chapter 131

The Painter Who Draws Dungeons - Episode 131

Some orphanages that receive the government’s and the Association’s support are a kind of public institution, and the man was from one of them.

“Juhyeon.”

“Yes, Director.”

By the orphanage’s rules, his name was Juhyeon without a surname.

“If you have the time, could you run an errand to the Association for me?”

“I will.

What should I deliver this time?”

“It’s the list of children coming in this time—have them review it.”

He was born four years before the Great Catastrophe.

In other words, he experienced the Great Catastrophe at around four years old, and the child who had even lost his name was clever and diligent, receiving abundant love from adults and surviving within others’ care.

That was also why he could remain at the orphanage.

“Understood.

I’ll be back soon.”

“Juhyeon really is kind.”

“It’s something that needs to be done.”

Orphanages on the Association line generally selected children who were smart, healthy, and diligent.

Children raised here either awakened and became hunters to stand on their own, or gained the opportunity to get a job at the Association.

Juhyeon was one of them, but unlike the other orphans who just lived however things turned out, he had ambition.

“Juhyeon, you said you want to go to the Association research institute, right?”

“Yes, even if I awaken, I want the institute.”

He wanted to make the world a little better.

He wanted to prevent as many tragedies as possible.

“You’ll be able to help the hunters.”

Having gone through the Great Catastrophe with nothing but his own body, he had seen the world’s misery.

He had seen how far humans could fall into the abyss.

In it, Juhyeon was, unusually, on the lucky side.

He wished to share the good fortune he had gained with others, so that the same tragedy would not happen again.

“Juhyeon is admirable.”

“Thank you.”

“The institute is always short on manpower, so you’ll definitely be able to get a job.”

“I hope so.”

If you can share what you have, there is no reason not to share.

“I want to be of help.”

That was Juhyeon’s thought.

Embarrassing to say, but it was his own kind of conviction.

If I can help, then I help; if I can be with them, then I am with them.

With that mission, even after he got a job at the Association, the man did not forget to support the orphanage that raised him.

“You must be busy making a living too, but I’m always grateful.”

“It’s thanks to you raising me, Director.”

“That’s my job, so what...”

“I know it must have been hard to take care of us.”

Juhyeon was mixed-race, and his skin was dark.

The “Other Orphanage” where he stayed was a place where children of foreign descent like him gathered in unusually large numbers.

“Now, most people don’t even care about skin color and all that, but there was a time when it was really hard, wasn’t there.”

“It was right after the Great Catastrophe, so people were very sensitive.”

“I know. There was a lot of talk, like, you’re already busy taking care of Korean kids, why take care of foreigners too.

I remember.”

“Juhyeon, that...”

“I know I’m Korean too.

I was born here.

Just like you said, Director, everyone was just sensitive back then.”

It was simply that, because all records of nationality and everything else had been blown away, people at the time were intensely wary and disdainful if your appearance was even a little different from an East Asian’s.

The Great Catastrophe was that kind of time.

“I understand, but maybe that atmosphere still remains... our orphanage still can’t get much support.”

“It’s because I’m incompetent.

Th-then, maybe, do the Association people look down on you or...”

“I can’t say they don’t.

But it’s fine, you know me.

I’m this smart and capable—if I conduct myself well, I’ll settle in quickly.”

Association employees hired through the orphanage track tended to face discrimination, and the orphanage Juhyeon came from was all the more one that was looked down on.

Promotions were slow.

Naturally, he couldn’t participate in proper projects.

A researcher who couldn’t be promoted was, in practice, no different from an errand-runner.

Even so, with his diligence and undisplayed shrewdness, Juhyeon captured his colleagues’ hearts, demonstrated outstanding ability, and drew the attention of those above.

“Why do you work that hard?”

“It’s something I can do, so there’s no reason not to.”

“You’re diligent. I hope we can work together for a long time.”

While there were people who liked him, there were also people who worried, or who sneered.

“If you work that hard, you burn out fast.”

“Thank you for the advice.”

He swallowed it as a correct statement.

Juhyeon was not some perfect saint.

But his goal was to make the world better, and he found, as smartly as possible, a path that would contribute to that.

‘It’s a goal that’s too big...’

So that he wouldn’t burn out quickly, appropriately.

‘Just do it one by one.’

He wasn’t impatient.

He didn’t seek honor.

But he had confidence.

He was especially smart among the researchers, and he learned quickly.

He wasn’t awakened, but because he’d always taken care of himself, he was healthier than average.

Such a Juhyeon even did countless volunteer activities.

“From the Association?”

“How funny, you must need test subjects.”

“What makes you think you’re so great, helping us?”

People in the boundary district, or those who needed help inside and outside it, had strong wariness.

Even so, Juhyeon steadily made contact with them, talking and interacting.

After some time passed, they softened.

“Thanks for treating me last time.”

“The kid in that house over there is sick...”

“Got any more food?

You know, it’s winter.”

Some of them were sincerely grateful, and some treated Juhyeon like a hen that lays eggs.

There were people who were rude now and then, but Juhyeon did not get swayed and continued his volunteer work steadily.

“...Busy.”

Even that was fine.

He participated in the Association’s research, and in his spare time he studied or volunteered.

Rude people existed everywhere, and things that made you angry were bound to happen.

Even so, it was fine.

‘If I build up more experience, someday I’ll be able to rise to a team leader position too.

If I become a research team leader, I’ll be given time and resources to research on my own.

Then I can also conduct research on dungeons and monsters.’

It was while he was spending each day busily like that.

“...Huh?”

“Aaaaaaagh...!!”

“Wh-what, what...”

Someone ran out and grabbed Juhyeon’s ankle.

“Save me, save me, please...!!

I was wrong!!

I was wrong, I won’t do it again!!”

“H-hold on...”

“You fuckers, save me, I don’t want to!!

I don’t want to die!!

At least not like that...!!!”

“Ugh...!!”

The institute employees murmured, and before long a security unit appeared.

No, it seemed they had been chasing him to catch him from the start, because they subdued the man immediately.

As Juhyeon, stunned, held his throbbing ankle, a researcher who seemed to have followed apologized.

“Hey, is your ankle okay?

It didn’t break, did it?”

“Pardon?

Ah, yes.

Ah... no, I think I should get treatment.”

“It’s our mistake. The Association will treat you, but separately, we’ll compensate you too.”

“More importantly, that person earlier was...?”

“Hm?”

The researcher tilted his head after looking at Juhyeon’s face.

“Ahh, you’ve never been put on a proper project yet, right?”

“Is that related?”

“He’s a response agent, a response agent.

He ran out because he didn’t want to do his work.”

“A response agent means...”

He did know.

“You mean the people who cooperate with experiments?”

“Put another way, just a test subject, really.”

“...”

“Guess he can’t adapt.”

The researcher snickered.

“Just think it’s one of those things—nothing special.”

“...As far as I know, response agents are given appropriate treatment and compensation.”

“That depends on the grade.

Juhyeon, since you haven’t been put on projects yet you don’t know, but that just now was closer to a lab rat.”

“Didn’t he clearly say to save him?”

“He’s going to enter the Red Room after meeting the Hourglass, so he got scared.

I should’ve managed him better, but he was stronger than I expected, so that surprised me.”

“...The Hourglass?

The Red Room?”

“Anyway, you’ll be working with us soon too, so I’ll tell you ahead of time.”

It was a benefit that felt like his efforts were being rewarded, but his heart was pounding and cold sweat was running, so he had no time to feel grateful.

Juhyeon soon got to see the “Hourglass” and the “Red Room” the researcher mentioned.

“That is a monster that eats a person’s time.

On the outside it looks like an ornately decorated hourglass, but if it doesn’t eat a person’s time once a week, the decoration changes to something plain.

Then abnormal phenomena occur... but you’ll learn that later.”

“...”

“And you see the room attached on the opposite side?

You might’ve seen it once or twice while coming and going on errands, but it’s attached there with the route in mind.

The monster living in there is a bright red jewel, and it has to eat the blood of the elderly and newborns to be satisfied.”

It was hard to understand.

“...Eating time means, so...”

“In this world, it’s hard to bring in newborns or elderly people, so we just turn them into elderly and put them in.”

“...Then both the monster called the Hourglass and the monster called the Red Room will be satisfied.

Right?”

“You understood well. I’m really grateful—Juhyeon seems like he’ll adapt well.”

“Haha...”

In other words, they were offerings to feed to monsters.

“Is that allowed?

I mean, problems, um...”

“The response agent that was just put in was a fifth-grade citizen.”

The researcher added as if that explained it.

“Don’t take it too hard.”

Because he’s a murderer who killed dozens of people.

Saying that, the researcher patted Juhyeon’s shoulder a few times and disappeared.

Juhyeon watched countless researchers endlessly lined up, talking as they walked around the rooms of monsters, or entering certain rooms.

Even in the crowd, he felt like he’d been left alone.

“...”

Juhyeon soon collected himself and did what he had to do.

He was faithful to his assigned duties, went out to volunteer and talk with abandoned citizens, and even, with difficulty, requested an audience with the Association president.

But nothing improved.

Everything stayed the same.

The same daily life.

Family at the orphanage and friends on the street asked,

“You look really tired these days.”

Juhyeon was comforted by that.

“What happens at the institute... isn’t as noble as I thought.”

“There’s no way the Association is noble in every single corner—if it were, that would be surprising in its own way.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

He steadied himself.

“Thanks for listening.”

With family and friends, he could stand up again.

‘I’m someone who endured the Great Catastrophe.

This time too, I can endure it, and I have to find a better path.’

So he tried to do more.

After gaining authority, Juhyeon even used himself as a test subject and produced results.

But he watched only the tragedy he so desperately didn’t want to see repeat itself, repeating endlessly.

Even though he had done so much because he didn’t want to see this repetition of tragedy.

“...”

“You’ve overdone it. I’ll give you vacation, so take one month to recuperate.”

“...But...”

“I know what you want, but in your current condition, you won’t even be able to properly do your assigned work.”

“...Understood.”

Perhaps he’d caught the president’s eye after the conversation the day before; seeing Juhyeon overworking, the Association president personally recommended it.

Juhyeon tried to be stubborn for a moment, then realized his mind and body had become badly shaken, and accepted it.

He didn’t want to stubbornly cling to things without any measures.

“I’ll rest a little.”

But he shouldn’t have.

“...”

After recuperating until his body roughly recovered and returning, his hometown was burned.

Some of his friends from the street were nowhere to be seen, and everything was in turmoil.

Before he could even compose his bewilderment, Juhyeon ran around everywhere to grasp the situation.

“Huh?”

And soon, he learned that the cause was himself.

“Because of me?”

“Looks like a few people who had complaints about you did something.”

“Complaints?

What, exactly...”

“They were all over, you know?”

Someone from the orphanage he had thought of as family, someone among the street friends he had thought he’d become close with, and even some of the institute employees he had thought were capable colleagues—he heard they hated Juhyeon.

It wasn’t as if Juhyeon was completely unaware of those feelings.

Envy and jealousy, or disgust, conflict born from differing beliefs.

Because he knew, he had been even more careful, and yet, in the end, it happened.

“Honestly, I didn’t see you that favorably either.”

“...”

“It’s like you’re the only one acting clean, isn’t it?”

That, a bit.

“...Haha.”

It sounded horrific.

As for why he hadn’t heard the news earlier, he heard that the research team leader in charge of Juhyeon also had some strange scheme, and did it to cut him down.

Saying he couldn’t work together with someone who had strange thoughts.

Had he stood out that much—well.

It wasn’t really like that.

‘I thought I was being careful.’

He tried to understand his colleagues’ beliefs as much as possible.

There were many times he accepted them.

He had only, sometimes, made suggestions.

It seemed those tiny pieces gathered and led to this absurd “initiation.”

But his family and friends were not fifth-grade citizens.

They were “innocent citizens.”

No matter how hard it was to find words like human rights in this world, this was nonsense.

‘Why did no one stop it?

Why is no one wracked by guilt?

Why am I the only one suffering?’

Someone said this.

“Just let it go—if you make one wrong move, you might become a response agent too.”

“Can that happen?”

“If manpower runs short, even researchers get put in as response agents.”

“I’ve heard every time that the institute is short on manpower.”

“More than that, you’ve already played the role of a test subject before, haven’t you?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Not sure if it’s a problem, but it can be a pretext.”

“...I understand.”

Someone else raged.

“Fuck, I knew it would be like this.

This is why you can’t trust those Association bastards!”

“No, I...”

“Because of you, my friends died!

And the ones I can’t see—what are they, huh, did they drag them off as test subjects too?”

“...It’s not like that...”

“You hypocritical bastard, acting like you’re being nice and then stabbing people in the back—does it feel good?

It’s disgusting, seriously...”

“...”

He was tired.

“...”

If it were only simple tiredness, it would have been better, but he was angry.

It was an order that didn’t make sense, but it was hard to judge rationally in this weary anger.

So angry he wanted to burn all this rage away by sacrificing himself...

‘...It can happen.’

Humans are originally fickle and self-centered, so something like this could happen.

Ingratitude is one of the traits of the human species.

They quickly forget what they received and are sensitive to losses.

He had started this work knowing all of that.

He had been hurt by such parts countless times.

Even so, because he wanted to make the world better, because he didn’t want to see the same tragedy, because it was his conviction, he smiled and lived.

‘It can happen.’

But a thought suddenly occurred—he, too, was human.

“...So...”

When he came to his senses, in his hand was the mark of a wicked god.

He had made the mark of Sankalut, one of the wicked gods.

“...This can happen too.”

He still hadn’t used it.

They said Sankalut was a wicked god of blood and honor.

That if you offered the blood of a newborn who died in horrific pain, or of an elderly person, it would grant your wish, and the soul that died in the process would be sent to paradise.

Even so, the reason he still hadn’t called the wicked god wasn’t because Juhyeon was kind, or because he thought he would endure again.

Rather, he hadn’t thought about whom he would kill, or what wish he would make.

‘...I don’t even really have anything I want, and yet I’m thinking about getting angry first—this doesn’t make sense.

Was I always this stupid?’

A feeling like something had gone completely empty.

“...The one who dies can be me.”

A feeling like he’d become a puppet tied by a thin thread, not his own will.

He had gained the authority to approach the “Hourglass,” the monster that eats human time, but with everything that had happened, he didn’t know whether he still had that authority even now.

“Still, I can probably call the wicked god.”

That was enough.

“My wish is... hmm.”

What should he wish for.

‘Should I ask them to bring my dead family back to life?’

Juhyeon blankly walked into the orphanage that had burned into ruins.

The bodies had all been recovered, but the abandoned building in that secluded location hadn’t even been demolished.

Without a word, Juhyeon entered the blackened children’s room.

In the room that was relatively intact, traces of the children remained.

“...This is...”

There was even an unknown drawing that had miraculously not burned, only scorched.

“Did they draw the Black Cloak.”

He had been very famous, after all.

‘There aren’t few kids who talk about Black Cloak or draw pictures of him.’

Staring at the drawing with lifeless eyes, Juhyeon soon tossed it down roughly.

A dull thud sounded as it hit the floor.

With his weary body, he sat on the bed that smelled of burning.

It was as he stared down at the mark of the wicked god he had made.

“...”

“...”

“Splendid.”

An exclamation laced with wicked interest.

He realized someone was at the doorway.

“A jewel that smells of blood and wealth, is it not?”

“...What...”

“If you give that to me, I can give you a prettier, more valuable jewel.”

“Where are you right now...?”

“Hey, sir.

Want me to guess what you’re thinking right now?”

A man in a black suit was leaning against a gold-leafed frame.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“...Pardon?”

It was out of nowhere.

Fantasy, Modern,