The Artist Who Paints Dungeon-Chapter 220
“Death of life is not a beginning, but an end.”
Earth’s Death said so.
“Some people say this—‘death is another beginning.’”
“Is that not true?”
“My death is not like that.
And it must not be.
If there were to be another beginning after death, it should not be mine...”
“Earth’s Sun said that all life touched by sunlight is her child.”
“Then life on this planet lives with many parents on its back, wouldn’t you say?
But I do not consider them my children.
My children... are those who live with me here... those who accept me as family...”
Not all divine beings see every living thing as their child.
“I am a gate.”
“A gate?”
“A process that all life must eventually pass through.
If the Sun calls herself a mother... then I am something else.
I do not ask for connection or trust from life...
It is merely what must come.
Yes, that’s right.”
“I see.”
A few small questions arose.
“Then... do you deny life?”
“Do you ask that knowingly...”
Death answered: no.
“Death is a fate that must come.
It is not the course of providence or nature.
I am merely a world that receives approaching life into my embrace, a hand that knots the end.”
That aligned with Gio’s own view.
“Because death is only a state.”
“Yes... I’m glad you know.”
Death showed a “smile.”
“Even for the same life, the perspective differs depending on the divinity.
Not just the Sun and I—all divine beings are like that.
They may look alike, but their essence is different.
Even if their essence is the same, their ways are different.
The life I embrace are wanderers whose lights have gone out...
I am a craftsman who marks the end for them.”
“Do you not hand them lanterns?”
“That’s not my role.”
Death said that what remains is always for the living.
“The extinguishing of a living light is a state, but the sorrow of the living is an emotion.
My existence is ultimately a process of comforting and helping the living understand.
Making them accept farewells—that is my role.”
“Then... where do the dead wanderers go?”
“That is their matter.”
The lantern in hand, the wealth they carry away, the love, the regrets, the grief—
All of it belonged to the dead.
Death accepted everything equally but was neither a doting parent nor a kind friend.
Just a craftsman tying the final knot.
“To whom the knot goes, how it is adorned—
That is not for me to teach.
I am not even a teacher.
Don’t you agree?”
“I do.”
“Thank you.”
The divine being was pleased to be affirmed.
“I hope you too... find your way, your method, your love...
I sincerely hope so.”
“Thank you.”
Fortunately, Gio came to a conclusion.
Perhaps this is why they say it’s important to make good friends.
***
At the parking lot of the Temple of Death, Gio was greeted by Yoo Seong-Woon.
“Did the conversation end well?”
“Of course.”
That was the whole reason he’d packed a bribe.
“Seems the bribe worked quite well.”
“So they actually ate it, huh.”
“You didn’t say anything while I was carrying it, but I suppose you were worried after all.”
“Well, divine beings usually don’t have the concept of appetite.
I know you’re not normal, but still—I do have my own sense of common sense, you know?”
Thanks to previous encounters like the teddy bear Sun God and Sankallut, he could be less surprised.
Recalling the two, Yoo Seong-Woon led Gio to the car.
Gio followed and got in.
As the car moved, Yoo Seong-Woon asked,
“Did you get any results out of it?”
“Yes. I’ve made a decision.”
“...Wait a second.”
Feeling déjà vu, Yoo Seong-Woon glanced at Gio with a strange look.
“You... you’re not going to do something again, right? Like, something...”
“I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”
“I still remember you talking about being a Demon King on the way back like this.”
“You guessed correctly.”
“No, I didn’t guess!”
He hadn’t meant it as a serious guess.
“......”
Yoo Seong-Woon, a little deflated, asked,
“...So what’s your decision?”
“I’ve asked many divine beings about what kind of attitude a god should have.”
“Yeah, you did.
Traditional gods, evil gods—you didn’t discriminate.”
“And now I’ve come to a conclusion.”
Gio answered clearly.
“After all, I must live as I please...”
“Your vocabulary’s gotten real good since Argio.”
“My vocabulary was always like this.”
“You lie better now too.”
It was both impressive and terrifying.
‘At this rate, he’s growing to the point where there’s no sense of dissonance even if he’s just called human.’
Which meant that if Gio caused an incident someday, Yoo Seong-Woon might not notice right away.
Not that he could stop him anyway.
Still, it was remarkable progress.
Yoo Seong-Woon let out a dry laugh, rubbing his neck.
“So? You’ve decided to live as you please?”
“I feel like my intentions are being greatly dismissed here...”
“But what exactly do you want?”
“......”
Gio stared at him, stunned by the abrupt shift in topic, then gave up and answered.
“I’ll turn people into pigs.”
“...Ah, uh, pigs. Mhm, oh... okay...”
“When the pantry is full, the world becomes peaceful too.”
“Peace... so your ‘method’ is kind of like Joo-Hyun’s? That damn world peace idea?”
“It’s a little different.
Joo-Hyun’s goal is world peace.
But my goal is to turn people into pigs, so the process and result have essentially swapped places.”
“That’s terrifying in its own way.”
Better than world destruction, sure, but still.
“Actually, it’s not so different from what you’ve been doing.
Aren’t you already that strange urban legend who shares snacks with strangers for being good?”
“I wouldn’t say that’s wrong, but I’ve decided to shift my mindset slightly.”
“What kind of shift?”
“I need to make more friends.”
“...More?”
“Yes.”
A common trait among divinities was that “they exist everywhere, regardless of flow.”
Even if a dimension collapsed, most divine beings still existed somewhere—
Whether in religion or in history.
That was the power of the permanence that divinity held.
And Gio thought very positively of it.
A group that continues like a living organism—
That was an incredibly appealing concept.
And since Gio had developed a form of divinity, he could reference those methods.
“Then I’ll live a life full of friends.”
He liked the sound of that very much.
Yes—what Gio had been curious about all this time was not “Am I human or god?”, “How should I treat life?”, or “What should I do to be divine?”—
It was “How do I live as long as they do and have that many friends?”
“Isn’t it wise?”
“......”
Yoo Seong-Woon was speechless.
‘...He just said he’ll officially form a religious group, but in the most innocent-sounding way possible.’
In that fleeting moment, he tried to predict what would come of Gio’s decision—
But realized that none of it mattered.
He sighed.
“Do as you please.”
“You’re quite straightforward.”
“You’ll do it whether I stop you or not.”
“Hm, you know me too well.
I’ll have to silence you.”
“When you say it, it doesn’t sound like a joke—please don’t scare me...”
“Was it really a joke, though?”
“Please, no.”
“Good.”
Gio laughed cheerfully.
“Now you finally know when I’m joking.”
“...I guess so.”
Was he just dumb now? Or had he adapted?
‘Maybe I caught it from Joo-Hyun.’
It was terrifying, truly.
***
There was a woman.
She fundamentally lacked compassion for others.
Raised by first-class citizens, she lived in abundance.
When she saw beggars huddled between dark buildings, she sometimes even thought they were filthy.
“I don’t want to get involved.”
“A good attitude, my daughter.
You get tangled with people like that, and it’ll only bring trouble.”
Her parents approved of her.
But she never went out of her way to abuse or mock the poor.
She just... treated them as nonexistent.
They didn’t fit with her life.
As she grew in a world with no lack, she developed refined tastes.
She began to collect beautiful works of art.
She was even a regular at a collector’s shop.
One day, she encountered a piece titled “Black Cloak.”
“This is...”
“A work of Black Cloak, miss.”
“Black Cloak? It’s got such an odd atmosphere... Is this watercolor...?”
“Please don’t get too close—it’s dangerous.”
“But isn’t it beautiful?”
At a time when Black Cloak was rumored to be a monster—
She had encountered the City of Void and was completely enraptured by its artistry.
Later, when it became known that Black Cloak was a divine mystery, her admiration soared.
“A divine being made this...”
It was a piece that fit perfectly with her elegant life.
Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who thought so—
Among first-class citizens, strange little groups began forming.
Fan clubs for Black Cloak, so to speak.
Naturally, she tried to join the most prestigious one.
“...?”
But something didn’t match her expectations.
“...Volunteering?”
“Did you come here not knowing who Black Cloak is?”
“Of course not.”
The tone of disgust made her deny reflexively.
And it wasn’t a lie.
She believed she knew Black Cloak quite well.
“A divine humanoid being embodying the providence of the world, right?”
“And what does Black Cloak like?”
“Um... he likes good people, gives them gifts when encountered.
But if you’re evil, he drags you into the frame and delivers a gruesome fate.”
“And yet you’re questioning our volunteer system?”
“No, I mean...”
She couldn’t understand.
“I can donate as much as needed.”
If it were just about paying some activity fees, she’d accept.
Every salon ran like that.
But the Black Cloak enthusiasts said that wasn’t enough.
“Do you really need to step in personally?”
“Are you seriously asking that?”
“There are plenty of people who want to work.
If you want good deeds done, you can just hire someone.
Donating is still virtuous, isn’t it?”
“That makes it meaningless.”
They insisted that only through personal service could one belong.
“Hah. I see.
You just wanted in for some shallow reason—show off with your money, claim the title of ‘good person,’ admire the art, and maybe get a gift if you’re lucky, right?”
“...What’s wrong with that?
Is donating a bad thing now?”
“It’s not wrong, but if that’s all you expected, you don’t belong here.
We do things money can’t buy.”
“Hah... unbelievable.”
“There are lots of Black Cloak fan clubs,
But do you know why we meet him most often?
Because unlike those fakes, we commit to real good deeds.
That’s why he acknowledges us.”
One member even scoffed.
“Sorry to say, but we recruit sincere, noble volunteers.
Not people like you who just want to flaunt money and laugh around.
If we start accepting people like you, we’ll lose our quality.”
“You’re saying I’ll lower your quality?”
“If that happens, even Black Cloak’s affection might fade.
We can’t allow outsiders to devalue what we’ve worked so hard to earn.”
“That’s hilarious.”
The woman shouted in anger.
“I can do it! I only asked if I had to—didn’t say I wouldn’t!
What, you think people don’t volunteer because they can’t?
It’s just inefficient!”
She meant it.
There were people starving in the slums.
If you hired them, they’d get paid, and she’d be doing good.
Efficient virtue.
But this damned group had stepped on her pride.
“You think I can’t do it?!”
“Oh, so you’re saying it.”
“...W-what is this?”
“Doesn’t it say ‘contract’?”
“A contract? In a fan club?”
“If you’re not doing it, then leave.
Don’t waste our time.”
“...Fine, give it here.”
She forced her way in.
“I’m at the bottom?”
“You’re a complete newbie. It’s only natural.”
“If I pay more—”
“Will you stop talking about money already?”
“...Ugh...”
And so, she began volunteer work.
“......”
Honestly, she felt dazed.
‘Why am I doing this?’
She couldn’t understand.
Their work varied.
As you ranked up, the tasks got harder and riskier.
The president even visited third-class citizens in unreconstructed zones.
‘This is insane.’
Higher ranks meant more work?
‘They even go beyond the city walls.’
Cities were safe zones.
The farther out, the deadlier.
But her pride kept her going.
She picked up trash, served meals in slums, supported second-class and lower citizens.
“Isn’t it a little cold in here...? I’m sorry, I wish I had something to give...”
“Oh, no. It’s fine. A blanket would be enough.”
“I’m sorry... I don’t even have a blanket. Would a duvet do?”
“...Uh...”
One day, she was asked to visit an old man living alone.
“You’ve been doing so well lately—can I trust you with this?”
She made mistakes at first, but tried to make up for them.
“A-ha-ha...! I-I’ll buy it for you...!”
“Huh? That’s too much...”
“What do you mean? Of course I can buy that for you.
How many?
Actually, I’ll just replace all your bedding. Right?”
Still, it was hard for others in the group to approve.
“You can’t fix everything with money.
Some people will feel joy, sure.
But others might feel robbed.
It could backfire.”
“But... I just didn’t know what to say.
I did my best!
I already messed up—what was I supposed to do then?!”
“...Hmm...”
Still, she got recognition too.
“You really are doing your best.”
“...R-really?”
“You’re just inexperienced, that’s all.
You’ve been active steadily lately—it’s good to see.
That elder even sent a thank-you letter about the bedding.”
“A letter...? F-for me? Can I see it?”
“Of course. I brought it.”
“...Ah...”
Two pages of neatly written, faded stationery.
She felt a sense of accomplishment.
She had envied others boasting “I got a gift from Black Cloak!”—
But in the moment she read the letter, she had no other thought.
“...Ahem. I can keep this, right?”
“Haha, of course. It’s yours.”
“I’ll take good care of it.”
Even her parents reacted.
At first, they didn’t understand.
“...You got this from a slum?”
“Not slum. Second-class citizen!”
“Ah, right. Yes...”
“......”
“...I see.”
Her father looked stunned—bitter and smiling faintly.
“There are still people like this, huh.”
“What do you mean? All the elders I meet are like this.”
“...Really? I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
He looked regretful.
“I thought only scary people were left.
Thought if I didn’t protect what I had, I’d lose it.
That everyone just wanted to steal from me...”
He laughed, and praised her.
“You’re doing well.
And your group members seem like good people.”
“Oh? Uh, r-right?
I told you—it’s not some shady thing I’m doing.”
“Still be careful.
There are scary people out there.
You’ll get robbed before you know it.”
“Yeah yeah, I know...”
Then, one day, a call came from the hospital.
“...Your mom woke up.”
“...What?”
“Th-the hospital called. She’s awake now...”
“What? H-how?”
Her mother, kept alive only with expensive care, had fully recovered.
Even Korea’s best hospital said survival alone was the best outcome—yet she had recovered completely.
The woman found out the reason days later, in a slum alley.
“I affirm your good deed.”
“......”
A frame, painted in black ink.
“I see you.
Your father lived earnestly.
In a time of confusion, he lost his whole family, nearly lost his wife to a slum citizen.
The world is terrifying.
Hatred grows.
Individualism thrives.”
“...Ah...”
“You lived that life too, yet chose to act kindly.
It began as greed—now it brings you joy.
I see you.
I affirm you.”
The portrait, faceless, spoke.
“Thank you.”
As the frame vanished, it whispered:
“Did you like the gift?”
“......”
And then—left alone—
“......”
She cried.
Not because she received the praise of divine mystery she had longed for—
But because all her actions had returned to her as a benevolent gift.
She didn’t even know why she cried.
She was just... deeply, deeply ashamed.
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