The Artist Who Paints Dungeon-Chapter 307

For the record, gardeners didn’t exist solely on Earth.

“So can you please stop drawing now?”

The man finally spoke after a long game of chase that had leapt across paintings. Gio replied,

“I wasn’t sure what kind of drawing you’d like, so I figured I’d go all-in on ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) quantity...”

“You’ve proven your point. That’s enough now. I surrendered, didn’t I?”

“Understood.”

Gio blinked as he looked at the ‘Gio’ in front of him.

“You give up more easily than expected.”

“What is this? A provocation? Life’s full of surprises. This is a first.”

“You sound sarcastic, but I can tell you actually mean it.”

“You’re right. I’ve rarely experienced anything so absurd.”

“So?”

“It was fun.”

With that, he tipped his top hat politely. ‘Gio’ smiled with practiced ease.

“Tada.”

The hat looked like the kind magicians wear. A small trick, or perhaps a memento—when tapped lightly with a cane, a flower burst out like a tiny explosion.

Watching Gio get showered in petals, the man bowed.

“I am your Zeorge, Mr. Gio.”

“Thank you for the courteous greeting.”

Brushing off the petals, Gio let his gaze sweep over Zeorge’s outfit.

“That hat doesn’t exactly suit your ensemble.”

“Oh? That’s odd. I don’t think Mr. Sergio is in any position to critique anyone’s fashion sense.”

“I have no defense for that, but I must say Mr. Argio has excellent taste. I owe him a lot.”

“I’ll give you that. He really knows how to match clothes and accessories. A role model for all of us.”

“In any case... it’s a light outfit.”

A loose poet shirt, black pants, and the hat. That was it.

“Not a fan of shoes?”

“Is there a reason I should care that much about appearances?”

“You’re wearing both a shirt and pants, so I assumed you were trying to uphold some level of human dignity.”

“Wow, so I skip shoes and now I’m uncivilized? Don’t you walk around barefoot a lot too, Mr. Gio?”

“I usually do so indoors, and in my home, we don’t wear shoes. But when I have official engagements, I dress properly.”

“Well, same for me. I spend most of my time in places where shoes aren’t necessary. For reference, over 90% of my dignity is stored in this hat.”

“That seems like a valid choice.”

Poor hat. Now it had to shoulder nearly all of its master’s dignity. Still, it was immaculately maintained and clearly loved, so Gio didn’t say anything more.

Once the basic situation settled down, Gio suddenly felt a pang of regret.

“......”

He fiddled with a sketch he had drawn.

“I wasn’t finished yet...”

“That’s enough. I enjoyed it too.”

“But I wasn’t finished...”

“How did I get stuck with someone like this?”

Despite his words, Zeorge let out a fresh, ringing laugh. It seemed he had enjoyed himself after all.

“I mean, I’ve lived a long time.”

“I didn’t call you here to suggest retirement. Please don’t look at me like I’ve committed elder abuse.”

“I know this isn’t the end—it’s just another beginning. No need to apologize.”

“I wasn’t really apologizing. You seemed to enjoy yourself too much for that, didn’t you?”

“Well, I’d never experienced anything like this before...”

He gently placed his hat on Gio’s pale pink hair.

“Shall we begin the introductions?”

“Actually, I don’t need you to introduce yourself, Mr. Zeorge.”

“After playing tag for that long, we’ve learned a lot about each other. You’re right, Mr. Gio.”

“Then would you mind introducing yourself for those who might not understand the situation?”

“I do love this kind of moment.”

Zeorge addressed the audience.

“Wanderer Zeorge. My friends, with affection, just call me Gio. Feel free to use whichever you prefer.”

Gio nodded.

“So you’ve been called a wanderer?”

“Ah, that one’s my own invention. Not something defined by any formal institution or government. Nothing special.”

“Then in the very first world, was there another term for ‘gardener’?”

“There wasn’t. I was the first ‘wanderer’ there. The name just came from the fact that I wandered around a lot...”

He chuckled.

“I just love fun things.”

“An avatar of dopamine.”

“Oh, poor thing. If you’re not going to enjoy life, what’s the point of living?”

“I don’t think we’ll see eye to eye, at least not the way Mr. Argio and I sometimes do.”

“Well, since you called me and I got caught, I’ll do my duty.”

Zeorge picked up a chair and placed it beside Gio before sitting down.

“Alright, let’s begin.”

“Oh, I’m starting? Honestly, I don’t know where to begin...”

He caressed a small canvas painted with nature and nodded.

“Let’s start from the beginning.”

“And where exactly is that?”

“It was after I saw Mr. Yoo Seong-Woon’s garden.”

“What did you see and feel there?”

“It was so beautiful, I wanted to paint the garden.”

“And?”

“I thought people live such exhausting lives.”

Zeorge gave a distant, warm look, as if he understood perfectly.

“And that’s how the amazing idea of a snack cart came about...”

“Back then, I didn’t have a concrete plan.”

“And now?”

“With your help, Mr. Zeorge, I think it’ll go much more smoothly.”

“Am I working the moment I arrive?”

“Once the story begins, the distinction becomes meaningless, doesn’t it? It’s my labor.”

“Fair enough. That’s a fascinating statement.”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

Gio continued,

“So I started sketching whatever came to mind.”

“Still unbelievable. I wasn’t lured in by sweet scents or touches, and yet I fell for this brute-force method.”

“? It’s not like I used a bear trap to snap your leg and drag you here. You walked in on your own two feet. If you frame it like that, what will people think of me?”

“So Sergio lured me in with a bear trap, huh?”

“That could be fun too.”

“No, seriously, don’t draw that. Don’t you dare draw a gruesome bear trap.”

“Careful. I’m starving from the chase, so I’m very irritable right now.”

“What kind of pig are you...”

Even at Zeorge’s baffled muttering, Gio remained unshaken.

“Yes, that’s right. Mr. Zeorge refused to answer my call outright. It was quite the shock.”

“Sometimes subordinates disobey orders. Sometimes code malfunctions.”

“No, it wasn’t that. There’s definitely a ‘match,’ but you just waltzed past me. I didn’t even know your name until I’d painted the forty-second picture.”

“Painting forty-two landscapes for someone whose name you don’t even know—that’s not a choice a normal person makes. You realize that, right?”

“What kind of answer are you expecting by asking me that?”

Gio shrugged.

“Like I said before. I kept thinking: what is this person dissatisfied with? What do I need to draw to get them to say ‘alright’ and accept the invitation? Around the ninth one, I got the feeling. ‘Ah, this person just wants to play.’”

“Well, I had a great time.”

“And I truly enjoyed it too. A first for me.”

Until now, the pattern had always been: Gio received “inspiration,” painted a “picture,” and the “match” would summon him. But this Gio was different. He existed in every garden Gio drew—and yet did not.

In short: he ran away.

“If I thought you were simply refusing the invitation, I wouldn’t have chased you while drawing 9,421 paintings.”

“......”

Zeorge fell silent, then slowly nodded.

“That’s why I told you to stop drawing. You understand now?”

“To be honest, I kind of wanted to hit a clean 10,000...”

“Sorry, but even I have limits. I had to surrender.”

“True, by the 9,000th drawing, the garden designs were getting repetitive.”

“Realizing that after 9,000 paintings is... impressively stubborn.”

“You flatter me. For the record, I never said I gave up on hitting 10,000. I’ll keep going when I have time.”

“Dear god of nature, please save me from this relentless painter.”

“I’ve already been saved. That’s why I’m in this hut, roasting sweet potatoes.”

Back to the point—

“Mr. Zeorge didn’t actually refuse my invitation. If he had, he wouldn’t have been defined as a ‘match’ to begin with. He just wanted to play, so I kept chasing him.”

“By drawing 9,421 pictures.”

“I didn’t know I could be this persistent. Usually, I never need to draw that many. I did switch to small canvases midway, out of awareness that I might be overdoing it...”

“What are you going to do with all those drawings?”

“Each has a life of its own. I support that.”

To be safe, he’d made sure every one was a nice character.

“And so, Mr. Zeorge was finally caught.”

“I was just so impressed by your joy in living beyond all limits...”

“And probably tired of it too. That was likely the biggest factor.”

“Which is how I ended up voluntarily appearing.”

“Great.”

Gio looked at Zeorge.

“Then shall you introduce yourself again? I think I’ve done most of the explaining so far.”

“Hmm. Alright. Now, what should I say...”

He soon smiled with his eyes.

“...I’m a human who became a garden.”

Truly, an avatar of dopamine. No beating around the bush.

“How I ended up like this doesn’t matter. At least, not right now. But in my first life, I became a garden. Now I frolic among them, enjoying my life.”

“A true natural.”

“That word sums it up nicely. Yes, I’m a natural. Be glad I’m still wearing clothes. That means I still have some human dignity left.”

“I’m amazed there was such deep meaning. But aren’t you dressed because you want to seduce someone?”

“Well... that’s not entirely untrue. I won’t deny it. But please remember—I don’t need to dress to seduce.”

“Dear heavens...”

He’d better keep his mental defenses up before someone filed a moral indecency claim.

Gio, accepting the disaster he had brought upon himself, tilted his head thoughtfully.

“Usually when I encounter a ‘Gio,’ they give me a quest. Is there anything you’d like to ask of me? Having a clear goal helps me maintain mental discipline.”

“Hmm... nope.”

“So you’ve seen enough.”

“I mean, Sergio, you sat there and drew 9,421 paintings. Isn’t it understandable that I’d get tired? I’ve had my fun. I’ll keep enjoying things from here on.”

Feigning distaste, Zeorge tilted his head just like Gio had earlier. A perfect mimicry.

“You could say I’ve upgraded.”

“You’re already blending with me? Using Earth terminology from the start...”

“I get the feeling you already knew. But yes—I’ve picked up a few things during my wandering. It’s only natural.”

“I think it’s your thought process that’s unique, Mr. Zeorge. Most people wouldn’t call that kind of transformation an ‘upgrade.’ Becoming a gardener, then a garden, and now part of a haunted painting...”

“Oh, that’s all prejudice. Anyone can tweak their destiny, become nature, and then try being a painting. I’m sure you get it too, Mr. Gio.”

“I did find myself a haunted painting one day, yes. In that sense, your point has merit.”

“For people like us, rules don’t matter.”

Gio grew serious.

“Still, there must be rules.”

“You mean etiquette, social ethics, that sort of thing?”

“That sort of thing.”

“Fair enough.”

Zeorge shrugged.

“But what I mean is, there’s no reason to limit the kind of work I do.”

“In that sense... may I keep drawing until I reach 10,000?”

“Seriously, of all people, you don’t get to criticize my way of thinking, Sergio. Understood?”

And so, the fusion began.

“What? Is there a problem?”

He looked toward the audience and asked.

“But in the end, the real question is: why does Cha Eun-Hyeok have to grill fish-shaped bread? Isn’t that why you clicked ‘next chapter’?”

“To be fair, Mr. Zeorge’s introduction was pretty long for that.”

“Well, I think I’ve said enough for now.”

He had, more or less, covered the important parts.

“To summarize: I’m a highly capable gardener, a garden, and also a painting. With someone like me involved, whatever Mr. Gio plans will go a lot smoother.”

“My heart’s already racing.”

“I admit, I never thought about opening a restaurant before—especially not a food cart. In a garden, no less.”

“Aren’t gardeners people? Don’t they eat? Rest? Sleep?”

“This really does sound fun.”

Zeorge lifted his hat and laughed behind it like a fan.

“So let’s get to the planning.”

“I think everyone’s figured it out by now, but... I’m thinking of opening a restaurant in the garden.”

“Will you be able to convince Mr. Cha Eun-Hyeok?”

“If not, I’ll make the fish bread myself.”

“Sounds like a very sloppy restaurant.”

“Well, sure...”

Gio nodded.

“But it’ll be fun. That’s enough.”

“Knew it.”

Anyway.

***

“Have you understood everything so far, Mr. Cha Eun-Hyeok?”

“......”

Cha Eun-Hyeok squinted like someone enduring a headache.

“......?”

That meant he didn’t understand a word of it.