The Artist Who Paints Dungeon - Chapter 120



Only Noblemtl

Episode 120

Sergio was a kind and old-fashioned man.

‘I never knew I could feel such an embarrassing feeling when I see someone.’

But it was a thought that came to mind at first glance.

“Today’s snack was star candy.”

“Yes, they were purple, yellow, and green star candies.”

“Isn’t it really sweet?”

“According to the records… they only asked for snacks.”

“Last time I wanted lemon madeleines.”

It wasn’t a very meaningful conversation. Although he didn’t stop me from reporting it on the radio, Sergio naturally brushed aside the strange phenomenon of the ‘Sweet Tea Party’ by saying that ‘good luck outside the norm will come.’

The conversation we were having now was more like ordinary small talk. Thanks to this, the man was able to feel a little more familiar with 『Sweet Tea Party』.

“I even baked it myself.”

“I guess you’re good at cooking.”

“I have a talent for bringing imaginary food into reality.”

“I’m a little jealous of that.”

Is this the power that good people give? As we talked, my stiff body gradually relaxed.

‘… It’s a conversation that gives a sense of stability.’

Although the conversation didn’t have anything special to say, Sergio’s attitude toward men gave me a sense of stability.

Even though he didn’t do anything particularly noticeable, Sergio’s deep kindness was evident.

‘You said you had a conversation with another new employee last time. Are you managing employees or something?’

It was a huge favor, hard to understand.

“… Do you often have conversations like this with other employees?”

The man continued to ask.

“I heard you don’t stay at the company long.”

“I’m staying in a place that’s easier to find than you think.”

“Oh, by any chance… in that case… yes, are you living in a dorm?”

“I live in this building.”

“It’s such a big building, I didn’t even know it had such a facility.”

The man understood. It seemed like there was quite a bit of collectors hanging around. That was clear.

‘Well, if it’s an opponent with this kind of atmosphere…’

It was not difficult to understand the psychology of the guild leader, Bisabal.

‘It feels like it might just disappear quietly at any moment.’

Sergio seemed somewhat disconnected from reality.

His voice is soft and gentle, like the sunlight that spreads faintly on a spring day. His gaze is clear but its color is soft and blurred, and his attitude toward people is polite but careful, giving off a sense of slow lightness.

The soft speech and the faint smile that appeared on his face and never disappeared seemed like faded memories from children’s fairy tales or silent films.

“… … .”

Is that too explicit a thought to make to someone you’re meeting for the first time?

‘… but you don’t seem like the type of person who would be tied down somewhere.’

It didn’t seem like he would enjoy the noisy atmosphere though.

‘The actions are noble and the atmosphere is heavy… .’

It felt a little strange because it felt like such an absurdly romantic being that would suddenly disappear, wander the world, appear in unexpected places, give unexpected gifts, and then disappear.

He had an indescribable aura about him. I couldn’t believe that he was there next to me and talking to me.

“… … .”

“Do you like sweets?”

“…To some extent.”

“I like sweets too.”

Is this unconditional empathy?

‘Part of social activities?’

Without even being able to think about it, the other person handed me a small snack.

“Would you like to eat?”

“…What is this?”

“These are lemon madeleines.”

“… … .”

moment.

“…thank you.”

I thought it was strange.

‘I don’t know what’s strange, but….’

Didn’t we just talk about lemon madeleines a moment ago?

Since you said you enjoy cooking, it’s probably a snack you either made yourself or bought somewhere.

But the lemon madeleine that suddenly appeared during the conversation was wrapped in faintly transparent white paper and decorated with a neat, unobtrusive black ribbon.

The madeleines, wrapped in elegant paper and emitting a sweet fragrance, were more suitable for the porcelain dolls in the Sweet Tea Party than for them. However, the black ribbon, which was merely used to organize the entrance, seemed more bitter than sweet.

“… … .”

Rustle.

I took out the madeleine.

“… Did you make it yourself?”

“It is my pleasure.”

“You are really talented.”

To be honest, I couldn’t imagine the process of the person in front of me baking and packaging this directly.

‘… Rather than that… .’

It literally felt like it was going to be made.

It seemed as if it was in his hands, just because he wanted it.

‘… You’ve been having strange thoughts since a while ago. Ruminations aren’t going to help you at all.’

The madeleines were smaller than I thought, as if they were handmade from scratch. The lemon madeleine crust, which had a white coating like opaque frosting, had a crispy yet crunchy texture.

The madeleine, which had a faint scent of wood on a rainy day, was lighter and softer than I expected.

“…It’s delicious.”

It was just so delicious that the tension that had made my body stiffen for some reason was completely relieved.

“Actually, I couldn’t believe you said you were a good cook.”

“That’s sad. Why did you think that?”

“It doesn’t seem like you’re in a mood to get your hands wet.”

“That’s a story I hear often.”

“That’s the impression you get. But….”

It wasn’t that I thought they didn’t match at all.

“… He also has the impression that he goes well with anything.”

He seemed like he could do anything.

He seemed to have ascended to the highest of places, the Pope’s throne, and he also seemed to have sat as a beggar in the lowest and most humble of places. But the man felt that, wherever he might truly be, he would be able to accept it all.

Even if he is an unimaginable reject, even if he is a carnation child born in the slums on a cold winter day. Yes, you will definitely think that it is possible.

“… The reason is… .”

well.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s a strange thing to say.”

“…I see.”

But one thing was certain.

“… … .”

No matter what his status was, it seemed like no one could catch this guy.

It is natural for time to pass and the world to change.

‘…I need to stop thinking about it.’

Stop it now.

The man stared blankly into space.

“… … .”

With so much to do, it was time to get out of this miserable comfort zone.

“… It’s… later than I thought.”

Before I knew it, it was 6 am.

“I don’t think we really had much of a conversation.”

“It was a pleasant conversation.”

“…I’m glad you felt that way.”

Around that time, I felt something new.

“Geo?”

He was a curator of Yoo Seong-un.

“Were you awake?”

“Yes, Mr. Yoo Seong-un.”

The two talked naturally as if they knew each other well.

“I was talking to this person.”

“Oh, I was wondering who you are. You’re the Binary Curator.”

When I nodded with nothing to say, Yoo Seong-un didn’t say anything else. As if he was good at dealing with people, he looked back at Sergio again as if he didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“What did you talk about?”

“The story was that they couldn’t believe that I was good at cooking.”

“Oh, really? I thought it went together pretty well… Your cooking is really delicious.”

Curator Yoo Seong-un asked in his characteristically calm tone.

“It’s already past 6am. The staff will be here soon. Are you going to stay in the gallery?”

“No, I’m going to go back before the other staff members arrive.”

Under the falling lights, a man’s blue eyes were in focus.

“What will you do, Mr. Binary?”

“I’m going back to the dormitory, which the company supported….”

“Is that Mr. Binary’s house?”

“It seems more like a place to just stay rather than a home.”

“You will soon have a comfortable home.”

He showed his favor again.

“Do you need guidance?”

“… … .”

Without me knowing.

“… … .”

The man looked around the gallery ‘without knowing it’.

I looked at the porcelain doll I was in charge of, Sweet Tea Party. I looked at the glass curtains of the picture frames hanging next to it and in front of it. I looked at the light coming down from the ceiling and the clock hanging between them.

I saw the floor where the light fell. In the vertically falling light, there was a shadow. A blackness that was missing… .

“… … .”

I saw it.

“…no.”

When I raised my head, my eyes suddenly met with those of curator Yoo Seong-un.

“it’s okay.”

Those eyes curve sharply and reveal a smile.

“I have memorized the entire structure of this gallery.”

“okay.”

“I’ll go out by myself.”

“Thank you for talking with me.”

The man in the black cloak said.

“I remember and affirm you.”

“… … .”

“Have a nice day.”

It’s a strange sound.

“… … .”

The man nodded and left the gallery.

“… … .”

I walked through the twisted hallways in case of an unexpected situation.

The lights hanging from the ceiling cast shadows along with my footsteps. After several shadow movements, I finally arrived at the elevator.

The boarding place is the 3rd basement floor. The exit is the 1st floor lobby. When you press the button, the elevator starts to operate.

“… … .”

I muttered without realizing it.

“… What a peculiar person.”

Even though I only saw it briefly, time flew by. Even though I only saw it very briefly, it happened. It can happen.

Despite his rather large physique, his presence was very vague, and he didn’t seem to be there even though he was right next to me. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help but notice his presence, even if I tried to turn my eyes away.

“He seemed like a great person.”

He was affectionate and old-fashioned.

He was as sparkling as a fairy tale prince who had grown up, as pretty as an old historical relic now buried in the ground, and as special as a miracle of the past that no one remembered.

“A person who gives comfort….”

Why did a rural village I had never seen before come to mind? Why did I hear the sound of dry grass rustling in the quiet wind?

I felt a similar longing as when I admired the crimson color of the sea as the sun set calmly, or when I heard a lullaby sung by a parent to put a child to sleep. It was simple and lyrical.

therefore.

“He’s a good person.”

The man knows nothing.

“okay….”

There was also a one-hour gap where it was clear that I was possessed by something else.

The sound of dry grass flowing from bare feet.

The shadows that didn’t exist alone under the light, or the huge forest reflected on the glass that coated the frame.

The sun too.

The sea too.

Eyeball too.

Eyes too.

eye.

“… … .”

I don’t even know the gaze that the eyes reflected in the glass were sending me.

I don’t know.

“…he’s a good person.”

Because ‘Sergio’ is a ‘good person’.

It had to be that way.