The Artist Who Paints Dungeon-Chapter 329

The system’s disappearance kept recurring.

People were confused. And they protested to the Symbols of Eternity. Didn’t you say you’d take care of it? they asked. Some were resentful. Others condemning. The Symbols could only return the same obvious reply—they were “handling it.”

In the midst of that, an unusual movement stirred.

“Um, excuse me, sir...”

“Why are so many people coming to see me these days? I told you, I’m retired.”

“I was hoping I could ask for a little advice...”

“Oh, come on...”

Some Hunters sought out their retired seniors. Most of their targets were those who had directly experienced the Great Catastrophe. More precisely—those who had acted as Awakened even before the “system” came to exist.

Other Hunters sought out gardeners.

“What? A gardener? Huh? How did you even find me?”

“I heard from Seon-Yeong in the village below. She, uh... said you were... a gardener...”

“That brat! I saved him when he was practically crawling from sleep deprivation, and this is how he repays me?!”

“S-sorry, sir...”

“You, what the hell are you, then? Why are you here? When are you leaving?”

Most of them were Hunters with knowledge of the mysterious—whether their parents were researchers at the Association, or they were affiliated with Guildmaster Jeong Hae-Woon, who handled mysteries, or had some connection to the temple.

These two approaches, in the end, shared a single goal:

“How did you use your abilities before the system existed?”

This was the question posed to retired Hunters.

“How do you handle this power called the ‘mystery’?”

This was asked of the non-Awakened gardeners.

They might have looked different—but in essence, they were the same. Like those who, upon being told they would go blind, closed their eyes in advance to adapt to darkness.

They wanted to continue their work as Hunters, even if the system one day vanished from the world. And unexpectedly, more than a few actually put that thought into action.

“Hey, instead of just complaining all the time...”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“Let’s at least go meet that old man. I heard he was an Awakened even before the system.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Just lying here isn’t doing anything.”

“If we bring booze, he might actually say something.”

“Lucky you knew someone.”

Those who had been simply blaming the government and the Association started to shift course, little by little. Rather than shouting pointlessly, they chose to pursue something more tangible. And that ripple kept growing.

A handful of Hunters acted—and others followed suit. When many followed, soon all Hunters did. And when all the Hunters acted, civilians lowered their voices.

Taking advantage of the shift, others began condemning the people who had previously criticized the government and the Association.

“After everything you’ve taken from the Association, tsk. You should be ashamed.”

“If the cities hadn’t protected us, the monsters beyond those walls would’ve devoured everyone. You people don’t even understand gratitude.”

“Ugh, what if we get blacklisted by the higher-ups and they kick us all out? Then what?”

Some invoked gratitude and conscience. Others simply feared real-world consequences. The opinions and reactions varied—but in the end, public anger began to cool.

That didn’t mean anything had actually changed.

“That old man sure talks big...”

“Were we dumb for thinking we’d get something out of a drunk?”

“I mean... we did hear some good old war stories.”

“Would’ve helped if something clicked though...”

Those who’d visited the retired Hunters—

“......”

“Did you understand any of that?”

“...No?”

“Why the hell are you so proud about that?!”

“What, you want me to lie and say I get it?”

“You dare waste my precious time?”

“No, no, I didn’t mean—”

And those who visited the gardeners—

“I seriously don’t get it, what am I supposed to do?!”

“Then get it! What’s stopping you? You’ve got two eyes, all your limbs—why can’t you do this?! Even I can do it with only one eye left!”

“Aaagh, this is why you can’t talk to talented people! You don’t understand what it’s like to be mediocre!”

“Hmph! And flattery won’t get you any special treatment!!”

No one got it. No one found that elusive “feel.”

But in the process, the rage naturally dissipated. People let go of some of their trust in the Association and government, and in the meantime, a few formed mentor–disciple bonds.

Thus, the idea that “the system might one day vanish” became a fact etched in everyone’s heart. Even if the Association whispered sweet reassurances, people had begun to ignore them.

“......”

And along the way, a few people completely lost their ability to cope.

***

The first: Yoo Seong-Woon.

“Gio, do you remember the promise we made...? If you were going to flip the world upside down, you’d let me know in advance...”

“Even if you speak so wistfully, the deed is already done and cannot be undone. Also, we never signed any legal contract. I am innocent.”

“The more I think about it, I’m certain that Mr. Zeorge has corrupted our Gio.”

“If you’re going to treat me like a five-year-old baby of the family, I’m afraid that’s a bit problematic.”

“Haaaah...”

Yoo Seong-Woon dropped his head and covered his face with both hands. Burying his expression in his palms, he mumbled in a muffled voice:

“I think I’m going to cry. What should I do.”

“I believe crying would be appropriate.”

“Damn it, even that doesn’t work anymore...”

“It never did.”

To begin with, he’d never even tried this kind of appeal. After Gio had drawn a portrait of “Yoo Seong-Woon” that one time, something had shifted. Since then, he’d started acting like this now and then. Gio, naturally, was pleased—they’d clearly gotten closer.

“Did you come to see me because of the trouble I caused?”

“Uh, more like—I’m just at a loss.”

Yoo Seong-Woon turned to look at Joo-Hyun, who had arrived earlier.

“Seriously? Are you really going to do this without me? Huh? Mr. Joo-Hyun? Say something?”

“I didn’t see any reason to involve you this time...”

“Birds of a feather—God, you two are really starting to resemble each other.”

“But I really didn’t do anything that major.”

Joo-Hyun sipped flower tea and gave a shy smile. It looked almost noble, even sacred.

“I just went to visit the Cult of the Cloak and delivered the will of God, is all...”

“...I got chills.”

Yoo Seong-Woon’s expression turned flat. He rubbed his arms, though the room wasn’t cold—his skin had prickled.

“Mr. Joo-Hyun, you weren’t always like this. Go back to normal. You’re scaring me.”

“Ahem. My apologies for teasing you.”

“Are you seriously going to escalate your pranks to this level? Unlike our ever-grand Mr. Sergio, you were just a regular person. How are you planning to handle this?”

“Regular? Who was it who teased me, saying I’d soon transcend ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) humanity and to give him a call when I did? And this was all carried out with Gio’s approval from the start.”

“Sure, I’ll take the teasing as karmic retribution. But who made the plan to get Gio’s approval? That was you, wasn’t it? Let’s be honest—our Gio doesn’t plan like that. Are you trying to deflect?”

“Well, yes, it was me... hmm.”

Joo-Hyun’s face finally colored with embarrassment. He let out an awkward laugh.

“So... maybe it was a bit much?”

He hadn’t really done much. Just visited a few fans of the “Black Cloak,” draped himself in the black cloak Gio had given him—just in case—and took some waterbirds along for safety.

Yoo Seong-Woon’s face turned cold.

“Bit much? Bit? It was huge.”

“And just to be clear, I didn’t go there trying to be treated like some high priest of the cloak. Honestly, what riches could I possibly gain from something like that?”

“Honestly, I do think you could gain plenty... But yeah, I didn’t think you were doing it for personal gain. It just didn’t suit you.”

“I only wanted them to listen to me.”

“And that’s the problem. It’s not just greed that causes harm.”

Joo-Hyun had gone to the Cloak Cult and offered some “advice.” Or maybe “prophecy” would be more accurate. He outlined future chaos before it arrived and shared what their god desired.

The believers, thoroughly immersed in that message, acted without hesitation. They reached out to the Hunters they sponsored and knew personally.

It started innocuously, in salon chats, discussing whether visiting retired Hunters or gardeners might help.

The idea spread subtly—so as not to provoke suspicion.

“In the end, the results turned out surprisingly well...”

Yoo Seong-Woon’s expression was strange.

“God, why does this always end up working out? It’s infuriating—I can’t even complain properly.”

“Black Cloak power.”

“Gio, seriously... you’re so amazing I just want to cry...”

“If I’m amazing, please simply acknowledge it.”

“Why is your vocabulary so polished all of a sudden?”

“This is an injustice.”

Gio’s vocabulary hadn’t suddenly improved—he was a 29-year-old adult. It was just that, as he grew more comfortable with Yoo Seong-Woon and Joo-Hyun, his speech became freer.

Unaware of that, Yoo Seong-Woon gave a defeated smile.

“Well, I guess it’s good it ended fine. Still, Mr. Joo-Hyun almost got dragged off to the Association.”

“I took that risk into account.”

“You do realize that if they took you, they’d grill you for three days and nights, right?”

“I used to work at the Association’s research lab. You think I don’t know?”

That “grilling” referred to the Association’s interrogations. Get caught once, and they could pickle you in artifacts or strip you down from head to toe. Not that they did that to just anyone.

The issue was the scale of what Joo-Hyun had done. The entire country had stirred. Even if the system errors were Gio’s doing, there was no way the Association had missed Joo-Hyun’s involvement.

“Fortunately, the Chairwoman doesn’t seem intent on making this a big issue. Maybe she decided to focus on the fact that things wrapped up well, regardless of the process. She might be offended, but she’s not the emotional type.”

Joo-Hyun smiled faintly at that.

“I accounted for that too.”

“Right, you mentioned you’d had a private meeting with her.”

“She’s a results-oriented person. You can tell just by how she doesn’t blink when the research lab chews through people.”

“Meanwhile, I get dragged around left and right.”

“No wonder I didn’t see you while the trouble was unfolding.”

“Yeah, one person causes chaos, another does the cleanup.”

“......”

“......”

At the familiar silence, Gio tilted his head and lifted a pot.

“How about some chicken stew?”

“...Excellent health food.”

And just like that, Yoo Seong-Woon let it go.

***

But, perhaps inevitably—or perhaps surprisingly—not everyone could let it go.

“......”

“Haera, I haven’t seen that expression in a while.”

“...I’m not really sure what expression I’m making.”

“Hm. I’d say... ‘stunned.’”

“It is a foreign emotion.”

Dan Haera quietly shifted her gaze around, confirming her state. Raw emotion—something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Most of her feelings and memories had been traded away for the Promise. She wasn’t used to this.

“So this is what stunned feels like.”

It seemed like something she ought to remember. Dan Haera nodded slowly without realizing. She normally didn’t even have time to feel, let alone sort emotions. She couldn’t tell whether this was good or bad.

And the strange confusion that came with the shock—it, too, was unfamiliar.

“Seo Seo-Hee.”

“Uh? Yeah, what’s up.”

“What exactly does that portrait want from me?”

“...I don’t think it meant anything bad...”

“That’s not an answer to my question.”

“Just once—can’t you cut it a little slack, kind Haera?”

“...Still not an answer.”

After a brief back-and-forth, Dan Haera blinked slowly.

“...What is this...?”

“......”

Watching her, Seo Seo-Hee quietly posted in the group chat.

haera's broken

lmaoooo knew it

you fix this jeong hae-woon

🖕

psycho bastard.

“Been friends for over 30 years, but damn—he’s actually insane.”

The fact that he could laugh at this situation... was honestly impressive.