The Artist Who Paints Dungeon-Chapter 349

Eunwol, a guild of believers with deep ties to the Church of the Sun and the Moon Sect.

“Jeong Yeong-Won.”

“...Mother.”

“Hey, hey, don’t look at that—”

“My mother is right there...”

“Oh, come on. I told you, that’s fake.”

It was a gathering of believers capable of wielding even the faintest traces of divine power—and among them was a single gardener. By all accounts, they were the most stable formation to resist this dungeon. And yet, the atmosphere was far from good.

“My mother... Ah, my mother...!”

“How many times has it been now?”

“Aaaaah!! Let go, Mother...! Mom! Mom! I’m right here!!”

Jeong Yeong-Won, the only gardener in the team, had long since broken down under the weight of her trauma, despite her power. Only the team leader holding her back knew of her identity as a gardener—but at this point, even that was completely exposed.

“Mommy...!!”

“This is seriously driving me insane.”

The team leader was now half her guardian. Her mother, once a gardener, had one day become one with the flowerbed she tended. Jeong Yeong-Won had inherited that will and devotion and became a gardener of the Flower Garden.

Now, she stood screaming at a human-shaped mass of flowers in a beautiful field, crying out for her mother. It wasn’t the first time. It was obvious what she was seeing in that mound of blossoms.

“...You’re really putting me through it, Yeong-Won...”

One of the Eunwol guild members approached the team leader.

“Um... Should we consider resting for a bit?”

“We’ve already rested too long.”

“It’s not just Jeong Yeong-Won’s problem. The rest of the team is also in a bad state since she’s our only gardener.”

“It’s like losing our strongest shield. Ugh, do we need another break...”

“Our exploration has already been delayed too much. At this rate, we’ll be wiped out. If we were proper priests instead of just believers, we could’ve lightened her burden. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. We haven’t taken heavy damage yet.”

One of the few things that could resist this dungeon was the power of another Garden—or divine power. But Eunwol was a guild of believers, not trained priests.

The team leader sighed as he knocked Jeong Yeong-Won unconscious.

“I figured things would get tricky from the moment we entered as the advance party, but this is worse than expected.”

Honestly, entering a high-risk dungeon like this as part of the advance party was almost like signing away your life. Even if the advance team was unusually large this time, once scattered, the danger didn’t diminish. In fact, it got worse.

Sure, advance parties are basically half-dead by definition. But even so, this was bad. The situation only continued to deteriorate—clearly someone’s doing. This wasn’t something that could be solved with muscle or wit alone.

“Our guild has pretty strong mental fortitude, don’t we?”

“Er... I wouldn’t say it’s weak.”

“Then why are we falling apart like this?”

It wasn’t like they hadn’t encountered mentally destabilizing dungeons before. And in those cases, what mattered most was the individual hunter’s mental and spiritual fortitude. In that sense, the believers of Eunwol—who used divine strength despite not being chosen directly by the gods—were generally considered steadfast.

But this dungeon was on another level entirely.

“What about the Guild Master?” 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

“They’re currently in prayer to the Sun and Moon.”

“Alright, then let’s say one more prayer ourselves. Might help us pull our heads together. There’s nothing like a good prayer to reset your mind.”

“I’ll report to the Guild Master accordingly.”

“Goddamn it...”

He rubbed his face as he looked down at the unconscious Jeong Yeong-Won. He hadn’t said it out loud—she would only take it as pity—but inside, his heart had dropped more times than he could count at the sight of the girl he’d treated like a daughter, now unable even to faint properly, just thrashing and screaming. His stomach churned.

'...This dungeon strikes at the weakest part of a person.'

Humans, they said, were vulnerable to what they saw. And this dungeon was beautiful. Soft colors, glittering light—it all looked harmless. The scents, the temperature, the humidity—everything felt serene.

That was how it wormed its way in. It opened your heart, crept in, and slowly broke your mind. Like an addict to a drug, people lost their sanity yet clung to “something” they couldn’t give up.

And in that deranged state, they insisted their happiness was right there.

'It’s chilling'.

This dungeon brought out the ugliest parts of people.

“......”

And for that reason, they were wearing down.

Because they had to witness the bottom of their own hearts—and their comrades’.

***

“...A war of revelations?”

Cha Eun-Hyeok asked, and Gio nodded.

“This Garden keeps provoking people. It jabs at sensitive places and sets irresistible bait. From what little I’ve heard of the other teams, they sound like people hooked on highly addictive drugs.”

“...That’s...”

“In the end, it’s like they’re being trained to accept the attacks willingly. Like the ‘Clowns of Happiness’ who kept asking people what happiness meant—twisting that concept and using it as bait.”

“......”

“Apparently, there have already been quite a few injuries and deaths.”

Giovanni was still smiling, but Cha Eun-Hyeok could sense something distorted beneath it. He’d felt it before—Giovanni didn’t seem to like Zeorge very much.

“The worst part is this: the Garden doesn’t allow people to recognize attacks as attacks. So conflict arises anyway, people get exhausted, and teams get stuck...”

“...I understand what you’re saying.”

After a moment of hesitation, Cha Eun-Hyeok asked again.

“But I still don’t get why you called it a ‘war of revelations.’”

“Exactly what it sounds like. Bringing hidden things or past incidents out into the open.”

“Like what happens on the internet... scandals about politicians or hunters, that kind of thing?”

“You could say it’s similar.”

Gio blinked and looked directly into Cha Eun-Hyeok’s eyes.

“How good and righteous a person do you think you are, Mr. Cha?”

“...? Uh, well...??”

Will I die if I say I’m not good?

It was a divine being asking, and Cha Eun-Hyeok froze. Watching him stiffen, Yoo Seong-Woon interjected, wearing a slightly awkward smile to defuse his friend’s tactless question.

“Gio, you can’t ask like that. You’ll scare him.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I’ll take over from here.”

Yoo Seong-Woon picked up the explanation.

“Personally, I think Mr. Cha is a sincere and upright person.”

“? Ah, um... thanks?”

“And do you see yourself that way?”

“I mean... I don’t think I’ve done anything so terrible I’d get arrested, but ‘sincere and upright’ sounds like a stretch...”

“Exactly. Everyone, including themselves, knows they’re imperfect. No one is flawless.”

Yoo Seong-Woon rubbed his neck.

“Everyone has their shortcomings. What’s good to one person might’ve seemed wrong to someone else. You’ve probably been hated, probably blamed yourself for mistakes...”

“There’s no such thing as a perfectly blameless person.”

“Right. I think so too. But when those imperfections are laid bare, people naturally recoil. That’s human nature, isn’t it?”

“Well... yeah, I guess it is.”

Cha Eun-Hyeok believed that every person was selfish in some way. Not that he liked selfishness, or wanted to excuse it. He preferred good people, of course—because he himself was human.

Yoo Seong-Woon honed in on that.

“This dungeon forces those parts out into the open.”

“...In what way?”

“In a bunch of ways, apparently.”

Some people had their memories re-enacted. Others had symbolic triggers that set off trauma. For some, their guilt took form and made them lash out at others.

“Or it shows up as writing—like in reports or diaries.”

It felt like smaller dungeons, themed after specific weaknesses, had popped up within the larger Garden. Which made the already surreal “Garden of Pleasure” even more twisted.

“...So it’s like it airs out people’s most embarrassing secrets?”

“If you want to put it lightly, sure. But just looking at ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) the number of people who’ve been hurt or killed makes it clear it’s no laughing matter.”

“I... didn’t mean to make light of it.”

“I know. I could tell you were trying to make sense of it. I wasn’t blaming you. Some of the stories that’ve come out really are that petty.”

As Gio watched Yoo Seong-Woon smile with quiet patience, he smiled as well.

“So in short, this Garden is designed to make people ugly. It takes the flaws that anyone might have—and deliberately makes them detestable. That’s what makes it so much more malicious than other Gardens.”

Then Giovanni added firmly,

“It lacks social awareness.”

“Ah, well...”

“Or rather, it’s thrown that away. Same difference. It mocks human etiquette as grotesque hypocrisy.”

“I... I see.”

Cha Eun-Hyeok stumbled over his words, startled by Giovanni’s rare chill.

“But if that’s the case, isn’t there no way to fight back?”

“It’s unpleasant to feel so thoroughly manipulated by the Garden’s master, but that doesn’t mean we’re powerless.”

“You mean... resisting with Garden power or divine force?”

“Well, those are more about endurance than active resistance. But I keep using the term ‘war of revelations,’ don’t I?”

In ordinary human life, a war of revelations meant conflict. Going all-in, exposing each other’s most damning secrets.

“We can expose this Garden’s weaknesses in the same way.”

“...Is that even possible? It’s still a Garden, isn’t it?”

“Even so, it insists on having a human form.”

“So it must have memories—fragile ones.”

“Either way, this place is dedicated to exposing human ugliness, isn’t it?”

It was simple, really.

“If the dungeon master had chosen a non-human path, things might’ve been more complicated... but, well.”

So long as he remained human, he couldn’t escape the Garden’s traits and rules. Zeorge knew that too. And yet he waited for the raid team.

That might even be something Zeorge was hoping for. Maybe he wanted a chance to escape this “beauty.” Like a ghost trying to find peace—by becoming a nationwide nuisance first.

Still, if the solution had been handed to them this clearly, there was no reason not to take it. Even if following the path laid out by Zeorge left a sour taste.

“It’s a dungeon of the mind. So we respond accordingly.”

“So it’s a battle of wills between humans and the Garden. Understood.”

“Of course, we haven’t found any concrete clues yet!”

Trying to lighten the mood, Giovanni let out his signature bright laugh.

“But I’ve decided not to be disappointed.”

“Is that so.”

“Considering how merciful Mr. Zeorge has been so far, we must still be at the entrance. I figure he’s letting us acclimate before we reach more dangerous zones.”

“Acclimate...? That’s... can people adapt to this? These aren’t physical wounds—it’s about the mind, about the past... A single moment of carelessness can destroy a relationship.”

“Isn’t humanity the species of adaptation?”

“......”

Cha Eun-Hyeok fell silent. Sure, that was a saying—but he desperately hoped the Black Cloak didn’t truly believe it and leave everything to them like, “I believe in you! Good luck!”

“But people are already getting hurt...”

“I think by now, people have realized that blindly relying on Garden or divine power isn’t enough.”

“...Yeah, that’s true.”

“Then it’s time to try something else. Before we enter the more dangerous stages, we need to find a way to resist this mental assault.”

Fortunately, the advance party had been chosen for their competence, in light of the dungeon’s severity. No matter how harsh things got, these people wouldn’t just stand around in shock.

Cha Eun-Hyeok still looked uncertain—either from lack of understanding or lack of faith.

“So what exactly is that ‘something else’?”

“Well, I don’t really know...”

Gio blinked, then smiled.

“But we’ll try something.”

Competence, after all, meant knowing how to handle variables.

***

“SANARAE, YOU DUMBASS BASTARD!!!”

“Uueegh.”

The Haryeong team leader grabbed Sanarae by the collar and roared.

“Everyone knows you're a half-baked excuse for a human, so when did you get so noble you started acting shy?! Huh?! You think I supported your pathetic ass just so you could go all sulky and useless?!”

Sanarae whined under the sheer force of it.

“N-no, boss...”

“You know we’re already a guild full of dumbasses, right?!”

“Uh, I do?”

“Then why the hell are you acting like this?!”

“I dunno...”

“Don’t you ‘I dunno’ me! I fed you every goddamn day!!”

“Why’re you so mean to meee...”

“WHY?! WHY?! You seriously asking that right now?!”

The leader shook him by the collar.

“Wake the hell up, you’re scum! A sniveling, manipulative shit with no respect, always mouthing off! The only thing you’ve got going for you is a decent face! You hearing me?!”

“I’m crying, boss...”

“You! All of you worthless bastards! Listen up! Message from the Guild Master!!”

She turned to the hesitant Haryeong members and yelled.

“We were bottom-feeders from the start, got it?!”

“Ugh, why you gotta say it like that...”

“This guild was made by outcasts. Seeing the worst of ourselves changes nothing. You didn’t come to Haryeong without knowing what kind of scum we are!”

“B-Boss...”

“Cut the mushy crap and shove off!”

She turned back to Sanarae, who was still wide-eyed, caught by the collar. His pitiful expression wasn’t sad—it was irritating.

If he’d been this docile all the time, maybe she wouldn’t have had to take stomach meds every day.

Seriously, this beast didn’t have a single redeeming trait. Now, of all times, he had the nerve to act defeated? Without permission? Absolutely outrageous.

“Sanarae, what are you gonna do for a living?”

“I-I’m part of Haryeong... You gonna kick me out?”

“So what are you gonna do when we get out of this dungeon?”

“Live off the jobs you give me... Don’t throw me away.”

“Then what the fuck is wrong with you?! You think I’d release a bastard like you into society?!”

“...But...”

Sanarae stammered from within her grip.

“...I’m not human.”

“You never were, you beast.”

“Not even a beast.”

“Knew it, you fuck. At least beasts listen when you beat ‘em.”

“I killed a lot of people...”

“You think we didn’t?”

“...I ate them...”

Behind Sanarae, his “weak points,” his “pride” lay scattered. A pitch-black lab strewn with the blood and flesh of innocent people. Still caught by the collar, Sanarae muttered,

“I’m a monster.”

A man-made humanoid monster. A homunculus. A downgraded version, made by a group of damn Class-5 citizens. In other words, an illegally experimented monster.

He had begun as a doppelgänger, grown by consuming humans tossed to him by rogue researchers, and through experimentation became something that could perfectly mimic a human. Inside him swarmed the souls sacrificed in those experiments.

“Is that... still okay?”

It was the Guild Master of Haryeong who had taken him in and raised him as a person. Most guild members didn’t know the truth. But today, it was laid bare. His monstrous nature—one no monster could discard—was exposed.

As a monster, Sanarae was aroused by human suffering. He found joy in their pain and pride in his violence. Even if you didn’t call him a monster, he’d still be garbage. That liminal thing, neither human nor monster.

And the team leader had only one answer.

“You never listen, do you, asshole.”

WHAM—!!!

Perfectly consistent.

“......!!”

Sanarae clutched his head in immense pain.

“...Kkgh...!”

“You think I’m doing this to move you or something? You seriously believe that?”

“Uuehh, no...??”

“As your boss, it’s my job to at least make you act human.”

“I already do a good job...”

“You learned wrong, Sanarae. People don’t live like you.”

She smiled sweetly.

“You’re just an unfinished human.”

“Aha.”

“So stop whining and get to work. Unless this whole meltdown is some elaborate strategy to tank Haryeong’s raid through emotional sabotage.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh my, what a good answer. So adorable.”

“I’m adorable?”

“And now you’re acting up again, damn it.”

“Eeep!!”

The familiar exchange made the rest of the guild relax.

“...She’s not human either.”

“Yeah... no normal person would beat up a reporter like that...”

“Explains why just breathing around her made me anxious.”

“Turns out it really wasn’t just a vibe—she really wasn’t human.”

“Didn’t quite finish becoming human, huh. Must’ve skipped the studying part.”

“Too busy fighting to study, probably.”

“Yeah, that checks out. Let’s give him a break.”

It was an absurd conclusion—but that was Haryeong’s answer. They didn’t need heartfelt speeches or tearful encouragement.

They were a guild of rejects. If a monster who could mimic humans well enough was part of the team, that probably made him one of the most human among them. That’s why Sanarae was the team leader.

And so, with something like friendship forged through fists, Haryeong managed to steady themselves. Whether their captain was human or monster didn’t seem to matter much.

“So what do we do now, Boss?”

“Go find one of those damn safe zones everyone else keeps stumbling into, you freeloaders.”

“Yes ma’am.”

And just like that, Haryeong found their answer.

And one by one, the others began finding theirs too.