The Artist Who Paints Dungeon-Chapter 239
From within the void, an eye formed.
"Good, you're still watching me closely."
Then came an ear.
"Are you asleep?"
"......."
"You're doing very well."
A brain took shape.
"Today is especially warm. This room is one of the few in the Moon Sect that gets plenty of sunlight. I thought it was sealed on all sides except the entrance, but... it feels like this space was prepared just for you."
There was the sensation of soft weight.
"Is the blanket too warm?"
Ah, so this is a blanket.
He tucked the blanket around me. He? Ah, right. Judging from the low voice, it must be an adult man. The sound I hear is someone else's voice. Alongside it, I can also hear the beating of his heart.
"Come to think of it, I only taught you how to fall asleep."
"......."
"That’s okay, good girl."
Something large and soft settled on my eyes.
"Now, wake up."
"...Ah..."
I opened my eyes, reluctant to lose the sensation of his hand.
"......."
"Good morning."
"...Good morning."
One fine spring day—
At last, the Saintess of the Moon Sect awoke.
***
During that time, Gio had grown closer to the priests of the Moon Sect.
"Ah, Saint!"
"I’m not."
"I heard the Saintess has awakened."
"Are you all just ignoring what I say now?"
"It must be thanks to your presence that everything turned out fine."
"Why are Moon Sect people like this?"
They'd become a bit too familiar.
"You may disregard our trust and friendship if you wish."
"Would be quicker to erase your memories. But I know you won’t."
"Yeah, we’ve definitely gotten too close. Maybe we should try backing off a bit."
It was a feeling somewhere between fondness and exasperation.
They don’t listen to a single word I say.
When there was still distance, they’d at least pretend to listen. But now that they'd grown close, their true selves were starting to show. The priests of the Moon Sect had this fatal charm of saying only what they wanted and hearing only what they liked.
"If word spreads that I’m a saint in this tiny country, it’s all your fault."
"Hasn’t that already happened?"
"That’s true."
Still, official recognition was a different matter. The priest seemed to understand and nodded.
"We’re not that thoughtless, you know."
"I’ll try to believe you."
"Are you heading to see the Saintess?"
"Yes, I’ve prepared a light porridge."
"As devoted as ever."
"Have you ever thought that maybe you’re the indifferent ones?"
After living in the Moon Sect for just over a month, Gio had learned something. These people were indifferent to others—but without malice.
At first, he even suspected the Saintess had been ostracized. But that thought quickly disappeared.
They called each other “brothers,” but they all looked at one another like strangers. When a research topic came up, they’d group up briefly and then drift apart, and even after grabbing each other by the collar like enemies, they'd cool down the moment the work ended.
A terrifying world.
Emotionless, indeed.
“I’ve heard about the harshness of modern society, but your brand of individualism is on another level. Don’t tell me your fellow brothers look like rocks to you?”
“They’d be more like squishy, warm things.”
“Hah.”
And yet he says that with a straight face.
Well, I suppose even asking about the Saintess’s wellbeing counts as significant concern around here.
These were priests who wouldn’t blink even if someone died in front of them. Giovanni nodded, slowly coming to understand the Moon Sect’s unique charm.
“Then I’ll be going now.”
“If your hair ever falls out later, could I have one strand...?”
“Pick it up yourself.”
“Thank you.”
“What are you, stalkers?”
Gio walked off with a tray of porridge in hand. The Moon Sect priests were often absorbed in their work, so the hallways were always quiet. Everyone seemed to be introverted like Sergio, which made him feel a sense of kinship.
He soon arrived at the room where the Saintess stayed.
“Aram.”
“Ah...”
The girl, reading a book, blinked at him.
“...Hunter Sergio.”
“You were reading.”
“I wondered if there might be any new theories.”
“Diligent.”
“I’m not lazy.”
The Saintess, Aram, had recovered faster than expected.
Both mentally and physically.
And like the other priests, Aram showed little wariness toward Gio. She seemed to accept it with a mindset of, If the bishop acknowledges him, there must be a reason. Especially since he was the one who had healed her.
After a brief hesitation, Aram asked,
“...Is that food?”
“Porridge.”
“I wish I had the right to refuse.”
“You always have the right to choose.”
“Then I don’t want to eat it.”
“You don’t?”
Gio set the tray on the table and approached the bed where Aram sat. He pulled up a chair and sat nearby.
“Can I ask why?”
“I can’t taste anything.”
“That’s quite serious.”
“It’s been like this for two years.”
“Ah.”
That aligned with the period when the Saintess’s ‘madness’ began worsening.
“But you’ve been fasting for quite a while now.”
“You said I had the right to choose, didn’t you?”
“The choice is yours. But it’s my job to inform.”
“That’s sneaky.”
“I tend to be that way.”
“......”
Was it handmade? After glancing at Gio, the girl cautiously reached out her hand.
“...Please. I guess I can manage some porridge.”
“I’m sorry if I pressured you, but I’m even more glad that you accepted.”
“You say things that are kind of embarrassing, Hunter Sergio...”
“You’ll get used to it.”
Just like Joo-Hyun and Yoo Seong-Woon had.
“Here you go.”
“Thank you....”
Aram blinked.
“...I smell something.”
“It’s just porridge. There shouldn’t be much smell.”
“No, I mean...”
“......”
“......”
Taking a spoonful, Aram chewed slowly.
“...I can taste it.”
“That’s a relief.”
“And it’s delicious.”
“Even better.”
Then, still holding the spoon in her mouth, Aram suddenly started to cry—tears dripping down silently.
“How is it?”
Gio leaned against the bed, resting his chin in his hand with a smile.
“Edible?”
“...Yes.”
From that moment, the Saintess began to follow Gio quite closely.
After all, nothing wins hearts as easily as good food.
***
The Saintess, Aram, had a strong thirst for knowledge.
A child from the slums, she was able to enter the Moon Sect thanks to the current bishop who recognized her talent. Even having awakened as a priest, it was still an incredibly rare opportunity, not easily granted.
“I’m always grateful to the bishop.”
“She was sad when you fell ill.”
“She really... cares about me.”
The bishop, despite her blunt and stoic demeanor, was matched by Aram in unflinching coldness. In fact, the very fact that someone so emotionally reserved had taken her in and guided her could only be interpreted as deep affection.
“She even gave me a name.”
Originally, she had none.
“Aram, she called me.”
“It’s a good name.”
“It means fruit that has ripened on a tree.”
In the Moon Sect, there was no name more supportive of one's future. A sect that pursued knowledge and wisdom—bestowing a name that symbolized fruit and results was the greatest affection a cold bishop could offer.
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to live up to that love and expectation... but more than that, I just had too many questions. There’s so much I don’t know about the world.”
“And how about now?”
“It’s still not enough.”
She felt there was much more knowledge waiting to be uncovered.
“Especially when it comes to mystics—there’s just so much to delve into. Earth has only acquired basic surface-level understanding of the new world. We still don’t know the deeper compositions and structures. I want to learn that.”
“So what do you want to do with that knowledge?”
“Knowing is what matters. It’s what makes me a more perfect being.”
“Moon Sect folks really like the word ‘perfect.’”
“Everyone here came because they wanted to become a better version of themselves. Even if we can’t become perfect in life, we want to become perfect in death.”
Aram fiddled with the blanket and glanced at Gio.
“Does that make you uncomfortable?”
“Not particularly.”
“That’s a relief.”
She added with a slight defense,
“I don’t say this to just anyone, you know. Even the other brothers act the part of devout priests when they go outside. We’re just a bunch of strange people in a strange house—so we act freely when we’re inside.”
Then she laughed.
“I become the graceful Saintess the moment I step outside.”
“Sounds tiring.”
“......”
Her laugh faded a little awkwardly.
“...It is, actually.”
“You don’t seem like someone who enjoys luxury or pretense.”
“It’s not that I hate it. I like being admired, I like wearing soft and pretty clothes. But more than that, I want to reach perfection faster... so my priorities are different.”
“I see.”
“Thank you... for not saying it made you uncomfortable.”
“Everyone has the right to follow their chosen path—as long as they don’t cross the line.”
“Not everyone in the world thinks that way.”
The true nature of the Moon Sect wasn’t something the public would easily accept. It deviated from conventional morality and ethics. That’s why its members adopted the image of scholars or devout priests in public.
Which only made the Moon Sect more closed-off. Very few were capable of truly understanding them. So for a saint with a heart as vast as Gio to help them without judgment—that was nothing short of a miracle.
“I, um...”
“Speak freely.”
“I’m glad you don’t think badly of us.”
Everyone in this house was Aram’s family.
“It’s probably because of people like you that the bishop gave you the title of benefactor so easily. She really has a good eye for people.”
“She brought you in too, didn’t she?”
“Mm... yeah, obviously. I mean, I’m really smart.”
“Good girl.”
“......”
After a pause, Aram asked quietly,
“...How long are you staying here?”
“Until you’re fully recovered.”
“My body feels much better now.”
“You’re not good at lying.”
Gio smiled.
“Then shouldn’t you ask me properly?”
“...Am I allowed to?”
“You called me teacher, didn’t you?”
He looked pleased.
“Should I stay by your side?”
“Yes, but...”
I don’t want to be alone.
“...Can’t you stay?”
“I said I would.”
“I know you’re a busy person.”
“So you were convinced I’d leave, and still made the request?”
“I’d regret it more if I didn’t even try to hold onto you.”
Gio let out a theatrical sigh.
“Kids these days grow up too fast...”
“That’s such an old-man thing to say.”
“Compared to you, I am an old man.”
“How old are you?”
“Hmm, twenty-nine?”
“Oh...”
Older than she expected.
“...I thought you were in your early to mid-twenties.”
“You’re the first person to say that.”
“Why? It’s not like you look old.”
“Is it the heavy atmosphere I give off?”
“Ah, yeah. I think I get it.”
That made her a little happy.
“I get told that too.”
It was a chronic issue for those who carried mystics in human form. People respected them even when they hadn’t done anything. Even someone like Aram, whose growth had stopped at age fourteen and remained petite, was no exception.
“Isn’t it kind of exhausting? Thanks to it, I was able to go out into the world as the mature and elegant Saintess—but it still felt weird. Honestly, I sometimes wondered if the world was deceiving me.”
“I went through the same thing. People were terrified of me even though I hadn’t done anything.”
“You don’t seem scary at all though...”
“I used to look a lot sterner.”
“Wow, I can’t even imagine.”
She laughed.
...Right. They said this person is a saint too.
Every time someone said that, Gio would deny it. But the Moon Sect priests never listened. And Aram, too, had heard the stories from the attendants who changed her bedding and clothes.
That story had struck her deeply.
He’s just like me...
An equal.
A truly precious person.
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