The Artist Who Paints Dungeon-Chapter 340

Dragons are greedy beings.

Living lives nearly eternal, they hoard all kinds of treasures in their nests—things they once deemed beautiful, food eaten while imitating humans, rare minerals famed across the world, and so on.

That such a dragon would covet Zeorge was perhaps only natural...

“If you’re going to kidnap me, you should at least love me with all your heart, dragon.”

“You dare, lowly creature, with so many demands. Before I burn you alive, you’d best shut that noisy mouth.”

“But my beauty can only be maintained if it’s bathed in love, you know...?”

“I could preserve you as a corpse, without all that tiresome fuss.”

“Being alive, breathing, and chattering without rest—that’s what makes me truly beautiful. I never expected a noble dragon, said to be the pinnacle of nature, to be the kind who settles for dead things. Ah, how tragic...”

“......”

The dragon had severely underestimated Zeorge.

Zeorge was the kind of person who had, at a young age and with nothing but his own body, won against a Garden. There was no way he’d be intimidated by a dragon. Instead, he began working the dragon with practiced charm.

And even then, the dragon felt greed.

“You are certainly one of a kind in this world.”

“If there were two of me, this planet would be in serious danger, don’t you think?”

“Well, at least you’re aware of that. How fortunate, human.”

Dragons loved what was rare and valuable. As irritating as Zeorgewas, his beauty and talents were undeniably unique.

Annoying and bothersome, yes—but the dragon decided to keep this human as a treasure in its lair. That had been the plan from the beginning anyway, though Zeorge had behaved so unexpectedly that it had caused momentary doubt. That was all.

“Love me now, damn it!!!”

“Will you please sit still for one second?!”

There were, at times, regrets.

“You’ve never tasted my grilled whole potatoes? Then you’ve missed out on more than half of life.”

“Do you even know how old I am?”

“Here, quick—while the potato’s still warm, shrink down! It tastes best when you stuff your mouth with it while tiny.”

“You lunatic.”

Well—truthfully, the regrets came often.

“Ta-da! Card trick! Impressive, right?”

“That’s not magic. It’s barely sleight of hand.”

“Oh? That’s what makes it even more amazing.”

“......”

Honestly? It wasn’t unenjoyable.

“...That’s true.”

“I knew you’d like it.”

“Hey, don’t get cocky, human.”

“My soul is ablaze with passion.”

“Any more blazing and you’ll combust.”

And so, one day, the dragon found itself deeply satisfied with having made Zeorge a treasure of its nest.

This human was different from the rest. He did not fear or revere the dragon. He was not only visually striking but also filled with various talents. Though fragile in body, his soul was noble, unbreakable, and immortal.

The dragon took pride in possessing such a special human. He was, in every sense, a treasure fit for a dragon’s lair.

“......”

“......”

“...Gio, my friend.”

And so, the dragon grew greedy.

“You shall live forever.”

“So my one and only friend betrays me now.”

The conversation was casual.

“...Shall I sing for you?”

It was the day the nest caught fire.

***

“Zeorge and the dragon were quite good friends,” the portrait continued the tale.

“Thanks to Zeorge, the dragon learned joy it had never known. And Zeorge... he doted on someone who could return his love. To put it lightly...”

“To put it lightly?”

“They were a kind of dopamine to each other.”

“Ugh.”

Yoo Seong-Woon grimaced as he sipped coffee on a folding chair.

“I mean... fine, good things are good and all, but still.”

“No one knows exactly how long they were together. Zeorge wasn’t one to count such things, and once he fixated on something, he had a habit of ignoring everything else.”

“So, basically... Zeorge enjoyed his time in the lair without even realizing how much time had passed? Or rather, he didn’t care.”

“Yes, that’s correct. And then, another problem arose.”

As the portrait lightly brushed the frame, an image appeared—of a dragon and a hero. The picture was childish, clumsy, as if drawn by a young child. And yet, somehow, the intent came through clearly.

It continued,

“You’ve heard the classic tale of a hero slaying a dragon, haven’t you?”

“At least on Earth, yeah.”

“Their situation was similar. To steal the dragon’s treasure, to rescue someone trapped in the lair, to slay the terrifying dragon—heroes invaded.”

“...And?”

“In the end, the dragon lost. But being greedy, it acted before its treasure could be seized or damaged by humans. It breathed fire and burned its own lair. That place became a cave of eternal flame.”

“What about Zeorge?”

“He was touched by the Origin, through a dragon—one of the most mystical beings among terrestrial life.”

“...Ah, damn.”

A troubled smile tugged at Yoo Seong-Woon’s lips. Nothing good ever came from humans mingling with the Origin.

“I didn’t think it would go that far.”

“Well... that’s dragon greed for you, isn’t it?”

“But even for a dragon, is that really possible?”

“Of course. It paid a price.”

Zeorge removed his hat and showed it to Yoo Seong-Woon.

“This is the proof, my friend.”

“...You’re Gio, my friend, right?”

“Of course.”

Returning the hat to the portrait, Gio instantly returned to his usual dark appearance. He casually adjusted his black cloak. There was no trace of the hat in his hands.

He always managed to surprise people at times like this. The portrait was capable of eerily swift transformations.

“The hat you saw just now was something Mr. Zeorge created from the punished dragon.”

“The dragon was punished?”

“Yes. For violating a taboo, the dragon’s body and soul were torn apart and absorbed into the Origin. The hat Mr. Zeorge carries contains a portion of both.”

“Ah... so is that why Mr. Zeorge keeps wandering?”

“He does travel to seek life’s pleasures, yes—but also to gather his friend’s remains and keep them close. Either way, the dragon can no longer return to nature.”

“So that’s what you meant by punishment.”

“In ghost terms, it’s the equivalent of being condemned to wander the world forever.”

That’s why Zeorge’s hat was an all-purpose tool. It knew everything and could do anything—if Zeorge so desired. The hat always obeyed the will of its friend and master.

“On that day, Mr. Zeorge felt he’d been betrayed by everything he loved.”

“Betrayal, huh... but the way you described his reaction, it sounded pretty calm.”

“He had no choice. Zeorge, who wanted to live the most beautiful life possible, was stripped of any chance to end it, all because of the dragon’s forceful desire...”

“Right.”

“And it was ultimately the greed of dragons and humans that created that situation in the first place.”

Zeorge needed to find joy—because without it, he would sink into despair.

“Mr. Zeorge is exhausted. Or rather, he’s disillusioned. Even before meeting the dragon, and after, he found himself locked in golden cages again and again. And his innate nature—to give and receive love—only made him more contradictory.”

Being admired felt good. It brought him joy when people praised his beauty and marveled at his songs. Even the greed that stemmed from their love and desire for him—Zeorge counted that among his many pleasures.

And yet, it was also exhausting. Being loved and wanted was wonderful—but it weighed heavily on him. Still, those excessive acts were highly stimulating, and Zeorge deeply loved the very nature of that obsession. But it was hard. It was fun. It was painful. It was delightful.

As a born hedonist, the suffering was immense. So the portrait summarized Zeorge quite simply:

“He’s gone mad.”

“...That’s the first time I’ve heard you speak that harshly.”

“Oh, it’s not an insult. I mean it literally—he’s truly insane.”

This wasn’t a matter of love and hate coexisting. It wasn’t a blend. He loved and hated—both. He repeatedly dipped into heaven and hell, was pulled back out again and again. Of course he’d go mad.

“If only he had given up being human from the start. But even after being tied to the Origin, Zeorge insisted on remaining human. You might not realize this, but he’s very prideful—he couldn’t bring himself to abandon what he was born with.”

His identity as a human—that was one of Zeorge’s dearest treasures. Just because he’d become a two-legged Garden didn’t mean he’d see that treasure as a mere pebble. That was Zeorge’s stubbornness.

But hadn’t that time dragged on too long?

“So I thought he’d be tired enough to become one with me willingly...”

“He’s causing more trouble than you expected, right?”

“Perhaps it’s because he’s young—so much passion in him leads to accidents like this.”

“Wait, but if he’s been in the Garden that long, can you still call him young...?”

“Mr. Zeorge’s mindset and physical age are both frozen at twenty-one.”

“Uh... yeah, that’s young.”

More “young adult” than “grown-up.”

Somehow, Yoo Seong-Woon couldn’t help but understand Zeorge. Had he matured mentally, gained wisdom with age, it might be different. But instead, his thoughts remained trapped in the wild, impulsive state of youth.

Carrying such contradictions in that state...

He must’ve become moody to the point of illness, obsessed solely with pleasure. As a still-human being, Yoo Seong-Woon couldn’t even imagine what it was like to be physically and mentally frozen for so long.

And what that could produce.

“...Well, I get why he’s so all over the place now.”

A sour expression crossed Yoo Seong-Woon’s face.

“So, what do we even do now?”

“Sorry, but I don’t really know either.”

“This is bad... he’s completely unpredictable...”

The immediate issue was the “Clown” phenomenon. A monkey’s-paw-style mystery that asks about your happiness and forcibly grants it. No wonder the Association had summoned gardeners.

“These kinds of mysteries aren’t new. But usually, they’re invisible to anyone who lacks the qualities of an Origin’s child. And yet this one—everyone can see it. And no one even finds it strange.”

“My guess is... it’s an attempt to pull a Garden into reality.”

“Veteran gardeners who remember the pre-catastrophe era say it feels just like back then. When there were no systems—just mystery, monsters, and dungeons all mixed together. Do you agree?”

“I’d say it’s... pretty similar.”

After a short pause, the portrait added thoughtfully,

“It looks like he’s trying to shatter the ceiling.”

“The ceiling?”

“It’s what I was trying to do.”

I had hoped for that... but not like this.

Mr. Yoo had mentioned the monkey’s paw. Apparently, it applied to Gio as well. What a uniquely insane bastard.

Is it a prank?

Maybe he wants to follow my intentions—but at the same time, leave his mark as “Zeorge” before fully becoming “Gio.” Or maybe, having merged with the “Portrait of Gio,” he felt safe enough to let loose even more.

People had grown far too complacent. They relied on the system for everything, trapping themselves in narrow wells. And his students suffered because of that—so he had wanted to fix it, and quickly.

But this was overkill.

I stepped in to help my students and now others are getting hurt.

Gio’s original plan was just to distribute medicine. This? This was giving the disease and then the cure. He might’ve drawn all those landscape paintings just for this moment.

To create a clear villain and the knights needed to defeat it?

After all, the trials Zeorge was creating couldn’t be resolved without many gardeners.

Gio thought he understood what Zeorge wanted. In the end, he would lose. So he was trying to raise as much hell as he could before then. And in the process, Earthlings would become more familiar with mystery, to the point where the system was no longer needed. He’d justify it as mutual benefit...

That seemed to be the play.

“...Hmm.”

It was a real mess.

To think a vague idea I’d only ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) been mulling over became an actual plan.

It was like idly wondering what to eat, and someone suddenly stuffed food in your mouth saying, “You wanted this, right?” No matter what, if you’re going to cause chaos, at least keep people from getting hurt.

Even Argio, the self-proclaimed Evil God, only caused trouble in dreams.

Haera wanted a proper, fair fight, so I’d planned to meet her expectations—but I turned away for a moment and the expectation itself became reality. Since we share the same body, you’d think he’d treat it better. Now I’ve become the shadowy villain too.

I really didn’t plan for this.

Gio felt a little sad.

Oh heavenly gods...

Please, have mercy on this wretched portrait.

***

“......”

A silent office.

Bisa Beul, staring into a bright yellow eye, calmly returned it to the empty socket. The yellow eye, having briefly emerged, now obeyed his will completely.

Murmuring as he eavesdropped on the portrait’s tale, he said,

“...So that’s what that remark meant back then. I see. You’ve lived quite the interesting life.”

Dragons, really—always so disgraceful in the end.