The Artist Who Paints Dungeon-Chapter 316
Before he lost his “memory,” Jeong Hae-Woon visited the abandoned school.
Let’s revisit that moment for a while.
“......”
At the time, Jeong Hae-Woon was questioning the simultaneous fevers of the Origin. Though he had spoken with Curator Yoo Seong-Woon about it, that alone hadn’t been enough to ease his mind.
A mystery of that scale could easily turn volatile.
Just because it was a “mystery” didn’t mean he should trust all its rules blindly. This world was overflowing with mysterious beings whose very rules revolved around deceiving humans. The greater the mystery, the more likely it would behave abnormally.
So, once again, Jeong Hae-Woon had to act in person. He had to see, hear, and confirm for himself. Otherwise, a disaster so massive that it couldn’t be fixed might strike.
“They said the fever and changes began after that damned portrait settled in the abandoned school...”
That was the reason he went.
It was simple: “Portrait of Gio” was said to be part of the Origin. It had more than enough authority and potential involvement in the widespread fever occurring in the Gardens. He needed to understand what had really happened.
And Jeong Hae-Woon—found himself gasping.
“...What the actual hell...?”
That damned mystery had embedded a spring in the middle of a remote, abandoned school.
After the Great Catastrophe, veins of mystery had spread throughout the earth—akin to blood vessels in a human body. The things that formed from that blood, flesh, and bones were the “Gardens.” You could compare them to human limbs or organs.
But to see such a direct, tangible manifestation of mystery rippling on the surface of the earth—this wild terrain—this was a first even for Jeong Hae-Woon.
This was no doubt a spring.
“This is on a whole different level from all the small springs I’ve seen so far.”
It was overwhelmingly dense.
“Goddamn it. I thought that dumb-looking face wouldn’t cause any trouble. Trust? What a joke...”
Jeong Hae-Woon grumbled bitterly.
“This is why mysteries can’t be trusted.”
And still, “Portrait of Gio” probably wouldn’t even register this as an accident. Or perhaps it simply couldn’t. It wasn’t the first time a massive mystery had unleashed disaster without any awareness.
He exhaled heavily and began examining the spring that had formed at the abandoned school. It was the first of its kind even for him, and he needed time to analyze it. No wonder the Children of the Origin were swarming here—if anything, it was strange they hadn’t shown up sooner, considering how rich the mystery was.
“......”
And after quite some time, he realized—
He realized. He uncovered. He saw.
Huh? Ah. Is that so? Really? ...So that’s it?
“......”
After an even longer pause, Jeong Hae-Woon was left with a single question.
“...Why?”
How?
And why this?
“...Why would something like this...”
Why had this happened?
Jeong Hae-Woon knew himself.
ERROR OCCURRED
He was about to do something foolish. Something truly insane. If nothing else, that had to be stopped. That, more than anything, must not happen. It was utter madness.
ERROR OCCURRED
He wished he had never come here. And he knew someone who could help him make that so. His friend, his colleague, and the wedge of poor Earth.
ERROR OCCURRED
He needed Dan Haera’s help.
Would you like to begin recovery?
[YES / NO]
“...I have to erase it.”
YES
Erase it.
“Let’s forget.”
Only then—
Only then, what?
“I...”
What can you even do?
What would improve? What were you originally planning to do? And what happens if you don’t?
What will happen? Is it really something you have to do? Can’t you just... not?
Do you really need to erase it? Why? Why should you?
Just pause. Okay? Just a little. If you think about it a bit longer, maybe you’ll remember something. You’re forgetting something really important right now. You—without that, you’re nothing.
You can’t...
Recovery in progress_0%
...No. No. No, no, no.
...Da—Dan Haera... no. First I need to find Seo Seo-Hee...
Don’t think.
Don’t think.
Recovery in progress_0%
Don’t. Think.
Recovery in progress_1%
That would be best.
And so Jeong Hae-Woon ran.
Yes, “ran” was the most appropriate word. He fled, leaving the memory behind, hiding, using the Promise as a shield. It was a disgraceful, pathetic display—but he ran.
Still, you would always remain here.
***
Recovery in progress_99.9...9%
Recovery complete_100%
...Tada.
***
Cha Eun-Hye was the only one who remembered that day.
“......”
“You’re really going in alone?”
“...Yeah.”
“You’re going to see ‘Hunter Sergio’ by yourself?”
“Well, I’ll only know who I’m really seeing once I see him.”
“...I guess if it was him you wanted to see, there’d be no reason to come here.”
“You said ‘Hunter Sergio’ is at the Collector’s Guild, right?”
Cha Eun-Hye smiled at Seo Seo-Hee and nodded.
“It’s okay. It’s not like I don’t have any protective artifacts.”
“I’m worried because I know that won’t be enough against him.”
“...I understand.”
But it was Seo Seo-Hee who didn’t truly understand what that man was. That was why he was worried. Cha Eun-Hye couldn’t bring herself to say that aloud, and so she simply lowered her gaze.
The ground was overgrown with grass. It looked quite different from what she remembered.
“This place is really falling apart.”
“Well, no one lives around here anymore.”
“No one ever thought of making this place livable.”
“There weren’t many good memories left here anyway.”
Seo Seo-Hee added lightly.
“Except for you, maybe.”
“That’s true.”
“...I never realized you weren’t that fond of this place either.”
“Well, now that I think about it, a lot of interesting things did happen here.”
Cha Eun-Hye looked out at the overrun schoolyard.
“When it snowed a lot, we built a snowman over there.”
“...Yeah, I remember. All the kids came running out to help.”
“Do you remember that giant snowman that was like three meters tall?”
“......”
Seo Seo-Hee shook his head.
“No.”
“I see.”
“Was that the one he made? The teacher?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah... figures.”
“We all made it together.”
“......”
“That’s all.”
It was a little sad, but it was fine. In truth, even remembering this much was a blessing. Everyone else had forgotten the “teacher,” but the traces left behind were enough to be thankful for.
Staring quietly at the schoolyard, Cha Eun-Hye asked,
“You’re going to stay here, right?”
“Well, I’ve got to see you off, don’t I? You’re the President.”
“If you weren’t here, the others wouldn’t have let me come.”
“Things are different now. This isn’t the chaotic Korea from the early days of the Great Catastrophe. You’re the great president who stabilized the country. We’re not looking for you to retire through death now, are we?”
“You’re all working so hard—how could I just run away?”
“...Don’t die young.”
Seo Seo-Hee’s face twisted awkwardly.
“You’re...”
“You’re not one of the people included in the Promise.”
“...Exactly.”
Cha Eun-Hye was not immortal. Her body was fragile and would shatter easily if she suffered a severe injury. Unlike those under the Promise, even awakened ones like her couldn’t escape death.
In the end, she would die. Or be killed.
Seo Seo-Hee often felt sad imagining that distant future. The solitude and grief always came back, just like the beginning.
Cha Eun-Hye’s smile faltered slightly when she saw the expression on his face.
“When you make that face, you make me go soft.”
“If I said we could add you to the Promise right now...”
“Come on, as if that’d work. It’s been too long since that promise was made. Where would you even get the price for it now?”
“I know. I just said it out of frustration.”
“You’re ridiculous...”
Sighing, wiping her face, Cha Eun-Hye smiled brightly.
“I’m off.”
“That place is said to be haunted, you know.”
“Then maybe I’ll scream a few times.”
Even after all these years, Cha Eun-Hye was still afraid of horror movies. She’d jump at dungeon footage. She couldn’t handle terrifying, gory, or shocking scenes.
But even so, she was an adult. Somehow, she had grown into one.
She had responsibilities. And she had to fulfill them in proportion to her power. She couldn’t afford to freeze up and cry just because she was scared.
This was one of those moments.
“...I couldn’t pretend not to see anymore.”
Whether it would end in reproach or love, she didn’t know. But she needed to hear what he was thinking.
“It couldn’t be delayed any longer.”
“While you’re at it, could you deliver # Nоvеlight # a message for me?”
“Mm, what message?”
“I want a packed lunch.”
“......”
Cha Eun-Hye just smiled.
“Okay. I’ll tell him.”
Seo Seo-Hee had always loved the teacher’s packed lunches.
***
“That’s right. I remember.”
“......”
“I remember.”
Sergio acknowledged it.
“Seo-Hee’s parents never really paid much attention to his meals, for some reason.”
It always bothered him.
That household had been like that. They expected Seo Seo-Hee to be the ideal, respectful son. Always top of the class, always polite, always obedient.
But they rarely fed him well.
“So Seo-Hee... asked for a lunchbox?”
“That’s what he said.”
“He’s been eating so well lately, I guess he’s gotten comfortable asking again.”
“You taught us that way, didn’t you?”
Cha Eun-Hye said with a smile.
“You told us to make it a habit to ask for help when things were hard. That even if we had hundreds of reasons not to trust people, we should find just one reason to believe in them. So we wouldn’t be alone, and we could live together.”
Her voice cracked slightly.
“So I did that.”
Her hands trembled. Even with her fists clenched, they shook with shame.
“I did well, right, Teacher...?”
“You did well.”
“......”
“You’ve worked hard.”
“......”
Her lips moved, but no words came out.
It felt like hot water was rising inside her, and even breathing was difficult. That heat climbed to her head and made her eyes sting. She lowered her head.
She couldn’t speak.
“......”
If she made a sound, it might no longer be words.
“......”
“Why did my students all turn into cowards while I was gone?”
“...We’ve always... been cowards.”
“I never thought that of you.”
“I still can’t watch horror movies. I need someone beside me.”
“You used to scream but still went to the theater anyway. Didn’t you always come out smiling?”
“I can’t do anything alone...”
Her voice cracked.
“...Why did you come, Teacher?”
Why does this feel so wretched?
“Why, why, why... why? How? Why now...?”
Is this really what I wanted to say? After coming all this way?
“Are you angry because of us? That day, did we do something wrong? Were we wrong?”
“......”
“No, that’s not it. What are you now? A ghost? A monster? A Child of the Origin? I don’t know. I read all the reports, but that’s just memorization. Just memorizing them doesn’t mean I know what I’m doing. A—ah, this isn’t it. This isn’t what I meant to say...”
“......”
“What do you want from us? What can we do? If you tell us, we’ll consider the circumstances and do our best to help. There’s no way you’d hurt us on purpose. Right? ...Right? Or is that not true anymore?”
“......”
“...Not anymore...?”
Is that it?
“......”
“Eun-Hye.”
It was the voice she always heard in her dreams.
“Why are you so scared?”
“...There’s just... too many scary things here. There’s that weird brown TV, and...”
“People seem to be scared of me.”
“...Well, you do look scary, Teacher. Even more so now... super scary.”
“Am I still your teacher?”
“Yes. Yes. You’re our teacher.”
She’d grown up so much. She didn’t want to act like a child throwing a tantrum—but she was too upset, and the words just tumbled out.
“You are our teacher...”
The teacher who always wore black suits.
The one who had a handsome face but no sense of fashion. The one who looked stern but gave them sweet treats, talked about careers, visited their homes. Scary and strange—but always helpful.
No matter what had happened, or what would happen, Sergio was still their teacher.
He had to be.
That much—they couldn’t give up.
“......”
Maybe it was shameless—but that much.
“...Isn’t that right?”
“How could it not be.”
“You said you’d always be here.”
“I probably did.”
The teacher in a pitch-black cloak approached. No footsteps, no breath, no presence. He didn’t even try to hide the fact that he wasn’t human.
And then he asked—
“Knowing I’m your teacher, why are you still so scared?”
“...I’m sorry.”
“Why are you trying to act more grown-up than me?”
“...We, we...”
“You remember me, Eun-Hye.”
“......”
“Then yes—I’m your teacher. Because that’s what you want.”
She could never truly call him human. But he was still kind.
“Want a macaron?”
“...Yes.”
He was still—our teacher.
***
Oh. The bell rang.
