The Artist Who Paints Dungeon-Chapter 371

"Forgive me, but may I excuse myself once again?"

Though the voice was calm and not loud, every member of the Collector's staff, including Yoo Seong-Woon, turned to look at a single point.

"......"

Yoo Seong-Woon, who was closest to 'Hunter Sergio,' called out as if trying to confirm something.

"Gio?"

"Yes, Mr. Yoo Seong-Woon."

"......"

Gazing at his own piece, Yoo Seong-Woon gave his characteristically mild smile.

"Where are you off to? You only just came back and now we’re separating again—I feel a little hurt."

"Oh no, were you hurt?"

"And also... I’m kind of shocked you want to act alone in this situation. I’m in this condition, and you're just going to leave? You're my friend—you should be looking after me."

"You’re right. Taking care of and supporting a sick friend is the duty of a friend."

His voice was still gentle, but there was something uniform and mechanical about it. Even the Moon Sect priests turned their gaze toward 'Hunter Sergio.' They too had sensed something was off.

Yoo Seong-Woon gave up trying to explain it. What mattered most right now was calming the painting that was angry. And managing anomalies in artwork was the curator’s responsibility.

"If you disappear now, I think I’ll be really sad."

"Would you be sad?"

"Yeah. What do you think?"

"I believe that’s a lie."

"You’re wrong. If you disappear now, I’ll truly be sad."

"Then you must be afraid I’ll do something terrible."

"Honestly? Yeah."

The 'Portrait of Gio,' having become endlessly close to human through mimicry and learning, was fickle and fluid. As the Eye of Origin, it had already learned 'falsehood.' It had also become skilled at dominating human interaction and hierarchy.

Yet, even so, its nature remained. The 'Portrait of Gio' liked good and disliked evil. It only recognized the good as human. While its treatment of evildoers seemed to differ depending on past ties...

That line just now was definitely about the Symbols of Eternity.

It didn’t seem to be on that scale, but the one currently causing a quasi-"incident" was Gardener Jeong Hae-Woon. And Chairwoman Dan Haera, his opponent, likely fell into that same category. But even if his anger was justified, they couldn’t let this continue.

This was what I’d worried about from the moment this guy started getting closer to humans...

The wrath of the Origin wasn't something you could describe with mere words like “disaster.”

"We haven’t even made real progress in the raid yet. No point in burning out now, is there?"

"I’m angry."

"Yeah, that’s genuinely terrifying to hear—but can you hold back for just a bit? Like I said three seconds ago, we haven’t even broken through yet. Losing any more people now would be a huge blow."

"I never said I intended to kill anyone."

"Well, that’s... a relief, I guess."

He was talking like he didn’t plan to kill, but whether that was the truth or a lie, no one could say. Again, the 'Portrait of Gio' was a being that had learned falsehood.

"Zeorge is waiting to see whether we’ll become 'Bell' or 'Jay.' Depending on that, the difficulty of this dungeon gets decided. If you punish those people, what will this garden’s master think of humans?"

"I think he’d consider them more like 'Bell.' That’s how I judged it."

"Which means the difficulty level will skyrocket. Isn’t that a problem? I’m already in bad shape, and most of the other raid teams are trapped, exhausted, worn down. It could lead to total annihilation."

"You’re right, Mr. Yoo Seong-Woon."

Gio nodded.

"This situation is Mr. Zeorge’s trap. I chose to change, I’ve now changed, and he created a situation to make me angry. And in fact, I am angry right now. Because you’re badly hurt."

"......"

"I wish you weren’t in pain..."

As Yoo Seong-Woon, already ragged, pressed his lips together without answering, a nearby Collector staff member called to him.

"...This really isn’t the time for sentimentality, Curator Yoo. Anyone watching from the subway could see that Hunter Sergio is performing being forlorn to gain Mr. Yoo’s approval."

"My kid says he’s angry because I’m hurt—what am I supposed to do about that?"

"When you say 'inevitable,' are you referring to losing your words just now, or to Hunter Sergio being angry? If it’s the latter, then please get it together. If this raid fails, Earth is in danger. This is about humanity’s survival."

"This is why social life is so difficult."

Yoo Seong-Woon returned to his usual mild smile.

"I sincerely appreciate your concern—no sarcasm there—but I’m not going to die from this."

"But it hurts, doesn’t it?"

"I always think this—but it’s really hard dealing with a piece that can’t lie. Yeah, it hurts. But I’m used to this level of pain. I can handle it. I was exaggerating earlier."

"But it still hurts, doesn’t it?"

"So unless I lie and say I’m not in pain, we can’t move on to the next step? And if I do lie, you’ll get angry? What a dilemma. Hmm... Gio, I’m getting more and more hurt the longer I try to stop you."

"I understand."

As always, Gio smiled gently.

"That’s why I’ll remove the cause."

"You said you wouldn’t reduce the number of raiders."

"I said I wouldn’t kill them."

"Ah-ha. The classic wordplay."

He meant he just wouldn’t kill them.

"...But your condition isn’t normal either. Think about what’s outside Earth—you’re just like our Guildmaster, restrained in various ways. The Symbols of Eternity are powerful... and if you jump in right now, you might get hurt."

That was the real concern. Currently, the 'Portrait of Gio' was heavily limited to the level of 'Hunter Sergio.' The guy was already enduring the pain of severed limbs—charging in for a friend’s revenge wouldn’t make Yoo Seong-Woon happy.

"Judging by the way the garden’s shaking, they’re fighting pretty hard in there."

"Which is exactly why I must move."

"What about our raid? Your health? My sanity?"

"You don’t need to worry."

Gio’s eyes curved into a smile.

"Everything will be fine."

"Yeah but... what, exactly, will be?"

For the first time in a while, Yoo Seong-Woon felt like crying.

***

Sergio was a man without anger. That didn’t mean “rarely angry”—it meant it simply did not exist.

By design, Sergio lacked the function of rage. No matter how unfair or painful the experience, Sergio “understood” everything. There was never any internal or external reason to get angry.

But this case was different.

"Are you tired?"

"A bit... yeah."

"I hope you can rest peacefully."

"When you say that, I feel like you’re about to carry me off to eternal sleep. That’s terrifying."

"As if I would."

Gio was angry.

"It won’t take long."

He had once been a teacher to many students. He had been a system of right and wrong.

He was Giovanni, who could not bear to see the innocent bleed; Argio, who raged at the betrayal of friendship; and Zeorge, who extended 'love' even to the ungrateful.

He had never been consumed by emotion, yet now, he was a person who had learned how.

And so, Gio had every reason to be angry.

"Zeorge drew me into his little tantrum, but that doesn’t mean the difficulty of the raid will go up. Would you like to know why, Mr. Yoo Seong-Woon?"

"...Why?"

"Because whether we become 'Bell' or 'Jay' doesn’t matter. Regardless of the method or the process, both of them died by Zeorge’s ‘love.’ Isn’t that right?"

"......"

"That’s why Zeorge’s tantrum doesn’t matter. In any case, he will give love—and that love always ends in ruin. In pain and death."

"...Hah."

"We defined this as an 'exposé war.'"

And it fits.

"That’s all it is. There will be no winner or loser—only the wounded remain."

An exposé war alone could produce no conclusion. It was simply tearing each other apart. Grabbing each other by the hair and shaking, hurling insults and saying you’re this disgusting.

And in the end, nothing would remain.

"Zeorge probably wants all the participants to be trapped here forever. 'Jay' hopes to live in a utopia instead of a horrible reality. 'Bell' wants everyone to die in a sweet nightmare."

"...Could you at least say we didn’t waste our time?"

"You didn’t. In the end, we had to summon Zeorge. And to do that, we had to learn his story. This is an exposé war. Even if the garden’s owner had already decided on the outcome, the letters and items were essential to reach this point."

"And if we hadn’t found the letters or items?"

"You wouldn’t have even seen Zeorge’s face—you’d just be trapped in this garden. So yes, well done. I commend you. Everyone gave meaningful effort."

If Zeorge predetermined the ending, then the participants could simply change it. But the damn garden master wouldn’t even show his face unless you played along with his rhythm, so this was a process they had to go through.

"So don’t worry about the master’s mood. Zeorge is always in a bad mood. His personality is even worse. That’s why I’m allowed to do what I want."

Gio tilted his head.

"Do you need more explanation?"

"If I say yes, will you get mad?"

"I don’t get angry at patients."

"Oh, right—you’re a doctor..."

"I get angry at those who make patients. Now I can. So I’ve decided to."

"Oh dear."

Only the top-ranking officers of the Collector’s Guild were present. Yoo Seong-Woon looked at Bisa Beul.

"What do we do, Guildmaster?"

"You always toss the hard stuff to me."

"Isn’t that what superiors are for?"

"Getting cheekier by the day. Hmm, well..."

After a moment’s thought, Bisa Beul smiled.

"Once, the divine wrath that shook Earth taught us that even anger could be a way forward."

"......"

"Even if it’s ugly or crude, something now exists that your teacher didn’t have. That means you’ve progressed. Isn’t that right, Teacher Sergio?"

Bisa Beul squinted his eyes in a grin.

"I think it’s quite a good method."

Gio smiled back at Bisa Beul, who had agreed with him.

***

"Oh dear."

KWAGAGAGAK—!!!

"If you dodge, I can’t send you off in peace."

"Like hell I’m just going to sit there and take it."

"If you’ve lived like that, you should’ve expected divine retribution."

"Putting aside the fact that you’re no better—divine retribution, really?"

Dodging lightning bolts falling from the sky, Dan Haera raised her pen.

"Punishment, maybe."

FWOOOSH—!

As she wrote, the stormy sky cleared.

"Not even sixty years old and already getting senile?"

"Our Chairwoman Dan Haera has such a silver tongue."

Jeong Hae-Woon clasped his hands together playfully, as if in prayer.

"What are the gods doing, letting this woman roam free?"

KWAHHH—!!

A typhoon laced with lightning swept through.

The natural disaster created by these two left Association staff struggling to hold their ground. They had already been ordered to stay far away, but even without a direct order, surviving the onslaught was challenge enough.

Dan Haera watched her people. Perhaps it was the aftermath of the broken Promise, but they looked pitiful—like scarecrows.

"What kind of foul-tempered god are they serving to end up like this? My poor staff—no amount of incentive pay will fix that trauma. Poor things..."

Jeong Hae-Woon’s ability: [Punishment].

"A god? Please. Just a foul-tempered garden."

The effect and power of that ability depended on the god he borrowed it from.

If he served a god like Seo Seo-Hee’s, who valued objective justice, only true evildoers would be harmed. If he served someone like Dan Haera’s efficiency-centered god, then only the useless would be punished.

Right now, Jeong Hae-Woon could punish nearly every human on Earth.

"You still didn’t know our master’s got a rotten personality?"

"No way I didn’t."

Zeorge judged anyone who received the system’s blessing as guilty.

"I figured it out ages ago."

Dan Haera moved her pen through the air again.

[The tea that day was warm and sweet.]

[The storm soon passed.]

As the text vanished, so too did the storm crackling with electric charge.

"What a waste."

One of her memories with her teacher in the hut was now awkwardly ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) blank. She couldn’t recall what had once been there. That moment she’d just sacrificed in exchange. As more battles passed, the more memories faded. Dan Haera clicked her tongue.

"This cost-benefit ratio isn’t worth it."

"What, memories suddenly feel precious now?"

"You're the one who made me remember, and now you pull this? You really don’t hold back."

"I don’t do any of this for some noble cause."

Clad in priest’s robes, Jeong Hae-Woon grinned viciously.

"I just want to watch you suffer."

"Just me?"

"...No. Us."

At that moment, Jeong Hae-Woon’s eyes turned to solid gold. Though a foreign hardness weighed in his sockets, he smiled with curled lashes, rolling pupils that had long since become gemstones. He seemed almost euphoric.

Jeong Hae-Woon, too, was a 'sinner' in Zeorge’s eyes.

"Let’s see who dies first."

At the end of this, no one would walk away whole.

That was why Jeong Hae-Woon stood here.