chapter 120

The Painter Who Draws Dungeons - Episode 120

Seo Gio was a kind and old-fashioned person.

‘Never thought I’d form such an embarrassing impression of someone.’

But it was the thought that came the moment you saw him.

“Today’s refreshments were star candies.”

“Yes, each one was purple, yellow, and green star candies.”

“Are they not truly sweet?”

“Looking at the records... they’ve requested only sweet snacks every time.”

“Last time they wanted lemon madeleines.”

It wasn’t a particularly meaningful conversation.

He didn’t stop him from reporting by radio, but Seo Gio naturally glossed over 『Sweet Tea Party』’s abnormal phenomenon with the line, ‘Out-of-spec fortune will come.’

The conversation they were having now was closer to ordinary small talk.

Thanks to that, the man was able to feel 『Sweet Tea Party』 a little more familiarly.

“I even baked them myself.”

“You must be good at cooking.”

“I have a knack for bringing imagined food out into reality.”

“That’s a bit enviable.”

Is this the power given by a good person?

The more they talked, the more the man’s body, which had been stiff, loosened.

‘...It’s a conversation that gives a sense of stability.’

It wasn’t a conversation with any special content, but Seo Gio’s attitude toward the man gave him that stability.

Even though he wasn’t doing anything particularly eye-catching, you could tell the deep goodwill Seo Gio showed.

‘I heard he talked with another new hire last time—does he do some kind of employee management?’

It was a huge goodwill that was hard to understand.

“...Do you also often have conversations like this with other employees?”

The man asked on.

“I heard you don’t stay at the company for very long.”

“I stay in a place that is easier to find than you might think.”

“Ah, perhaps... then... yes, do you live in the dormitory?”

“I live within this building.”

“It’s such a big building that I didn’t even know it had such facilities.”

The man understood.

It was clear the Collector was clinging to him hard.

It had to be.

‘Well, with an opponent with this kind of atmosphere...’

He couldn’t say he didn’t understand the psychology of the guildmaster, Visabel.

‘It feels like he could quietly vanish at any moment.’

Seo Gio showed an aspect that was somewhat detached from reality.

His voice was low and gentle, resembling sunlight spreading faintly on a spring day.

The gaze that reached him was clear, but the color was soft so it seemed blurred, and his manner toward people was polite yet cautious, giving a slow lightness.

His soft-spoken tone and the faint smile that sat on his face with no sign of vanishing looked like a faded memory inside a relic called a children’s fairy tale or a silent film.

“...”

Is that too bare a thought toward someone you’ve just met?

‘...But he doesn’t look like someone who could be tied down somewhere.’

That said, he also didn’t look like someone who would enjoy a noisy atmosphere.

‘His actions are dignified, and his atmosphere is heavy...’

Like he would vanish away to wander the world, appear in an unexpected place, give an unexpected gift, and disappear again.

It felt a little strange, because he felt like such a nonsensically romantic existence.

He gave off an atmosphere that couldn’t be described in words.

The very fact that he existed beside him and spoke to him was unbelievable.

“...”

“Do you like sweets?”

“...To some extent.”

“I also like sweets.”

Is this unconditional sympathy?

‘Part of social activity?’

Before he even had time to think further, the other party held out a small snack.

“Would you like some?”

“...What is this?”

“It is a lemon madeleine.”

“...”

For a moment.

“...Thank you.”

Something felt strange.

‘I don’t know what’s strange, but...’

Hadn’t they just brought up lemon madeleines a moment ago?

Since he said he enjoyed cooking, it was surely a snack he made himself, or bought somewhere.

But the lemon madeleine that appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the conversation was wrapped in thin white paper that faintly showed through, and decorated neatly with a black ribbon that didn’t stand out.

The madeleine, wrapped in prim paper and letting out a sweet scent, suited the ceramic dolls of 『Sweet Tea Party』 more than it did them.

But the black ribbon, which looked like it was used only to tidy the package, seemed as though it would taste bitter rather than sweet.

“...”

Rustle.

He took the madeleine out.

“...Did you perhaps make this yourself?”

“It is my joy.”

“You really are very handy.”

If he spoke his honest impression, he couldn’t imagine the other party before him personally baking and wrapping this.

‘...Rather than that...’

It felt like he would literally create it.

Simply because he wants it, as though it would be held in his hand.

‘...I’ve been having only strange thoughts since earlier.

Pointless delusions won’t help at all.’

Whether he made the mold itself, the madeleine was smaller than he expected.

The shell of the lemon madeleine, coated white like frost blurred opaquely, was crisp yet crunchy in texture.

The madeleine, with a faint scent of wood after rain, was plainer and softer than he expected.

“...It’s delicious.”

For some reason, it was delicious enough to loosen all the tension that had once again stiffened his body—exactly that much.

“To be honest, I didn’t believe you when you said you were good at cooking.”

“That is a sad thing to say.

Why did you think so?”

“You didn’t seem like someone who would get your hands wet.”

“I hear that often.”

“You do give that impression.

But...”

It wasn’t as though it felt completely incompatible.

“...You also have an impression that suits anything.”

He seemed like he could do anything.

He looked like he’d sat on the pope’s seat in that high place, and also like a beggar in the lowest, most base place.

But the man instinctively felt that no matter what position he truly held, he would be able to accept all of it.

Even if he was wealthy beyond imagination, even if he was a Carnation Child born in the slums on a cold winter day.

Yes, you would surely come to think, you can be that.

“...The reason is...”

Well.

“I don’t know.”

“What a strange thing to say.”

“...Is it.”

But one thing was certain.

“...”

No matter what status he had, it didn’t seem like anyone could hold this person down.

Just as it is natural that time passes and the world changes.

‘...I should stop thinking.’

Enough.

The man stared blankly into empty air.

“...”

There was a lot he had to do, so it was time to break free from this vicious comfort.

“...It’s... later than I thought.”

Before he knew it, it was 6 a.m.

“Doesn’t feel like we talked much.”

“It was an enjoyable conversation.”

“...I’m glad you felt that way.”

Around then, a new presence was felt.

“Gio?”

It was Curator Yoo Seong-woon.

“Were you awake?”

“Yes, Mr. Yoo Seong-woon.”

The two spoke naturally, as if they knew each other well.

“I was talking with this person.”

“Oh, I was wondering who it was—Curator Binarie, isn’t it.”

With nothing to say, he bowed his head, and Yoo Seong-woon didn’t add anything further.

As if he was skilled at dealing with people, he turned back to Seo Gio, as though to say he wouldn’t make things uncomfortable.

“What were you talking about?”

“That it is hard to believe I am good at cooking.”

“Oh, yeah?

I thought it suited you pretty well...

Your cooking is really delicious.”

Curator Yoo Seong-woon asked in his usual unbothered tone.

“It’s already past 6 a.m.

The employees will be coming soon—are you going to keep staying in the gallery?”

“No, I intend to return before the other employees come.”

Under the light that fell straight down, the man was reflected in those deep blue eyes.

“What will you do, Mr. Binarie?”

“I plan to return to the dormitory, the one the company supports...”

“Is that place truly Mr. Binarie’s home?”

“It seems more like just a place I can stay than a home.”

“You will soon have a comfortable home.”

Once again, he showed goodwill.

“Do you need guidance?”

“...”

Without realizing it.

“...”

The man, ‘without realizing it,’ looked around the gallery.

He looked once at the ceramic doll 『Sweet Tea Party』 he was in charge of.

At the glossy glass film of the frame hanging beside it, in front of it.

He looked at the light of the lighting falling from the ceiling, and the clock hanging between them.

He looked at the floor where the light fell.

In the vertical falling light, the shadow.

The black that was one short...

“...”

He saw it.

“...No.”

When he raised his head, his eyes suddenly met Curator Yoo Seong-woon’s.

“It’s fine.”

The corners of those eyes curved sharply, revealing a smile.

“I’ve memorized the entire structure of this gallery.”

“I see.”

“I’ll go out on my own.”

“Thank you for speaking with me.”

The man in the black cloak said.

“I remember you and affirm you.”

“...”

“Have a good day.”

A strange resonance.

“...”

The man bowed his head and left the gallery.

“...”

In case of an incident, he passed through the corridors twisted this way and that.

The lights attached to the ceiling made shadows together with his footsteps.

After the shadows moved again and again, he arrived at the elevator.

The place to board was Basement Level 3.

The place to exit was the 1st-floor lobby.

When he pressed the button, the elevator operated.

“...”

Without realizing it, he muttered.

“...He’s a peculiar person.”

Even though he’d only seen him briefly, time had flown by.

Even though he’d only seen him briefly, it was like that.

That can happen.

Even with quite a large frame, his presence was extremely faint, and even with him right beside him, it didn’t feel like he was there.

And yet, with a presence that could not be hidden, even if he tried to turn his eyes away, he couldn’t help but keep him in his sight.

“He seemed like an incredible person.”

He was kind and old-fashioned.

He shone like a fairy-tale prince who had become an adult, and he was old like a relic of ancient history now buried in the earth, and special like a one-time miracle that no one remembers anymore.

“A person who gives comfort...”

Why did a rural village he had never seen before come to mind?

Why did he hear the sound of dry grass crumbling in a silent breeze?

He felt a longing similar to when you admire the vermilion sea at sunset, calm as it sinks, or when you listen to a lullaby recited by a parent to put a child to sleep.

It was modest and lyrical.

So.

“He’s a good person.”

The man knows nothing.

“Yes...”

Even the one-hour blank gap that should have been being bewitched by some illusion.

Even the sound of dry grass that had flowed from bare feet.

Even the shadow that had not existed alone under the lights, or the huge forest reflected in the glass coating the frame.

The sun too.

The sea too.

The eyeball too.

The eyes too.

“...”

Even the gaze those eyes sent from within the glass, he does not know.

It is something unknown.

“...He’s a good person.”

Because ‘Seo Gio’ is ‘a good person.’

He had to be.

Fantasy, Modern,