Chapter 2

The Painter Who Draws Dungeons — Chapter 2

A neatly kept kitchen in a cabin in the woods, filled with warm air.

“I should eat dinner.”

Gio was preparing a meal.

“To think I can be this happy, just repeating eating and sleeping without working.”

It was, so to speak, the happiness of the unemployed.

“Now that I’m unemployed, I can finally fulfill my duty as a potato...

I’ll have to sit at the table for three whole hours.”

Seo Gio was a gourmet and a big eater.

The life of a teacher—having to display a proper, not-flashy, suitably well-adjusted kind of social living—was far too harsh on him, a cultured pig.

“I’ve always thought I wanted to enjoy a menu I like alone, at whatever time is personally comfortable.”

With his characteristically blunt face, Seo Gio nodded.

“This is the life of returning to farming...”

Whether this really fell under the category of returning to farming, he didn’t know, but anyway, it did.

More than anything, despite looking as if he’d been carved out of Arctic ice, Seo Gio was originally from the mountain backcountry of Gangwon Province, and ever since moving to the city he’d been waiting for the right moment to return to the countryside.

“To think I’d lose my job and become a portrait before I fulfilled my dream of rural life—life really is a hurricane.”

It was unpredictable, and even fun.

A real hurricane wouldn’t be fun, of course.

“Then today, something simple...”

With an oil lamp whose candle flame didn’t go out even in the wind flickering above, Gio took out the ingredients.

Sweet potatoes.

“...”

A big sweet potato.

Gio blinked twice as if envisioning today’s daily bread, then soon reached a conclusion.

“...Should I make honey stir-fried sweet potatoes.”

It was something he sometimes made when older folks sent him sweet potatoes; all he needed was a bit of honey and salt, sweet potatoes, and butter.

Nothing else was necessary.

Fortunately, all of those ingredients were in the cabin.

Like a tree spring that existed despite never being thought out beforehand, the cabin’s furniture and ingredients had also been piled up together.

In particular, perhaps because it was a feature of this painted world, ingredients that always remained in top condition even after days passed moved Seo Gio deeply.

“Mmm...”

Clink.

Gio took out a jar of honey from a cupboard that smelled of hinoki cypress.

“...Dairy products were in the basement, right.”

Milk, cheese, butter—dairy products and, basically, all foods that needed refrigeration were gathered in the cabin’s underground storage.

With transparent ice sealing it on all sides and keeping a cool chill, the storage served as an excellent refrigerator.

It was cold enough that your breath would show when you went in, but perhaps because he’d evolved into a possessed portrait, he didn’t feel the cold.

‘Just pleasantly cool.’

Seeing that the other ingredients didn’t freeze either, he wondered why his breath showed at all.

“It’s a phenomenon that flat-out ignores the laws of physics, but... it’s funny, so whatever.”

Holding a small bowl and a knife, he went down the stairs to the underground storage, and a storeroom door made of wood as cold and heavy as metal appeared before him.

As soon as he opened it, a few small jars haphazardly organized inside what looked like an ice cave, and a large shelf, came into view.

‘When I checked last time, it looked like there was a variety.’

He rummaged through the butter on display on the shelf.

“Something with a mild scent would be nice.”

Among ingredients that add sweetness, honey in particular had a strong aroma.

Sweet potatoes and honey were already enough; if the butter’s aroma was strong on top of that, it could become a bit overwhelming.

Among the various kinds, Seo Gio found a pale yellow butter and cut off a small piece.

“If I add too much, it’ll be greasy...”

After taking out only as much as he needed for this dish, Gio neatly wrapped up the packaging again, carefully closed the storeroom door, and went back up to the kitchen.

Seo Gio’s cooking skills were excellent.

If they weren’t, the very idea of a gourmet like him cooking for himself wouldn’t even have occurred.

“Ah, it’s so fresh.”

With practiced hands, Gio cleaned the sweet potatoes thoroughly.

He thought about how to portion them.

“...For now...”

After blinking twice, he portioned the sweet potatoes into long rectangular shapes.

They were stick-shaped, of a suitable length.

“...It’s not that much, anyway.”

Gio prepared seventeen big sweet potatoes.

The iron tray piled with the cut sweet potatoes went straight into the oven.

The oven, already preheated, quickly cooked the outside of the sweet potatoes.

When the intense heat had made the outside crisp while the inside was still completely raw, Gio took them out of the oven.

Those fellows, cooked only on the outside with the inside still raw sweet potato, slid in a line onto a large wok.

“Now butter and salt.”

Keeping the heat low so the butter wouldn’t burn, he sprinkled a little salt over it.

The sweet potatoes, slowly cooking bit by bit over the gentle fire, were coated in butter and gave off a sweet, nutty aroma.

“And a little honey...”

Ssssss―.

“Add it.”

Gio drizzled the honey he’d scooped with a spoon, then quickly spun the wok.

The honey and butter, mixed with strong force like Chinese-restaurant fried rice being made, settled neatly onto the sweet potatoes.

“...”

When it seemed like it was about right.

“Good.”

Gio turned off the fire and spun the pan a few more times.

It helped the butter and honey blend together instead of separating.

If you didn’t go through this process, the butter would split and run off as oil, and the honey would become unpleasantly sticky, leaving you with a monstrous dish.

‘It’d still taste good, but...’

With cooking, you had to pay attention to texture, too.

Even with the same flavor, a single difference in texture could make it a completely different dish.

“...There.”

Gio plated the finished honey stir-fried sweet potatoes, and immediately soaked the messy wok in water.

‘No matter how foolish humans are, I won’t repeat the same mistake.’

Honey mixed with butter, dried and stuck onto a pan, often had a demon’s spirit in it, testing the patience of a kind person like Seo Gio.

Anyway, this was today’s dinner menu.

“Nice.”

Honey stir-fried sweet potatoes weren’t hard to make, and they were excellent both as a snack and as a meal.

Sitting at the wooden table, Gio poked a sweet potato stick with his fork and lifted it.

The outside was glossy like candied sweet potatoes, but the honey coating was far more delicate; with butter added, it gave off quite a complex fragrance.

“...”

Seeing how softly the fork slid into the sweet potato, it seemed perfectly cooked.

Gio put the sweet potato into his mouth just like that.

“...”

Munch...

He reached a conclusion.

“Delish.”

It was ordinarily delicious.

‘I like this more than candied sweet potatoes.

Grandma did too...’

Unlike candied sweet potatoes, which could stab the roof of your mouth as you ate, the coating on these honey stir-fried sweet potatoes was delicate.

It only added a smooth, tender texture thanks to the honey and butter mixed together.

It was a dish that gave a different kind of enjoyment from candied sweet potatoes, which had a certain crispness.

‘Sweet potatoes and honey really are a good combination.’

And butter and salt, too—they all went together as a set.

Butter added a different, savory richness to honey’s aroma, which could have become a little too simple, and a little salt balanced a dish that might otherwise have become too greasy or too sweet.

“Putting a little herb on top might’ve been fine, too.”

Spices used in a mild way—pepper, parsley, rosemary—would probably be okay.

“But then the aroma would get a bit strong.

Maybe it’d be hard to enjoy lightly.”

Gio liked it as it was.

‘The texture’s exactly to my taste, too.’

The surface of the sweet potatoes, which had lost moisture in the oven, was still keeping its crispness even after rolling around between honey and butter.

On the other hand, the inside—which hadn’t cooked at all—seemed to have turned moist and tender thanks to being coated with honey and butter.

‘The moisture inside must’ve been trapped by the oven’s strong heat.

It was a good call to crisp up the outside first.’

Trimmed into a long shape, it was fun to eat, and the texture felt varied.

If you ate too much it would get greasy, but at this amount, it made for a pleasant meal.

After all, Gio was someone who ate a lot.

“...”

Looking at the bowl with only a faint trace of honey-butter sauce left, Gio thought.

‘As expected of me, a potato—what a splendid potato.’

He hadn’t wanted to eat that much right before sleeping, but it was just the right menu.

“I like it.”

The lantern light on the table glowed softly.

It had a very analog kind of sensibility; when he stared at it quietly, even though it wasn’t his hometown, he felt a longing.

“It’d be perfect to use when camping.”

Within the calm fullness that seemed to coax him toward sleep, Gio stayed like that for quite a while.

Feeling the laziness of an empty but not lacking bowl, and the lantern’s low voice that softened the air even more...

Soon, Gio’s gaze turned toward the window outside, where the spring breeze shyly greeted him.

“...”

After staring at the outside, long since darkened, Gio stood up.

“...It’d be better to prepare the medicinal ingredients in advance.”

It was to make the medicine related to bleeding that the system had told him about.

For some reason, it didn’t feel like a day would come when he’d need it anytime soon, but making things one by one and piling up works like this was, for an artist, one kind of pleasure.

A sort of collection.

“Let’s start by washing the mangdung berries and laying them out.

If I want to dry them thoroughly enough to grind into powder, it’ll take quite a while.

They’re big, so it’ll probably take longer than making raisins...”

He almost dozed off for a moment, but perhaps because of the sugars, his mind started working quickly.

“Should I start with about fifty berries for later.

Even if there are only three flowers so the juice won’t be much, if I make a lot of powder, I can use it later anyway.”

Having reached a conclusion, Gio moved.

With drinking water he’d drawn from the stream beforehand, he washed the berries clean.

Mangdung berries were quite springy fruits, and once they went into the water, you could faintly see through their insides.

“...They kind of resemble gooseberries.”

Of course, since mangdung berries were packed full inside with flesh, the difference was clear.

Continuing his idle thoughts, Gio washed all the berries.

“...”

Squeak.

“Nice.”

Little, bright-red, bead-shaped fruits soaked in transparent, clean streamwater.

The sound they made as they were scrubbed hard in Gio’s hands was more pleasant than expected.

After washing them all, he set the mangdung berries on a bamboo tray.

“My mouth might get bored, so I should set some aside as snacks.”

For now it was evening, but to dry properly, they’d need to be placed outside where there was good airflow and strong sunlight.

Gio placed the tray with the spread-out berries right in front of the cabin.

“And...”

After coming back inside, he approached the brazier where wood had been stacked.

‘Now I need fire.’

Tatak, tak.

Gio shook a plant with a round bulb attached.

Then, from inside the bulb, a small, dull sound rang out, and whoosh—flames flared up.

It was small but fairly strong, the color bluish.

A faint fragrance was rising from it little by little.

Like a campfire burning in winter, it was simply nice to look at.

“...”

Gio threw it onto the brazier’s firewood and lit it.

Bellflower

A flower in which a black bulb blooms instead of ordinary petals, and it is inedible.

Before it fully blooms, when it is still in bulb form, if you shake the flower, the stamen and pistil strike each other and make fire.

However, sparks only fly if you move it strongly up and down, so natural ignition almost never happens.

It means it can substitute for a lighter or matches.

“...It’s light and pretty, too—if they sold this on Earth, it would’ve been a huge hit as an aesthetic camping item...”

With a blunt face, Gio muttered worldly greed and rummaged through his basket.

Then he took out ten blossoms of baibameunil, shaped similar to orchids.

He washed those lightly as well and placed them on a small tray, then hung a pot over the brazier and poured water into it.

Then he waited until it boiled.

“...This should be about enough.”

After confirming the water bubbling up at a good boil, Gio dropped in the baibameunil.

A deep, sweet aroma unique to vanilla rose up.

Pop, popop―!

“Mmm...”

If he were going to eat it the way you eat greens, it would be best to dip it briefly and take it out, but this flower was not greens.

If you didn’t blanch it properly, toxins would remain.

‘The time it takes for the toxicity to leach out is ten minutes total.’

Gio faithfully followed the system’s words.

He waited for the toxin to leach out of the flowers while eating some mangdung berries he’d set aside.

“Is it done?”

After checking the time with the system, ten minutes later, Seo Gio stood before the pot again.

With long chopsticks, he lifted the limp flowers onto a tray.

Even though they’d been boiled for quite a long time, their shape remained intact.

He rinsed the blanched flowers once in clean water and left them as they were for a moment.

Without extinguishing the brazier’s weakened fire, Gio only switched out the pot on top.

The water left from boiling baibameunil would still contain toxins.

“I should dry these too.”

Holding the tray with the flowers, Gio went outside again.

And when he opened the door—

“...”

Whooo...

A tender spring breeze blew in.

“...Refreshing.”

A texture and temperature like lukewarm clouds gently wrapping around his face.

It was a pleasant wind.

‘Soft and cool.’

With a hazy breeze that oddly made his heart thump and carried a faint drowsiness, Gio slowly blinked.

‘It’d be perfect to fall asleep like this.’

The wind, neither hot nor cold, was soft like fine hanji paper or silk, tickling the tips of his fingers.

“...”

After savoring the small happiness that had come without warning, Gio soon moved his feet.

“...I hope they dry well.”

Placing the trays of mangdung berries and flowers side by side, Gio returned to the cabin.

There were already two baskets in front of the house, but there was still more to prepare.

This time, what Gio took was a transparent flower called rurupu.

“...”

What was I supposed to do with this, again.

Perhaps because drowsiness was washing over him, he couldn’t think well; after hesitating for a moment, Gio asked the system for help.

“Elixir method.”

Elixir Method: Put petals into warm, edible water and wait until they melt and release juice.

You must never touch the process with your hands.

The extracted juice can be used with various medicinal ingredients.

Usable elixir method: Blood rice cakes using mangdung berries and rurupu juice.

“Thank you.”

After thanking the system, Gio poured water into the newly switched pot.

Cold water entered the heated pot, changing it to a lukewarm temperature.

When he held his hand just above the water, a little steam rose—warm enough.

‘It said warm water, not hot water, so wouldn’t this temperature be about right.’

Thinking that, Gio grasped the flower he’d brought from the spring.

The rurupu flower—seemingly made of water yet woven like silk and sturdy—gave off a clear, sweet fragrance like dew drops made of honey.

When he carefully put it into the pot...

“...”

A glittering like the Milky Way spread through all the water in the pot.

“...Rurupu’s sparkle must be because it scatters sunlight or lamplight.”

Had it been trapping bright sunlight or clear lamplight within its body?

It felt like watching ice made with glitter melt into warm water.

“...Oh.”

Soon the sparkle subsided, and the pot’s water gave off a more vivid fragrance.

A capitalist thought suddenly crossed his mind—that it would probably sell well if made into perfume—but Gio scooped out the contents before the water fully boiled.

‘That was close.’

The flower water he’d scooped out went into a glass bottle he’d prepared beforehand.

“At a glance it doesn’t really hit you, but I can make medicine with this.”

Even though all he’d done was dissolve it in water, rurupu juice shone with an entrancing light, like paint made by an artist grinding their soul into it.

Could he really make medicine with this? The doubt arose.

“...”

Well, there wasn’t anything you couldn’t try.

Life was all like that.

“A perfectly healthy living human became a possessed portrait—so a strangely colored medicine isn’t something I can’t make, either.”

After finishing all the preparations, Gio went up to the second floor of the cabin.

The drowsiness that had been tickling his eyelids for a while urged him toward sleep.

The wooden stairs under his soles somehow felt warmly heated.

Though they were surely solid hardwood, there was a strangely cushy texture to them, and perhaps because they were made of good wood, a fragrance that soothed the heart drifted up from here and there.

The bed in the bedroom he reached was soft, as if made of water.

“Haa...”

Pwoosh―.

He burrowed straight into the bed.

“...”

As if tidying up the day, his eyes blinked a couple of times, then quietly closed, like a child being stroked in a parent’s arms.

Through the wide-open window, a breeze carrying the forest’s scent flowed in, and that delicate wind passed over his whole body, as if it were shy, carefully.

Once across his forehead, once across his fingertips, once across his knees...

A pitch-dark field of vision.

In the meantime, the cries of birds that had risen at evening faded faintly away.

“...”

With the soft song of insects as a lullaby.

Gio fell asleep.

Fantasy, modern,