The Artist Who Paints Dungeon-Chapter 166
“Gio looks like a person to you?”
Yoo Seong-Woon corrected himself.
“Ah, no. Sorry. You mean, he seems that way to you?”
“You can speak comfortably. The way you do with Mr. Gio.”
“...I grew up a bit rough, so informal speech comes more naturally. Don’t take it the wrong way—I don’t mean anything bad by it.”
“You don’t have to worry. I already know you’re a good person, Mr. Yoo Seong-Woon.”
“Oh, really? I wouldn’t go that far, but... thanks for seeing me that way.”
A guy three years younger just openly declared he’d talk down to him—what a chill person.
‘Sometimes I wonder why the guildmaster hates this guy so much. He’s a model citizen if I’ve ever seen one...’
Yoo Seong-Woon let his unease about his superior slide and smiled lightly.
“Anyway, this is a pretty unique counseling session.”
After wrapping up his meeting with Bisa Beul, Yoo Seong-Woon had gotten a rare full night’s sleep. He dropped by his next-door neighbor Joo-Hyun’s place to check in on her. He hadn’t planned to go inside, but she had insisted.
“In a way, it’s impressive.”
Yawning, he blinked with half-open eyes as he sipped the tea she gave him.
“...Wait, hold up. Is this tea from Gio?”
“Ah, yes. He said it’s made from the Basram flower. Is there something wrong with it?”
“...No, it’s not going to kill me.”
It probably didn’t contain anything deadly.
‘Just drink it.’
If there was one thing Yoo Seong-Woon had learned, it was that “Gio’s portrait” rarely tampered with human identity. Even Joo-Hyun, who’d been immersed in it far longer than him, was still human.
‘Well... the tests say so, even if I have my doubts...’
At least from a human perspective, Joo-Hyun was undeniably still human.
‘So a little tea isn’t going to mess with my identity.’
Having just woken up after five sleepless days, he was barely functioning.
Had he been more lucid, he would’ve thought harder—but as someone who absorbed the energy of his garden with his whole body, he couldn’t deny the relief the tea brought.
‘As expected of Gio’s gifts.’
Especially upon waking, his body always ran cold.
“...This is really good.”
“Right? It has a nutty aroma, like grains. I love that about it.”
“Not the kind of thing you can just go out and buy. Maybe I’ll start pestering him for an invitation.”
“If you drink too much, it gets really warm...”
“I tend to run cold anyway.”
Given its strong warming effect, it probably suited Yoo Seong-Woon—a hunter and a gardener—better than Joo-Hyun, an ordinary civilian.
“Let’s take a look.”
[Star of the Sun]
[Grade: –]
Tea made from the Basram flower, which once grew in the “Breathing Sea.” Though extinct, it was restored through a stream of fate. Gio, lord of the forest, raised it lovingly with his child in the Nest of Living Waters. Hand-processed by him, it can be consumed safely by humans. Exceptionally effective at breathing warmth and life into the soul.
“......”
“Did you just appraise it?”
“...Never seen a hunter do it?”
“There weren’t many appraisers in my research center.”
“‘Appraiser’—that’s a word I haven’t heard in a while. Well, technically I’ve got the license for it.”
Yoo Seong-Woon smiled with practiced ease as their light conversation continued.
“Not harmful to the body, at least.”
“......”
“No need to be so tense.”
“My body’s already kinda given up anyway...”
“Why are you resigning yourself already?”
Joo-Hyun wasn’t the only one worried about the effects of receiving too much from the Origin’s gaze. That’s why Seong-Woon and the Collector’s Guild had run their own evaluations. Thankfully, she was still unmistakably human.
“......”
According to the results, anyway.
“...There’s a phrase that shows up often in the gifts Gio gives: ‘Hand-processed by Gio, lord of the forest, and can be consumed safely by humans.’ It’s probably one of the ways he shows consideration.”
Food that passed through Gio’s hands didn’t risk turning people into beings of the Origin. At least, that was Yoo Seong-Woon’s assessment.
“If there’s one concern, it’s that it might make you a little too healthy...”
“I do feel like my lifespan increased. Could that be a problem?”
“Even if it did, it’s hard to live long in this world anyway.”
The average lifespan was sixty years now.
“High-rank hunters like me or the guildmaster might live a bit longer, sure. But being a hunter’s the perfect job for dying early—same goes for anyone close to them. So I don’t think you need to worry about becoming half-immortal or anything.”
“...So, no matter how much longer I live, I’ll probably die unnaturally anyway, so don’t sweat it?”
“More importantly, Gio’s not the type to forcibly turn innocent humans into something else out of selfishness. So, don’t worry.”
Once you understood the rules, beings of the Origin were often more reliable than humans. From what Seong-Woon had seen so far, Gio was unlikely to harm people.
“More than that, I’m honestly amazed by your perspective, Joo-Hyun.”
He set down the warm mug and swept back the hair falling into his eyes. Normally, he wore it pinned back neatly, but he hadn’t planned on going anywhere today, and it showed.
“What exactly do you mean when you say Gio ‘looks like a person’?”
“I mean exactly that—I can’t stop seeing the ‘portrait of Gio’ as human.”
“Sure, thoughts aren’t something we can really control, but... it’s unusual.”
“...I’ve kept thinking it’s presumptuous. Unreal.”
Joo-Hyun turned her cup in her hands.
“But Gio keeps just...”
“Looking like an ordinary young man?”
“I know it must sound strange...”
“Hm.”
Sip.
After a mouthful of flower tea, Seong-Woon asked,
“Are you possessed?”
“I’ve wondered that myself...”
“No, you’re not. Definitely not possessed.”
“...Really?”
“I am a certified appraiser, you know.”
With his skill, he could evaluate the condition of most people.
“At least to my eyes, you look perfectly fine.”
That meant one thing.
“You just see him as a person, don’t you?”
“I didn’t know I was that brave of a person...?”
“If Gio were a traditional divine being, he’d have chosen you as his saint.”
“...Excuse me? A saint?”
“At the very least, a cult leader.”
“Okay, now that just sounds shady.”
“Not really. It’s a pretty classic path, actually.”
In most dimensions, saints and saintesses were created in ways just like this.
“Do you know what kinds of people saints usually are?”
“I’ve heard the basics... Kind of like the god’s... adopted children, right?”
“Exactly. Sometimes they’re not children but friends instead.”
“...That’s new to me.”
“Saints aren’t common, so there aren’t many examples on Earth.”
Religion wasn’t Yoo Seong-Woon’s area of expertise, but ever since learning Gio embodied a sun deity, he’d been studying. He knew enough to explain this much.
“These saints are people who, in human form, have built genuine bonds with a god.”
“It’s... possible to build a bond with a god? Isn’t that... sacrilegious?”
“It’s only blasphemous when the bond is one-sided—when humans push too hard.”
Saints were fundamentally different from those who crossed the line.
“This is mutual. The god gives trust and love to the human, and the human receives it naturally and returns it in kind. Like family or friends would.”
“...So that is possible...”
“Very rarely. That’s why there are so few saints and saintesses. Most people can’t even receive divine kindness without breaking down—let alone return it. But saints do. And the gods feel no lack.”
There were barely twenty known saints across the entire world, even with the vast number of modern religions. That made their rarity clear.
“That’s why saints are miracles in and of themselves. Church leaders don’t praise them for nothing. They’re the only humans who can breathe the same air as divinity and understand it.”
So most saints lived cloistered within their churches, interpreting divine will and guiding others.
Hearing this, Joo-Hyun tilted her head.
“Then how do churches without saints interpret the will of their god?”
“They don’t. Most of them can’t.”
“Oh.”
“In my experience, there are only two paths.”
He held up two fingers.
“One: They try to interpret their god’s will through ancient scripture. No communication means uncertainty in both process and result—and their followers tend to lack conviction.”
“And the second?”
“The other is that priests with strong divine energy gather in large numbers and try to summon or channel a divine message. Through rituals, ceremonies, constant prayer...”
“Like a rain dance?”
“That’s how hard it is to communicate with a god. That’s why church elders are treated with such reverence—they’re believed to be closest to the divine.”
And—
“Saints skip all that.”
Which made them incredibly valuable—even financially. They eliminated the need for costly rituals, events, or endless prayer.
“Of course, not every religion has saints. Only a few humans have the capacity to treat gods as family or friends. So churches that do have saints are revered in the religious world.”
“They’re... envied?”
“The more direct and frequent your god’s communication, the more tangible their blessings. Like, say... the god just casually tells you where to find a gold mine.”
“...Wait, really?”
“Just an example. Even the dumbest god is more brilliant than the smartest human. Borrowing even a sliver of that wisdom can help a church thrive—and get closer to their god.”
That’s why saints were so precious in the religious world.
“Even without special care from a god, being able to handle their voice and touch is a feat beyond normal humans. That alone earns them a place in the heart of any church.”
Joo-Hyun frowned slightly.
“That almost sounds... inhuman. Do saints live normal lives?”
“Some can. Some can’t.”
From his studies, Seong-Woon had found that saints came in types.
“There are those born with an enormous capacity—able to accept any divine being. Then there are saints who can only handle one or two specific deities. Others are raised for the role, trained through endless trials...”
“...That...”
“The Moon Church’s saintess is from the last category. They adopt and raise gifted children until a saint is born. Many die during the process, unable to handle the divine burden.”
“......”
Joo-Hyun was visibly shaken.
“...They really do that?”
“In this world? It’s hardly shocking anymore.”
Many would risk their lives for the chance to become divine family rather than live as orphans. That’s why the Moon Church continued their practice.
“Most kids who survive but don’t become saints still serve as priests. So from the church’s perspective, it’s not even a loss. They’ve done this since the great catastrophe—it’s practically tradition.”
Other religions couldn’t adopt this practice even if they wanted to. The Moon Church had centuries of history behind it; others lacked the resolve or strength.
“From a job-hunting angle, it’s not the worst option, right?”
“...Hunters risk «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» their lives too. In this world, maybe we can’t judge harshly.”
“The Moon Church doesn’t force sainthood. They... encourage it.”
“But that’s the same thing, isn’t it? If a guardian pushes a child, how can they refuse?”
“Well, at least it’s not a terrible shelter. And more than anything...”
Yoo Seong-Woon glanced at her thoughtfully.
“Where else can you be offered the chance to be a god’s son or daughter?”
Regardless of parents, wealth, or background, the Moon Church was the only religion that gave anyone with potential the chance to become divine family. Naturally, many wanted it.
“It’s all consensual. That’s why some say all Moon Church priests are saint candidates—they’ve all passed a certain threshold of qualification.”
Joo-Hyun looked deeply uneasy. Yoo Seong-Woon chuckled softly.
“Does it bother you?”
“...It just makes me a bit nauseous.”
“Just a little?”
“Sometimes I’m sick of religious zealotry.”
“I get that.”
He sipped the still-warm tea.
“This tea really is good.”
“Right?”
“Still warm, too.”
“It could be the mug, but I think it’s the tea itself.”
“Would be kind of disappointing if something this special went cold so fast.”
After praising the tea’s warmth, he continued.
“Anyway, the saints made that way—sure, they’re rare, but their bodies really do suffer. Unlike those born for it.”
“Ah...”
“Half-human, if even that. Even natural saints can’t handle everything without strain.”
“Of course.”
“So from that perspective, Gio wouldn’t hurt you. But like I said—it’s the textbook shortcut for a human becoming divine family.”
“...What?”
Seong-Woon’s mint-green eyes studied her carefully.
“Divinity treats humans as equals. Humans return that. And—”
“...Wait.”
“Doesn’t that sound a lot like your situation with Gio?”
“I’m not even religious...”
“Neither is Gio, probably.”
He laughed and gave a thumbs-up.
“Good luck.”
“...What?”
Good luck with what?
Am I disqualified as a human now?
Joo-Hyun felt her chest tighten.
