6 chapter

The Artist Who Paints Dungeon — novelight.net · All chapters

6 chapter

In a stark white gallery illuminated by bright lights, a lone dark figure stood among the shining artworks.

"...He's here."

Yoo Seong-Woon, who had been lurking in the gallery at the request of the HR department, silently observed the "ghost."

Whether it was good luck or bad, on that very day, Seong-Woon had encountered the protagonist of the rumors—a tall man completely shrouded in a black cloak.

"His footsteps... I can't hear them."

The rumored "ghost" was barefoot.

"It's strange for barefoot steps to be this silent."

But it wasn't completely silent.

"It seems the previous curators didn't hear him because they lacked enhanced hearing skills..."

Seong-Woon closed his eyes.

"..."

Rustle, rustle.

Swish...

"..."

Very faint noises.

"...That sounds..."

He opened his eyes again.

"...like plants brushing against each other."

It was an odd comparison, but that was his conclusion.

Sounds like light vines or dry petals being blown about, insignificant yet eerily hollow—noises that didn't match the stature of a man 188cm tall.

"..."

Seong-Woon hid between an artwork and a pillar, continuing his observation.

"...He's observing."

The "ghost" wandered the empty gallery, sometimes stopping in front of artworks protected by glass walls. He particularly spent a long time in front of sculptures and paintings.

Surprisingly, he was merely observing.

"With so many dangerous items around, one touch could cause havoc, but fortunately, he hasn't. Perhaps a highly intelligent type of monster, indeed an unusual case."

That didn't mean he ignored other types of artworks.

"Is he interested in art, or just killing time... or maybe looking for a usable item?"

The "ghost," walking with his hands behind his back like a dignified noble or a trained soldier, carried an air of gravity and precision.

It was almost as if he owned the place, and Seong-Woon unexpectedly thought of a vampire count from an old castle.

"A vampire count... is that too cliché?"

Given his pale, corpse-like skin and the unnatural silence about him, it seemed quite fitting.

As the black-cloaked figure continued to circle the gallery...

"...Ah."

He locked eyes directly with Seong-Woon.

"..."

Their gazes met.

"..."

Black eyes.

In that moment, Seong-Woon felt his mind grow faint.

"...What's..."

What is that?

"So black."

It was so dark.

Yet, it was bright.

It seemed warm yet cold, empty yet heavy.

Despite the distance, he could see even the veins in those eyes—or perhaps they weren't veins but fine branches made of gold and silver, sprawling like a vast forest. The dark center, undifferentiated from the pupil, was fearsomely deep.

It was overwhelming. Too immense to be comprehended by human perception. It felt suffocating. He felt anger and awe without basis.

He wasn't being strangled, yet his breath stopped on its own. There was a power there that did not breathe, nor show off, yet...

...simply existed.

"..."

After blinking twice...

"..."

Crackle...

With a faint noise, the cloak moved.

"..."

It distanced slightly.

Then moved farther away.

And eventually, the presence stopped even further and disappeared.

"..."

Seong-Woon moved his feet.

The place where the presence had vanished was right in front of "Gio's portrait."

"..."

Was it pretending nothing had happened?

The portrait seemed to close its deep, distant eyes.

"This is madness."

Day 1, complete.

In a world with supernatural abilities, not everything about the "ghost" was explainable. The fact that shamans still existed was proof enough.

Thus, explaining a moving portrait was challenging.

"..."

At 4:29 AM.

The portrait opened its eyes.

"...Ah."

Seong-Woon [N O V E L I G H T] inadvertently gasped.

The gloomy-faced man in the portrait, "Gio," spoke.

"Good morning."

"..."

"Good morning."

"Morning, huh..."

At those words, Seong-Woon looked at the background of the portrait.

"..."

Ah, indeed.

A forest bathed in bright sunlight.

"...But it's dawn here."

"I see."

Gio's eyes captured the gallery bathed in perpetual white light.

"I didn't realize it was dawn because of the constant lighting."

His voice, more monotone than Seong-Woon imagined, carried an odd dissonance. Despite hearing him speak, Seong-Woon couldn't shake off the feeling of stillness.

What to make of this strangeness? It couldn't be described as mechanical. Rather, it was more...

"I apologize."

"...There's no need to apologize for that."

"Thank you for your consideration."

His tone, as if knowing exactly what to say next, and the clarity of his voice, strangely resonant, made it all the more peculiar.

"But I was surprised."

"What did you say?"

"It's uncommon for someone not to be frightened by a talking portrait."

"..."

His calm voice and expressionless face showed no real emotion. It hardly seemed like a startled response.

"He's not good at lying."

Or perhaps he didn't feel the need to lie convincingly. Given his rigid, somber demeanor, it seemed unlikely he could perform convincingly.

As Seong-Woon pondered, the portrait asked again.

"What is your name?"

"I am..."

Though Seong-Woon was a mere human, the power held in a true name was dangerous anywhere.

"The most important part of any contract binding souls in this world is the names involved."

Thus, if "Gio's portrait" heard Seong-Woon's name, it might bind him in some bizarre contract. Names were that significant among the various strange beings of different cultures.

But he answered simply.

"Yoo Seong-Woon."

Seventeen staff members had given their names to this portrait without any repercussions. It wouldn't make sense for him alone to suffer any misfortune now, so it was safe to share his name.

The portrait, hearing his name, still wore an impassive face. Though it led the conversation, it seemed to feel little.

Would it be strange to think it arrogant?

"Indeed, Yoo Seong-Woon."

"..."

"You look like you have a question."

"That I do."

"Would you like to talk with me?"

Invited to converse.

"It's the same path as the previous seventeen."

Seong-Woon felt an odd weight.

"The weight of rules, perhaps."

It was dense enough to flounder through but not so heavy that one would sink into the mud like quicksand.

The atmosphere and sensation were like a giant whale, gently moderating the waves to accommodate a mere human floating in the sea.

"..."

Yes.

This is "consideration."

"...Then, I'd like to ask a question."

Since he'd come this far, he might as well talk, as the portrait suggested.

"Can you leave the portrait?"

"Yes, I can leave."

"..."

Monsters hate humans. Considering he was asking for such information, Seong-Woon expected some hesitation, but the response came unexpectedly fast.

Was his surprise apparent? Gio, who had been staring at Seong-Woon without blinking, pointed it out.

"You look surprised."

"I didn't expect you to answer so readily."

"There was no reason not to tell you."

"Why is that?"

"Because you asked."

"What if I had ill intentions when asking?"

"That would be a lie."

The portrait spoke in a low, steady voice, clear and firm.

"Yoo Seong-Woon, you are a kind and polite person."

"...I am?"

"That's why I spoke to you."

"..."

"Is that answer sufficient?"

Seong-Woon decided to be cautious.

"This portrait is sensitive to good and evil."

And somehow, it had the ability to discern the morality of others, even those it had never conversed with before.

"What happens if it deems someone evil and they speak to it? Does it merely ignore them?"

Or does it attack?

"..."

"Do you have a question?"

"Ah... yes."

Seong-Woon, recalling the recent 'ghost' incident, asked.

"The black cloak I saw yesterday, that was you, Gio, wasn't it?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"So, the ghost recently rumored to be wandering this gallery, handing out tasty treats while draped in a black cloak... that's you, isn't it?"

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

"..."

What was he thinking? Gio blinked twice and then muttered.

"A ghost."

"...I'm sorry if that upset you."

"No, a talking portrait can indeed be described as being haunted."

The portrait continued in its uniquely monotone voice.

"But I have never died."

"..."

"Still, the 'ghost' you mentioned seems to be me."

"...Was there a reason you wandered the gallery?"

"I was curious about where I am."

His voice was very calm and soft, difficult to imagine feeling any interest.