The Artist Who Paints Dungeon-Chapter 336

Jeong Hae-Woon’s dream continued on.

Not the school already burned down, but the field in front of it. The various tents and small structures erected there. A small village built by them on a field that wasn’t exactly small.

This time, the setting was inside one of those tents.

“Teacher.”

“Yes, Hae-Woon.”

“...Aren’t you pushing yourself too hard?”

“I don’t quite understand what you mean.”

“Please don’t do this.”

With electricity no longer usable, they had begun using fire. A makeshift candle they’d crafted flickered faintly with a soft crackle. The face lit by that gentle glow looked expressionless, and somewhat gloomy.

And also, tired. Even in the dream, Jeong Hae-Woon seemed to recognize that.

“You haven’t been sleeping.”

His tone was rough, but full of worry.

‘...So this is another memory from my younger self. I should be used to it by now, but it always feels strange.’

He hadn’t told his friends, but Jeong Hae-Woon had been receiving some minor help «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» from Zeorge. Or rather, perhaps he was being swayed by him. Quietly, bit by bit, he was regaining his memories.

‘I think I’ve recalled all the major events... but I still keep dreaming about these quiet, ordinary days...’

He calmly observed his past being reenacted under the guise of a dream.

Thanks to Zeorge’s whimsically kind consideration, Jeong Hae-Woon could remain composed even in dreams like this. The big memories had all returned, so what surfaced now would likely be another everyday story with his teacher.

‘...Yeah. That really did happen, didn’t it.’

Unlike adult Jeong Hae-Woon, who accepted it silently, the dream-version continued to worry over his teacher.

“The others are also kind of, how do I say it... uneasy.”

“I’m simply studying my own ability. Why would that make you all uneasy?”

His voice was flat, almost as if mocking or scolding the other. But the dream-version—his younger self—never took it that way. His teacher had always been a kind person.

Which is why it was all the more worrying.

“Honestly, I’m not sure we should even be calling this a ‘power.’”

The dream-version didn’t know the source of his anxiety, nor could he express it clearly. So he just whined, with no real plan.

“Isn’t it basically a curse? You can’t control it, can’t tell friend from foe...”

“It seems to me there are too many mismatches for it to be called a curse.”

“Well, to me and everyone else, that’s what it looks like. If you collapse again from some weird curse, it’s going to be a problem. Once was enough, don’t you think?”

“Hearing you go on like this, it sounds like you’ve made up your mind.”

“I’m being serious, Teacher.”

Even back then, “awakened ones” existed. But the reason they were called “monsters” rather than “espers” or something milder, especially in the early days, was because of their tragic ends.

Their abilities often consumed not just the surroundings, but themselves as well. Jeong Hae-Woon, now a Symbol of Eternity, knew that was because they couldn’t regulate the vastness of the mysterious force. But thirty-two years ago, he didn’t know that.

“You’re shaving years off your life.”

“How could studying my own ability shorten my lifespan?”

“That’s exactly my point. How can you be sure this is really your ability? You call it a power, but everyone else says it’s just a curse.”

“...I don’t even know what to say to that.”

His teacher tilted his head. Then slowly blinked a couple times. Jeong Hae-Woon knew that was a habit of his teacher’s whenever he was deep in thought.

It seemed he was considering how to persuade him.

“Let’s say I got hit by an egg while walking down the street.”

“What? Who? You?”

“It’s just a hypothetical, Hae-Woon. And let’s say I was very hungry.”

“What the heck are you talking about? No, wait, don’t tell me...”

“In that moment, if I picked up that egg and cooked it, wouldn’t that be my choice?”

“Oh come on, Teacher, stop using weird metaphors.”

“You kids seem too scared of this ability. But if I make it sound silly, maybe it’ll feel a bit less scary?”

It was a strange and absurd metaphor, yet his teacher’s face remained calm. As if he’d never even uttered a word of nonsense in his life, and then out of nowhere would say something completely bizarre.

Still, both the dream-version and the real Jeong Hae-Woon understood what his teacher was trying to say. He meant to use whatever he had at his disposal—whatever it was—if it could help someone.

It was a truly tragic thing.

‘You went through all those hardships because of that.’

Adult Jeong Hae-Woon thought so. He couldn’t help but think so. He knew how much suffering Sergio would endure after this moment. His kindness had turned into poison.

But surely even Sergio back then knew what was coming. Probably. He always foresaw every process and outcome. And even after foreseeing it, he’d proceed quietly, saying only, “I like it.”

“This might really be a curse I ended up with by sheer bad luck. It’s vast and hard to control. But Hae-Woon, thinking of it that way—what good would that do for me or Haera?”

“...So we can’t just ignore it?”

“You already knew what I’d say, didn’t you? You just wanted confirmation. That’s right. We can’t just ignore it. If we do, we’ll end up treated like monsters. Maybe not by the people here... but eventually, that’s how the world will see us.”

“...Dan Haera said the government’s been acting suspicious lately.”

The dream-version didn’t object further. He nodded along. Of course Jeong Hae-Woon understood that Sergio was trying for something greater, something righteous.

He’d only come because he didn’t want to see his teacher collapse again from pushing too hard. The decision had already been made among them. A system was needed to regulate this—whatever it was—whether a power or a curse.

“We’ve been chatting on the radio, and it sounds like the government is trying to isolate... the ‘awakened.’”

“I’ve heard that too. But given how passive they are, I think it’s still early. They’re just keeping their options open. Not many people even have the luxury to listen to the radio in this state.”

“Still, they sound slimy and their tone is super annoying.”

“Which is why you get it, right? Learning to control this ability is necessary. If we let it go unchecked, awakened people will only face more rejection and isolation. A few more years, and people really will start calling it a curse.”

By then, they wouldn’t even be able to admit they were awakened. In the worst-case scenario, they’d have to hide their abilities for life to avoid witch hunts.

“We have to at least prevent that, don’t you think?”

“Haah, you’re right, but... yeah, you’re right.”

Dream-Hae-Woon looked ready to cry. His exaggerated expression was more a joke than a true reflection of how he felt. After groaning dramatically, he sighed.

“...I’m just worried. Last time you were studying like this, you collapsed.”

“Thanks to that, I was able to understand my ability better.”

“Still, that’s not okay. You don’t know how scared we were. We all screamed—it was no joke!”

“With such delicate hearts, how do you plan to survive in this harsh world?”

“I know why you’re doing this. I mean, maybe not all of it, but I get the gist. But when you try so hard, of course I worry.”

He spoke like someone terribly wronged.

“What if God comes and takes you away?”

It sounded like a joke, but it wasn’t. Watching the dream-version, adult Jeong Hae-Woon bit his lip. Yeah, he used to agonize over this a lot back then.

‘He was just... too perfect.’

The fact that this person existed beside them, gave affection, favored them subtly, willingly helped them—Sergio’s love and aid felt like something they shouldn’t be allowed to have.

It was like using cheat codes in a game. Too convenient. Like breaking the rules—or even something illegal. It always felt like Sergio might vanish at any moment.

‘Someone too unfair to exist in this world.’

So he didn’t want to give God a reason to take him back. He was afraid the divine would realize they’d made a mistake and reclaim him. It was honestly just childish nonsense.

“If you drop dead from this...”

“I’ve told you again and again that won’t happen.”

“Yeah, but anyone can say that.”

“So you’re worried I’ll work myself to death, huh?”

“If we’re summarizing, yeah.”

“I do take care of myself. But you know I can’t just sit still.”

Sergio looked at the dream-version of Jeong Hae-Woon. It almost felt like he was looking at the grown-up version. After the fire and the world’s collapse, the deep black of his eyes had grown even more distant, and Hae-Woon simply let himself sink into them.

“I’m your teacher.”

“...Still...”

“And I’m an adult.”

“...You’re not the only teacher and adult around, you know.”

“The world’s changed too much for that kind of whining, Hae-Woon.”

His voice sounded sad... or maybe just matter-of-fact, like he was stating something obvious.

“Good deeds are called foolish. Children aren’t seen as something to protect—they’re seen as burdens. Adults now teach unborn children pressure and negotiation, not consideration or patience. Or maybe they’ve given up. Laws and rules change with the world—that’s not strange...”

“......”

“...But I don’t want to put a price on what I do. So I keep behaving like the world hasn’t changed yet. Because for now, I don’t see a reason to become like this world. And I don’t think there are many easygoing, thoughtless people like me left.”

His tone was gentle, like a teacher instructing a child, yet also monotonous and heavy. You couldn’t guess his heart from his voice alone.

“We were incredibly lucky to build this small village on our school’s field. The students and other survivors still cooperate, and since students and teachers already knew each other, they’re trying to step up and contribute.”

“If you have a conscience, you should do at least that much.”

“You’ve seen the other villages at the foot of the mountain—you know our situation isn’t normal. Don’t be so harsh. Objectively, we’re doing really well. And luck played a huge role.”

“...Teacher...”

The dream-version hesitated before asking:

“...Do you see the future?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Are we going to fight later or... split up?”

“If I’d seen that kind of future, I wouldn’t be going this slowly. But I’m not a prophet or a seer. I just have a few traits that might be better than average.”

“So...?”

“I just understand human diversity. People are all different, and that means endless reasons for conflict. We could build our own shelter, sure... but I don’t think I’m the kind of person who can make that happen.”

“But—”

He looked a little frustrated.

“But you’re the one who made this village.”

“I keep telling you—it was just luck. Honestly, I’m not the ideal leader you think I am.”

“Why do you always say things like that?”

“Because it’s true. I have strong convictions and just enough drive to act on them. That’s all. I’m not the perfect teacher you imagine.”

“I don’t get it...”

“When will you understand me? I’m not someone who can lead people.”

His teacher was firm.

Not that it was surprising. He always said things like that. Whenever they started to forget, he’d bring it up again. Dream-Hae-Woon looked tired of hearing it.

And his teacher said it once more.

“If I really were the ideal leader, things would be better now. Instead of hiding the village and making the students stay silent... we’d be—”

“But we agreed that was the best course of action.”

“...We can’t stay isolated forever. If humanity is going to rise again, we need to strike back. As the radio team said, survivor groups are starting to connect. But I chose to hide, because I’m a coward.”

“That was decided through a vote. We held meetings. Everyone agreed.”

“......”

He hesitated, rare for him, then said:

“...I’m not the kind of person who should be responsible for things.”

The same line again.

Dream-Hae-Woon hated hearing that. His face twisted ever so slightly. Sad and annoyed, but he didn’t want to show it in front of his tired teacher.

Even though the teacher must’ve known, he kept speaking.

“I just do what I want. What I can do. And by chance, a few times it worked out well. I’m not doing this because I’m an ideal leader. I just want to.”

“...Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Hae-Woon, I’m not as good a person as you think. I know that about myself. So I take responsibility for the things I start. This constant reminder—it’s because I know how inadequate I am. Understand?”

Looking back, he must have been struggling even then. Surrounded by people praising him and calling him a pioneer of the new era—maybe he already sensed the weight of that.

That’s why he couldn’t trust himself. Why he kept blaming himself. If only they’d known, maybe they wouldn’t have buried him in so much admiration. But Dream-Hae-Woon was still painfully naïve.

“...Alright. I understand. For now.”

“And studying my ability is part of that.”

“Still, I just wanted to say don’t push yourself too hard.”

“Ah-ha.”

His teacher asked:

“You’re scared I’ll die, huh?”

“...Yeah. I’m scared. I want you to stay with us. Not go anywhere.”

“That might be tough. I’m a free spirit, you know. Once you all grow up, I plan to vanish.”

“But you’re our teacher. So don’t get hurt. And if you do, heal fast. If you die... come back. Or just pretend you’re dead and come back.”

“You do realize that’s an unreasonable demand, right?”

“I don’t care...”

“But if you’re that anxious, well... Alright.”

His teacher nodded.

“...I’ll do my best.”

The dream ended there.

***

“It would’ve been nice if Mr. Sergio’s story ended there too,” said Zeorge to the audience.

“Don’t you agree?”

But Gio’s story continued on.

To just one person, it had been terribly tragic.