Rustling…

“…….”

A long, pale hand rustles through delicately dried petals of a pale sky-blue color.

It was Gio.

“Hmm.”

He was making medicine.

“This seems all dried up now.”

It had been 11 days since the Vibaemynil flowers had been dried on the leaves of the Doreong tree.

Under the warm breeze and sunlight, the completely dried flowers had almost no scent, a different feeling from the strong aroma that had emanated when they were first boiled to remove their toxicity.

“I wonder if the scent will return if I put them back in water.”

Sergio muttered quietly as he carefully packed the well-dried flowers into a sterilized glass jar.

“I wonder if this will really make a good hemostatic and immune-boosting tea… It looks just like ordinary flower tea.”

Gio's eyes then turned to another drying rack. It held dried Mangdung fruits.

“…….”

The Mangdung fruits, dried to the size of raisins in just 11 days, had turned a peculiar deep yellow color.

“It seems the scent gets stronger the more they dry.”

In terms of the strength of their scents, Mangdung fruits and Vibaemynil were exact opposites. The scent of Mangdung fruits strengthened with drying, whereas that of Vibaemynil weakened.

“…….”

Gio’s eyes, calculating what he needed to do next, blinked twice rapidly.

“To dry them to the point of making powder, it seems there’s still a long way to go.”

Darn, they're moist.

“You qualify to be my companion, like a crisply fried, moist-on-the-inside French fry.”

He coolly gave up on the Mangdung fruits and took only the Vibaemynil back inside the hut.

The Vibaemynil herbal tea was said to be very beneficial for hemostasis and boosting immunity, though the system hadn’t specified at what exact temperature and how much should be consumed.

‘Maybe I can manage on my own. It seems this system trusts me too much, though I’d rather it didn’t. I’m just a Gangwon-do potato….’

With that, Gio decided to brew the tea on his own. The splendid potato, Sergio, had a talent for tea ceremony.

“…Hmm….”

After placing the jar of flowers on the kitchen table, Gio paused.

“…….”

Standing blankly as if his computer was rebooting, he soon spoke.

“I don’t think I have any teaware.”

Teaware.

Simply put, the vessels used for brewing tea.

“Right?”

Explained further, it means a teapot and teacups. The gastronomically inclined Sergio knew well about teaware for brewing tea.

There are various types of teaware, including the tea brewing vessel, cups for serving the brewed tea, vessels for cooling the tea, and vessels for discarding the tea leaves while retaining the aroma.

Among them, Gio decided to make just the tea vessel and cups.

“Let’s go to the studio.”

Fortunately, Gio had the ability to turn his paintings into real objects.

“At this age, to have such a superpower… It seems even the most jaded adult holds a childish heart, ready to become a magical girl someday.”

So said the 29-year-old man.

“I am a splendid potato.”

Under the beautiful names of friendship, peace, and love, Gio honorably ignored the unsettling changes occurring in his life.

‘The direction I choose is the path.’

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Even if it’s a derailed roller coaster.

Such thoughtless existence was accommodated by this world in various ways. The structure and furnishings of the hut, including the studio, reflected the tastes of Sergio, who had been a painter even after becoming a teacher.

Ascending to the second floor, Gio headed straight to the studio that occupied half of that level.

“Let’s see….”

He sat down in front of an easel with a canvas on it. There were familiar shapes of various paints and brushes.

“What should I paint?”

What Gio needed to paint was the teaware. It would eventually hold the Vibaemynil flower tea, rich with vanilla essence.

If it costs the same, might as well make it fancy. Since painting meticulously doesn’t cost more, Gio pondered deeply.

“…….”

After about ten minutes, Gio finally spoke.

“The tea will come out beautifully colored.”

His voice, always even-toned and calm, flowed effortlessly like soothing a student.

“Porcelain would be nice.”

What makes good teaware? Gio, who had seriously brewed tea several times before, knew the answer.

First, it must be visually pleasing.

“White like a blank canvas.”

Second, it must be comfortable to hold.

“Stable…”

Third, it must harmonize with the tea.

“It should produce a clean color.”

Gio was no grand artisan, but he was certainly good enough to enjoy his modest gourmet world.

He wanted to brew the precious flower tea in excellent teaware if possible.

“…….”

He chose a fine white paint, dense like freshly whipped cream.

The studio in the hut was like an old pharmacy, with all sorts of materials hidden in small drawers. Among them were seashells that shone with a porcelain-like white, which Gio had finely ground to make paint.

Paint made from seashells that should be by the water. Painted with that paint, the pale sky-blue petals in the teaware….

“Right.”

Nice.

“It seems good.”

He was pleased.

“It’ll look like a pond nestled at the root of a spring. That should do it.”

His hand moved.

And following that gesture, Gio’s eyes swept across the canvas.

“…….”

The tea to be stored would be blue, so the color should be warm rather than cool.

Warming the body involves both actual and visual temperatures. He wanted to drink warm tea.

“…….”

This teaware would have been crafted with hands as delicate as silk.

The moist, white clay handled so gently and slowly, ensuring not a single fingerprint remained, as if serenely passing a spring day humming by a spinning wheel.

The person molding the clay must have been wearing a comforting smile.

“…….”

Because it would be lifted with a light and kind-hearted spirit, the handle was heavy and smooth. Extended to the side like ivory, it emitted a warm light.

Rounded at the end. Rounded in the body. Smoothed over so well that no edges could be found. Gently stroked the moist clay, tidied up inside, and then baked in a hot kiln.

What would you call yourself?

“…….”

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You are a clean canvas, without a picture or a curve. It would be best to hold tea.

The glaze resembled clear stream water, crystal clear as if it had been dipped a hundred times and coated with a transparent star.

Once more baked in the kiln, my rounded teaware….

“…….”

When painted to add weight,

“…….”

Thump.

It fell into Gio’s lap.

“…….”

Clatter.

A light, transparent sound.

‘But solid….’

The teaware, now in his hands, felt desperately nostalgic, like a child seeking its father.

“Right.”

And so, ultimately, it was light as a cloud and soft as cotton, which he quite liked.

Being able to create real objects from paintings was indeed a wonderful thing.

‘Convenient.’

Gio leisurely enjoyed his tea.

The teaware, molded from paint instead of clay and glaze, satisfied Gio. It matched well with the subtly flowing blue tea from the Vibaemynil.

‘Perhaps because of its dense white color, it harmonizes well with the creamy scent of the flower.’

The grip felt stable in his hand. Unless someone like a bull came charging to deliver a soccer kick, it seemed unlikely he would drop it.

“Nice.”

Though the tea was savory and not at all sweet, its fragrance was so vivid that he thought it would pair well with cookies later.

‘What about making iced tea with fruits and sugar? Or turning it into milk tea would be perfect too, especially with the strong cream scent….’

Though not an oven, there was a hearth, and flour was stored in the warehouse, so he should try making cookies someday. As the saying goes, the more food, the better.

‘If this tea is supposed to help with hemostasis and boosting immunity, it doesn’t feel quite plausible.’

Gio was a bit puzzled.

“Has my body changed?”

Originally, Sergio had been someone who greatly benefited from the effects of food ingredients.

While it’s commonly known that blueberries are good for the eyes, unlike people who don’t feel much change after eating them, Sergio would feel his eyes refreshed even from just a few berries.

But even drinking this system-recognized medicinal tea, he felt no change….

“…….”

Gio blinked twice.

‘If we’re going to argue about it, even this body that doesn’t perform any physiological functions is strange.’

Before even entering into a ‘g’ of worry, Gio stopped himself. The splendid potato had already convincingly rationalized it.

He could eat and sleep, but he neither felt too cold nor too warm. He had never sweated, and in the same vein, he had never needed to use the toilet, though the hut did have one.

‘Let’s assume I’ve evolved remarkably. Being a haunted portrait already, what’s the point of worrying about something so useless?’

It’s funny, so it’s fine.

With that thought, Gio took another sip of the Vibaemynil tea.

“…….”

It was delicious.

“Teacher?”

“…….”

“No answer today either, huh? That’s very sad. Aren’t you lonely in there by yourself? I can be a great conversation partner….”

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“…….”

“Teacher, are you sleeping? Knock knock knock? Maybe you don’t respond because it’s

in Korean? But then again, there hasn’t been a response in any of the 27 languages….”

It seemed likely to escalate.

‘Then that person would become the only human in history to have died from drinking tea made by a haunted portrait.’

It had been 11 days since a gentleman by the name of Bisa-beol started his self-promotion in front of the entrance.

‘The time in the world within the painting flows according to my mood and schedule, so it’s not precise, but anyway….’

It was remarkable to devote such passion and effort to a portrait he had just glimpsed.

“A person obsessed with ghost stories?”

It was possible to be thrilled by a painting that could open its eyes on its own. That was the charm of a haunted portrait.

But the fact that this man named Bisa-beol wasn’t idle had thrust Gio into a world of horror and delirium.

“I hear he’s the chairman of one of the top three conglomerates in South Korea….”

What are you doing not working, Mr. Chairman?

The warehouse where Gio’s portrait was hung was Bisa-beol’s personal gallery, and his strong desire to collect art pieces was something Gio learned through conversations with other employees who occasionally visited the gallery.

Perhaps because he owned so many items, this huge gallery wasn’t something Bisa-beol could manage alone, so it was necessary to have at least one manager per piece.

If you are reading this translation anywhere other than Novelight.net or SilkRoadTL, it has been stolen.

‘Though they kept changing, there were managers assigned to me too.’

Thanks to their conversations, Gio had learned a few things about Bisa-beol.

‘A collector gone mad.’

Though he usually had a bit of playfulness and a normal sensitivity, when it came to art-related matters, he became a madman who didn’t care about the means.

‘Harmful.’

Despite that, Gio didn’t harbor bad feelings towards this person named Bisa-beol.

“…….”

Gio’s gaze landed on a framed picture hanging on a tree.

Just as Bisa-beol outside was attempting another conversation, information visible only to Gio popped up on the smooth glass of the frame.

He blinked twice.

Safety ★★★★☆

Surprisingly, this frame measured the threat level of the living entities lurking beyond the portrait.

Judging from the reactions of people on the other side, it seemed this display was only visible to Gio.

“Teacher? Teacher? Are you really not interested in having a conversation with me?”

“…….”

“If you tell me what kind of sacrifice you want, I can catch it alive for you. Teacher?”

So, there was no particular reason why Gio was leaving Bisa-beol in that state.

‘Just striking up a conversation seems to foretell a future that’s too much to handle.’

It was blatantly burdensome. Gio wasn’t a vessel big enough to contain a human like Bisa-beol.

‘Gangwon-do potatoes must be approached carefully to avoid any scratches.’

While the tone was quite polite and the behavior refined, a person who camps out at someone else’s front door for 15 hours straight on first meeting is ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) undeniably burdensome.

“…….”

He didn’t feel malicious, nor did he seem like a bad person.

“…Somewhat reluctant.”

Just listening was already tiring enough.

‘It’s going to drain my energy.’

Gio simply.

“…….”

Was waiting until it seemed possible to have a conversation.

‘He can’t keep this up forever. Once he runs out of battery, let’s try to interact.’

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He didn’t want to be drained of energy prematurely.

‘A scary person.’

Gio nodded, relieved that he could avoid this frightening person.

“This is really a nice place to live.”

Having ventured outside the portrait several times, Gio knew that all people saw now was the painting of himself.

The important thing was Gio’s own will. When he wished to interact with the outside, the ‘Gio’ in the painting would open his eyes. He had discovered this fact after setting up a mirror in an abandoned school.

‘So no matter how much I lounge around inside, it’s invisible from the outside.’

Here, Gio’s complete freedom was guaranteed. It didn’t matter to the outside world, waiting eagerly for his response, whether he was the chairman of a major corporation or not, he could enjoy such peaceful rest.

Fortunately, after the busy redhead chairman announced another challenge and disappeared, Gio was able to enjoy complete peace.

“…….”

Leaving him be was somewhat welcoming, but….

“…I can’t just leave my only front door like this.”

He needed to reclaim his ownership.

After a moment of contemplation, his gaze once again turned towards the silent frame outside.

“…….”

Eventually, Gio spoke.

“Shall I go out?”

Stepping through the front door would automatically make him an intruder, a lamentable fate, but like all adults, Gio eventually accepted his destiny.

It happens that people might intrude.

“…….”

It was mutual, since he had been kidnapped.

It might be questionable whether anyone would consult a portrait before purchasing it, but they had hung him in the gallery without his consent anyway.

Then there might also be an infringement of portrait rights.

“…Ta-da.”

Gio’s ultimately positive mindset successfully rationalized everything.