chapter 109

The Painter Who Draws Dungeons - Episode 109

Gio thought.

‘What did I do wrong?’

He couldn’t understand what kind of flow this was.

‘Weren’t we just talking about how the world is going.’

While he was feeling burdened by the fact that he’d become famous without even his permission, what was this bolt from the blue?

Gio, who had suddenly been asked the philosophical question of ‘Who am I,’ fell into an untimely self-reflection.

No matter how thoughtlessly Gio lived, he still knew that the question just now was quite serious.

‘But that’s exactly why I can’t understand it.’

It was as if parents were sitting across from their child and lamenting, ‘Son, how are we supposed to treat you?’

And Yoo Seong-woon wasn’t Gio’s parents.

Gio was an adult man who had had a job and then lost it.

‘Why?

Why me?

Suddenly, career counseling?’

He couldn’t tell what part had made Yoo Seong-woon become serious.

“...”

“...”

As the silence lengthened, the confusion and anxiety Gio felt also grew.

‘...He asked seriously with full resolve, so I, too, must answer seriously with full resolve—that is the human duty, but since I know nothing, there’s nothing I can say.

To think I’d come to realize like this that I, Seo Gio, a prime example of the harm caused by rote education during my school days, have poor crisis-response ability.’

Don’t you have to understand the situation to be able to answer, after all?

‘Me... who am I...’

You tell me?

‘If I really split hairs, a haunted portrait...?’

It would be the word that could most clearly express Gio’s identity right now.

However, it felt a bit off for Gio—who hadn’t even died—to call himself a “ghost,” so after a brief 고민, he answered.

“I am a portrait.”

“...A portrait.”

“I understand what Mr. Yoo Seong-woon is worried about.”

“...”

“But I can’t understand it.”

He meant it.

‘Where else is there a more harmless haunted portrait than me?’

Recently, because Gio had a sense of crisis that ‘if I look easy, I’ll get taken to a research institute,’ he had done a bit of image management.

Gio didn’t think it had ever produced results grand enough to make Yoo Seong-woon feel a major threat.

‘But looking at Mr. Yoo Seong-woon’s reaction right now, he clearly fears me.’

To be exact, it didn’t seem like he feared Gio himself, but rather that he was worrying about an accident Gio might cause someday.

For Gio, who only knew how to shut himself in at home, draw, and eat, it was bewildering.

He emphasized how much of a useless bum he was.

“I am just an ordinary person who likes drawing, enjoys cooking and eating together with my family, and repeats lying in a bed full of spring breeze and sleeping.”

Do you happen to know Po○mon?

‘I’m Snu○lax. I just slee○p.’

A lazy, healthy, harmless beast that repeats eating, sleeping, and pooping, is what I mean.

“That is a fact that does not change even if I am a portrait.”

“...Is that so?”

“I believe Mr. Yoo Seong-woon knows that well.”

How could you, of all people, misunderstand like this.

‘No matter how the world knows me, you know I’m just a talking portrait, hyung.

Believe in my triviality.’

Yoo Seong-woon had been with him from the early days, but perhaps, for a moment, he got confused about Gio’s danger level because of the noise people were making.

It meant Gio’s image management had succeeded, but this situation wasn’t welcome.

For the record, his danger level approached 0.

A value that wasn’t even as much as a fire ant.

If you compared Gio—who can’t even bite down and go “ahng” because he’s thinking about his dental health—to a fire ant that can blind people by stinging them with formic acid, he lost by a landslide.

“I understand why you came to worry like that.”

Gio thought this was a problem caused by a lack of communication.

“We did not have enough time to understand each other.”

If Mr. Yoo Seong-woon had been exchanging KakaoTalk messages with Gio day in and day out and knew how much Gio lived like a useless bum inside the house,

he wouldn’t have held such a nonsensical worry to begin with, like a tiger worrying about a rabbit’s violence.

“Just as countless humans 고민 and explore their own identity, I am the same.

I also do not know exactly what I am.”

“...”

“So why don’t you confirm it yourself?”

Gio said it with the pure intention of wanting to clear up the misunderstanding.

‘Mr. Yoo Seong-woon ran barefoot all over Seoul to find Emptiness somewhere he didn’t even know.

He even worked on Christmas to save a person named Park Eun-gyeom, whom even I didn’t know existed.

That means he is truly a pitiful and capable office worker.’

And such a person needed to be fed until he was plump and full.

Someone who is full doesn’t think useless thoughts or say useless things.

This was all a harmful effect brought about by a society soaked in fatigue.

So.

“I will invite Mr. Yoo Seong-woon.”

There was no reason for Gio not to feed Yoo Seong-woon until he was full.

* * *

Yoo Seong-woon was drawn inside ‘Gio’s Portrait.’

* * *

“...”

The very first thing he felt was—

‘Ah.’

Warm.

A gentle spring breeze.

“...”

Yoo Seong-woon lifted his head and looked at the sky.

“...It’s blue.”

It was a clear sky that was hard to see these days.

Up there, clouds sprawled out huge as if sleeping, and over them was a transparent air that looked as though dew might pour down at any moment.

A sky that held quiet and peace was here.

“It’s a sight that’s hard to see on Earth.”

“Certainly, Seoul’s air was acrid.”

“...It’s not really just Seoul, though...”

Without realizing it, Yoo Seong-woon left his gaze blankly on the sky.

“Where could you see a sky this blue.”

They say that, a very, very long time ago, Earth had a sky this transparent.

That was a rather unfamiliar piece of information to Yoo Seong-woon, who was born right before the Great Catastrophe.

That Earth had ever been like that was surprising.

‘But if we split hairs, this is a dungeon too.’

Yoo Seong-woon tilted his head.

‘...Why doesn’t it feel unfamiliar?’

It wasn’t normal to feel longing toward a sky he had never seen before.

“...It’s such a pretty sky...”

“Do you like it?”

“When evening comes, do stars come out too?”

“Enough that you can see the Milky Way.”

“The Milky Way—that’s impressive.”

To think you could freely admire the Milky Way here at this cabin when they said you couldn’t see it on Earth anymore, even if you went to the desert.

As Yoo Seong-woon kept looking up at the sky as if bewitched, his head slowly lowered.

“...”

A forest with soft colors entered his eyes.

“So this is the forest you talked about.”

“If you go a little deeper in, you can meet my friends.”

“You mean the forest beasts.”

Just then, from between the bushes, a deer with a long neck revealed its face.

“Oh.”

A fairy-tale-like, beautiful deer with eyes that glittered like jewels.

When he listened, he could hear birds chirping.

When he turned his gaze, he could see a few birds perched on branches, looking down at him.

Following the tail feathers fluttering away, he saw a narrow, shallow waterway flowing gently along the ground.

When he drew in a breath, it felt like he could smell a sweet, nutty fragrance, like flowers or nuts.

“...”

The sunlight breaking over the stream shimmered like jewels, and the fish passing through it would sometimes flick their tails, adding sound.

Under the glass-clear water, the pebbles laid beneath shone smooth like glowing marble.

“...This really is...”

Peaceful.

“No wonder you don’t want to come out.”

A peace like the grave of a wise old man.

“I’ve been looking through the portrait all this time, but I didn’t know it would be this amazing.”

“Are you enjoying the view?”

“I’m really enjoying it.

I’m curious what’s deeper inside the forest, and I’m curious what it would feel like to take a nap.”

A peace that made people lazy was here.

“It might be dangerous.”

There wasn’t much like pressure, but separately from that, the tranquility was so thick that appreciating it was like a swamp.

If someone without a firm self were dragged in, they would forget themselves and wish to become an ornament of this forest.

‘That doesn’t mean Gio has malice.’

This forest, too, had no malice at all—no, not even goodwill.

‘It just exists like this.’

That was nature.

This place was nature that held a longing humans couldn’t bear.

It was like the gods’ banquet that humans couldn’t bear.

Without resolve, if you enjoyed this peace, you would lose everything.

“...”

...To think Cha Ara, an F-rank hunter, endured this place.

‘Since her affection for her family on Earth was that great, she must not have lost her mind.’

Each time he exhaled, his eyes stung with yearning and his fingertips tickled with happiness.

It was a peace that those without lingering attachments, without courage, and with weak selves would find hard to endure.

“...What am I supposed to learn here?”

“I did not invite Mr. Yoo Seong-woon because I wanted you to learn something here.”

“Then why did you invite me?”

“I simply hoped we could enjoy it together, without any great meaning.

The more we come to know each other, the less you will fear.”

As he said that, Gio had already taken off his cloak.

A young man with an eerily expressionless face continued.

“There was no reason not to share what I have with a friend.”

“...A friend...”

The portrait called Yoo Seong-woon a friend.

“...Do I look like a friend to you?”

“...Was I mistaken?”

“No, if it’s okay for me too, I wanted a friend like you.”

He wanted to communicate with the source.

“I’m a gardener.”

A source he could converse with existed here.

“When I see such an amazing garden, I get bewitched.”

“...It would be troublesome if you like it that much.”

“I just meant I really like places like this.”

“Then that is fortunate.”

“You live here?”

Yoo Seong-woon looked at the portrait.

“Did you make this place?”

“I drew it.”

“How did you end up doing it?”

“By chance.”

“Strange.”

“I think so too.”

“...”

Soon, Yoo Seong-woon asked,

“Do you know?

This place is connected to you.”

“I am the owner of this place.”

“I know you’re the owner.”

But Yoo Seong-woon wasn’t saying that.

‘This garden is Gio’s Portrait.’

This frighteningly tranquil world and ‘Gio’s Portrait’ are not separate existences.

But that was natural.

Gio is a portrait, and this world exists inside that portrait.

Meaning everything in the portrait centered around the self called Gio has no choice but to be him.

“Can only what you drew exist here?”

“No, things I did not know about sometimes grow on their own.”

“I see.

I thought so.

Can you take those out of the frame?”

“Yes, I can take them out of the frame.

Is there anything you need?”

“No, just... I’m checking this and that.”

Clatter.

“...”

Transparent waterbirds perched on a branch.

Among them was Honey, whom Gio called his son.

“...There are many strange things here.”

Yoo Seong-woon couldn’t read their gaze.

It felt like a warning not to harm this peace, and it also felt like a welcome for Yoo Seong-woon, whom their parent, Gio, had invited—or it also felt like a camera watching without any emotion.

They had neither malice nor goodwill.

Or perhaps they had both.

“...”

Where is this yearning that feels like it might make me cry coming from?

“...That should be your cabin over there.”

“That is correct.

Student Cha Ara came straight inside, so I could not show her the forest.”

“Can I take a look?”

“I was rude. I did not tell you that you may enjoy it as you wish.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

With Gio’s ready permission, Yoo Seong-woon ran his hand along the cabin wall.

‘...Warm.’

And he felt a faint vibration.

The heartbeat of dead wood.

“...This place.”

“Yes, please speak.”

“It’s breathing.”

This was a living thing.

“Or maybe it isn’t.”

It was also an inanimate thing.

“Am I saying something strange?”

“To me, it sounds that way.”

“Even so, thanks for inviting me. I like it so much that that’s why.”

“It seems you have been very tired.”

“If I were to die, a place like this would be good.”

A gardener is meant to be buried in a garden.

“This really is an amazing garden.”

This place is the source.

That became a clear answer to his question.

Fantasy, Modern,