Chapter 27

The Painter Who Draws Dungeons — Episode 27

The restaurant Yoo Sungwoon led him to had all the staff wearing hanbok.

“I have a reservation for two under Yoo Sungwoon.”

“Mr. Yoo Sungwoon, confirmed.

We’ll seat you inside, so please take off your shoes.”

At the sight of Yoo Sungwoon receiving the staff’s service without hesitation, Gio stood a step back and looked over the restaurant.

The restaurant he had guided him to was a hanok with a strong antique atmosphere, as if it had been drawn in ink.

The pillars had curves that stood out, preserving the natural beauty of the wood, and the faint, pleasantly bitter scent of hinoki and the high, open ceiling eased his insides.

What he saw was not a noisy crowd of gathered customers, but a silent, neat wooden corridor.

Each room visible between the corridors strongly emphasized an especially individualistic character.

“...”

This is... a set-meal place?

‘In the past thirty-one years, the definition of a set-meal place I know has definitely changed.’

Where did my noisy yet cozy set-meal place go, where I’d sit cross-legged on a platform and pick at dried croaker?

“Gio, let’s go in.”

“Do we eat here?”

“Ah.”

As if making excuses about what he was even paying attention to, Yoo Sungwoon said,

“Please ignore people’s presence.

Even so, at this level, they’ve blocked presence and sound pretty well.”

“...”

“If it’s very uncomfortable, should we move to another place?

There’s a place where we can use an entire building to ourselves.”

No, this guy?

‘Is he treating me like a walking nuclear power plant.’

He didn’t know how sensitive an existence he thought him to be.

“It isn’t uncomfortable.”

“Yeah?

That’s a relief.”

“Is it divided into rooms?”

“Yeah, the rooms aren’t small, so you’ll be able to eat comfortably.”

“I see.”

Unless something was really wrong, Gio wasn’t the kind of person to refuse when someone offered him free food.

‘Anyway, it looks like it’ll be tasty, so that’s enough.’

In the past thirty-one years, the world seemed to have changed a lot, and it gave him a complicated feeling, but with his hungry stomach’s permission, Gio threw off his worries and followed behind Yoo Sungwoon.

“If you’ve finished choosing the menu, please press the bell.”

“Yes.”

“Please enjoy your time.”

The staff member, wearing hanbok in soft colors as if dyed with flower petals, quietly left the room.

After waiting a moment while sensing the fading footsteps, Gio asked,

“Is this place a set-meal restaurant?”

“...Ah, right.”

It didn’t show much, but Yoo Sungwoon reacted as if he’d just realized something.

Gio had only meant, ‘Is a place this fancy really a set-meal restaurant?’ but Yoo Sungwoon seemed to have understood it as, ‘So what exactly is a set-meal restaurant?’

“A set-meal is a table spread where you eat rice with soup and side dishes.”

“...”

As a teacher, out of pride, Gio wanted to refute it in an instant, but it didn’t seem like a misunderstanding that would be cleared up by that, so he decided to keep his mouth shut and listen to the explanation.

He was proud it was a mature judgment.

“The rice is always the same, and the soup changes every day, and today... it seems like it’s seaweed soup.”

Having said that, Yoo Sungwoon asked with a face like he was checking just in case,

“Do you eat seaweed?”

“There is no food I can’t eat or dislike.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Yoo Sungwoon opened the menu booklet that had been placed at the edge of the table.

“The basic side dishes are all the same, and what we choose is the main menu.

It’s mostly divided into meat and fish—what are you more drawn to?”

“Right now, I am more drawn to meat.”

Soft-hearted Gio couldn’t hunt forest animals.

To begin with, he didn’t even know how to hunt, and the round, cute illustrated animals would obviously have poor yield even if he did hunt them.

Gio would be happy no matter what he ate and didn’t have picky eating, but since he was out anyway, he did want meat.

‘You have to eat when it’s out.’

Yoo Sungwoon nodded.

“Then let’s do Gwangyang bulgogi.”

He pressed down on the number pad at the edge of the table.

It seemed like a system where you input the menu corresponding to the numbers here, then the kitchen receives it and cooks right away.

After pressing the bell, the red button, Yoo Sungwoon looked at Gio again.

“Among the set-meal places I’ve been to, I think this one tastes the best.

They don’t even use monster meat.”

“Do you usually use monster meat?”

“It’s commonly eaten, right?

But it feels a bit off to eat monsters even when you’ve come to a restaurant.”

“...”

Somehow, it seemed he held ‘restaurants’ in higher regard than Gio knew. Gio, an ancestor who had hibernated for thirty-one years, 고민했다 how to ask this without sounding strange.

“Why, do you have something to ask?”

“...Are restaurants differentiated places compared to other facilities?”

“Hm?

Isn’t that true for most places?”

As if it were an unexpected question, Yoo Sungwoon scratched the back of his neck.

“You’re not eating at home, you’re receiving a meal by borrowing someone else’s hands.

In my case it isn’t to a burdensome level, but for Grade 2 citizens and below, it’s a bit difficult.”

“Are all restaurants like that?”

“For the most part, yeah.

In the first place, a restaurant is a place for eating, but more than that, it’s largely for receiving service.

There are many people like me who seek out restaurants to eat, but there are even more people who come in order to be treated.”

It felt a little different from the definition of a restaurant Gio knew.

‘Compared to what I knew, it’s like fine dining or omakase.

Has every restaurant become upscale...’

No, wait—then what about delivery?

“Do you not use delivery?”

Yoo Sungwoon looked like he hadn’t expected the word “delivery” to come out of Gio’s mouth.

He began to suspect just how far this man was viewing him as an ancestor, but since it was annoying to explain, Gio kept his mouth shut.

“Delivery is also... a frequently used method.

It’s more expensive, though.”

“Is that so?”

“If you run into a monster on the way, that’s a major accident.

Avoiding it is troublesome, too.”

What kind of monster is being treated at the level of a stray cat?

It definitely didn’t seem like the degree of harm was at stray-cat level, which made it all the more absurd.

“So unless you’re throwing a party, people usually don’t order delivery much.

I’m the same.”

“...”

If it’s delivery on a scale where you can throw a party, isn’t that just catering?

“...Then do most people make their own meals at home?”

“Usually, yeah.

Buying ingredients costs money, too—where would you have the leeway to receive service on top of that.

Going to restaurants itself isn’t that common.”

Did the world collapse once and then rebuild?

“But we are at a restaurant, aren’t we?”

“That’s because I said I’d take you sightseeing...”

“Ah-ha.”

It must have meant he’d treat him extremely well.

That even simple communication was throwing errors made Gio think seriously.

‘...Do I need social-skills training again?

It’ll be hard to receive compulsory education at my age.

Should I re-enroll in college even now?’

Only thirty-one years had passed, yet the world had changed far too much.

At this rate, every time Gio talked with someone, he would be treated like an alien from Sirius.

‘Or like a shut-in recluse cut off from society.’

Damn heavens and earth, that second one didn’t even seem wrong, which made it even more chilling.

‘Is this what it feels like for elders who can’t keep up with a changing society...?’

Grandma, I finally understand how you felt.

Living to match a rapidly advancing era was truly difficult.

Deeply moved, Gio looked at the meal the staff set up.

“It’s hot, so please step back a little.”

Saying that, the staff member dropped a single ember at the center of the table.

Then the fire flared up and formed a shape similar to a gas stove, and the staff member placed a grill plate over the circular flame.

Then they put a few pieces of bulgogi on it and left the room.

“...”

There’s nothing, but the fire turned on.

‘It’s a table made of wood, but it isn’t burning.’

Correction.

What Gio needed wasn’t re-enrolling in college, but re-entering kindergarten.

Judging by Yoo Sungwoon’s look, this seemed like a very natural thing, but Gio, who had been separated from society for exactly thirty-one years, could only be amazed.

“Mm, it seems like it’s beef.”

“...If it isn’t cow, what meat is there?”

“Like I said earlier, there’s a high chance it’s monster meat, right?

It’s cheaper per unit than cow or lamb.”

“Does it taste bad?”

“It’s not that, but...”

Sssssk—.

As Yoo Sungwoon stirred the meat, he continued.

“It’s just the overall social mood.

There are many meats that have no reason to be avoided as long as they’re not special parts with toxins, but monsters are things that attack people... and most of them look gross, right?

You could say it’s only natural that the meat of monsters that eat people isn’t welcomed.”

“Hearing you say it like that, I understand.”

“But generally, it’s also meat that households use a lot.

Cheap, abundant lumps of protein can’t help but be popular.

Still, the point was that it feels a bit off to eat monsters even at a restaurant like this, where you come to be treated.”

“Is it not dangerous?”

“Not every monster carries poison in its body, you know?”

Yoo Sungwoon gave a small laugh.

“Well, I heard that up until about twenty years ago, the mood was more like, how could you eat something dangerous like that.

Back then I was young, so I don’t really know now.”

“Even if it was twenty years ago, it is not such a distant past, yet people’s perceptions seem to have changed quickly.”

“I guess the government and the Association did a lot of work in various ways...”

A government competent enough to change Koreans’ perceptions about the meat going into their mouths in just twenty years?

‘Why did so much change just because thirty-one years passed?’

It was a more surprising story than Gio himself evolving into a portrait in a blaze.

Yoo Sungwoon’s opinion might differ, but at least Gio himself felt that way.

“It seems the government is competent.”

“No, well, if you don’t want your head taken, you have to be competent.”

“...”

“They’ve already had their heads taken a few times, so only competent people are left.”

Gio shrank back.

Hyung, why would you say that before eating meat.

‘...Well, they say hunters are living weapons of war, so I suppose even politicians wouldn’t be untouchable.’

Gio quickly accepted it and stirred the meat together.

“May I eat?”

“Yeah, I think it’s cooked.”

“Thank you for the meal.”

“I hope it suits your taste.”

“I think it will.”

Korean bulgogi is broadly divided into three types.

First, Seoul-style.

Second, Gwangyang-style.

Third, Eonyang-style.

Among them, Gio’s favorite was this Gwangyang-style bulgogi.

The bulgogi most people know—marinated in broth and sauce—is Seoul-style bulgogi, but unlike the Seoul-style eaten like a hot pot, Gwangyang-style is grilled dry on a wire mesh.

It differs a little by household, but most don’t marinate it in seasoning for very long, either.

‘So the meat’s flavor comes through much better.’

Beef that has been pounded many times to soften the texture and spread thin.

If you grill it hard once on the wire mesh, you complete Gwangyang-style bulgogi with a crisp outside and a moist inside, living meat juices.

“...”

One piece of bulgogi lifted off the wire mesh.

Without sauce or rice, Gio put a single piece of bulgogi wholly into his mouth.

“...”

“How is it, is it good?”

“It is very delicious.”

It was such an excellent taste that if he had been alone, in a private room like this, he would have given a standing ovation.

“It seems you use good meat.

The meaty aroma isn’t gamey and is rich, and the texture is quite good.

It seems you pounded it a lot for the tenderizing process, but seeing that it doesn’t tear even at this thickness, it must mean the chef’s skill is excellent as well.”

“You... when you eat something tasty, you get more talkative.”

“My apologies.”

It was so delicious, I couldn’t help it.

“But it truly is delicious.”

“It looks like it.”

“It’s a taste I want to try making.”

The surface grilled hard like it was deep-fried over charcoal briefly had the bitter taste unique to burnt meat, but it added variation to the gentle sweetness of properly charred meat.

The moderate fat embedded in the meat gave a deep flavor like stock, enough that you could tell the quality of the meat by that alone.

“The seasoning is also just right.”

The mild sweetness mixed deep within the meat was probably pear.

Did they grate pear into the meat to tenderize it?

On top of that, he could feel a polite bitterness, as if some kind of alcohol had been added, doubling the refinement of the taste.

“It goes well with the garlic, too.

The aroma is appropriately good, not excessive.”

The sharp scent of garlic was embedded deep in the meat, pricking the back of his tongue, yet after being grilled once over charcoal, that harshness melted softly away.

It seemed they used good sesame oil as well, because a fresh fragrance lingered.

“...”

“Hm?

Why?”

“It seems you also make the soy sauce yourselves.”

“Are you a gourmet?

How did you know that?”

“Is that right?”

“Uh... I did hear it from the owner here, but.”

Gio nodded.

“The scent of chili is unusually strong, so I wondered.”

“You don’t just like eating for no reason.

Your tongue is sensitive.”

“The dipping sauce is... tasty, too.”

The ingredients that went in seemed similar to the bulgogi seasoning, but this subtle sweet-and-sourness.

The deep scent of maesil blended into the sauce without awkwardness, adding to the richness.

‘It isn’t maesil syrup...’

He suspected it might be plum vinegar made from maesil.

“...”

If you lightly dip the meat—just a little, not too much—into the brown sauce with bits of garlic showing, and eat it with steaming, fluffy white rice...

“...”

“Happy?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

As expected, there was a taste to eating rice by stuffing your mouth full.

Fantasy, modern,