chapter 97

The Painter Who Draws Dungeons - Episode 97

It was late dawn.

“...”

She’d tried to put on every scrap of burlap she could, but there was no way a poor 4th-class citizen could properly outfit herself with decent clothes.

An eighteen-year-old woman who had just come of age fiddled with a scarf that looked as though it was made from an animal’s fur.

“Haa...”

Her breath spread out white.

“...Still, it’s not terribly cold.”

It was the season when Christmas would soon arrive.

Lately, it had hardly snowed at all.

Was spring gradually approaching?

Thanks to the temperature rising day by day, fewer poor people were dying of the cold.

This woman had nearly died that way too, but she was able to get through winter thanks to a scarf someone had given her.

‘Spring will come soon.’

It was still very cold, but.

‘Still, if I just wait a little longer...’

From the standpoint of a 4th-class citizen, the place where she was staying wasn’t in such bad shape.

For one, it was the city, so it was safe from monsters, and especially in this neighborhood people were kindhearted, so she could occasionally receive help.

‘Once spring comes, I won’t have to worry about freezing to death, and as for food, weeds and whatever will grow, so I’ll survive somehow.

If I’m lucky, I might even get a meal supported by the city...’

Grrrrk.

She was hungry.

“...”

Should I eat snow, at least.

For the poor, winter was truly harsh.

Unlike other seasons when they could at least go after plant roots, there was nothing at all to eat, and on top of that, it was cold.

The one comfort was that there was snow everywhere, so at least they could find drinking water.

‘If my body were truly freezing, it’d be hard to eat, but...’

This winter she’d been lucky, maintaining her body temperature through this and that method.

“...Is it thanks to the scarf.”

Ever since she received a scarf from someone she didn’t even know, small strokes of luck had come her way.

She gathered clean snow that no one had stepped on and put it into her mouth.

Since it was snow from the ground, she occasionally chewed bits of dirt, but she didn’t care.

Fortunately, she was fairly resistant to the cold.

“...”

As she went deeper into the alley, looking for a place sheltered from the wind, she saw other poor people.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what? I’m freezing to death...”

“No, the Black Cloak.”

Black Cloak?

‘...Come to think of it, people in the city have all been talking about that story too.’

Normally, the poor hid in alleys to avoid the city folks’ scornful stares, but she liked the clean, orderly atmosphere, so she sometimes hid outside the alley instead.

The name in the poor man’s story just now was the same name people walking in the park had brought up.

‘They said the Black Cloak was a monster too—was that what they were talking about?’

It was an unfamiliar name to someone like her, whose access to information was inevitably limited, but she’d heard it once or twice, so she was curious.

Carefully, she settled in the alley and eavesdropped on the poor people’s conversation.

“Why bring up the Black Cloak all of a sudden?

Isn’t that a monster?”

“But from what I heard... it grants wishes, and stuff.”

“That’s ridiculous.

What monster in the world is beneficial to humans?”

“Yeah, but there are harmless monsters that live in places like parks... so there could be monsters that are beneficial too.

Right?”

“Then why did you bring it up?”

“I was thinking maybe we should try looking for the Black Cloak once.”

Another poor man snorted.

“Knock it off—trying to get eaten in one bite by a monster?”

“They said it’s the kind of monster that doesn’t eat people, though...”

“Then it’ll tear you apart and kill you.

How does it make sense for a monster to leave people alone?”

“I-is that so...?”

“People have been making a fuss about it lately, too.”

Unaware that the woman was listening in, the poor man continued.

“They say hunters died in droves because they believed that Black Cloak or Red Cloak or whatever?”

“Huh?

Something like that happened?”

“Apparently.

They say some S-rank dungeon opened, and that Black Cloak guy showed up there often.

He even saved people in danger, and...”

“Then isn’t it really a monster that’s beneficial to humans?”

“Then it suddenly disappeared.

And then some guy showed up saying he saw the Black Cloak in some other alley.”

“A monster that was in a dungeon suddenly showed up in an alley...?

Does that make any sense?”

“It makes no sense at all.”

The poor man clicked his tongue.

“It’s probably a baseless rumor made up by bored city people, or 4th-class maggots like us.

And if it isn’t, then it means it’s a dangerous monster that can pop out anywhere.”

Monsters basically had a set range of behavior.

The poor didn’t receive education, so they didn’t know much, but at the very least they knew monsters had something like fixed rules.

But the Black Cloak was a monster that didn’t even follow those rules.

“Sure, it might have saved hunters a few times by chance.

But if it vanished all of a sudden, doesn’t that tell you something?

It’s nothing but an evil monster that doesn’t care what happens to human lives.

Or maybe it was a scheme to lure hunters into a trap.”

“But they said it grants wishes...”

“Don’t talk nonsense.

Even gods choose only the believers who benefit them and show mercy.

If it’s a traditional god, it might show goodwill without compensation, but... this is a monster.”

The poor man hunched up, telling the others not to cling to hope that wouldn’t even work.

As cold wind lashed through the alley, the poor people shivered and huddled close with those they knew.

“Ugh, it’s cold.

Stop saying weird stuff and just huddle closer.”

“Ah... I was going to ask for a set of clothes if I met the Black Cloak.”

“You’re still talking nonsense.”

In winters like this, it was a common sight to see familiar poor people pressing their bodies together like penguins to share warmth.

The larger the gathered cluster, the more power the group was considered to have—but the woman no longer had even a friend for that.

During the winter, her one and only poor friend had died.

“...”

If that one were still alive, would it be warmer than now?

“Ugh...”

In the chilly winter wind, the woman curled up, clutching her scarf more tightly.

When spring came, it might be good to make new companions.

It was hard to be active in winter, but if time passed, she would have new friends.

‘...The Black Cloak.’

So that’s what it was.

‘People have been whispering about it, so I wondered.’

She’d heard it was a humanoid monster—the first in almost several years.

She also felt like she’d vaguely heard the absurd claim that if you did good deeds, the Black Cloak would give you a present.

‘I don’t believe it, though.’

The poor man earlier was right.

A monster beneficial to humans does not exist.

The woman, who had fled to Seoul after monsters took away her village, her family, and her friends, knew that very well.

Monsters were objects of fear to many.

“...”

The skinny woman slipped out of the alley and wandered another alley closer to the bright, glittering city.

There was no other reason.

If she was lucky, she might find leftover food city people had abandoned.

Just sitting still wouldn’t solve this vicious hunger.

Even if moving made her body grow tired, if she didn’t act, she’d be likely to starve to death.

As she walked around a bit like that, she ran into another poor person.

“...”

“...Uh...”

That one was much smaller than her—she looked at least younger than eighteen.

‘A kid born here?’

If she was that young, she was likely a child born among the poor, but she couldn’t see any guardian anywhere.

No matter how harsh the slums were, it was rare for such a young poor child to be left alone like this.

‘But it’s also a bit... to talk to her.’

Ever since being demoted to a 4th-class citizen, the woman had lived an individualistic life, and she didn’t want to strike up conversation with the child.

In times this hard, acknowledging a child would only mean another mouth to feed.

Even if city people called it filthy and lowly, what made up the woman now was what she had scraped together desperately just to survive.

If she gave that away easily, she wouldn’t even last a season.

“...”

But.

“...Mm...”

At the very least, this scarf wasn’t something she had scraped together.

“H-here... want this?”

“...?”

“Take this.

This...”

It was luck that had come by chance.

“You take it.”

It had been a long time since she’d spoken to anyone, so the words didn’t come out well, but the meaning itself was clearly conveyed.

The young poor child cast a wary glance, but maybe she was cold, because she quietly took the scarf.

Her neck felt a little bare, but it was fine.

The woman endured cold fairly well, and she wouldn’t die just because she didn’t have one scarf.

It wasn’t something that had originally made up who she was—just a brief stroke of luck that had passed by—so she didn’t feel regret.

“Yeah.”

“...”

Not understanding the situation, the young poor child didn’t reply and only clutched the scarf tightly.

Seeing that, the woman’s face reddened with an unknown embarrassment, and she hurriedly left.

It had been so long since she’d tried to talk to someone that the words just wouldn’t come.

After she’d gotten far away, she thought with a satisfied heart.

‘Still, I did well.’

Her parents had taught her to share when there was room to do so.

They were gone now, but doing a good deed for the first time in a long while, as her parents had said, made her feel quite good.

‘When I meet Mom and Dad later...’

I’ll be praised, right?

As she let the corners of her mouth lift slightly at that thought—

“...”

“...”

A pitch-black frame entered the woman’s eyes.

As if carved from a tree of gold, the frame was neatly and luxuriously sculpted.

Inside it, greenery was drawn in calm tones, and as she wondered where exactly she had sensed “black,” she saw its essence.

“...”

A portrait of a man in a suit of pure black, his face invisible, painted over with ink-black, soft yet dense paint.

A black portrait.

“...Huh?”

Instinctively, she realized it was the ‘Black Cloak.’

“H-huh... uh... huh...”

“...”

“M-monster...”

Her breath caught in her throat.

‘It’s a monster.’

The monster that had taken everything from her was right in front of her.

It felt as though she’d been punched in the solar plexus—her breath stuck.

Her heart pounded loudly, as if thrashing right before death, and the blood spinning tautly with it made her whole body tremble.

So many organs were moving—why wasn’t her brain working?

Before that gloomy, heavy calamity, she stumbled back without realizing it, and the bright red lips in the frame opened.

“...”

“I apologize for startling you.”

What should she even call this.

It was a profoundly polite voice she would never hear, given that she was a poor coward.

“I offer my apologies.”

“...”

That kindly voice gave her goosebumps.

She couldn’t feel any emotion at all in the Black Cloak’s voice.

It was only quiet, like a funeral made into sound, and it was so still it could hardly be called a ‘voice,’ clean and distinct like a machine.

And yet it spoke, without emotion.

This grotesque and beautiful cloaked thing was imitating benevolence from within the shadow of its hood.

‘...Wh-what do I do.’

Her feet froze and wouldn’t move.

‘I’m scared...’

The woman was a coward by nature, and she had always been afraid of monsters, and after her village was wiped out, even more so.

Facing a humanoid monster she’d only heard about, it was only natural for her whole body to shake.

She had hidden alone amid the chaos because she didn’t want to die.

She survived and came to the city.

She had clung to this huge city like a bedbug, forcing herself to live.

“Ah, ah...”

“...”

“...D-don’t... don’t come... don’t come...”

“...”

“Hhk... hnng...”

It was too heartbreaking.

“I-I did a good deed today, toooo...”

Her luck was just too awful.

She briefly remembered the good stories people had been telling about the Black Cloak, but it lasted only an instant.

For someone who knew what monsters were, meeting the Black Cloak like this was horrifying beyond words.

‘How am I going to die?’

Would she be gulped down into a huge mouth, like what happened to her parents that day?

Or would she be pierced to death by countless teeth?

Or trampled and crushed to death, or, or, or, or...

As she only wept bitterly, the Black Cloak asked,

“Did you do a good deed?”

“Hngh, hnnng...”

“I believe you must have been greatly startled in this frightening situation.”

“...Snff...”

“I promise I will not harm you.”

Even as she cried, she thought it was a voice with a strange resonance, and yet full of mercy.

No—at some point, her sobbing had stopped.

She herself did not realize that fact.

“...”

“Now.”

The Black Cloak held out a hand and offered her something.

If she were her usual self, she would never have accepted something a monster gave her.

She would have done nothing but topple over in shock, or cry her eyes out, but as if bewitched, her heartbeat settled, and she found herself listening to the steady voice.

Without realizing it, she reached out her hand and received what was offered.

“...”

“It is a cookie.”

Rustle.

From inside a thin packet like delicate hanji paper came a savory scent.

“I apologize once again for startling you.”

“...”

“I affirm you, who performed a good act.”

Like a gentleman from a fairy tale, or an aristocrat from a faded film, the Black Cloak placed a hand to his chest, clasped his hands behind his back, and bowed.

After that short, slow bow, the Black Cloak’s low voice followed.

“Thank you.”

For what?

“...”

When she lifted her head, the frame was nowhere to be seen.

Only the freshly baked cookie remained.

“...Huh...?”

It was the day the name ‘Black Cloak’ spread among the poor.

* * *

The portrait, still unable to make a new friend, cried sorrowfully.

“Even today, I could not find anyone to become my pen-pal friend...”

“Ah, if you truly wish, should I catch one for you?”

“How dare you try to steal this teacher’s enjoyment.”

“...”

...If Teacher says so, then so it must be.

With a benevolent smile on his face, Iser nodded solemnly.

The Painter Who Draws Dungeons

Fantasy, Modern,