Prologue : Why, I could be a haunted portrait.
I became a painting.
"...."
Not a funeral portrait, but a real painting.
"...."
And at that, I was dropped into the middle of a cabin in the woods.
"…It's interesting, so it's fine."
Though it seemed I, a perfectly living person, would be treated as a haunted portrait.
***
I was an art teacher.
To explain how I, a proper member of society, became a haunted portrait, it was because I, unable to escape a burning school in time, was trapped in the art room and plopped right into my own painting.
"...."
It was true.
"I figured if I was going to die anyway, I wanted to die in my favorite place."
That was the art supply closet.
The very place where the landscape painting of the cabin in the woods had been, the place that ultimately turned me into a talking painting.
"To think I'd have an experience like this in my lifetime."
I sat on a bench and took in the scenery within the painting.
"...."
The air was mild.
The chirping of birds, singing in harmony as if in a choir.
The spring breeze, light and soft like rustling silk.
Jewel-like sunlight filtering through the dense leaves.
The perfect temperature and the deep scent of the forest, as if damp with dew….
"Hmm."
It was peaceful.
"Nice."
It had been about a week since I came to my senses in this cabin inside the painting.
'The flow of time is erratic, so I don't know exactly how long I've been here….'
It was only natural for a new resident to inspect his new home.
I had figured out a few minor rules of this painting.
First, everything I painted here became real.
"...."
Observing the apple I had drawn, I casually put it down.
A pleasant fragrance came from the well-ripened apple.
I felt proud.
'I have been liberated from food expenses.'
As expected, I am brilliant.
Haunted portrait or whatever, this was very welcome news to me, a gourmand and a glutton.
If I drew an apple, it became a real apple.
If I drew a bag of salt, it became real salt.
It was the same for kitchen utensils like pots and spatulas, not just ingredients and it was identical for plants like flowers and trees.
'At this point, there's one thing anyone would be curious about.'
I couldn't draw people.
I tried, thinking I might become the first human to create another from paint, but it only resulted in a warm corpse, not a living, moving person.
"It's a relief the limits are clear."
I almost got scared.
To me, who valued friendship, peace, and love, the ability to create humanity would only be a detriment.
Above all, my dream was closer to being a building owner than a creator.
'I was relieved that I hadn't gained an ability that would harm the coze and charm of my life.'
And the second rule.
"...."
My gaze fell upon a frame hanging on a wooden pillar.
"Is it something like a front door?"
Through the frame, I could see the scenery outside of this place.
"Perhaps it's here to stress the importance of communication, so I don't grow old alone."
Interaction with reality was also possible, so I could leave the painting at any time.
Compared to the haunted portraits in the many ghost stories I knew, mine had a high degree of freedom.
'As expected of me.'
Even as a painting, there was no way I'd follow the same path as others.
I was greatly satisfied with my uniqueness, which was likely unprecedented in human history.
It seemed unlikely there would be another one of these in the world.
If there was, it would be fate, which was even better.
"...."
Anyway, to get to the point.
"…There doesn't seem to be any reason to go out into society smelling of exhaust fumes to start a new life."
Why would I, when I have this clean area?
"A lot has changed from what I remember in just a few years…."
It was a bitter thing to mutter at the ripe young age of 29, but that was the reality.
They said it had already been about 30 years since the fire incident.
'31 years, to be exact.'
Upon learning that, I serenely returned to the painting.
This talking potato had no confidence in adapting to a new society.
"My death certificate must have been filed a long time ago, so why would I go out there to be subjected to who knows what kind of biological experiments?"
I had no intention of pointlessly suffering, leaving behind this peaceful home where I didn't have to pay for food, let alone rent or electricity.
"I am a little worried about the kids in my class… but the world has changed so much, I don't know how they're all doing."
It seemed the world had been turned upside down 31 years ago, when the fire incident happened.
'Did they call it the Great Catastrophe.'
The world appeared to have changed completely since that day.
When I escaped the abandoned school that had turned into an Amazon jungle and with difficulty found a place where people had gathered, only to see the unbelievable sight of a businessman in a suit holding a bow and fighting a monster the size of a house.
Thoroughly terrified, I meekly accepted my identity as a painting.
"Things like that can happen in life."
Even if this body were to die and die a hundred times over, its white bones did not turn to dust and my soul remained perfectly intact, but still, the life of a peaceful and comfortable haunted portrait was better than a modern society where one had to struggle with monsters.
"There are various ways of life in the world, and among them is the life of a portrait…."
And at this point, to discuss the third story.
"…Hmm."
This forest was another ecosystem.
"Shall I go foraging."
I picked up a sturdy basket.
I intended to bring back a load of food.
'What I drew was only a two-story cabin and the forest surrounding it, but after wandering around here and there, I found plants and geographical features that I had never drawn.'
It seemed to be created based on my imagination.
"...."
Rustle.
"Hello."
"Peep."
"Right."
I watched as a rabbit that popped out of the bushes rubbed its body against my foot and went on its way.
'It's small.'
Its body was much smaller and rounder than the Korean rabbits I was familiar with, which seemed to be a reflection of my preference for small, harmless things.
'I like it.'
Mainly the part that it seemed unable to harm me.
I liked that if we were to fight seriously, I would likely win.
'Was it because I, the owner of the painting, am harmless that only harmless creatures have been placed here? A plausible guess….'
Afterward, creatures with slight differences from their real-world counterparts occasionally passed me by.
A squirrel with roundly puffed-up cheeks.
A sparrow with fluffy feathers as if it were winter.
A deer with gem-like clear eyes and a slender neck….
"...."
I thought.
The fourth rule.
"…To be this kind despite it being our first meeting, they must recognize me as their father."
All beings in this painting showed favor to me.
'Is it because I painted this place?'
Although I had become a painting, I was still a painter and this world was also a work I had created.
'It might be natural for the guys living in such a work to be favorable to me, their owner.'
I walked in the opposite direction of the stream.
"…Like the unemployed person with nothing to do that I am, shall I find a sunny spot and take a nap."
I was on my way to find the spring that was the source of this vast forest.
'Even better if I forage on the way.'
I was still a gourmand and a glutton.
I didn't feel hunger or drowsiness after becoming a painting, but I could eat and sleep as much as I wanted.
'Considering I feel bloated if I eat too much, or can't fall back asleep right after waking up from a deep sleep… it seems a basic life pattern is still maintained, though.'
Anyway, being able to eat as much as I wanted was a great advantage.
"…Ah."
Following the stream in reverse, I found a red, round fruit.
"This would be perfect for a snack."
A thin tree, a little under 2m tall, with branches bent deeply like an overturned plate.
Its slender branches were laden with fruits the size of marbles sold at a stationery store.
The way they were clustered and spread from the long branches, their shape was more similar to a cherry tree than a grapevine.
"If I dry them in the sun, could I get a texture similar to raisins…."
At that moment, my 'system' explained the small, red fruit.
Mangdung Fruit
It has a reddish color.
It is sweet and sour, with a predominantly strong sweet taste.
It is a spherical fruit with a diameter of as small as 1cm and as large as 2cm.
Elixir Recipe: Powder the well-dried fruit and mix it with the juice of Rurupu to make a dough. Form the dough into balls and dry them in a dark place for at least a week to make a good medicine for bleeding and its recovery.
"…If only it would give some warning before appearing…."
The fifth rule.
"…Yeah, I think this will take some getting used to. Time will be the cure."
Actually, it was a bit much to call this a rule of the forest… but it seemed I had undergone an awakening.
The phenomenon is said to manifest in superhumans who appeared after the 'Great Catastrophe'.
The people of Earth now called such superhumans 'Hunters', which I found fascinating.
'That I became one of those superhumans, too.'
How should I put it?
"It's like a game."
I felt like I had been dropped into a healing game where I foraged and cooked.
'Should I say I was fortunate to be able to accept this unfamiliar environment without difficulty thanks to that feeling.'
It wasn't that I was escaping reality by saying this place was a game.
It simply meant, 'Adaptation is easy because I'm placed in a harmless and convenient environment like a game.'
"…Hmm…."
Re-reading the system, I checked my basket.
There was still a lot of room left.
"…Should I gather more."
I plucked the fruits until the bottom of my basket turned red.
Then, I made a space for the fruits with a large, cleanly washed leaf to partition them.
It was to make space for other foraged items I might find and thanks to that, I was able to find another medicinal herb not long after.
"What was that again?"
A small flower that resembled an orchid.
Baibamunil
It has a light blue tint.
It has a soft vanilla cream scent.
It becomes edible when boiled in hot water for 10 minutes.
It blooms where the forest butterflies of the 'Forest of Oblivion' have died.
Its petals resemble the wings of a forest butterfly.
Elixir Recipe: Remove the poison by boiling in hot water, then dry in a dark place for 10 days. The medicinal effect increases if dried on the leaves of a Dorongdorong Tree. The fully dried flower can be steeped over low heat for a day to make a medicinal tea with a good fragrance. It is excellent for hemostasis and for restoring and increasing immunity.
'The taste is probably quite different, but I think the texture was at least like well-cooked spinach.'
Spinach that smells like vanilla cream might sound strange, but it was surprisingly okay to eat.
Eating it as a snack after boiling it once was good when you were feeling peckish.
'The texture is also fun, soft enough to be crushed like a well-cooked chestnut if you mash it moderately with your tongue.'
For reference, 'Dorongdorong' refers to a tree in this forest that is fat like a baobab tree but much shorter.
Its roundly curled leaves were chewy and thick like a water-filled balloon, and since there was a Dorongdorong Tree near the cabin, I could easily obtain its leaves.
"Just in case."
I continued to forage diligently.
I needed not only food but also medicine for emergencies, so foraging over a wide area was necessary.
As I continued foraging, I arrived at the spring, the source of the stream.
"...."
Pat.
Trickle….
"...."
The spring water, trapped by white tree roots that seemed to have collected sunlight and moonlight.
Between the spring that sparkled transparently like glass, thin and beautiful flowers, like silk made of jewels, were in bloom.
They were lush flowers that somewhat resembled lotuses.
"With this…."
Rurupu
A flower with a lush bud.
It can only grow in clean water and uses that water to bloom.
A fully bloomed Rurupu maintains its shape even when picked. However, its petals will only release juice when they touch warm water.
It is edible but has no taste other than a deep fragrance.
Elixir Recipe: Place the petals in warm, potable water and wait until they melt and release juice. Never touch it during the process. The juice extracted this way can be used with various medicinal ingredients.
Applicable Elixir Recipe: Blood Pills using Mangdung Fruit and Rurupu juice.
"If I make medicine, I'm sure it will be useful someday."
Thud.
I set the basket down.
'It doesn't seem like I'll have much use for it, but I was bored anyway….'
Thinking it was very suitable as new content, I washed my hands cleanly in the spring water and then reached for a Rurupu flower.
With my characteristically blunt and somber face, I snapped off a flower stalk.
The hand that handled the flower was, contrary to my gloomy expression, quite delicate.
'Taking it by the root would also be interesting, but this isn't a type of plant I've commonly grown…. It's a flower made of water, so I don't even know where the root begins and ends. I should be careful not to recklessly try and reduce the population, as that would be upsetting.'
The Rurupu I picked must have already fully bloomed, as it didn't dissolve into water.
It meant that I had harvested the flower in the correct way.
"The scent is nice."
I carefully placed the flower bud into the basket.
There were about 20 flowers blooming in the spring, but I only gathered 3 of them just in case.
The petals themselves were as large and lush as a lotus, so taking several blossoms felt wasteful.
'The stem is quite sturdy too, I wonder if there's another way to use it. It feels fibrous, like it might peel off like thread if I tear it vertically….'
Soon, I had placed all the flowers in.
"This should be enough."
I decided to slowly get a feel for the exact amounts while making the medicine and placed the basket full of flowers back on the ground.
And then I admired the spring.
"...."
Trickle,
Trickle….
"...."
The sound of the shallowly flowing, transparent water.
The clear scent from the clean spring.
The humid air of the forest.
"…Nice."
This spring, which existed even though I hadn't drawn it, was more beautiful than I had imagined.
The tree, dead yet standing firm, shone white, resembling expensive Carrara marble.
Through that tree, which had complex veins that faintly transmitted the sky, the transparent spring water flowed, shattering the golden sunlight.
'It's like it's thinly coated with pearls.'
The sap of this tree had hardened and turned into jewels.
Perhaps it had secreted sap before it died, as wide, winding, dish-shaped jewels with a faint blue tint protruded from various places on the tree like wood-ear mushrooms.
The transparent, blue-green things were like plates made of large jewels.
They held the spring water that had caught the sunlight and held a gentle light.
"...."
Trickle….
The spring water flowed down sequentially along those jewel plates.
From the highest point, steadily, one by one.
It bounced off the jewel plates, making a clear sound like the jade beads of dawn.
If you listened closely, it felt like listening to the song of a butterfly.
When the sunlight seeping through the forest leaves scattered and illuminated the marble-like tree, it felt as if I had come to a temple.
"...."
The spring water that came down that way pooled at the roots of the dead tree, creating a shallow well.
The water that overflowed from there spread throughout the forest, and the area around it was lit by butterflies with wings resembling sunlight.
They were just like fireflies.
Fireflies that could be seen even during the day.
"Amazing."
The spring, which made its home in the giant tree soaring high into the sky, also looked like a massive pond.
'…There was a saying that good water has a scent, did that story also apply to such clean water?'
The air enveloping this place was nutty and sweet, making it feel as if I were lying on a field of flowers.
Perhaps the scent from the Rurupu petals was infusing the spring water.
'I really like it.'
I liked this place.
I found a spot among the blanket-soft moss and slowly prepared for a nap.
***
"Here it is."
The art supply closet of a now-forgotten abandoned school.
A man in a portrait hanging there, myself, had his eyes quietly closed.
"Look at this painting."
"Wow, how did it survive without burning?"
"It's in great condition… you think they'll count it as an achievement if we take it?"
"Looks like it has a title."
"Does it have a name? So it was an item."
Now, the final rule.
I became a painting.
"...."
"It says 'Jio's Portrait'."
That much was an undeniable fact.
"It's convenient hanging out with a guy who has an appraisal skill…. But are you sure this is from Earth?"
"Would an ordinary portrait be in an abandoned school like this and in the mountains of Gangwon-do at that, in such clean condition? When there's no one to manage it?"
"That's true, I guess."
"Of course it must be an item that trickled out from some dungeon. There are a lot of other dungeons around here."
"Anyway, the collectors will love it. They're crazy about this kind of stuff, right?"
And so, while I slept.
The entrance and exit of the painting were changing on their own.
-x-X-x-
"Alright, then…."
In the well-organized kitchen of the forest cabin, filled with warm air.
"Time to eat dinner."
I was preparing a meal.
"How can one be this happy, just eating and sleeping without a job."
It was the so-called happiness of the unemployed.
"Now that I'm unemployed, I can finally fulfill my duty as a potato pig…. I must sit at the dinner table for 3 hours."
I was a gourmand and a glutton.
The life of a teacher, where I had to display a regular, inconspicuous, and appropriately tactful social life, was too harsh for me, a cultured pig.
"I always thought that I wanted to enjoy a menu of my liking alone at a time that was personally convenient."
I expressed great satisfaction with my characteristically blunt face.
Even when I came back to Gangwon-do after moving up to Seoul, I couldn't even dream of such a luxurious private house.
"To think I would achieve my dream of a rural life only after losing my job and becoming a portrait, is life truly a hurricane."
It was unpredictable and even fun.
Though a real hurricane wouldn't be fun, of course.
"Then for today, simply…."
With a lantern, its candle flame flickering yet unextinguished by the wind, hanging above, I took out the ingredients.
Sweet potato.
"...."
A hefty sweet potato.
I blinked twice, as if planning today's daily bread, and soon reached a conclusion.
"…Should I try making Stir-Fried Honey Sweet Potato."
It was a dish I often made when the elderly would occasionally send sweet potatoes and the necessary ingredients were a bit of honey, salt, sweet potatoes, and butter.
Nothing else was needed.
Fortunately, all these ingredients were in the cabin.
Just like the wooden spring that existed even though I hadn't thought of it at all, the furniture and ingredients inside the cabin had also been stocked up together.
In particular, the ingredients that always maintained their best condition even after several days, perhaps a feature of the painting world, deeply moved Seo Jio.
"Hmm…."
Clatter.
I took out the honey in its jar from a cupboard that smelled of cypress wood.
"…Were the dairy products in the basement."
Dairy products like milk, cheese, and butter, as well as foods that basically required refrigeration, were all gathered in the cabin's underground storage.
The storage, enclosed on all sides by transparent ice, maintained a cool chill and served as an excellent refrigerator.
My breath would turn visible upon entering, but perhaps thanks to evolving into a haunted portrait, I didn't feel the cold.
'Just moderately cool.'
Considering that the other ingredients didn't freeze either, I wondered why my breath turned visible at all.
"It's a phenomenon that completely ignores the laws of physics… but it's funny, so it's fine."
Holding a small bowl and a knife, I went down the stairs leading to the underground storage, and the storage door, made of a cool and heavy wood like metal, appeared before me.
Upon opening the door, a few small, haphazardly arranged jars and a large shelf inside the ice cave came into view.
'When I checked last time, the variety seemed quite diverse.'
I rummaged through the butters displayed on the shelf.
"I'd prefer butter with a mild fragrance."
Among the ingredients that provided sweetness, honey had a particularly strong fragrance.
Sweet potato and honey alone were sufficient, and if the butter's scent were also strong on top of that, it could become a bit overwhelming.
Finding a pale yellow butter among the various types, Seo Jio cut a small piece of it.
"It'll be greasy if I add too much…."
After taking out just enough butter for this dish, I wrapped the packaging neatly, closed the storage door tightly, and went back up to the kitchen.
Seo Jio's cooking skills were on the excellent side. Otherwise, he, a gourmand, would not have even come up with the idea of cooking for himself.
"Ah, so fresh."
With a skillful touch, I cleaned the sweet potatoes thoroughly.
I contemplated how to slice them.
"…For starters…."
After blinking twice, I cut the sweet potatoes into long rectangular shapes.
They were stick-shaped with a moderate length.
"…Since the amount isn't that large."
I prepared only 17 hefty sweet potatoes.
The iron plate with the finely cut sweet potatoes went straight into the furnace.
The preheated furnace quickly cooked the surface of the sweet potatoes.
When the outside became crispy due to the strong heat, but the inside was not cooked at all, I took them out of the furnace.
Those pieces, with only the outside cooked and the inside still raw, were lined up on a large wok.
"Now for the butter and salt."
I maintained a low heat so the butter wouldn't burn and sprinkled a little salt over it.
The sweet potatoes, slowly cooked over a gentle flame, were coated in butter and gave off a sweet and nutty aroma.
"And a little bit of honey…."
Chiiik―.
"In it goes."
Gently drizzling the honey scooped with a spoon, I quickly tossed the wok.
The honey and butter, mixed with a strong force as if making Chinese restaurant fried rice, settled right onto the sweet potatoes.
"...."
Just when I thought it was about done.
"Good."
I turned off the heat and tossed the pan a few more times.
This was to help the butter and honey emulsify with each other instead of separating.
If this step were skipped, the oil from the butter would separate and run and the honey would become unpleasantly sticky, resulting in a monstrous dish.
'Though that would also be tasty….'
Of course, when it comes to cooking, one must also pay attention to texture.
After all, even with the same taste, a dish can become completely different with just a change in texture.
"…Done."
I plated the finished Stir-fried Honey Sweet Potato and immediately soaked the dirty wok in water.
'However foolish a creature man may be, I will not repeat the same mistake.'
Honey mixed with butter, dried and stuck to the pan, was possessed by the spirit of a demon and would test the patience of a good-natured person like Seo Jio.
Anyway, this was his dinner menu for today.
"Nice."
The Stir-fried Honey Sweet Potato was not difficult to prepare and was an excellent dish for both a snack and a meal.
Sitting at the wooden table, I picked up a sweet potato stick with a fork.
The surface was glossy like candied sweet potatoes, but the much more delicate honey coating, with the addition of butter, gave off a rather complex aroma.
"...."
Seeing how the fork went into the sweet potato so softly, it seemed to be cooked very well.
I put the sweet potato straight into my mouth.
"...."
Chew….
I came to a conclusion.
"Delicious."
It was ordinarily delicious.
'I like this more than candied sweet potatoes. Grandma did too….'
Unlike candied sweet potatoes, which could sometimes poke the roof of your mouth while eating, the coating on this Stir-fried Honey Sweet Potato was delicate.
The mix of honey and butter simply added a smooth and soft texture.
It was a dish that gave a different kind of pleasure from candied sweet potatoes, which had a somewhat crispy texture.
'As expected, sweet potatoes and honey are a good combination.'
And the butter and salt also made a well-matched set.
The butter added a unique nuttiness to the honey's fragrance, which could have been a bit simple, and a little salt balanced the dish that could have become too greasy or sweet.
"It might have been nice to add a few herbs on top of this."
It seemed it would have been fine to add common spices like pepper, parsley, or rosemary.
"But then the fragrance would become a bit strong. It might be hard to enjoy it lightly."
I liked it just the way it was.
'The texture is just to my liking too.'
The surface of the sweet potato, which had lost its moisture in the furnace, still maintained its crispiness even after being tossed around in honey and butter.
In contrast, the inside of the sweet potato, which was not cooked at all, seemed to have cooked up moistly thanks to being coated with honey and butter.
'The moisture inside must have been trapped by the furnace's strong heat. It was a good idea to bake the outside to a crisp first.'
The long shape also makes it fun to eat, and the textures feel diverse.
It would get greasy if I ate too much, but with this amount, I could have a pleasant meal.
Since I was someone who eats a lot.
"...."
Looking at the bowl with only a faint trace of honey butter sauce left, I thought.
'As expected, I'm a cool potato.'
I didn't want to eat that much since it was right before bed and this was just the right menu.
"I like it."
The lantern light on the table cast a soft glow.
It had a very analog sensibility and just looking at it made me feel a sense of nostalgia, even though it wasn't my hometown.
"This would be perfect to use when camping."
I remained like that for a long while in a peaceful satiety that seemed to encourage sleep.
Feeling the laziness of the empty but not lacking bowl, and the low voice of the lantern that further softened the air….
Soon, my gaze turned to the window where the spring breeze offered a shy greeting.
"...."
After looking at the outside that had grown dark a long time ago, I finally got up from my seat.
"…It would be better to prepare the medicinal ingredients in advance."
It was to make the medicine related to bleeding that the system had informed me of.
For some reason, it didn't seem like the day to use it would come easily, but creating things one by one like this and building up a collection of works was also a joy for an artist.
A collection of sorts.
"First, let's wash the Mangdung Fruits and lay them out to dry. It will take quite a while to dry them enough to be made into powder. Given their size, it seems like it will take longer than making raisins…."
I almost fell asleep for a moment, but perhaps thanks to the sugar intake, my head started working quickly.
"For later, should I start with about 50 fruits? Even if I don't get much juice since there are only three flowers, if I make a lot of powder, I'll be able to use it later anyway."
Having reached a conclusion, I began to move.
I washed the fruits clean with drinking water I had drawn from the stream beforehand.
The Mangdung Fruit was a rather resilient fruit and when it went into the water, its inside became faintly visible.
"…It looks a bit like a gooseberry."
Of course, the difference was clear as the Mangdung Fruit was completely filled with pulp inside.
I continued with my idle thoughts and washed all the fruits.
"...."
Squeak.
"Nice."
The bright red, marble-shaped fruits soaked in the clear, clean stream water.
It was surprisingly pleasant to hear them make a refreshing sound as they were scrubbed clean in my hands.
After washing all the fruits, I placed the Mangdung Fruits on a wooden sieve.
"I might get hungry, so let's set aside some to eat as a snack."
It was evening now, so it was fine, but the fruits would dry better if left outside where it was well-ventilated and the sun was bright.
I placed the sieve with the spread-out fruits right in front of the cabin.
"And…."
Coming back inside, I approached the hearth where wood was stacked.
'Now I need fire.'
Crackle, tak.
I shook a plant with a round sphere on it.
Then, a small, dull noise echoed from inside the fruit and a fire flared up with a whoosh.
It was a small but rather strong fire, as its color was blue.
A faint scent was rising from it.
It was just as pleasant to look at as a bonfire burning in winter.
"...."
I threw it onto the firewood in the hearth to light the fire.
Bellflower
A flower with a black sphere that blooms instead of regular petals, it is inedible.
If the flower is shaken when it is in a spherical shape before fully blooming, the stamen and pistil collide with each other to create fire.
However, since the spark only flies with a strong up-and-down motion, it rarely ignites naturally.
It meant it was a substitute for a lighter or a match.
"…It's light and even pretty, so if I had sold this on Earth, it would have been a huge hit as a sentimental camping item…."
Muttering worldly greed with a blunt face, I rummaged through the basket.
Then I took out 10 stalks of Baibamunil, which had a similar appearance to an orchid.
I washed those lightly as well and placed them on a small sieve, then hung a pot over the hearth and poured water into it.
Then I waited for it to boil.
"…This should be about right."
After confirming that the water was bubbling moderately, I dropped in the Baibamunil.
The deep, sweet scent characteristic of vanilla spread.
Plop, po-plop―!
"Hmm…."
To eat it like a vegetable, it would be best to dip it in and take it out right away, but this flower was not a vegetable.
It even had residual toxicity if not cooked properly.
'The time it takes for the toxicity to be removed is a total of 10 minutes.'
I faithfully followed the system's words.
I waited for the poison to come out of the flower while eating the Mangdung Fruits I had set aside.
"Is it done?"
After checking the time with the system, Seo Jio stood in front of the pot again 10 minutes later.
With long chopsticks, I placed the wilted flower onto the sieve.
Its shape remained completely intact despite being boiled for quite a long time.
I rinsed the flower, which had been boiled once in clean water, and left it as it was for a moment.
Without extinguishing the weakened fire in the hearth, I only changed the pot on top of it.
The water left over from boiling the Baibamunil would contain toxins.
"I should dry this too."
I picked up the sieve with the flower on it and went outside again.
As I opened the door.
"...."
Whoosh….
A gentle spring breeze blew.
"…It's refreshing."
The texture and temperature were as if a lukewarm cloud was gently enveloping my face.
It was a pleasant wind.
'Soft and cool.'
My eyes blinked slowly in the hazy wind that somehow made my heart pound and carried a hint of sleepiness.
'It would be perfect to fall asleep like this.'
The wind, neither hot nor cold, was as soft as fine traditional paper or silk, making my fingertips tingle.
"...."
After savoring the small, unannounced happiness, I finally moved my feet.
"…I hope it dries well."
Placing the Mangdung Fruit and the flower sieve side by side, I returned to the house.
There were already two baskets in front of the house, but there was still more to prepare.
This time, what I picked up was a transparent flower named Rurupu.
"...."
What was I supposed to do with this?
Perhaps because sleepiness was setting in, I couldn't think clearly, and after pondering for a moment, I requested help from the system.
"Elixir Recipe."
Elixir Recipe: Place the petals in warm, potable water and wait until they melt and release juice. Never touch it during the process. The juice extracted this way can be used with various medicinal ingredients.
Applicable Elixir Recipe: Blood Pills using Mangdung Fruit and Rurupu juice.
"Thank you."
After thanking the system, I poured water into the newly replaced pot.
The cold water entered the heated pot and turned into a lukewarm temperature.
When I held my hand right above the water, I could feel steam gently rising, and it looked quite warm.
'Since it said warm water, not hot water, wouldn't this temperature be just right?'
Thinking so, I held the flower I had brought from the spring in my hand.
The Rurupu flower, which seemed to be made of water yet was sturdy as if woven from silk, had a clear and sweet scent like a dewdrop made of honey.
As I carefully placed it in the pot….
"...."
The sparkle of the petals, like the Milky Way, spread throughout the water in the pot.
"…Surely the sparkle of the Rurupu is due to it scattering the light from the sun or a lamp."
Had it trapped the bright sunlight or the vivid light from a lamp in its body?
It felt like watching ice made with glitter melt in warm water.
"…Oh."
Soon the sparkling subsided, and the water in the pot gave off a more distinct fragrance.
The capitalistic thought that it would sell well if made into a perfume suddenly crossed my mind, but I scooped out the contents before the water boiled completely.
'That was close.'
The flower water I scooped out was poured into a glass bottle I had prepared in advance.
"It doesn't look like much at a glance, but I can make medicine with this."
Even though the Rurupu juice was simply dissolved in water, it had a mesmerizing glow, like paint created by an artist who poured out their soul.
A doubt arose as to whether I could really make medicine with this.
"...."
Well, there was nothing I couldn't do if I tried.
That's just how life is.
"When a perfectly living human has become a haunted portrait, why couldn't I make a strangely colored medicine."
Having finished all the preparations, I went up to the second floor of the cabin.
The sleepiness that had been tickling my eyelids for a while now was encouraging me to sleep.
The wooden stairs felt somewhat warm against the soles of my feet.
Though it was surely solid wood, there was a strangely soft texture to it, and a scent that comforted the heart emanated from here and there, as if it were made of good wood.
The bed in the bedroom I reached was as soft as if it were made of water.
"Haa…."
Poof―.
I burrowed right into the bed.
"...."
My eyes, which had been blinking a couple of times as if to organize the day's events, soon closed quietly like a child being caressed in its parent's arms.
Through the wide-open window, a breeze carrying the scent of the forest flowed in, and the gentle wind passed cautiously over my whole body as if it were shy.
Once on my forehead, once on my fingertips, once on my knees….
A pitch-black field of vision. In the meantime, the sound of birds that had woken up in the evening fades faintly into the distance.
"...."
With the soft song of the insects as a lullaby.
Jio fell asleep.
-x-X-x-
At a certain prestigious auction house.
"Huh…?"
"What, is something wrong?"
"Ju, just now… I think this painting moved."
"How clumsy."
One of the managers scoffed.
"There's no way an ordinary portrait would come to this auction house. It must have been an item from some dungeon."
"Ah…."
"They said the place it was found was an art supply closet in an abandoned school in Gangwon-do, so the price will drop a lot since its origin isn't clear. It'll be out in the first half of Part 1, so get it ready in advance."
"Yes, sir."
Despite his superior's reassuring words, the employee's expression was far from good.
He looked at the portrait in front of him as if it were ominous.
"...."
Just now.
I think our eyes met.
"…I just hope it's not an item that casts curses…."
Although it was an item that had already passed a safety inspection before coming in, the world was wide and items were varied.
It was probably able to come all the way to this auction house thanks to the mystery of its origin and function not being properly identified even with an appraisal skill, but that was precisely why the employee felt a sense of foreboding.
"Isn't this usually how horror movies start? Some ominous work of art and the oblivious people around it… it's a perfect fit."
He could only pray that he wouldn't be the first sacrificial lamb to die.
"Oof, scary."
"...."
I, 'Jio's Portrait', was watching him silently.
I closed my eyes.
***
31 years ago.
The Earth was ruined.
When this cliché opening line became a reality, all sci-fi movies vanished from the Earth from that day on.
The sight of people being suddenly dragged into other dimensions and torn to death by unreasonable rules, or monsters crawling out from between pitch-black dimensional rifts, was far more realistic than any movie.
"Crazy…!"
"Ex, excuse me, are they filming a movie over there?"
"Does it look like a fucking movie?!"
And then, as if they had been waiting, superhumans appeared.
"Uh… isn't this a game window?"
"No way, I got that too."
"What did it say? It says I've awakened as a Priest?"
"I don't have anything like that… just a skill list pops up. But if you're a Priest, are you religious?"
"Yes, I do attend a Christian church. Is it decided that way?"
"I wouldn't know that either…?"
They changed the landscape of the Earth.
"Ah, damage…! What are you doing not dealing damage!!"
"How can I deal damage when you're blocking the front, bro…!"
"Are you kidding me?! Then is a tanker supposed to block the back instead of the front?!"
"Wow, this raid is screwed…."
"Huuuhhh…!"
They hunted monsters as if they were truly playing a game.
This phenomenon, defined as an 'Awakening', manifested in people at random and no matter how much it was researched, there were no exact rules or criteria for it.
There was only the commonality that a system window, like in a game, would appear for those who had awakened.
Of course, that didn't mean hunting monsters was really as lighthearted as a game.
"...."
"…Hey, go get his belongings. Even if there's nobody, we have to hold a funeral, don't we."
"Our team's dealer is gone… I've lost all my energy. How old did he say he was?"
"18. He said with his own mouth he wanted to go back to high school."
"Is the country going crazy, dragging out a kid who wants to study at school."
"What can you do? They're rolling out 10-year-olds as long as they awaken…."
"True, for a dealer, 18 is on the better side."
"...."
"This is fucked up."
Because the number of so-called 'Awakened Ones', the 'Hunters' who hunted monsters, was in the minority, it was hard for them to escape 'death by overwork'.
In the face of a worldwide change undergoing a major transitional period, an individual's life was treated as a mere number.
However, the Republic of Korea was a nation that had swiftly suppressed the chaos on a global scale, centered around three heroes.
They quickly laid the groundwork through change after change after change.
"Honey, can you hear me? They said Yerin has awakened…."
Because of this, the citizens in the systematically organized cities began to have some leeway.
"Her teachers at the kindergarten told me today that she awakened."
[What? Yerin did? Oh my… does she have a class? What about skills? What grade is it?]
"I don't know, Yerin says she doesn't have a class and her skill is D-rank. I think we'll have to go to the Center to check for sure."
[Then let's not make Yerin a Hunter. Ask her what she wants to do and if she says no, don't make her a Hunter.]
"I thought that would be for the best too. Okay, thank you, I'm hanging up."
The dimensions became known as 'Dungeons', those who had simply awakened their abilities, the 'Awakened', were distinguished from those who had the job of hunting monsters, the 'Hunters', and a system of Guilds and Centers was established.
"Right, just because a kid awakens doesn't mean they have to become a Hunter."
"Mom, do I have to catch monsters…? It's scary… I don't wanna do that."
"No, it's okay. Our Yerin doesn't have to catch monsters."
At some point, the Awakened began to take on other jobs.
The Awakened, who possessed powers qualitatively different from ordinary people, had been under the strict management of the country, but in just 31 years, after experiencing various incidents and dozens of government changes, the treatment of the Awakened improved.
For Awakened C-class or lower, the range of job choices became much wider.
"Wow, I think that person is a Hunter."
"Seeing the Guild mark, they're definitely a Hunter."
"Awesome… who is that? I've never seen them before, are they a rookie? Have you seen them on TV?"
"Those black wings are so cool. Hey, now that's a real Hunter."
"I heard flight-type skills are that rare…."
"That person has it made."
And to that extent, the look of aspiration toward Hunters grew even greater.
"I want to be a Hunter too if I awaken."
"Nah, I'm not really into dangerous work."
"But it's cool, isn't it. They earn a lot of money and they're popular too."
Eventually, they came to be treated as a type of celebrity.
"...."
"Uh… hey, hey, I think they heard us. Let's stop and go."
"I, I just said it because they looked cool. I'm sorry…."
Whether the Hunters themselves wanted it or not, that was the way of the world.
"…Haaa…."
Some Hunters grew tired of the excessive attention directed at them.
"Are we idols or are we soldiers…? Why are there so many requests to come up and take a picture? Are we going to be dancing on a stage next? In any other country, this would be unimaginable."
"I heard a sasaeng fan broke into our rookie's room the other day. Does that even make any sense? No, aren't they worried about getting their throat slit by a Hunter, what on earth is this… a Hunter's job is to hunt monsters, not manage fans."
"There's a limit to popularity, isn't this obstruction of business? It's too distracting. I came here to catch monsters, not to perform tricks in front of the public. The perception of Hunters in Korea is too frivolous. This needs to be fixed."
There was also an opposing opinion.
"Eh, I like it though and tricks… are you dissing celebrities?"
"That's not what I meant."
"Now, now, let's not fight. It's better to be popular than not. I'm not defending sasaengs or obstruction of business, but… once a system is in place, the inconveniences will also decrease."
"Right, the Association will help with those parts. If you're that uncomfortable, just file a civil complaint or something."
Thus, the perception of Hunters went beyond superhumans, monsters, and soldiers, all the way to celebrities.
Over time, this perception became fixed and at least for the people in the cities, monsters and Dungeons were reduced to the level of a natural disaster.
It means they were perceived to be on a similar level as a fire that could be suppressed by firefighters.
And one of the three major Guilds that emerged in such a Republic of Korea.
"Guild Master."
"Yes, please speak."
"No matter how much our name is The Collectors…."
The domestic Ranking 3rd Guild, 『The Collectors』.
"Isn't this one a bit much?"
"Isn't it too insulting to tell a collector not to collect?"
"Do you have any idea how much money was spent to buy this portrait?"
"Why are you doing this when I'm buying my own things with my own money."
The Guild Master there, 'The Collector' Bisabeol.
A man with the face of a middle-aged man smiled thinly.
It was a smile that looked noble like a polite gentleman, yet had an unclean aftertaste.
"This is a piece that even the Association President coveted. What do you think, isn't it surprising?"
"The Association President, you say? That is certainly surprising news."
"It's a piece that a man with no hobbies other than raising monsters bid up to 2000 for."
"2000, you say…."
The 2000 mentioned here did not mean twenty million won, but two hundred billion won.
It was not in the trillions, but it was by no means an easy amount.
"…My appraisal skill is lacking, so I cannot know the true value of this work. I apologize for my rash judgment."
"I was scolded by a collector doing some collecting, but of course, that can happen if you don't know the situation."
"Thank you for your ocean-like understanding. In that case, what function does this portrait have?"
"I don't know either."
"What nonsense…."
When evaluating a Hunter, there are three main important factors.
The 'Class', which can interfere with the rules of the world by its existence alone.
The 'Aptitude Skill', which is innately acquired the moment one awakens, the hand you're dealt.
The 'Level', which indicates the proficiency of the class and all skills.
If one wanted to hear a detailed explanation of their class and other skills they could learn, they would have to get help from the Center, but a Hunter's rank is indicated by the so-called 'system' which comprehensively evaluates these three things.
'And….'
Bisabeol was a man who became an S-class Hunter solely with his aptitude skill, 'Appraisal'.
'For such a person to not be able to grasp this work, what kind of sick joke is this.'
Unaware of the considerable bewilderment of the employee, The Collector just smiled as if he were enjoying himself.
"That's why I desire it more."
The unique thing about 'The Collectors', known as one of Korea's three major guilds, was that all its guild members possessed an appraisal skill and the appraisal skill of its leader, Bisabeol, was outstanding enough to be called the best in the entire world.
For such a Bisabeol to be unable to determine the exact function of a work.
"I think I know why the Association President bid 2000 for it."
It was even eerie.
'…Is it just my imagination, or is the atmosphere of the work a bit heavy too. Even though it's just a portrait of a single person….'
The office-working guild member nodded his head.
"Though it seems more suitable for research than for appreciation."
"Isn't that why the Association President coveted it so much? In the end, I was the one who won, though."
"If you've said all you want to say, I'll be on my way now. It's not my hobby to get crushed in a fight between whales."
"I don't know why our guild members are all so chic."
"I believe it is the karma of the Guild Master who gathered only such people."
"That's sad."
The guild member, disgusted by Bisabeol who was grinning with a not-at-all-sad face, left the office.
He had the look of someone who had come to deliver documents only to suffer an ordeal.
"...."
Left alone, Bisabeol lifted the portrait with psychokinesis and headed for a hidden elevator in the office.
"...."
Clank.
The narrow elevator, barely able to fit three people, descended to a very deep place.
It was the warehouse of 'The Collectors' Guild, designated as a forbidden zone by the government.
No one could enter or leave this place unless they were an authorized employee or client.
Simply put, it was a gallery for Bisabeol alone.
"...."
The warehouse he thus arrived at.
"Haaaa…."
Bisabeol let out a sigh of overwhelming emotion.
The veins on Bisabeol's large hand, which was gripping his entire lower face, bulged with ecstasy and satisfaction.
"Good."
His snake-like, bright yellow eyes glistened with fanatical obsession.
Bisabeol's collection warehouse was his personal space.
This was because he didn't display items brought by guild members from dungeons or overseas as they were, but personally purchased and then displayed them.
Bisabeol's collection warehouse was filled with dangerous works and items.
"Very good."
Bisabeol, who could not give up on art, had done his best to install all safety devices and the government, which recognized his efforts and achievements, sometimes entrusted problematic items to him.
"This one would be good in this spot."
It was the same for this 'Jio's Portrait' that Bisabeol had purchased this time.
Click.
"Excellent."
It was a painting of a man.
Pale skin that matched well with his blunt and somber impression.
Pitch-black hair that felt devoid of any light.
And yet, rather than being droopingly gloomy, a sharp and cool atmosphere and this restrained arrogance….
Even the scenery of the peaceful forest that harmonized with him so well.
"Who was the painter?"
It was a portrait that made one curious about both the artist who painted it and the model who became the work.
"If this is merely the skill of a human, it's amazing. Even if it's not, it's the same. It's as if it contains a real living human…."
At that moment.
"...."
"...."
The man before his eyes.
The pale portrait opened its eyes and looked at Bisabeol.
"...."
Bisabeol held his breath.
"...."
As if every single organ and muscle had been seized by something enormous, he couldn't say a word.
"...."
…What is this?
'What is this?'
It was black.
It was all black.
It was an abyss where the boundary between the white and the iris was indistinguishable, even though they were separate.
Its center was too deep to fathom.
It was a shadow and the night sky. And….
"...."
Did it resemble the universe?
'Black.'
Deep.
Colorful.
It resembled life, where warmth and cold coexisted.
"...."
The threads of blood vessels and fate spread throughout it.
When Bisabeol unknowingly brought his hand to the pitch-black eyes of the man in the painting….
"...."
"...."
Soon, the portrait.
"…Oh."
It closed its eyes.
"My god."
At that moment, Bisabeol sensed that an unexpected jackpot had just hit.
"It's not an ordinary painting, is it?"
He felt very good.
***
"...."
Meanwhile, I, Jio, the man in the painting.
I was scared.
"Hmm…."
With a rare look of disgust on my face, I quietly stepped back and was looking at the frame hanging on the tree.
It was none other than the frame I called the 'front door'.
Confirming that my only entrance was blocked, I muttered in frustration.
"I'm pretty much an ordinary painting."
I was desperate enough to make an excuse that no one could hear without realizing it.
'…Is this what they call a threat to one's life. I thought it would never happen in this peaceful cabin, but as expected, things in the world don't always go as you think. What a harsh world.'
Just before I started to seriously make medicine, I had intended to check the outside world and noticed that my frame was being moved somewhere.
Checking from time to time, it seemed to have been put up for some auction.
And the final place I arrived at was none other than a huge warehouse….
'…Or should I call it a gallery or a museum.'
The all-white building and well-arranged interior told me that only carefully selected works were on display.
It seemed to be a gallery that received a lot of love from its owner.
And the more love was poured into it, the more troubled I became, having been deprived of my one and only front door.
"Now, every time I go outside, I'll be committing the crime of trespassing. Why did this happen to me, a model student of the new nation who sleeps early and wakes up early. Is it because I didn't brush my teeth before bed yesterday."
I had already startled an employee somewhere by saying I was just going to take a look outside for a moment.
I had never died once, but still, I didn't want to be burned at the stake for being a haunted portrait.
"I don't know what will happen to this painting world if the portrait gets damaged either…."
The Earth had certainly become stronger over 31 years.
It was a world too harsh and rough for the timid and weak Gangwon-do-produced new potato Seo Jio to survive in.
'It's dangerous outside the blanket.'
I once again accepted my identity as a portrait and resolved to stay here.
The very next day, after thinking that I needed to be more careful than now to survive in this harsh world, staking the honor of a haunted portrait.
"Hello."
"...."
From beyond the wooden frame, the red-haired man I had seen yesterday was peeking in.
'Oh.'
Truly, sincerely, without any meaning of discrimination or belittlement, my own corneas were speaking objectively.
Those bright yellow eyes that resembled a reptile's were creepy.
I had no idea why, but they were even glistening.
Why could that be?
But I didn't want to understand.
It was too harsh a dilemma for me, who had come out to the yard expecting only a refreshing morning.
"Nice to meet you, sir. I don't know if it is a good morning, a good afternoon, or a good evening, but for us humans, it is a good morning. Did you sleep well, sir?"
"...."
"I believe I was too rude yesterday. Would you perhaps consider having a conversation with me? What is your name? My appraisal said 'Jio's Portrait', so I believe your name is Jio…."
"...."
"Sir? Are you listening? As you open and close your eyes, I, who am thirsty for conversation, find it extremely tantalizing. You seem to possess an excellent skill for captivating people."
Damn all the gods in heaven and earth.
'Since the person talking to me after 31 years is like that, something good is bound to happen tomorrow. But even taking that into account, a truly unacceptable misfortune has befallen me.'
Modern society, this scary child.
I desperately hoped that the person beyond the frame would maintain a reasonable distance and pour an appropriate amount of attention.
'…This is overwhelming….'
I, the loner potato Seo Jio, ended up just getting scared in front of the man who did not hide his vast energy.
Of course, it was a thankful thing to have someone talk to me, this loner.
It didn't feel like 31 years, but in any case, hadn't it been that long since I had a chance to communicate?
'The fact that the other person also seems quite friendly tells me that this is a pretty good situation.'
But still….
"Sir? Are you there? Sir? If it's because I came empty-handed, I can prepare any item you desire to your taste."
"...."
"Hmm, perhaps I need to offer a sacrifice…. In cases like this, what kind of sacrifice is usually accepted? The most common case would be a sinful human or a completely innocent one…. The latter is too tricky to obtain…."
"...."
"I should contact the prison for the first time in a while. In a world like this, finding a sinful human is a piece of cake. I wonder how many would be enough?"
Oof.
'This is tough.'
Even for me, the idol of a mountain village, this was a person with whom I could not brace myself for communication.
-x-X-x-
Rustle….
"...."
A long, pale hand sifted through the beautifully dried, light-sky-blue petals.
It was me.
"Hmm."
I was making medicine.
"This seems about dry enough."
It had been about 11 days since I started drying the well-boiled Baibamunil flowers on the leaves of the Dorongdorong Tree.
The flowers, thoroughly dried under the warm wind and sunlight, had almost no scent.
It was a different sensation from the deep fragrance that had flowed out when I first boiled them in water to remove their toxicity.
"Will the scent return if I put it in water again."
Muttering softly, I carefully packed the well-dried flowers into a sterilized glass jar.
"I have my doubts whether brewing this into a tea will actually make a good medicine for hemostasis… no matter how you look at it, isn't this just regular flower tea."
My eyes turned to another sieve.
It was the one where I had been drying the Mangdung Fruits.
"...."
The Mangdung Fruits, which had dried to the size of raisins in just 11 days, had strangely turned a deep yellow color.
"It seems the more this one dries, the stronger its scent becomes."
In terms of the intensity of their fragrance, the Mangdung Fruit and the Baibamunil were polar opposites.
The Mangdung Fruit's scent grew stronger as it dried, while the Baibamunil's, conversely, grew weaker.
"...."
My eyes, calculating the work I had ahead of me, blinked twice rapidly.
"…It'll still be a long while before it's dry enough to be ground into a powder."
Tsk, you're still moist.
"You are worthy of becoming a comrade to me, a crispy-on-the-outside-and-moist-on-the-inside french fry."
I coolly gave up on the Mangdung Fruit, took only the Baibamunil, and went inside the cabin.
The system had explained that Baibamunil tea was a great help for hemostasis and immunity.
Though it didn't say at what exact temperature or in what dosage it should be consumed.
'Does it mean I can figure it out myself? It seems this friend called the system trusts me too much, I wish it wouldn't. I'm just a new potato from Gangwon-do….'
In that sense, I decided to brew the tea my own way.
The wonderful potato Seo Jio also had a talent for the tea ceremony.
"…Hmm…."
Placing the glass jar of flowers on the dining table, I paused for a moment.
"...."
Standing blankly as if a computer were rebooting, I soon opened my mouth.
"I don't think I have a dagi."
Dagi.
Simply put, tea utensils.
"Right?"
To put it more plainly, it meant a teapot and teacups.
Being very interested in gastronomy, I knew a lot about the dagi used for brewing tea.
First, there was the tea pot for steeping the tea leaves and from there, the types of dagi were diverse, including the teacups into which the brewed tea is poured, a cooling bowl to cool it down and a waste bowl to discard the tea and capture only the aroma.
Among them, I decided to make only the teapot and teacups.
"Let's go to the workshop."
Fortunately for me, I had the ability to turn paintings into real objects.
"To think I'd get a superpower at this age… as expected, no matter how world-weary an adult is, they must hold on to a childlike innocence in a corner of their heart to one day become a magical girl."
So said the 29-year-old man.
"I'm a cool potato."
Under the beautiful names of friendship, peace, and love, I honorably ignored the recent developments of my life, which was undergoing an unusual transformation.
'The direction I am going is the path.'
Even if that path was a derailed roller coaster.
As if in consideration of me living so thoughtlessly, this world helped me in various ways.
The same was true for the cabin's structure, furniture, and household goods, and perhaps reflecting my tastes from when I had painted various works even after becoming a teacher, there was also a workshop.
I went up to the second floor and headed straight to the workshop, which took up half of that floor.
"Let's see now…."
I sat down in front of an easel with a canvas on it.
There were various paints and brushes of a familiar form.
"What should I draw and how?"
What I had to draw was a dagi.
It would hold the Baibamunil flower tea, full of vanilla fragrance.
As they say, if it's all the same, go for the prettier one.
Since it wouldn't cost more money to put effort into the drawing, I thought about it quite deeply.
"...."
About 10 minutes passed like that.
After a long while, I, who was in front of the canvas, opened my mouth.
"…Since it will produce a beautifully colored tea."
My characteristic, even-toned voice flowed out steadily, as if I were reasoning with students.
"Baekja would be nice."
What is a good dagi?
Having brewed tea with a serious heart several times before, I knew the answer.
First, it must be pleasing to the eye.
"White like a drawing paper."
Second, it must be comfortable in the hand.
"So that it has a sense of stability…."
Third, it must be in harmony with the tea.
"It will have to produce a clean color."
I wasn't a great artisan, but I was good enough to enjoy my own humble world of gastronomy.
Since it was a precious flower tea that I had worked hard to make, I wanted to brew it with an excellent dagi if possible.
"...."
I chose a fine-grained white paint.
It was a dense color, like stiffly whipped cream.
The workshop in the cabin was like an old apothecary, with all sorts of materials hidden in small drawers everywhere.
Among them were seashells with a white, porcelain-like sheen, which I had finely ground to make paint.
Paint made from seashells that should have been by the water.
A pure white dagi painted with that paint.
The light-sky-blue petals that would be steeped with that dagi….
"Yes."
Nice.
"I think it's good."
I liked it.
"It will look just like the pond held by the roots in the spring. That should be enough."
My hand moved.
And following that gesture, my eyes moved as if to lick the canvas.
"...."
Since it will hold a blue tea, a warm color would be better than a cool one.
Both the actual temperature and the visual temperature influence the warming of the body.
I wanted to drink warm tea.
"...."
This dagi would have been made by hands as fine as silk.
With hands so fine as to not leave a single fingerprint on the moist white clay, moving them softly and slowly, humming a tune on a spring day soaked in leisure while turning the potter's wheel.
Wouldn't the person shaping the clay have had a gentle smile, enough to reassure even the onlooker?
"...."
Because it will be lifted with a light and affectionate heart, the handle is heavy and smooth.
The handle, extending straight out to the side for a good grip, is like ivory. It emits such a warm light.
Its end is rounded.
Its body is also rounded.
The surface is smoothed so gently that not a single sharp edge can be found.
The moist clay would have been gently stroked to tidy its insides and then fired in a hot kiln.
What shall I call you.
"...."
You are a clean drawing paper, so you have no pictures or curves.
That would be good for holding tea.
The glaze resembles a spotlessly clear stream.
As if it had been dipped in and taken out of that clean water 100 times, the pure white porcelain is meticulously covered with a lustrous glaze, as if a transparent star had been melted and draped over it.
My roundish dagi, fired once more in the kiln like that….
"...."
The moment I drew the shadow to give it weight.
"...."
Thump, and.
It falls onto my lap.
"...."
Clatter.
A light, transparent sound.
'It's sturdy, but….'
Putting down the brush, I held the dagi in my hands.
The sensation that wrapped around my palm was as plaintive as a child searching for its father.
"Yes."
And so, in the end, the thing that was as light as a cloud and as soft as cotton, I really liked it.
***
Being able to make paintings real was a truly good thing.
'Convenient.'
I leisurely enjoyed the tea.
The dagi, crafted from paint instead of clay and glaze, satisfied me.
It went very well with the blue tea water that flowed faintly from the Baibamunil.
'Perhaps because it's such a high-density white, it also harmonizes with the creamy, soft fragrance of the flower.'
The grip felt in my hand is also stable.
Unless someone charged at me like a bull and landed a soccer kick, it seemed there was no chance of dropping it.
"Nice."
It was a nutty tea, not at all sweet, but its fragrance was so blatantly sweet that I thought it would go well with cookies later.
'How about making iced tea by adding fruit and sugar. Or it would go very well as a milk tea, since the cream fragrance is strong….'
I don't have an oven, but I have a furnace and there's flour in the storage, so I should try making cookies someday.
As they say from old times, when it comes to food, the more the merrier.
'To think this is a great help for hemostasis and immunity, it doesn't quite feel that way.'
I was a little puzzled.
"Has my body changed in some way?"
Originally, I was a person who was greatly affected by the efficacy of the ingredients I consumed.
Unlike people who, despite the common knowledge that blueberries are good for the eyes, feel no change after eating them, I would feel my eyes become refreshed after eating just a few berries.
But even though I was drinking a medicinal tea acknowledged by the system, I couldn't feel any change….
"...."
I blinked twice.
'If I'm going to nitpick, I should start with this body that has no physiological phenomena at all.'
I stopped before I could even get to the 'c' of contemplation.
The wonderful potato had already come to a fine understanding on its own.
I could eat and sleep, but I didn't get colder or hotter than a certain point.
I never sweated and in the same vein, I never had to trouble the toilet, separate from the fact that there was a bathroom in the cabin.
'Let's just say I've evolved in a special way. To think I'd worry about such useless things when I've already become a haunted portrait.'
Whatever, it was funny, so it was fine.
Thinking that, I took another sip of the Baibamunil tea.
"...."
It was tasty.
"Sir?"
"...."
"You're not answering today either, what a very sad thing.
Aren't you bored being alone in there? I can be a really good conversation partner…."
"...."
"Sir, are you sleeping? Knock knock? Is it perhaps because I'm speaking Korean that you're not reacting? No, that can't be, there was no reaction to any of the 27 languages…."
It's delicious, but I think I'm going to get indigestion.
'Then that person will be recorded in history as the only human who made a haunted portrait get indigestion while drinking tea.'
It had been about 11 days since the gentleman named Bisabeol had started his self-PR in front of the front door.
'The time in the painting world flows arbitrarily according to my mood or schedule, so it's not exact, but anyway….'
It was quite remarkable to put that much heart and soul into a portrait he had only made eye contact with once for a moment.
"Is he obsessed with ghost stories?"
He could have been thrilled by a mysterious painting that even opens its eyes on its own.
That was the charm of a haunted portrait, after all.
But the fact that the man named Bisabeol was not such an idle person pushed me into a world of horror and exasperation.
"I hear he's the chairman of one of the top 3 conglomerates in the Republic of Korea…."
Mr. Chairman, what are you doing not working?
I learned through the conversations of other employees who occasionally visit this gallery that the warehouse where my portrait was hung was Bisabeol's personal gallery and that he had an exceptionally strong desire to collect works of art.
Perhaps because there were so many items.
This large gallery was not on a scale that Bisabeol could manage alone, so he had no choice but to assign at least one manager per artwork.
'Although for some reason they kept changing, I too had managers assigned to me.'
Thanks to the conversations they had, I was able to find out a few things about Bisabeol.
'A madman obsessed with collecting.'
They said that although he usually has a playful side, he is a gentleman with ordinary sensibilities, but when it comes to art-related matters, he becomes a madman who stops at nothing.
'Harmful.'
Nevertheless, I did not have bad feelings for the person named Bisabeol.
"...."
My gaze fell on the frame hanging on the tree.
The moment I saw Bisabeol trying to start a conversation again from the outside, information that only I could see popped up on the smooth glass of the frame.
I blinked twice.
Safety ★★★★☆
"...."
Surprisingly, that frame measured the danger level of the living creature loitering beyond the portrait.
Judging from the reactions of the people on the other side, it seemed that only I could see that sign.
"Sir? Sir? Do you really have no intention of having a conversation with me?"
"...."
"If you would just tell me what kind of offering you desire, I can catch it alive for you. Sir?"
So, there was no particular reason why I was leaving Bisabeol in that state.
'I can already see an unmanageable future unfolding just from striking up a conversation once.'
It was openly overwhelming.
I was not a vessel big enough to contain a human like Bisabeol.
'A new potato from Gangwon-do must be approached with care so as not to get bruised….'
His way of speaking was quite polite and his actions were refined, but a person you've just met who camps out in front of someone else's front door for 15 hours at a time was, no matter what anyone said, definitely overwhelming.
"...."
I didn't particularly dislike him, since I didn't feel any malice and he didn't seem like a bad person.
"…It's just a bit daunting."
Even though I was just listening one-sidedly, it was already tiring.
'My energy will be drained.'
I was just.
"...."
Waiting until I judged that a conversation was possible.
'Surely he won't be able to keep that up forever. Let's try to interact when that person runs out of battery.'
I just didn't want to get my energy drained for no reason.
'A scary person.'
I nodded my head at the fact that I could avoid that scary person.
"It's a truly good place to live."
I, who had already gone outside the portrait a few times, knew.
What people could see now would only be the portrait in which I was drawn.
The important thing was my own will.
When I had the will to interact with the outside, the 'Jio' in the painting opened his eyes.
This was a fact I had discovered after setting up a mirror when I was at the abandoned school.
'So no matter how much I relax inside, it won't be visible from the outside.'
Here, at least, my complete freedom was guaranteed.
It meant that it didn't matter at all if I took such a peaceful rest, regardless of the conglomerate chairman waiting desperately for my answer outside.
Fortunately, after the busy red-haired man, befitting a conglomerate chairman, disappeared while announcing another challenge, I was able to enjoy complete peace.
"...."
I let him be because it was nice in its own way to have someone chattering like that, but….
"…I can't just leave my only front door neglected like this."
I had to reclaim my ownership.
After pondering for a moment, my gaze turned to the outside of the frame, where no sign of human presence could be felt.
"...."
At length, my mouth opened.
"Shall I try going out once."
My fate of automatically committing trespassing just by stepping out the front door was lamentable, but like all adults in the world, I eventually accepted my fate.
Sometimes in life, a person might end up trespassing.
"...."
I was kidnapped too, so it was mutual.
I doubted there was anyone who would ask for a portrait's opinion before purchasing it, but in any case, they had also hung me in the gallery without seeking my consent.
Then there would be a violation of portrait rights too.
"…Tada."
My ultimate positive mindset successfully completed its rationalization.