The Artist Who Paints Dungeon

The conversation with Joo-Hyun made Gio reflect.

“I think... I was only thinking about what I wanted.”

Even if it looked like a win-win deal, people still had the freedom to not agree to that deal. Gio couldn’t just ignore the opinions of those who wouldn’t accept the idea of making him the Demon King.

“My desire to build my own battlefield is overwhelming... but that’s just selfishness. And if I sacrifice others for that selfishness, it’ll leave a bad taste. That’s not the kind of war I want.”

Most of all, Joo-Hyun had said this:

“My precious Demon King project is...”

“......”

“...something that hurts both others and me.”

Every word rang true.

“......”

“......”

In the quiet attic, Gio held Honey in his hand, enjoying the soft, squishy texture. It clung to his palm with a pleasing bounce—a true paradise for tactile sensation.

He enjoyed the jiggly, sticky feel for quite a while, then finally nodded.

“I’ll admit it.”

He spoke up.

“I’m not exactly a deep thinker.”

“Ggureuk?”

“Maybe it’s just that my brain is unusually clear.”

But not everyone in the world could be like Gio.

“Up until I was about 21, I honestly thought everyone lived without thinking, like me.”

Sergio, with a life satisfaction and self-esteem maxed out to absurd levels, never paid much mind to how others saw him. So it wasn’t until a year after becoming an adult that he realized his mental framework was quite different from others.

“No wonder characters in movies and dramas are always tormented with inner conflict.”

Gio had thought that was just exaggerated fiction. But it wasn’t. Surprisingly, most people in the world lived with some degree of anxiety and worry.

“They regret the past and fear the future.”

“Ggung?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why either. Why torture your own brain cells?”

Gio lived in the present. Even when he thought about the past or future, all he had were beautiful memories. In many ways, he just didn’t understand why people lived so painfully.

They clung to things that had already passed. They feared situations that hadn’t even arrived. They couldn’t treat events as just what they were—they kept attaching meaning to them, and then suffered because of it.

“They can’t let emotions flow and end up tying them to reality, constantly creating new problems.”

“Ggung...”

“Honestly, it makes me wonder why they self-harm like that. Isn’t that basically masochism?”

“Ggureureuk.”

“Not that I can’t understand at all, though.”

Gio at least understood this much:

People weren’t all like him. He hadn’t even realized that during his school years, but he wasn’t without empathy—he’d just been enjoying life so thoughtlessly.

“So then...”

Gio mumbled, uncharacteristically hesitant.

“I guess Argio... must’ve had hard times, too.”

“......”

“There must’ve been, right? Times like that?”

It was hard to be sure, since there was the case of ‘Giovanni,’ who lived joyfully and died without a single regret.  From Sergio’s perspective, even the craziest situations hadn’t fazed him—but he’d turned out fine.

Still, objectively speaking, Gio acknowledged that Argio had been through tough times.

“He really seemed okay, like nothing was wrong... but if I look closely, it wasn’t such a peaceful or easy life. It was full of trials and hardship.”

A talented child, once beloved, who was branded a beast at a young age just because his powers awakened. Bullied, scorned, and ultimately exiled to a wretched den filled with dangerous creatures—no sunlight, no warmth.

“......”

“Ggureuk?”

“...Honestly, though, that place was more fun—”

“Ggung ggung ggung.”

“You’re right, Honey. I’m not even fully synchronized yet. I shouldn’t make assumptions.”

“Gguk.”

“But still, it was a lot more fun than that damned house.”

Anyway, with only 61.9% Argio in his system, he couldn’t make any definitive statements. Not until he reached 100%. So Gio made an effort to objectively assess Argio’s misfortune.

“Anyway, the fact is—he was angry.”

He had, after all, sworn to rip out the throats of those swine who failed to see his worth. Maybe Argio had been hurt in his own way, which was why he’d gotten angry.

“Even if he wasn’t consciously aware of it... it could still have been pain.”

“Ggureureu...”

“Just because I’m simple doesn’t mean Argio was too.”

So Gio decided to reflect.

“My pain is something I have to take care of myself.”

“Ggung?”

“I promise to value myself, to not treat myself poorly, to live with honesty and manners.”

“Ggung ggung ggung...”

“In that sense, I should rethink the Demon King project.”

Just like Joo-Hyun advised—create a plan where no one has to suffer unfairly, and everyone can be happy.

Gio made that resolution while thinking back to the conversation with Joo-Hyun.

More precisely, those warm brown eyes.

“She really did seem worried about me.”

“Ggureuk.”

“I owe Joo-Hyun an apology.”

Though Gio had ended up with all kinds of dramatic titles—portrait, evil god, immortal—it didn’t change the fact that he was still just a person with a soft heart. And he’d been deeply moved by Joo-Hyun’s concern.

“She really is a good person.”

How fortunate. A rare warmth filled the attic.

No matter how extraordinary Gio appeared, Joo-Hyun still insisted,

'Even so, it’s not right for an innocent person to be blamed.’

She even responded with great care to that one word Gio had used—wound.

“Kinda feels like I threw a tantrum. Embarrassing.”

“Ggureureuk?”

“Well, technically, the one she comforted was ‘Argio.’”

“Ggung, ggureuk.”

“...Yeah. Guess I’ll nap for now.”

After a bit of reflection, his whole body relaxed. As always, post-meal drowsiness crept in.

The chair he leaned on was comfortable. Spring wind drifted gently through the attic window.

Gio and Honey dozed together in a short nap.

And when he woke up from the dream—

“......”

Synchronization Rate: 94.2%

“......?”

Gio, now with red hair, murmured,

“Was I... really unhappy?”

The ‘Argio’ in the dream didn’t seem the least bit miserable, and Gio was a bit thrown off.

That damned beast had lived his life to the fullest—120%—and exited just the way he wanted.

Gio’s golden eyes trembled slightly.

“No, but if that’s the case... then I...”

“Ggureuk?”

“...I can’t even look Joo-Hyun in the face.”

“Ggung?”

“I mean... doesn’t it make me look like a total crybaby?”

Getting worried over nothing.

In the end, Gio had become a 24-year-old whiner who got comforted for no reason.

***

While Gio was lost in a kind of regret that wasn’t quite regret, Bisa Beul laughed.

Utterly burst out laughing.

“Ahhak, ahahahahahaha!”

“......”

“Kkph, khh... heuheuheuuph...!”

Catching his breath, Bisa Beul asked,

“Demon King?”

“Yes, the Demon King.”

“Ah, truly my daily vitamin. Never lets me get bored.”

“Guild Leader, you being bored tends to threaten world peace.”

“Have I ever endangered peace first?”

“You do enjoy other people’s misfortunes a little too openly.”

“Well, it’s still not my fault.”

Ssshp.

Bisa Beul composed himself and said,

“A Demon King and Hero... it’s hard to find a more fitting metaphor.”

“It’s not exactly a joke either.”

“But if we let a new Demon King loose right now, Earth might not survive it.”

While Bisa Beul lived mostly for curiosity and fun, that didn’t mean he didn’t know right from wrong. If anything, he leaned toward wishing for the peace of humanity and the longevity of Earth.

In other words, if even a hedonist like Bisa Beul was getting concerned, the world was in real danger.

So he couldn’t always pursue just the things he wanted to see.

“Personally, I’d love to keep a Demon King nearby for close observation.”

“Please don’t. I’m not exaggerating when I say the planet might really fall apart.”

“I know, which is what makes this all so frustrating... What a shame.”

He was genuinely disappointed.

“A masterpiece that came into my possession—how I wish it would perform its show in my hometown.”

A work of art he’d spent a fortune on, one he truly liked, and now it was willing to dance for him. He wanted that performance to happen right before his eyes, but alas, there was no suitable stage for it.

“I understand now why you asked for a meeting. It’s definitely a dangerous request.”

“And the word ‘Demon King’ doesn’t exactly sound good either.”

Yoo Seong-Woon let out a sigh.

“What he wants is a battle with everything on the line.”

Not just his life, but his fate, his beliefs—every piece of his being invested in a fight to the death. There was a strong scent of blood clinging to the greed of Argio.

“So I considered finding him a different battlefield... but he has no interest unless it’s his war.”

“He wants all eyes and emotions focused on himself, on Argio.”

“Looks like he wants to be the protagonist on stage.”

“That’s why he dreams of being the Demon King—so the heroes come to him without him lifting a finger.”

“It’s the order he’s most familiar with.”

Yoo Seong-Woon had heard the story of Argio:

Slandered as a beast, hunted as a target, eventually acquiring a twisted divine power and being sealed away. A mystery being of greed and rage, an evil god.

“Gio seems to want to relive the joy he felt back then.”

“Wasn’t that painful for Argio?”

“I didn’t sense any such feeling.”

That was surprising.

“Other evil gods who followed that path were always soaked in hatred and resentment. It’s truly rare—Gio even expressed sympathy and affection for the heroes who sealed him.”

Argio had called the heroes pitiful yet admirable.

“So even if Gio becomes the Demon King, I do believe he’ll try to minimize the damage. Can’t say the same for Argio, but...”

“The ‘Portrait of Gio’ clearly favors kindness and good manners. He himself tries to behave that way, no matter how it manifests in the end.”

“You’re right, Guild Leader. Gio enjoys battle itself, not the power or riches that come with it. Those are secondary gains.”

“He welcomes fame and fortune but doesn’t crave them. I understand now. To him, they’re just trophies, not objects of greed.”

“Yes. He shows clear preference, but the desire is mild. They’re just proof of his victory—nothing more.”

Yoo Seong-Woon had already reported what Argio looked like on their first encounter:

Adorned in gold and jewels, long crimson braids, beast hides—he definitely had a taste for flair.

From appearance to lifestyle, he liked extravagance.

But if he’d truly been obsessed with wealth and fame, even the Portrait of Gio would’ve been ornate.

He would never have forgiven Yoo Seong-Woon for treating him so casually.

“What Argio truly wants is battle—nothing else.”

“He really does want to behave like a beast.”

No concern for status, pride, or titles. He wants to cast off or stake everything that makes him who he is, all for a pure fight. He wants a battlefield where he can immerse himself completely.

“So first of all...”

Bisa Beul began to arrange the steps.

“We need to reveal ‘Sergio’ to the world.”

“...All of a sudden?”

“Not sudden. We were already preparing for it.”

“Well, true...”

“There’s a proper order to all things.”

Bisa Beul’s elongated pupils dilated slightly. His gaze wasn’t on Yoo Seong-Woon, but on the air around them—still, his eyes moved as if following something.

His lips moved.

“...Yes, if Sergio the hunter steps into the world first...”

“......”

“He’ll find his place. A small opening will form... Yes.”

“......”

“The mermaids... right, there’s still an unfinished story there...”

Soon, Bisa Beul nodded.

“...We’ll announce Sergio as a hunter for the Collector’s Guild, and assign him a suitable dungeon. We also need to see how he behaves in a duel—not a death match, just a spar.”

“I’ll look into a good dungeon.”

“I think we can create the battlefield Sergio wants. But to ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) do that, we first need to see his skill for ourselves, speak with him, and prepare the right setting.”

Yoo Seong-Woon, staring at his superior, finally asked,

“Shall I ask Gio to meet with the Guild Leader?”

“No need.”

Bisa Beul narrowed his eyes.

“It’s not polite to rush a guest you know will arrive.”

“......”

Yoo Seong-Woon sighed, visibly drained.

“...Maybe it’s time to rename your skill to ‘Foresight’.”

“My skill is emotion, not prophecy.”

“Sometimes I really don’t want to talk to you.”

“You never want to talk to your boss anyway.”

“That’s a modern virtue.”

“That’s why I like you, Yoo Seong-Woon.”

He smiled, delighted by the arrogant antics of his favorite collection piece. Yoo Seong-Woon, meanwhile, looked even more worn out. But Bisa Beul just returned to the main topic.

“Then we’ll need to assign a secretary for ‘Sergio.’”

“Ah... I actually prepared a candidate list...”

“The person recovering in the painting—wasn’t her name Joo-Hyun?”

“Oh, come on.”

Yoo Seong-Woon stuffed the documents back into his bag. The delicate papers crumpled without resistance.

“I knew it would end up like this.”

“Then why go to all that trouble?”

“Because effort is a virtue in the workplace.”

“My employees really are so diligent.”

“No wonder Gio keeps talking about Joo-Hyun.”

“Looks like he’s happy to have a friend.”

“He still insists he isn’t, but...”

“It’s just a matter of time.”

Bisa Beul gave a rare crooked smile.

“No hero can not like Gio.”

“...A hero?”

“Oh dear, I overdid the praise.”

He mocked with a grin.

“A fool drunk on idealism, I meant.”

“......”

Yoo Seong-Woon ran his hands down his face.

“...Please don’t say that to her face.”

“I do have tact, you know.”

“She really did live a hardworking life. Why this hostility?”

“I know she’s a diligent person.”

It’s just—

“I don’t like her.”

Bisa Beul didn’t get along well with hero types.

“If only everyone in the world were like you, Yoo Seong-Woon.”

“That sounds like a different kind of disaster.”

“Well, anyway. Gio and Joo-Hyun will become friends soon enough.”

“You sound very sure of that.”

“Of course. Great mysteries always like heroes.”

In other words—they liked pushovers.

“And since Gio is the most humanlike of all mysteries, that Joo-Hyun person won’t have much trouble accepting him.”

“But with Gio’s massive presence, won’t Joo-Hyun be overwhelmed?”

“The ‘Portrait of Gio’ has already proven his tastes. He’s the kind of divine presence heroes find endearing.”

As always, Bisa Beul laughed lightly.

“They’ll become great friends.”

And in his eyes, for some reason... Yoo Seong-Woon was trapped.

“Yes.”

“......”

“This will be fun.”

His eyes curved even narrower.