chapter 125

The Painter Who Draws Dungeons - Episode 125

Iruda was already a priest chosen by a god.

She had received a god’s grace from the moment she was born.

Quite a lot of gods coveted Iruda’s vessel, and she chose the gentlest one among them—the one she could communicate with best—and contracted with it.

In other words, she was experienced.

Among this cohort of probationary priests, there likely wasn’t anyone who knew the presence of a god as well as Iruda did.

“...”

And to Iruda’s eyes, Cha Isol’s drawing had something eerie about it.

‘Could it be a wicked god’s...’

She thought to herself.

‘But I’ve never heard that Black Cloak has divinity.’

Wasn’t he an ordinary monster?

Iruda had also heard the rumors about Black Cloak.

A humanoid monster wrapped in a black cloak from head to toe, said to draw a dungeon worthy of being called a “work” and drag bad people away.

‘For a monster, the damage isn’t large, so I remember finding it odd.’

Citizens chattered, saying, “Is a new native monster being born?” but if you thought about it even a little, you could tell it was a ridiculous idea.

The native monsters on Earth had gone through a process of “oil-brewing” for thirty-two years, hadn’t they?

Compared to that, Black Cloak hadn’t been settled on Earth for long, and the human casualties caused by him were few.

It wasn’t behavior a monster that couldn’t bear its hatred toward humans could show.

Because of that, Iruda’s parents had once said there was a possibility it wasn’t a monster.

‘They said it’s a method the Association sometimes uses to prevent confusion.

Because citizens still lack awareness about monsters, they get fooled even if you make things up as you please.

So even now, they said, quite a lot of truth is being hidden.’

If so, then she had to consider the possibility that Black Cloak really was a wicked god.

Compared to monsters that were busy being unable to control their hatred and expressing it, an existence like a wicked god knew how to act cleverly even if it had some negative mental image inside it. Meaning it at least had the ability to be called a “god.”

“...Cha Isol.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you like Black Cloak?”

“Huh, he’s kind.”

“You’re talking like you’ve met him.”

“I have!”

“...”

Cha Isol’s sunlight-like affinity causing another incident again.

‘I didn’t think it would even apply to something treated as a monster.’

A beat late, Iruda asked.

“...When, how, and by what method?”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“I’ll only know if I hear it.”

“I just see him sometimes.”

“If you see him sometimes, doesn’t that mean you run into him pretty often?”

“He’s even stopped by my house before.”

“That’s... a truly surprising story.”

Iruda nodded.

“You absolutely shouldn’t tell other people.”

“I told you because it’s you, Luda.”

“The way you keep being like that is why I’m going to keep you tucked under my arm and live with you.”

“We’re partners!”

“That’s not what I meant, but, well, it’s similar.”

My light and salt in this dry life.

‘Live like that forever.’

In this filthy, petty world, you needed glittering suckers like Cha Isol.

“You’re sensitive to a god’s aura too, so you know, but Black Cloak seems like a more dangerous existence than you think.”

“But he was super kind... he’s a really gentle hyung.”

“I meant that it might have made you think that way.

Like you, I want Black Cloak to be a good existence, but, well, the world doesn’t run just on wishes like that.”

“Luda, I think you talk too difficult.”

“Call it mature.

Anyway, I think meeting and interacting with an existence like that with no wariness at all is being too careless.”

Iruda looked at Cha Isol’s drawing.

“Wouldn’t it be better to refrain from meeting him as much as possible?”

She knew Cha Isol’s talent.

Like Iruda herself, he was suitable to contain a god, and he was born with an aura many divinities would covet.

Traditional gods and wicked gods alike tended to covet foolish heroic material like Cha Isol.

“You never know.”

People like that were especially often targeted by wicked gods.

“Do you have any basis for thinking Black Cloak is a good existence?”

“No, I don’t.”

“That’s why I’m telling you to refrain.”

If, in a moment of carelessness, you form a contract with wicked mystery, then from that moment on that human’s life becomes more horrific than hell itself.

That was something decided in an instant with only one breath or one gaze from a god.

“Being careful can’t hurt.”

“That’s true.”

Fortunately, Cha Isol readily affirmed Iruda’s words, to see whether he wasn’t bewitched.

“I’ll be careful too.”

“...Yeah, and if you see him again, tell me too.”

“Okay, but could Black Cloak be a wicked god?”

“It doesn’t look like that possibility is... nonexistent.”

“He was really warm, though—so that could happen too, huh.”

“...”

Warm?

‘If you said hot, I could understand, but.’

He didn’t feel like such a gentle existence.

If, with only a rough drawing like this, you could feel the essence beyond it, didn’t that mean its rank was considerable?

‘Those existences don’t consider humans.’

More precisely, it was closer to being unable to consider them.

For huge mysteries, grasping their mental image to fit a human’s narrow vessel was no easy thing.

The greater the rank became, the more difficult it grew.

Of course, Cha Isol had a large vessel, so no matter how enormous a god was, he would endure it, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t worried.

Cha Isol was the sucker of this era that Iruda acknowledged.

“...No matter what you felt, humans must never fully trust gods.

That isn’t a matter of trust.

Trust is something that proceeds based on a minimum mutual understanding.

Gods cannot understand humans, and humans cannot understand gods.”

And they must not, either.

If gods and humans could understand each other, by what method could you distinguish the two in this world?

More than anything, the creature called a human was happiest when they didn’t know much and couldn’t do much.

Incompetence befitting your station enriched life.

“So no matter what you felt, you must not believe that it was the other party’s true feelings.”

“Then does that mean you shouldn’t contract with a wicked god?”

“...Normally... you shouldn’t, right?

Especially with your personality...”

There were officially recognized religions of wicked gods.

Death, illness, fear, rage, sorrow.

They were mostly cases where humans acknowledged their value and meaning of existence as a quiet calamity.

But that didn’t mean wicked gods weren’t dangerous.

Even traditional gods regarded humans as mere toys, not even their own organs—so if it was someone with a violent temperament like a wicked god, it would be worse.

“You really should be careful.”

“If I contract with Black Cloak...”

“Let’s think about it more. That seems wise.”

“I think you’re right, Luda.”

“That’s what makes you my partner.”

Fortunately, Cha Isol wasn’t an idiot who clung stubbornly to meaningless obstinacy.

“I’ll burn that drawing for you.”

“Wouldn’t it hurt if you burn it?”

“Who would it hurt?”

“Black Cloak.”

“Sometimes I learn a lot from your way of thinking.”

“Then I’ll burn it, since I drew it.”

Cha Isol neatly burned the drawing.

“But I really don’t think he was a bad hyung.”

“Priest Kang Seo-dam said it too—why are you trying to judge a god’s good and evil?”

“That’s true too.”

After lying sprawled on the bed for a while, Cha Isol said with a laugh,

“Next time, do you want to meet him with me too, Luda?”

“...Yeah, let’s do that.”

Iruda didn’t refuse.

‘If there’s one thing I learned after entering the religious order, it’s that not all wicked gods are wicked.’

In the end, even distinguishing gods was nothing but humans’ arrogance.

How could you divide mere existing calamity and mystery into right and wrong?

Rather, there were times when the behavior of traditional gods was even more base than that of wicked gods.

‘As someone who looks at the narrow world with a mere human gaze, I shouldn’t have prejudice.’

In the end, it was clear that the most proper form between god and priest was master and tool.

The master seeks a usable tool, and the tool seeks a master whose treatment will satisfy it.

As long as they fit each other well, that’s all.

So if Black Cloak truly was a wicked god, he might unexpectedly fit well with Cha Isol.

“Next time you see Black Cloak, you have to call me too, Cha Isol.”

She was just worried.

“You still don’t know much about gods.”

“Yeah, so thanks to you, Luda, I’m learning a lot.”

“...”

She felt her heart grow warm.

“I’ll keep you tucked under my arm and live with you.”

“I will too.”

“Does Black Cloak really give snacks?”

“Cookies or chocolate and stuff?”

“How interesting.”

“If I see him again, I’ll ask for snacks.”

“That will be a good experience too.”

Luda recalled the picture that still seemed to linger before her eyes.

What kind of taste would the snacks given by that distant and eerie essence have?

* * *

“...”

“...”

Gio muttered while holding a bloodstained knife.

“It feels like Student Cha Isol called me for a moment.”

Since it felt like someone else was there beside him, he didn’t particularly go out.

“Ryu-jon?”

“Wait, Dana.

Dad is still dismantling, you know.”

“Ryu-jonjonjonjon?”

“Seeing how gluttonous you are, you won’t starve to death no matter where you go.”

How admirable.

“You really are my daughter.”

Gio smiled in satisfaction as he peeled off the hide of the golden sheep.

Unlike Giovanni’s, it was a smile with a savage, seasoned side.

“More than that, why do intruders keep happening in my cozy sweet home.”

“Ggurur?”

“Yeah, this time, of all things, even a golden sheep appeared.

How can it be this bewildering.”

At present, Argio was butchering a single enormous sheep, hung from the ceiling.

It wasn’t that he went out and hunted it himself; he’d merely gone out to the kitchen garden wondering what to eat, and another sacrifice had been there.

“Come to think of it, that monster field could be used as a security force too.”

It really put most traps to shame.

“The meat quality is great too—looks like it killed it by piercing straight through the forehead.”

“Koong?”

“Living things have softer meat if they die without knowing anything, Honey.”

“Ggurur.”

“Yeah, it’ll be useful to learn how to butcher too.”

Having lived like a beast, Argio sometimes enjoyed meals while imitating humans, perhaps because of the etiquette he’d learned as a child.

In the process, his butchery skills naturally improved.

“I can tell this sheep definitely came from my hometown.

That slippery-soft golden wool, and a body as huge as an ox that plows fields.

Sharp teeth and two pairs of eyes.

Thick claws...”

It was certain.

“It’s a kind of sheep that inhabits the Black Forest.”

Golden Tread Sheep

A carnivorous predator that disguises itself as a gentle herbivore, or hunts prey by beguiling them with gold light.

Plants stepped on by the Golden Tread Sheep turn to gold, and this gold gives off a sweet scent that hampers a living creature’s judgment.

Unlike ordinary gold, its hard teeth easily cut off the prey’s breath.

“Yes, you’re diligent today too.”

Gio nodded.

“In looks, scent, touch—there isn’t a single flaw; it has such a cute appearance.

But if you’re fooled by its gentle look or bewitched by the gold it makes, it’ll bite your throat right off.”

“Ggururu?”

“As you say, it’s from experience.

They’re really good at putting on airs, but you have no idea how thick and sharp their teeth are.

Thanks to that, I almost had my throat half torn out and died, but in the end the winner was me.”

Refining Method: If you boil the bones of a Golden Tread Sheep, you can refine a powerful painkiller, or a narcotic.

The blood inside the horn becomes, in the female’s case, a painless death potion, and in the male’s case, a painfully reviving potion.

“Oh, right.

That’s how I could revive.”

Looking at the system, Gio smiled darkly.

“By coincidence, the one I killed was male.

Their horns aren’t as hard as they look, so they crack quite easily, and golden blood pools inside.

I liked how it glittered, so I tried drinking it, and my dying heart began to beat again.”

After that, he carried it around altogether.

“A male’s horns curve back toward its spine like this, and a female’s horns curve forward.

Seeing the horn curved round toward the back, it seems this one is male.

Right?”

“Ggurururururur.”

“I’ll cut the horn last, so eat as much as you like.

You shouldn’t drink the blood of a female horn carelessly without resistance, but drinking the blood of a male horn when you’re fine isn’t a big problem.

If you’re not on the verge of death, the effect is small.”

You could only feel heat rise in the body a little.

“The hide’s in good shape too.”

When he fully peeled off the sheep’s hide, he could confirm the black flesh within.

“Hm...”

“Ggurururururururururur!!”

“Yeah, it’s better for you all to have the wool.”

Golden sheep wool felt so blissful to the touch that it was perfect to use as bedding, but it was a situation where jewel-coveting waterbirds including Honey had gathered in a crowd, drawn by the golden sheep’s sparkle.

“As a father, there’s no way I couldn’t spare even one hide for my children.”

At those words, the waterbirds that had been peeking around near the butchery area crept closer and pecked at the golden sheep’s hide.

The strength of those tiny beaks was so good that the wool pulled out in bunches, and those jewel waterbirds looked exactly like living gold and treasure.

“As expected of my children—you know how to adorn yourselves.”

“Ryu-jon?”

“Yeah, our Dana.

Dad will cut some meat for you soon.”

Dana, now a bit bigger than an ordinary adult cat, had fluffy fur too, making her very huggable.

When Dana clung to his leg and leaned in, it was truly blissful.

When he cut off the sheep’s cheek meat, Dana snatched it up at once.

“That’s it—you have to chew well.

This sheep’s best delicacy is this cheek meat.

The cheek meat of a Golden Tread Sheep, which has almost no facial muscles and can’t make expressions, has an excellent texture—chewy yet very soft.”

But if you ate in a hurry, it could get stuck in your throat.

“Isn’t the savoriness wonderful?”

“Mm?”

“I’m happy you like it.”

Is there any joy greater than having your beloved family like what you like together?

After letting Dana savor it enough, Argio soon turned his head again and looked at the sheep’s black flesh hanging like beef.

“The bones could be used later when drawing...”

What should he do with all this overflowing meat?

“...”

He muttered.

“...Golden sheep meat has strong elasticity, so should I go with steaming?”

All meat in the world becomes delicious if you boil it for a long time with liquor and seasonings.

Yes—Argio didn’t lose when it came to gluttony, either.

Fantasy, Modern,