The Artist Who Paints Dungeon-Chapter 330

The consequences brought about by the whim of the mysterious couldn’t exactly be called bad.

If he really intends to erase the system, that is.

Seo Seo-hee smiled awkwardly and looked at the person sitting across from him. A person wearing a white priest's robe beneath a black cloak. The man commonly known to the world as “Hunter Sergio.”

As always, he smiled gently and asked,

“Won’t you have a bit more?”

“I’ve had plenty.”

“How was today’s meal?”

“The soy sauce marinated crab was absolutely insane.”

That part had been so impressive he couldn’t even pretend to be modest.

Despite being raw, there wasn’t the slightest trace of fishiness, and the flesh was soft yet chewy. The crab meat soaked in soy sauce that wasn’t too salty, when eaten with warm rice, was nothing short of paradise.

“Seems like our vice guildmaster always gets Western-style lunchboxes.”

“I noticed he likes salty and greasy food, so I’ve been tailoring it that way.”

“And mine is usually Korean-style.”

“Because you like mild seasoning. Especially the natural taste of the ingredients.”

“Right, I suppose I am like that. In an era like this where it’s hard to enjoy fine cuisine, it’s a picky palate that’s tough to survive with. That’s probably why I like the lunchboxes you make.”

Of course, it wasn’t just about that.

The higher a hunter’s rank, the more refined their taste buds became. Naturally. As all abilities rose, senses like smell and taste sharpened too.

There’s a reason our prickly vice guildmaster has his face buried in that lunchbox.

For hunters, finding a restaurant that suited their palate was rare. The fact that so many restaurants these days were upscale probably had something to do with that. Their main clientele were first-tier citizens like high-ranking hunters.

And the one making these lunchboxes wasn’t even an ordinary person.

Just going by what’s visible, he’s an A-rank hunter rumored to be S-class... and the son of Bisa Beul, who rolls in the collector’s guild. Even that alone suggests he’d never need to get his hands dirty.

More essentially, he wasn’t even human. A being of mystery at such a high level that no existing rank could define him. The fact that such a being was personally preparing lunchboxes was closer to a natural disaster than mere favoritism.

In any case, to summarize: it was something to be deeply grateful for.

“......”

Time to stop entertaining peaceful thoughts.

“...It seems the gardeners are getting along well with the hunters lately. Ever since the Black Cloak series appeared, they used to be treated like ‘unfortunate winners of a lottery,’ but now they’re being respected as rare and valuable teachers.” 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

“I heard that too. Peaceful harmony is always a good thing.”

“Thanks to that, Jeong Hae-Woon apparently never stops smiling anymore.”

Jeong Hae-Woon was the very first gardener. And a Symbol of Eternity. He was essentially the vanguard of all gardeners in this world.

He didn’t have any special title like leader, but that alone seemed to carry a great sense of responsibility. Jeong Hae-Woon had always been sensitive to the persecution of gardeners. And he took it especially hard.

And now, suddenly, gardeners were being treated with great respect. As long as there weren’t any side effects, there was no reason Jeong Hae-Woon wouldn’t be pleased.

“I think it’s a good thing too. Gardeners were treated far too poorly compared to the work they do. If it were any other job, ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) they’d either quit themselves or have someone trying to stop them...”

Seo Seo-hee’s smile twisted awkwardly.

“The Garden is holding the gardeners’ love hostage, so no matter how badly they’re treated, they can’t easily walk away. That’s the kind of power love has, isn’t it?”

“Love, huh...”

The platinum-blond priest lowered his gaze.

“Love certainly has that kind of power. It makes the damage you take feel like it’s not even damage. Sometimes the whole process feels natural, and sometimes you pretend not to know even though you do. Or maybe... you really don’t know.”

“People usually call that being love-blind, don’t they?”

“I personally don’t care much for that kind of love.”

“That’s kind of an interesting thought.”

A spark of curiosity appeared in Seo Seo-hee’s eyes. What kind of love does this gentle, old-fashioned seeming teacher believe in? Has he ever even experienced love? That kind of curiosity.

“Pardon me if this is too forward, but... have you ever been in love?”

“...Does familial love count?”

“To be honest, I was hoping to ask about romantic love.”

“In that sense, I’ve never really felt anything I could call that. Of course, I do love the precious ones I care about and want to protect, but that’s never turned into possessiveness.”

“So the love you recognize is possessive in nature, then.”

“At least from my perspective, yes. Otherwise, why would someone feel jealousy when the person they love smiles at someone else? It might sound strange, but I see it as a rather vicious impulse. Love is a formless concept, so why is it that it can’t be shared equally?”

“...If it had to be shared equally, perhaps it wouldn’t be love anymore. After all, love is an emotion that arises from making someone feel special, which inherently becomes favoritism... but anyway, setting that aside.”

He hadn’t brought this up to debate the definition and foundation of love. Seo Seo-hee shrugged lightly. The man across from him asked,

“That’s the opinion of ‘Giovanni,’ right? Another name you’ve given to the mercy you bestow, calling it love?”

“...I suppose so. It’s not like I’ve never played favorites, but I think the love I know is quite different from common understanding.”

Giovanni tilted his head and smiled.

“Right now, Mr. Seo Seo-hee, it feels like you’re more curious about what Zeorge would say than me.”

“That’s also true.”

“I can’t say for certain, but... perhaps it’s closer to hatred.”

“...That’s a bit different from the image I had. I thought he embraced all things, just like Giovanni does—but in a different way.”

“He embraces nothing. Except for his closest friend.”

“Closest friend?”

“That... hat, you know.”

“Ah.”

He had heard stories about that. “Zeorge” apparently carried around a wizard’s hat he rarely wore on his head. He remembered Jeong Hae-Woon saying it looked like a living creature with a will of its own.

“Far more than I expected... hmm...”

“He’s a difficult person. Fickle, prone to wander. Sometimes he likes to stay in one place, but it never lasts long. He loves people, but also hates them. He never trusts anyone.”

“...This is starting to feel like I’m being given dungeon strategies.”

“Well, when you think about it, it’s not entirely different.”

Like a teacher calmly advising a student, Giovanni continued speaking gently.

“Zeorge is an expert liar. But he’s often sincere too. I described it as hatred, but that doesn’t mean his love is fake. It just fades quickly. But because he lies so well, you don’t notice when it’s already gone.”

So what remains in the place where love has left is something indistinguishable from love itself—something closer to hatred. That was the love of Zeorge, as seen by Gio.

Seo Seo-hee’s expression twisted subtly at Gio’s gentle explanation.

“...Difficult indeed.”

“I told you so, didn’t I?”

“I know it’s a bit late to say this now, but... Jeong Hae-Woon told me once that I’m a bit of a freeloader.”

It was a tiring realization. Seo Seo-hee had always wanted to be a model student, but the more he tried, the more he realized that wasn’t possible. From the beginning, he wasn’t someone especially diligent, good, or upright.

He was simply imitating. Imitating what an ideal adult and leader should be. But even so, that didn’t mean his core could be changed. Even if he always smiled and cultivated kindness and justice, in the end...

“...I know that, contrary to what others think, I’m actually a pretty awful person.”

“Is that what you believe?”

“Of course, I’ve done plenty of good. But I’ll never be the best grown-up. Well, I suppose that’s true for anyone. Like when a child who thought their father was a hero eventually grows up and sees how small his back really was...”

“But right now, no one’s looking at your back, Mr. Seo Seo-hee.”

“Everyone’s looking, but they’ve got a pretty thick pair of rose-colored glasses on. I’m not trying to complain or anything, just stating it as it is. I admit I’m a bit of a freeloader.”

Seo Seo-hee smiled wryly.

“So I’ll just wait around irresponsibly for the result. I do care about Earth’s fate, but... for some reason, I feel like pretending not to this time.”

“There are days like that.”

“Yes. So for the rest of the conversation, please speak with my friends. I’ll stay quiet and observe.”

“Did the Association President summon me?”

“Well... it seemed like she wanted to speak with a certain portrait, not a hunter.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Hunter Sergio asked,

“Recently, I boiled some chicken and it turned out surprisingly well. How do you feel about baeksuk next time for lunch?”

“...Oh, that sounds great. While you’re at it, how about samgyetang? Stuff it full of glutinous rice.”

“It’s supposed to be a lunchbox, so I’ll give it a try.”

And with that, the two of them finished their conversation.

***

And then, the portrait sought out Dan Haera.

“Hmm...”

With one hand cupping her cheek, she tilted her head.

“If it’s this easy to summon you, it’ll be hard to guarantee the safety of the citizens.”

“You don’t need to worry, Haera. I don’t go just anywhere someone paints me.”

“You’re much kinder than I expected.”

She narrowed her eyes with a smile as she looked at the portrait floating in midair. Not because the picture frame bobbing over the opposite sofa was particularly funny. But since it was a guest she had invited, it had to be treated accordingly.

“Please have a seat. I’ve prepared a decent tea; I wonder if you’ll like it.”

“If the Association President went to such lengths, of course I must sit. Thank you for the invitation.”

The pitch-black portrait stepped out of its frame and sat naturally on the sofa. As if it had been there from the beginning, there was no sound, no presence. Even the flow of air remained calm.

Dan Haera, who had been silently watching, lifted her hand from her cheek. She pointed to the round teacup.

“Isn’t the scent of the tea quite pleasant?”

“It’s smooth and nutty. You found good leaves.”

“It’s not widely known yet, but it’s being cultivated in a dungeon recently cleared by the Association. Seems like an ancient civilization had selectively bred it—these tea leaves were designed so that the tender sprouts couldn’t grow thick and tough.”

“And you’re cultivating what was passed down?”

“These leaves... have lived delicately for far too long. Without the care of a refined, intelligent civilization, they couldn’t survive. Don’t they remind you of silkworms?”

They had been selectively bred for human convenience. Preserved in their youngest and weakest form, these tea leaves had been fixed in place—and no civilized lifeform had objected. That’s why they ended up like this.

“One might think it’s a shame, but... I’m not so sure. They’ve already been made this way and born this way. There’s no way to go back to before the alteration. If humans, casting off greed, were to release them out of pure intent—what do you suppose would happen?”

Wearing an Association uniform resembling a hanbok, Dan Haera lifted her teacup with a slow motion. She inhaled the soft yet distinct scent, like that of grains, and took a sip. Even after drinking, a pleasant fragrance filled her mouth.

Then she looked at the guest who had lifted a teacup with her.

“I think... there’s no meaning in that.”

“What are you referring to?”

“The act of releasing a tea leaf that has already been modified.”

Even if they’re let go, what then? Without human care, those fragile children would simply go extinct. And if we were to evolve them to be tougher and stronger—how would that be any different from the original modification?

“In that case, it’s better for both sides if we manage and utilize the already modified tea leaves. Humans benefit by gaining fragrant tea, and the leaves benefit by receiving consistent care.”

“That’s a fine idea.”

“You never seem to reject any idea.”

“Were you expecting a right answer from me?”

The Black Cloak looked at President Dan Haera from beneath the shadow of the hood. Inside that pitch-black shadow, one couldn’t even imagine a human face. It was merely darkness—pure void. It felt like nothing else existed there.

And yet his behavior resembled that of a human. That strangely familiar demeanor created a far greater sense of dissonance. Despite knowing full well he wasn’t human, he still felt familiar—intimate, even.

He offered a rather philosophical answer.

“There is no correct answer in the world.”

“But we have laws and morality.”

“Those too were made by humans. If the ‘correct answer’ you’re talking about refers to those things, then I have nothing to say.”

“I’ve heard you prefer the innocent and the good.”

“Hearing it put like that makes me sound like some cruel dark god who desires tender, gentle sacrifices. But yes, I do like those kinds of people. They give me energy just by being around.”

“And don’t you also serve as their protector?”

“My personal preferences and the laws of the world are separate things...”

The Black Cloak said that law and morality were nothing more than human preferences.

“‘Correct answers’ are always born from necessity. Even things like science and math—their complex symbols were invented by humans. So while correct answers can exist, there can never be a correct answer at the level of essence, don’t you think?”

“And yet... you’re trying to erase the system.”

Dan Haera gently set down the warm teacup and continued.

“If it wasn’t because it was ‘correct,’ then surely you had some kind of intention behind it.”

“Will no one in the world believe me when I say I had no intention at all?”

“That was a funny joke. Hmm... then is it revenge?”

“I don’t have such feelings.”

“Forgive me. I thought maybe it was a reaction to being forgotten.”

“Rebelling against the past is certainly a meaningful act, but at least for me, that’s not the case. I’ve always lived without regrets, and beyond reminiscing, I don’t have the strength to attach meaning to the past.”

“You’re very generous.”

“I don’t care much whether the system exists or not...”

The "head" of the Black Cloak tilted, mimicking a human gesture.

“...But Mr. Zeorge doesn’t seem to feel the same way.”

The Black Cloak, who referred to another version of himself as if it were someone else, was... strange enough to warrant close observation.

Dan Haera smiled.