Chapter 18

The Painter Who Draws Dungeons — Episode 18

If there is a most important place inside the Collector’s building, it is Bisabeol’s gallery.

Since it gathers only dangerous and sensitive objects, incidents are frequent.

On top of that, there are even people who covet such rare works.

So, in preparation for possible casualties, guards patrol the inside of the building no matter how late the hour.

That day, too, was just an ordinary day of patrolling the building at dawn.

“Hm?”

Snow-white walls.

Snow-white lighting.

A pitch-black man standing alone in a long, clean corridor.

“...”

He was wearing a black cloak from head to toe.

His face could not be seen.

“...”

All that could be told was that he was wearing a black suit beneath the open front.

“Who are you?”

“...”

“Excuse me, but please state your identity.”

There were a total of eight people on the dawn patrol team, and floors 1 through 10 were his assignment.

No other guard is assigned to the same floor.

So that black cloak either meant an employee who had dropped by the guild briefly for some business at dawn, or an unknown outsider.

But the feeling was strange.

“...Please state your identity.”

It was truly strange.

And yet he couldn’t explain exactly what was strange.

“...”

“...”

An eerie chill ran over his skin.

‘...What is it?’

The guild building always has bright lights on, for patrolling guards or employees working late.

The corridors were cleaned frequently and kept spotless, and the snow-white marble walls were refined and beautiful, as the guildmaster Bisabeol preferred.

So there was nothing to fear.

And yet, under lighting as bright as daytime, with no shadows anywhere, that pitch-black 존재 alone that stood out...

“...Who are you?”

Felt as though it should not exist.

“If you are an outsider, please show your access pass.”

“...”

“Why did you come here at this hour? I was not informed on the first floor that another guest would be arriving.

Unauthorized intrusion into the guild is treated as a serious felony, and...”

“...”

“...In court, it may be applied unfavorably to you—you may face difficulty in appointing a lawyer, and you may be subdued by force without separate process, so please keep this in mind and answer the questions... I ask, please.”

Isn’t it strange.

At first it was only a very small oddness, but it gradually grew.

The longer he observed, the more he could see, the more immense his sense of dissonance became.

Then the guard realized.

‘Why?’

Why did I think that thing should not exist?

‘No, in the first place, why.’

Why am I thinking of a being with a human shape as “that thing.”

The thought that something was wrong would not leave his brain, and the confusion clung to his whole body and muddled his mind.

A silent alienness brushed up his spine and slowly tickled his heart.

It was at a very slow and natural pace, like breathing in a half-asleep state.

“...”

“...”

Beneath the hood of the pitch-black cloak.

From under that dreadfully pitch-black cloth where there ought to have been nothing at all, a voice flowed out.

“Hello.”

“...”

“My name is Seo Gio.”

A clear voice that felt as if it were being carved into his brain, and a perfectly upright pronunciation he couldn’t comprehend at all.

Before he could even resist, he had already thought it was a good voice.

It asked, politely.

“What is your name?”

“...”

“I am curious about your name.”

He could not bring himself to answer that good voice.

“Will you speak with me?”

He understood.

“...I.”

This is not human.

“...I, I...”

It was not a monster, not an item, not a hallucination.

‘...What should I do?’

Breathing was heavily blocked, as if his airway had never existed in the first place.

The Collector guild was a place where countless incidents occurred, and he was an experienced guard, but even so, he had never faced a being like this before.

Some enormous nonhuman thing was wearing human skin and imitating a human.

It would have been better if the imitation had been clumsy.

Like the bizarrely moving ball-jointed doll he had seen before, or a monster that babbled nonsense in an imitation with strikingly low comprehension.

“...”

“Teacher.”

“...”

“What is your name?”

But that thing.

Was perfect.

“My name is Seo Gio.”

It looked like a perfect human.

And yet, contradictory as it was,

He knew it could never be human.

‘What kind of nonsense is this...’

To be certain it wasn’t human even though it looked like a complete human.

Without any grounds at all, he was defining the other as neither human, nor monster, nor item, nor hallucination.

Then what in the world is that?

“Can you not hear me?”

“...Why are you asking my name?”

“When you have a conversation, the basic manners are to introduce yourselves.”

“...”

“I am simply keeping manners.”

Manners?

He couldn’t tell what in the world was imitating human manners.

“...Park...”

“...”

“Park Nagil.”

As if possessed, he spat out his name, but he didn’t feel as though his soul had been stolen.

Even so, the black cloak seemed satisfied.

That was the most chilling part, but he didn’t even have the leeway to show it.

His breath caught in his throat.

“It is a pleasure to meet you.

I am Seo Gio.”

“...”

Does it know it has just called itself “Seo Gio” several times?

‘As if it’s emphasizing that it is a human like you...’

Soon after, the black cloak pulled out an unexpected item.

“I have an access pass.”

“...This is... a guest access pass.”

“I have received permission to tour this place from Guildmaster Bisabeol.”

“...Is that so.”

At the very least, the guildmaster knows of this thing’s existence.

‘And he is condoning its actions.’

Why, exactly?

The guard raised his head and looked at the black cloak again.

“...”

“Was that a sufficient answer?”

“...Of course.”

It was an extremely businesslike voice.

That voice with a fixed cadence seemed to have a fitting rise and fall, yet if you listened quietly, it also seemed to drift between high and low tones.

‘Even if he has an access pass, we still have to confirm basic personal details...’

He was clearly hearing a man’s voice, and yet as time passed, it became ambiguous to guess its age or even its gender.

Even with it right before his eyes, he could not perceive it.

All he could see was the pitch-black cloak and a single silhouette with a build neither thick nor thin.

“...”

Inside the shadow of that black cloak, is there really something with a human shape in there?

“Mr. Park Nagil.”

“...Yes.”

“May I walk around this place?”

“...”

The guildmaster allowed it.

So, as a mere guard, he ought to speak in the affirmative, and yet the words would not come easily.

Because it felt like an ominous sensation, as if he were granting a promise that a devil may bring disaster.

Before the gloomy and heavy, or cold silhouette, the guard nodded with difficulty.

“...Of course...”

“Thank you.”

“If the guildmaster has granted permission, you may tour as much as you like without issue.”

“I see.”

“...How long do you plan to stay?”

The black cloak answered two seconds later.

“Until before the sun rises.”

It was an answer that made his skin crawl.

“...”

“...I see.”

He felt like he would vomit.

Why did it make his skin crawl, where did he feel the eeriness, where was this indescribable silence coming from even as they were speaking—he could not understand.

The sensation of his cognition breaking and his judgment being buried in fog swayed as if inducing motion sickness.

It felt like he was facing something he could not bear.

‘No, in reality, I cannot bear it.’

It was burdensome, as if he were interacting with something he must not perceive.

“...”

“Mr. Park Nagil.”

Each time it called his name, his spine trembled.

How could he explain that sensation of his body temperature dropping by one degree at a time, that sensation of all the blood vessels in his body being grasped by someone’s hand.

“Y-yes, yes.”

“Thank you for responding kindly.”

“...It was my job.”

“You are very responsible.”

“...”

“I believe it is something you deserve to be praised for.”

It was strange.

When the black cloak held him in high regard, despite the fear so intense it made him nauseous, he felt as though he could fly with joy.

‘Am I insane?

Or did that thing drive me insane?’

Even though this was a situation where he absolutely should not feel such a thing, he was moved, and he felt proud of himself.

He couldn’t interpret for himself why he felt this way.

While looking at him, the black cloak extended a hand.

“A gift.”

“...”

“Please accept it.”

The black cloak handed him a small pouch neatly wrapped in paper.

A scent so sweet it was almost intoxicating rose from it.

“It is yours.”

The eerily businesslike voice somehow felt friendly.

“I have been very discourteous.”

“Ah, no.”

“Then I will see you next time.”

Is it leaving.

With that intuition, the moment he lifted his head, his eyes—

“...”

“...”

Met its eyes.

Those eyes.

The eyeballs.

The iris, the pupil, that round sphere.

Inside it.

That thing.

Inside that round thing.

That.

That.

Black and white colors.

Pitch-black, snow-white.

Was it black?

Was it white?

Is it dark or bright.

Is it shadow or light.

Is it death or life.

Is it connection or fate.

Inside was too deep.

Too deep.

Too deep.

So deep it was frightening, and inside was too deep.

Deep.

He feels as though he is falling.

He plummets.

Can he escape?

Impossible.

He won’t be able to.

That is not an eye.

Not an eyeball.

Not an iris, not a pupil.

No, no, it isn’t, it won’t be.

It must not be.

It was certainly not.

No.

No.

No, no.

But it isn’t.

“Mr. Park Nagil.”

The moment he heard that dreadfully businesslike voice.

“Good work.”

“...”

...He was pulled back out.

“...”

For a long time, he stood there.

Even as the pitch-black cloak moved, there was not even a single rustling sound, and its barefoot feet—without dress shoes—did not even make a sound as they touched the smooth floor.

Only the sound of some tiny creature’s movements could be heard, yet it was strange.

Because that black thing could not be called a tiny creature...

Soon the sound died down.

“...”

Only silence remained.

“...Where...”

Where did it go.

The guard moved his feet.

He followed along the corridor the black cloak had moved through, toward the place where the sound had cut off.

Before long, he arrived at that “place where the sound had cut off.”

A portrait he had never seen before hung in the corridor.

“Ah.”

It was a painting of a man with a calm face, as if asleep, against the background of a forest depicting a peaceful cabin, and yet—

His insides churned.

“...”

He fled with slow steps.

It was exactly his usual pace.

He did not dare touch it.

If he were to fulfill his duty, he should have reported the unknown work and dealt with it, but that did not even occur to him.

As if possessed, the guard simply left.

And the next day, the portrait was not there in the same spot.

* * *

“Did you hear?”

The Collector guild was a place that already had many ghost stories.

All of it was because of Guildmaster Bisabeol’s collecting obsession—since he picked up so many strange objects, all sorts of incidents occurred.

Because of that, employees who had worked at Collector for over two years were not very surprised by such ghost stories.

“A black cloak?”

“Yes, rumors have been going around lately.”

“Something in the guildmaster’s collection probably caused an accident again.”

“That seems likely.”

It was a world where most ghost stories could be explained as monsters or items.

In an era when fellow humans were more frightening than ghost stories, the rumors about the “black cloak” were just a bit of entertainment to enjoy when bored.

“They say he’s that handsome—I want to see him too.”

“They say you can’t really see his face because of the cloak.”

“Among the guildmaster’s collected works, this one’s pretty shy.”

“At least it isn’t causing accidents.

Nobody’s been hurt, right?”

But as time passed, even that light atmosphere gradually grew heavier.

“...”

“Apparently this witness took leave too.”

“...Is it that scary...”

“I heard he was going to quit, but the guildmaster talked him down and wrapped it up as leave.”

“If it’s serious enough that even the guildmaster has to step in, isn’t the situation worse than we thought?”

Usually, these kinds of “ghost stories” were resolved within a week.

Because usually the identity behind such ghost stories was a monster or item that popped out of one of Bisabeol’s works, or a mental-type skill triggered by it.

If it couldn’t be solved inside a guild crawling with hunters, then it would be a strange thing.

And now that “strange thing” was happening.

“No, why can’t they subdue this monster?

What are the curators even doing?”

“There’s talk that it’s a monster even they can’t handle.”

“Then wouldn’t it be better to just dump it outside the guild—.”

“...”

“...I said something stupid.”

The Collector guild operated a special gallery that could never be replaced anywhere else.

Dangerous objects from all over the world gathered there, to the point that the government directly regulated who could enter.

If Collector couldn’t handle an object, where could they possibly throw it away.

Another disaster would surely occur.

Up to now, before such a disaster could happen, every incident had stopped at the level of a “ghost story.”

“But if it can’t be subdued to this extent...”

“I’ve heard they aren’t even trying to subdue it.”

“Why?

Wouldn’t it be better to destroy it or seal it?”

“They say they know they won’t succeed anyway, so instead, they’d rather not offend it...”

“It can be offended?

That means it has that much intelligence... then does it have an ego?”

“The rumor that it’s a humanoid monster is being accepted as the most credible, and if so, wouldn’t it have an ego, at least?”

“Wow, this is crazy.

Now they’re even bringing in a humanoid monster.”

“When was the last time a humanoid monster was sighted?

A few years ago?”

Not once had Bisabeol ever left a “ghost story” alone to this extent.

He was someone who knew very well how much efficiency rose when employees felt stable.

And yet it had become this situation.

“Is there anyone injured?”

“Not really...”

And as this situation continued.

“...”

“...”

“...Then isn’t there no problem?”

Employees began to convince themselves.

“No one’s hurt, no one’s dead.

Then why is it a ghost story?”

“Fundamentally, a ghost story means a strange story, so... if it really is only a story, then that makes sense.”

“So it was just a story?

If there are witnesses, it seems like it exists, but that’s really strange.”

“Right?”

This was the Collector guild.

Every employee in the guild was a collectible that Bisabeol the collector had personally gathered.

The realistic and cynical employees to his taste gradually calmed down on their own.

“Come on, it must’ve been made up.”

“They said someone saw it.”

“Then it was probably a hallucination skill.”

“Maybe.”

“Anyway, they say it isn’t dangerous.”

“Maybe the guildmaster hired a new employee without telling us.”

“Well, it’s not like we know every employee.

Didn’t something similar happen before?”

“There was that time a quiet employee got rumors going around that he was a ghost.

If you think about that, it’s possible.”

“Stuff like this should be announced beforehand.

Right?”

“The guildmaster’s personality is pretty unique, isn’t it?

Let’s all understand.”

“That’s true.

So when are they going to introduce this new hire...”

Guildmaster Bisabeol is someone who cherishes his employees to an extreme degree.

If he was leaving a “ghost story” alone to this extent, then it was certainly not such a dangerous existence.

Whether it truly existed, whether it didn’t, whatever it was.

The employees trusted Bisabeol.

“...”

“...”

Bisabeol himself knew that.

“...Did you anticipate this?”

“Who knows?”

Collector regained its peace.

Even though nothing had been resolved.

Fantasy, modern,