Chapter 4
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 4
Rustle…
“…”
A long, pale hand rummaged through petals that had dried into a lovely shade of light blue.
It was Gio.
“Hmm.”
He was making medicine.
“I think they’re dry enough now.”
It had been eleven days since he began drying the Baibamunil flowers, which he had first boiled with the leaves of a Dorong-dorong Tree. The flowers, dried to a crisp under the warm breeze and sunlight, now gave off almost no scent. It was a stark contrast to the thick fragrance that had wafted out when he first boiled them to extract their toxicity.
“I wonder if the scent will return when I put them back in water,” Seo Gio muttered softly as he packed the perfectly dried flowers into a sterilized glass jar.
“Will brewing tea with this actually work as a styptic? Let’s be honest, isn’t this just flower tea?”
Gio’s eyes drifted to another wicker tray where he had left the Mangdung Fruits to dry.
“…”
In just eleven days, the Mangdung Fruits had shriveled to the size of raisins and, strangely, turned a deep yellow.
“These seem to smell stronger the more they dry.”
In terms of fragrance, the Mangdung Fruits and Baibamunil flowers were polar opposites. The more the fruits dried, the stronger their scent became, whereas the flowers grew fainter.
“…”
Gio blinked twice, calculating his next steps.
“…It’s going to take a lot longer before they’re dry enough to grind into powder.”
Stubborn little things. Still so moist inside.
“You’re just like me—a fellow french fry, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside.”
He coolly gave up on the Mangdung Fruits for now, grabbed the jar of Baibamunil, and headed inside the cabin.
The System had explained that Baibamunil medicinal tea was highly effective for stopping bleeding and boosting immunity. However, it hadn’t specified the exact brewing temperature or how much he should consume.
Does that mean I can just wing it? This friend, the System, seems to trust me way too much. I wish it wouldn’t. I’m just a freshly harvested potato from Gangwon Province…
With that in mind, Gio decided to brew the tea however he pleased. After all, Seo Gio, the cool potato, also happened to have a talent for the tea ceremony.
“…Hmm…”
Placing the glass jar of flowers on the dining table, Gio paused.
“…”
He stood there blankly for a moment, as if his brain were rebooting.
“I don’t think I have a tea set,” he finally said.
A tea set. In other words, tea vessels.
“Right?”
To be more specific, he needed a teapot and teacups. As someone with a keen interest in gastronomy, Seo Gio was well-versed in the tools used for brewing tea.
There was the teapot for steeping the leaves, the teacups for serving, the cooling bowl to adjust the temperature, and the waste bowl to discard excess water while retaining the aroma. The variety was endless. Among them, Gio decided he would just make a teapot and a teacup.
“Let’s head to the studio.”
Fortunately, Gio possessed the ability to manifest his paintings as real objects.
“To get superpowers at my age… I knew it. No matter how jaded an adult becomes, as long as they keep a shred of childhood innocence in a corner of their heart, they can become a magical girl one day.”
So said the twenty-nine-year-old man.
“What a cool potato I am.”
Under the beautiful banner of friendship, peace, and love, Gio honorably ignored the bizarre turn his life had taken.
Wherever I go, that is my path.
Even if that path was a derailed rollercoaster.
Perhaps out of consideration for his carefree lifestyle, this world assisted Gio in various ways. The cabin’s layout, furniture, and household goods were all tailored to his tastes. Since Seo Gio had continued to paint even after becoming a teacher, the cabin also included a studio.
Heading up to the second floor, Gio walked straight into the studio, which occupied half of the entire level.
“Let’s see…”
He sat before an easel holding a blank canvas. An array of paints and brushes, all in familiar forms, were laid out before him.
“What should I paint, and how?”
What Gio needed was a tea set. It would hold the Baibamunil flower tea, which was rich with a vanilla-like fragrance.
As the saying goes, if you’re going to do something, you might as well do it right. It didn’t cost him anything to paint with care, so Gio pondered deeply.
“…”
About ten minutes passed. Staring at the canvas, he finally spoke.
“…Since the tea will have a beautiful color.”
His characteristically flat, calm voice flowed out gently, as if he were coaxing a student.
“White porcelain would be best.”
What makes a good tea set? Having taken tea ceremonies seriously in the past, Gio knew the answer.
First, it must please the eyes.
“As white as a blank sheet of paper.”
Second, it must feel comfortable in the hand.
“To provide a sense of stability…”
Third, it must harmonize with the tea.
“It should bring out a clean, pure color.”
Gio was no master artisan, but he was skilled enough to indulge his modest culinary world. Since he had gone to the trouble of making this precious flower tea, he wanted to brew it in a splendid tea set.
“…”
He selected a fine-grained white paint. It was a dense color, like stiffly whipped cream.
The cabin’s studio, much like an old apothecary, had all sorts of materials hidden in its small drawers. Among them were seashells with a porcelain-like sheen, which Gio had previously ground into a fine powder to make this very paint.
Paint made from seashells that belonged by the water. A pure white tea set painted with that very paint. Light blue petals to be brewed in that tea set…
“Yes.”
Nice.
“I think this is good.”
He liked it.
“It will look just like a pond cradled by the roots of a spring tree. That should do it.”
His hand began to move.
Following his hand’s movements, Gio’s eyes swept across the canvas as if caressing it.
“…”
Since it will hold blue tea, a warm tone would be better than a cool one. The warmth of a drink is influenced by both its physical temperature and its visual warmth. I want to drink a warm tea.
“…”
This tea set would have been crafted by hands as soft as silk. Moving those delicate hands slowly and gently over the wet white clay, leaving not a single fingerprint, the potter would have spun their wheel while humming on a leisurely spring day. The person shaping the clay would have worn a warm, comforting smile that put any onlooker at ease.
“…”
Because it should be lifted with a light and gentle heart, the handle is made heavy and smooth. The handle, stretching straight out to the side for an easy grip, looks like ivory. It radiates a warm glow.
Round the tip. Round the body. Smooth the surface so thoroughly that not a single sharp edge can be found. After gently stroking the moist clay to shape its interior, it would have been fired in a hot kiln.
What would you call yourself?
“…”
Since you are a clean canvas, you have no patterns or uneven ridges. That is best for holding tea. The glaze resembles a spotlessly clear stream. As if dipped in that clean water a hundred times, the pure white porcelain is meticulously coated with a serene glaze, looking as though transparent stars have been melted over it. Fired once more in the kiln, my rounded tea set…
“…”
The moment he painted the final shadow to give it weight…
“…”
With a soft thud, it fell onto Gio’s lap.
“…”
Clink.
A light, clear sound rang out.
It’s sturdy, but…
Setting down his brush, he held the tea set in his hands. The texture against his palm was almost yearning, like a child searching for its father’s hand.
“Yes.”
In the end, he truly liked it. It felt as light as a cloud and as soft as cotton.
* * *
Being able to bring paintings to life was a wonderful thing.
And convenient.
Gio leisurely enjoyed his tea.
The tea set, crafted from paint instead of clay and glaze, satisfied him completely. It paired beautifully with the pale blue color that subtly seeped from the Baibamunil flowers.
Perhaps because of the dense white color, it harmonizes perfectly with the creamy, soft fragrance of the flowers.
The grip felt secure as well. It seemed highly unlikely he would drop it unless someone charged at him like a bull and delivered a soccer kick.
“Nice.”
Although the tea was savory and not at all sweet, its aroma was so blatantly sweet that he thought it would pair well with cookies.
What if I add fruit and sugar to make iced tea? Or it would make an excellent milk tea, especially since the creamy scent is so strong…
He didn’t have an oven, but there was a hearth. There was flour in the storage room, so he should try making cookies someday. As the old saying goes, the more food, the better.
To think this is highly effective for stopping bleeding and boosting immunity… It doesn’t really feel like it.
Gio was slightly skeptical.
“Has my body actually changed?”
Normally, Seo Gio was someone who keenly felt the effects of whatever he consumed. While most people didn’t notice much of a difference after eating blueberries, despite their well-known benefits for the eyes, Seo Gio would feel his vision instantly clear after eating just a few. Yet, even though he was drinking a medicinal tea certified by the System, he felt no change…
“…”
Gio blinked twice.
Well, if we’re going down that road, the weirdest part is that this body has absolutely no physiological needs.
Before he could overthink it, Gio stopped himself. The cool potato was excellent at rationalizing things.
He could eat and sleep, but he never felt excessively cold or hot. He had never sweated, and he had no need for a toilet—regardless of the fact that the cabin actually had a bathroom.
Let’s just say I’ve evolved in a unique way. I’ve already become a haunted portrait, so why am I worrying about such useless things?
Whatever. As long as it was amusing, it was fine.
With that thought, Gio took another sip of the Baibamunil tea.
“…”
It tasted good.
“Teacher?”
“…”
“No answer today either, I see. How terribly sad. Aren’t you lonely in there all by yourself? I’m actually quite good at keeping people company…”
“…”
“Teacher, are you asleep? Knock, knock? Could it be that you aren’t responding because I’m speaking Korean? No, that can’t be. You didn’t respond to any of the twenty-seven languages I tried…”
The tea was delicious, but he felt like he was going to get indigestion.
If that happens, this man will go down in history as the only human to make a haunted portrait get indigestion while drinking tea.
It had been eleven days since the gentleman named Bisabeol had started pitching his case in front of Gio’s front door.
Time inside the painting flows arbitrarily according to my mood or schedule, so it might not be exact, but still…
To show such passion and devotion to a portrait he had only locked eyes with for a brief moment was truly remarkable.
“Is he obsessed with ghost stories?”
It was understandable to get excited over a mysterious painting that opened its eyes. That was, after all, the charm of a haunted portrait.
However, the fact that this man named Bisabeol was not someone with time to waste was what dragged Gio into a world of horror and bewilderment.
“I heard he’s the chairman of one of South Korea’s top three conglomerates…”
Mr. Chairman, don’t you have work to do?
The storage room where Gio’s portrait hung was actually Bisabeol’s private gallery. Gio had learned through the conversations of employees who occasionally dropped by that Bisabeol possessed an extraordinary obsession with collecting art.
Perhaps because there were so many items, the massive gallery was too large for Bisabeol to manage alone, so they had to assign at least one manager to each artwork.
For some reason, they kept changing, but I had managers assigned to me, too.
Thanks to their chatter, he had managed to learn a few things about Bisabeol.
A lunatic obsessed with collecting.
They said that while he was usually a playful gentleman with ordinary sensibilities, he turned into a madman who would stop at nothing when it came to art.
Hazardous.
Even so, Gio didn’t harbor any ill feelings toward Bisabeol.
“…”
Gio’s gaze landed on the frame hanging on the tree.
The moment he looked at Bisabeol, who was trying to strike up a conversation from the outside world, information only visible to Gio popped up on the smooth glass of the frame.
He blinked twice.
Safety ★★★★☆
“…”
Surprisingly, the frame measured the danger level of any living being lingering beyond the portrait. Judging by the reactions of the people on the other side, it seemed only Gio could see this display.
“Teacher? Teacher? Do you really have no intention of speaking with me?”
“…”
“If you tell me what kind of offering you want, I can capture it alive for you. Teacher?”
Therefore, Gio’s reason for leaving Bisabeol hanging was simple.
I can already see a future I won’t be able to handle if I reply even once.
It was outright overwhelming. Gio simply didn’t have the capacity to deal with a human like Bisabeol.
A freshly harvested potato from Gangwon Province needs to be approached gently so it doesn’t get bruised…
Though his tone was polite and his behavior refined, a stranger camping out in front of one’s door for fifteen hours straight was, by any standard, incredibly burdensome.
“…”
Since he didn’t sense any malice and the man didn’t seem like a bad person, Gio didn’t particularly dislike him.
“…It’s just that I’m a bit reluctant.”
It was already exhausting just listening to his one-sided monologue.
He’ll suck all my energy dry.
Gio was simply…
“…”
…waiting until he judged that a conversation was actually possible.
Surely he can’t keep this up forever. Once he runs out of steam, I’ll try interacting with him.
He didn’t want to get his energy drained for nothing.
A scary person.
Gio nodded, glad he could avoid such a terrifying individual.
“This really is a great place to live.”
Having already ventured outside the portrait several times, Gio knew. Right now, the only thing people on the outside could see was the static portrait of him.
What mattered was his own will. Only when he willed himself to interact with the outside world did the ‘Gio’ in the painting open his eyes. This was a fact he had discovered back at the abandoned school after setting up a mirror.
So no matter how much I lounge around in here, they can’t see me.
Here, at least, Gio’s absolute freedom was guaranteed. It didn’t matter if a conglomerate chairman was desperately waiting for his response; he could enjoy this peaceful rest without a care in the world.
Fortunately, after the red-haired man—who was as busy as one would expect of a chairman—announced he would be back for his next attempt and disappeared, Gio was able to enjoy absolute peace.
“…”
Although he had left the man alone, since having someone chattering away was somewhat welcome…
“…I can’t just let him monopolize my front door.”
He needed to reclaim ownership.
After pondering for a moment, his gaze turned toward the frame, where there was no longer any sign of a presence outside.
“…”
Finally, Gio spoke.
“Shall I go out for a bit?”
Although his fate of automatically committing trespass the moment he stepped out of his front door was lamentable, Gio, like all adults, ultimately accepted his destiny. In life, one might end up trespassing once or twice.
“…”
Besides, he had been kidnapped, so it was mutual.
He doubted anyone ever asked a portrait for its opinion before buying it, but regardless, they had hung him in their gallery without his consent.
That meant they had violated his portrait rights, too.
“…Ta-da.”
Gio’s ultimate positive mindset successfully completed its rationalization.