promise of her teacher, now a being of mystery.

“You said you’d always stay with us...”

“Did I?”

“...You did.”

Just saying it made her heart ache—like the air had been knocked out of her.

But even if he didn’t remember, he had said it.

“You promised to stay with us. That’s right, isn’t it?”

“...Feels like I’m answering a reading comprehension question. But yes—if that’s the context, then it’s what I meant. I wanted to leave you all with something stable. So yes.”

“So you’re the teacher we knew. And even if things get dangerous, you’ll do objectively good things for the world. You won’t just disappear. That’s what you’re saying, right?”

“Probably...? Yes. But don’t put too much faith in the future—we never know what’ll happen.”

“Then I’ll believe in you.”

Call it irresponsible if you want. But she had seen enough.

She sat at the center of a country that received all the world’s information. She had watched the Black Cloak’s movements for years.

And now... she had seen his face. So much had changed—but the most important thing had stayed the same. Sergio was still their teacher. And she needed him.

In the end, that’s all it was.

Simple logic.

He doesn’t remember that day. So the one who stands here... can only be the kind, gentle teacher we remember. Someone we can fully rely on. Someone who poses no hidden danger. That teacher.

She didn’t know how this was possible. Whether it was because of the “Eternal Promise,” or some other trick.

But the thing she feared most—had vanished, just like he said.

If the one standing before her was truly “the kind teacher who returned as a portrait”...

Then—

“...Even if you’re just a copy pretending to be my teacher, I don’t care. If you think you’re Sergio, if you look and talk like our teacher, and even if you’ve changed—you’re not doing evil. So I don’t care. You’re our teacher. What else matters?”

And only after justifying it to herself—was she finally able to face her true feelings.

“...So is it okay now? For me to just... feel happy?”

“......”

“Even though... the person who left, somehow—impossibly—came back...”

She had believed it was impossible.

She had never even dared hope.

After what they did to him—how could he return?

He had gone too far. He had become nothing more than a scar. A memory. A painful regret.

Yes—maybe it was better that he didn’t remember that day.

If he ever remembered, maybe he would hate them.

She knew he wasn’t that kind of person... But no one can predict what might happen.

So maybe—maybe this was the best-case scenario.

There were still things to fear. Still sins to carry.

But maybe because of that—

“...Can I be happy?”

“If that’s what you want, then go ahead.”

“...Will you tell me this isn’t a dream?”

“No matter how I look at it, I don’t think it is, Eun-Hye.”

“...I feel like I’m going to cry again...”

“I’ll wait until you’re done.”

“......”

So she cried.

“...I’m sorry.”

She was happy. But also miserable.

***

“...Is this really the right thing?”

Jeong Hae-Woon asked.

“Hey—tell me. Is this... is this really how we’re doing this...?”

“...Then what else can we do?”

“Seo Seo-Hee, you...”

“We don’t have time, Hae-Woon.”

“...Fuck. I know we don’t have another option!”

It had been a long, long time ago—over thirty years.

“But no matter how I think about it, this is insane. That’s why I’m asking! Seo Seo-Hee, seriously, what the hell are you thinking? Dan Haera, do you really think this is right?! Cha Eun-Hye—hey! Eun-Hye...!”

“......”

“Don’t just cry, damn it—say something! Say something—anything!”

“...B-but...”

Cha Eun-Hye, always the crybaby, was crying that day too.

“T-then, what do we do? I-if Teacher... If this goes on...”

“Does it have to be this way? No, this is—this is fucking crazy! You know it is. You all do. If it goes wrong, it’s not just one person ruined—a lot of people will go down. How the hell are we gonna take responsibility?!”

“...We know, but...”

“And even if it does work—what happens to Teacher?!”

Jeong Hae-Woon had raged like fire. He didn’t want to believe in his friends’ choice.

But truthfully, even he had been tempted by the irrational hope of that moment.

That’s probably why his resistance had burned so fiercely.

“Our teacher—what the fuck are we gonna do if it works?! Then Teacher’s forever—!”

“Forever... sounds nice.”

“......”

“...I think I like that.”

Dan Haera murmured blankly.

“I like it.”

“...Hey. Haera...”

“Teacher said it too, remember? That we should live leaning on one another.”

“...You know we’re all out of our minds, right.”

“Then let’s all live forever.”

“Dan Haera.”

“We’ll atone forever, for the sins we’ve committed.”

She smiled faintly at the empty air.

“...Even if we don’t fully understand what we did wrong.”

It was a self-mocking smile.