Chapter 30

The Painter Who Draws Dungeons — Episode 30

Gio looked around the restaurant interior once again.

‘This place really nailed the concept.’

Gio, who had more romance than fear, did not flinch even at the words, “They say this is a restaurant made out of a dungeon where dozens of people died.”

‘Delicious food is coming out, so why should I be scared?’

To Gio, the air of this restaurant, “Istua,” even felt sweet.

“...”

“Do you like it here?”

“The atmosphere is good.”

It was fun to admire.

It is chaotic yet clean, dreamlike yet neat.

The cool yet somehow kind temperature of the colors must have been the skill of a designer who appropriately mixed white and pastel tones.

It was a bizarre yet fantastic design, as if it had given form to one person’s beautiful dream.

‘It’s likely not a human who designed this building, but...’

A complex, beautiful building like a dream made manifest, and sweet air that made his mouth water as if it had realized a fantasy.

At this unusual experience he’d never had in his life, he was excited as if he’d come to an amusement park.

Originally, Earth also had something called immersive dining.

It refers to restaurants where you can watch a performance in a theater designed around a single concept and eat a meal immersed in it.

Should you call it a participatory play where you can enjoy a meal?

‘And this place even has a story tied to a whole dimension called a dungeon.

Unlike a pure play that can be called a lie, it’s like being inside a story that really existed.

And they said the chef here is the protagonist of that story, too.’

This restaurant was quite tall, but its center was open, so even from the first floor you could see the ceiling directly.

That didn’t mean the center was simply a perfectly round hole.

A rounded lobby with no railing, and layered stairways connected over and over.

There, guests could dine.

Those enjoying a meal seated in the aerial lobby were placed in a fine position, as if they had been chosen as the protagonists of this play.

“...”

The seat Gio and Yoo Sungwoon took was at the edge of the fifth floor.

“...”

“Um...”

Yoo Sungwoon asked with a just-in-case face.

“Did you want to sit in the lobby after all?

It’s a popular seat since it’s where the dungeon’s story unfolded.”

“No.”

“Ah, quick answer.

You kept looking at the aerial lobby, so I thought you might like that side better.”

“I liked the building’s structure, so I was admiring it.

It’s enjoyable to look at.”

He had enough sense not to refuse strongly, but he absolutely did not want to eat in the aerial lobby.

‘Having my presence that focused on like that would be too harsh an experience for someone soft-hearted like me.’

If you think of immersive dining, that too could be called part of the play, but he didn’t want to eat in a place like that where the eyes of unfamiliar strangers he didn’t even know would clearly reach him.

Gio was shy around people.

“I was only admiring it.”

“Then that’s a relief.”

At Gio’s neat yet firm voice, Yoo Sungwoon swallowed a breath of relief inwardly.

‘...I can’t put Gio out in a seat that public.’

Gio was still keeping his hood on, as he wished, but even so, you couldn’t hide his build and atmosphere.

Even if he lowered his rank by imitating a human, where would his essence go?

‘The number of eyes watching is about nineteen... among them, hunters are eleven.

About four are feeling wary and preparing for any possible incident.

One C-rank, two B-ranks, one A-rank.’

Istua was an unusual restaurant that used the remnants of a past dungeon as-is, so most ordinary people who hadn’t even awakened tended to avoid entering.

The hurdle was too high to come casually just to enjoy a meal.

It wasn’t just the price, but above all, it was out because it was a place where people had once died in large numbers.

‘A lot of people said they’d have nightmares if they ate here.’

For hunters, seeing people die was everyday life, so over seventy percent of Istua’s customers were hunters.

But even among them, people’s reactions split.

‘The remnant’s influence still remains.’

Istua’s building began with hallucinations and auditory hallucinations, and in severe cases, some people even developed dissociative episodes.

It wasn’t easy to get that far unless you caused a disturbance in the restaurant, but there were many customers who couldn’t endure the faint pressure that seeped from the building itself.

“...”

This Gio bastard.

‘If he’s going to imitate a human, shouldn’t he do it properly?’

If he acts like this, openly taking in the restaurant with his eyes and enjoying it, of course he can’t help but draw customers’ attention.

In a space where the weirdness gets worse the more you look, he was blatantly showing that he wasn’t human.

‘...And besides...’

Even if it wasn’t a creepy atmosphere or behavior, Gio had something lofty about him.

‘He really looks like an aristocrat, so does he suit a French restaurant like this even better?’

Should you call it elegant, or should you call it imposing?

He wasn’t particularly trying to, and was rather trying to lower himself, yet there was a dignity that seeped from his every movement.

‘Before, I only talked with him while he was a portrait, so I didn’t feel it strongly, but now that he’s definitely outside, that refined vibe really stands out.

He also has that neat feeling like temple priests.’

Does he really think the words “ordinary person” fit him when he has an atmosphere like this?

‘To begin with, there aren’t many humans like this, either...’

Gio had a high level of respect for and understanding of humans, but here and there, he still looked sloppy.

Seeing how he lacked detail, it seemed he really wasn’t human after all.

“...”

Of course, Gio wasn’t thinking about anything.

‘It’s been a while since a restaurant like this.’

That was about as much as he thought, briefly, as Giovanni.

In truth, all that attitude people called dignity or whatever came from ‘Giovanni,’ who had been an aristocrat, a doctor, and a priest.

He simply hadn’t been aware of the habits and atmosphere that came out on their own.

“This is the pre-meal bread.”

“Thank you.”

Gio’s heart pounded.

‘It’s bread.’

It had been so long that a lump of flour could be this welcome.

It made him feel even better as he recalled meals he had shared with his disciples when he lived as Giovanni.

Yoo Sungwoon seemed to have guessed Gio’s mood as well.

“You like bread?”

“Don’t worry. There is nothing I don’t eat, and I don’t have picky eating either.”

“You really do like food...”

“That is so.”

Gio tore off a small part of the bread and set it on the small plate.

‘Small and round.’

Then, instead of eating it all at once, he broke it into small pieces and ate little by little.

At Giovanni’s behavior, Yoo Sungwoon stared at him.

“...”

Yoo Sungwoon became convinced inwardly.

‘An aristocrat... or didn’t he belong to a class on par with that?’

Just looking at those manners where he paid attention to every single bite.

‘It didn’t stand out much at the set-meal place.

Did he have ties to the French side?

Or separately from that, maybe he just had something related to Western culture...’

Leaving Yoo Sungwoon to ponder, Gio continued eating.

“The bread is delicious.”

“Is it?

The aroma is good, at least.”

“It is mild and savory.”

The surface of the bread was dried crisp enough that it almost felt dry, but even so, it wasn’t hard or tough like a ruined loaf.

Inside the shell that crumbled crisp like pastry layers was a fluffy interior with steam rising.

‘It definitely doesn’t feel like sliced bread or a dinner roll, and if I had to find the closest thing, it would be ciabatta.

But even compared to that, it’s absurdly fluffy—so it’s a bit different from what I know...’

Between the fluffiness, as if meringue had been puffed up to form layers, he could feel a delicate chewiness.

Once in the crisp shell, once in the soft, fluffy texture, and once in the gentle chewiness that seeped in—there was pleasure in chewing.

The mild, savory taste of the bread itself that preserved the grain’s natural aroma, and the faint woody scent of the oven, were excellent as well.

‘Not excessive, and harmonious overall.’

He wanted to kidnap whoever made it.

“This oil’s aroma is good too.”

“Ah, right?

They say it’s an oil mixed with olives and mushrooms.”

“Olives and mushrooms?”

“Both are dungeon varieties that were improved.

Maybe this will suit your palate better.”

“It is certainly a unique attempt, and I like it.

It seems good.”

Usually, oil for dipping pre-meal bread like this is often paired with balsamic.

Balsamic, which you could call a thick grape vinegar, had an exquisite tart and deep flavor, but strangely, this oil had salt in it instead.

‘It’s almost like eating sashimi.’

Gio suddenly thought of a mermaid with deep blue hair.

A child with a proud and sensitive disposition.

‘...Aria particularly disliked strong flavors, so she liked dipping bread into oil without vinegar, but even if I had added salt like this, it would have been fine... I didn’t think of it then.’

Well, back then, salt was expensive, so it was difficult to stock it abundantly.

No matter that they lived in a seaside village, salt was a precious ingredient.

“...”

It really is like sashimi.

Bread that is especially tender in its interior texture, yet delicate.

Just as you dip fatty tuna belly into oil sauce and eat it, bread full of life gave him that same impression.

‘...With oil and salt together, the aroma is amplified in its own way, and the sweetness of the grain is being emphasized more.

It’s certainly an attempt that matches the texture of freshly baked bread.’

Around the time he was nibbling at the bread, the second dish came out.

“This is onion soup topped with three cheeses.”

Unlike the creamy soup most people imagine, a clear brown soup made relying solely on the sweetness and savoriness of onions.

“...”

The deep yellow and orange cheese spread wide enough to hide what was inside had melted into just the right color.

Gio gently scooped up the soup.

‘The cheese isn’t that thick.’

Unlike the crisp, toasted surface, the inside was delicate and soft.

Perhaps because the side touching the onion soup was like that, the deep savoriness unique to well-caramelized onions had clung to it.

‘The onion’s fibers are well preserved too.

It’s cooked until it can be crushed by the tongue, yet if the onion’s original shape is visible this clearly, it means they made the soup with tremendous care.

That must have taken quite a while.’

Cheese over onion soup.

It was a combination that was obvious if obvious, but Gio didn’t really like the cheese being thick.

As a personal preference, he didn’t like cheese that turned rubbery as the soup and bowl cooled.

‘Someone might say that’s like the radish or meat in radish soup, or that it makes the texture richer... but that isn’t me.

I want to eat soup.’

But this soup bowl kept a warm temperature continuously, and the cheese was not very thin, but not thick either, so it was very easy to scoop and eat.

Thanks to that, it seemed the onion’s natural flavor stood out better.

“...”

“Do you like it?”

“It is good. It makes me feel warm.”

“Onion soup does have a bit of a tonic-food feeling.”

“I think similarly.”

The process of stir-frying firm, white onions until they turn a deep caramel color.

That process is the biggest core of onion soup, and if you burn the onions or undercook them at that time, you’ll end up drinking bland onion water instead of savoriness.

But this soup, which squeezed out every last drop of the onions’ sweetness, savoriness, and inner fragrance, deserved to be called tonic food.

You couldn’t draw out all of an onion’s flavor to this extent with just ordinary effort and time.

‘Kidnap.’

Let’s kidnap the chef.

“This is a cheese-flower salad served with amra purée.”

With the new dish and an unfamiliar word, Gio naturally turned to Yoo Sungwoon.

A beautiful salad: flower-shaped cheese sprinkled over it, topped with a pale yellow sauce, and cleanly trimmed petals surrounding it.

“...”

“...”

An explanation was needed.

“...”

“Ah... are you curious what the ingredient is?”

“If you don’t mind, may I ask what amra is?”

“One of the representative fruits that were brought from a dungeon and successfully improved.

Do you know avocado?”

“I do.”

“It has soft flesh similar to that, but the savory aroma is strong, like nuts.

The amount of oil in the flesh is tremendous, and that kind of oil doesn’t burn even at fairly high temperatures, so I know it’s often used in Chinese cuisine.”

“Then the flesh itself...”

“Right, I’m also seeing a place use amra as a purée for the first time.

To begin with, even last season, they served a fruit salad.

Istua changes its menu every four months, so there’s fun in visiting.”

“I see.”

The fruit called amra had a pale yellow color even lighter than a chick.

‘...It’s a savoriness at a level similar to peanuts or walnuts.’

But it didn’t feel like it immediately called nuts to mind.

If anything, it resembled the savoriness and sweetness you feel when you chew white rice for a long time.

Then, at the end, a thick sweetness like honey and the tang unique to fruit tapped through, adding variation to the flavor.

‘It really is oily, too.

It’s almost like marbling in beef...’

This sweet, soft oiliness that somehow reminded him of beef bone broth matched extremely well with the petals that spread refreshing flavors.

Gio’s gaze naturally reached the cheese flower shaped similarly to an azalea.

“...”

When he gently split the cheese flower, he could tell that this was a “flower” that had grown in this form from the start.

“...The cheese flower is...”

“Are you interested?

Should I get you seedlings later?”

“I would appreciate that.”

“Sure, then.

I’ll buy it for you on the way back after the trip.”

“Thank you.”

A flower that grows as cheese—what a story that gathered up every scrap of childlike wonder, whether he had it or not, and made his heart race.

Wasn’t it something that would come only out of a fairy tale he’d read as a child?

‘If you think of the troublesome process by which humans produce cheese, it’s a very attractive flower.’

To begin with, what is cheese?

Wasn’t it the symbol of effort, where you endlessly stir and churn milk only to obtain a meager amount?

Yet here that processed product comes out plainly as a flower, so of course it was astonishing.

The petals were thin, and beautiful like a work of art.

‘What principle is it?

The taste itself is similar to tête de moine, I think...’

A semi-hard cheese that keeps its form, yet crumbles softly if you tap it.

It had the soft, savory quality unique to milk, yet boasted a strong nutty aroma and a sharp spiciness.

The cheese flower had a slightly stronger spicy bite on the tip of the tongue than that, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

Rather, you could say it was at a level that could freshen the oily taste of the amra purée and the fattiness unique to cheese.

‘This harmony is art—could the chef be an intangible cultural treasure?’

Above all, the cheese flower, with sweetness and savoriness twice as strong as tête de moine, carried a flavor of honey somewhere within it.

It was that delicate sweetness you can taste when you flip an azalea and suck it.

And it matched this flower salad terrifyingly well.

Gio was excited at the thought of returning to the cabin and planting this flower.

“You look really happy.”

“Yes.”

What an obvious thing to say.

“Humans are happiest when they eat.”

“Uh... yeah?”

“At least, I am.”

It had been that way since he was picking up and eating potatoes his grandmother roasted in the hearth.

He couldn’t escape this utterly sensory pleasure.

After that, the fantastic course continued.

Truffle-rich gratin and French fries lightly topped with cheese.

Brisket slowly roasted at a low temperature, then infused with the scent of wood, and garlic made into crisp chips placed on top.

For French cuisine, which is famous for being rich, the harmony was exquisite, so it didn’t become tiresome.

“Was it decent, in its own way?”

“It wasn’t merely decent—it was very good.”

“I’m glad you look like you’re having fun...”

If you’re going to imitate a human, how about at least pretending to mind your surroundings?

‘Humans are more social creatures than you think...’

Yoo Sungwoon, who had to bear the “What on earth is that?” stares on Gio’s behalf the whole time, smiled bitterly.

Fantasy, modern,