Chapter 6
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 6
A pure white gallery, bathed in pure white light.
Amidst the works gleaming under the lights, a pitch-black man stood alone.
‘…He’s here.’
Yoo Seong-un, who had been lying in wait at the request of the HR department, stared at the ‘ghost’ while concealing his presence.
Whether by good fortune or bad, Yoo Seong-un had managed to find the subject of the rumors on the very first day of his assignment. Just as he’d been told, it was a tall man wrapped from head to toe in a pitch-black cloak.
‘Not even a footstep… I can’t hear a thing.’
The rumored ‘ghost’ was barefoot.
‘Still, even for someone who’s barefoot, this level of silence is unnatural.’
But it wasn’t that there was no sound at all.
‘The previous curators probably couldn’t hear it because they lacked hearing enhancement skills, but…’
Yoo Seong-un closed his eyes.
“…”
Rustle, rustle.
Crackle…
“…”
A very, very faint noise.
‘…This is…’
He opened his eyes again.
‘…It sounds like plants brushing against each other.’
It was a strange analogy, but that was his assessment. It was a sound like light vines weighing less than a gram, or like dried petals being rolled into a loose ball. That faint, almost hollow sound was not one you would expect from a man standing at 188 centimeters.
“…”
Yoo Seong-un remained hidden between a sculpture and a pillar, continuing his observation.
‘…He’s appreciating the art.’
The ‘ghost’ wandered through the empty gallery, occasionally stopping before works protected by glass walls. He spent an especially long time in front of the sculptures and paintings.
The surprising part was that he was truly just ‘looking.’
‘There are so many dangerous items here that touching even one would cause absolute chaos. Fortunately, he isn’t doing that. He must be a highly intelligent type of monster. An unusual case, indeed.’
It wasn’t as if he ignored the other forms of art, either.
‘Is he actually interested in art? Or is he just killing time… or maybe searching for items he can use?’
Strolling through the gallery with his hands clasped behind his back like a noble aristocrat or a disciplined soldier, the ‘ghost’ moved with a certain weight and precision. It almost created the illusion that he was the master of this place, prompting Yoo Seong-un to suddenly think of a tale about a vampire in an ancient castle.
‘A vampire count… Is that a bit childish?’
But considering the man’s corpse-pale skin and inhuman presence, it seemed to fit quite well.
After wandering around the gallery for a long while, the Black Cloak…
“…Ah.”
…stared directly at the hidden Yoo Seong-un.
“…”
Their eyes met.
“…”
“…”
Black eyes.
In that instant, Yoo Seong-un felt his mind go blank.
‘…What is…’
What is that?
‘It’s black.’
Too black.
Yet, somehow, it was bright.
It felt warm yet cold, hollow yet heavy.
Despite the clear distance between them, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He felt as if he could see the very blood vessels in those eyes.
No, perhaps those weren’t blood vessels. Thin, elegant branches of gold and silver spread out like a vast forest. The center, a pupil-less black void, was dark enough to strike fear deep into his heart.
It was too immense. It was so vast and deep that human cognition could not possibly comprehend it. He felt his breath catch in his throat. For no reason at all, he was filled with a mixture of wrath and awe.
There was a power within those eyes that made his breathing stop on its own, without anyone choking him. It wasn’t hidden, nor was it shown off. It simply…
Existed.
“…”
“…”
He blinked twice.
“…”
Crackle…
With a faint noise, the cloak moved.
“…”
A little further away.
Then further still.
The presence, which had stopped for a moment in the distance, soon vanished.
“…”
Yoo Seong-un finally moved his feet.
The spot where the presence had disappeared was right in front of Gio’s Portrait.
“…”
…Was it playing innocent?
The man in the portrait had his deep, distant eyes closed, as if nothing had happened.
“This is crazy.”
Day 1, complete.
* * *
Just because it was a world with superpowers didn’t mean everything about ‘ghosts’ could be explained. The continued existence of the shaman profession was proof of that.
Thus, explaining a moving portrait was equally difficult.
“…”
“…”
4:29 AM.
The portrait opened its eyes.
“…Ah.”
Yoo Seong-un let out an involuntary gasp.
Staring back at him, the gloomy-looking man—‘Gio’—opened his mouth.
“Hello.”
“…”
“Good morning.”
“Morning, you say…”
At those words, Yoo Seong-un glanced at the background of the portrait.
“…”
Ah, indeed. It depicted a sun-drenched forest.
“…Though it’s the crack of dawn out here.”
“I see.”
As he spoke, ‘Gio’s’ eyes took in Bisabeol’s Gallery.
“I did not realize it was dawn. This place is always illuminated by white lights.”
His voice, which carried a subtle sense of incongruity, was far more blunt than Yoo Seong-un had imagined. He was clearly speaking, and Yoo Seong-un was listening, yet for some reason, he couldn’t shake the feeling of ‘stillness.’
How could he describe this foreign sensation? It wasn’t mechanical. Rather, it was more like…
“I apologize.”
“…You don’t need to apologize for something like that.”
“Thank you for your consideration.”
His tone was steady, as if he already knew what he was going to say next. His clear voice, sounding as though it were reciting pre-programmed lines, was strangely easy to understand.
“However, I am surprised.”
“By what?”
“It is not common for someone to see a talking portrait and not be afraid.”
“…”
There was no emotion in his calm voice or his blunt face. For someone claiming to be surprised, he certainly didn’t show it.
‘He’s bad at lying.’
Or perhaps he simply didn’t feel the need to lie skillfully. Then again, it didn’t seem likely that gloomily stiff face could pull off a flexible performance.
While he was thinking this, the portrait asked again.
“What is your name?”
“I am…”
Even if Yoo Seong-un was just an insignificant human, the power of a true name was dangerous anywhere.
‘They say the most important part of any soul-binding contract is the names of the parties involved.’
Therefore, this portrait—Gio’s Portrait—could potentially forge some bizarre contract upon hearing his name. To anomalous entities across all cultures, names were a highly significant concept.
Yet, he answered readily.
“I am Yoo Seong-un.”
None of the seventeen previous employees had suffered any disadvantage from telling the portrait their names. It wouldn’t fit the established pattern for it to suddenly do something malicious to him now. He could at least share this much.
Even after hearing his name, the portrait’s face remained blunt. Although it was the one leading the conversation, it didn’t seem particularly moved.
Would it be strange to think of that as arrogant?
“I see, Mr. Yoo Seong-un.”
“…”
“You have the face of someone with questions for me.”
“I suppose I do.”
“Would you like to converse with me?”
He was invited to converse.
‘Following the same path as the previous seventeen.’
Yoo Seong-un felt a strange weight settle over him.
‘It must be the weight of the rules.’
It was a pressure so dense it was hard to even thrash around in, yet at the same time, it wasn’t so heavy that his feet sank into mud. This atmosphere, this sensation, felt as if a colossal whale were adjusting the ocean’s waves out of consideration for a mere human floating on the surface.
“…”
Yes.
This was ‘consideration.’
“…Then, I’d like to ask a question.”
Since he had come this far, there was no point in backing down. Yoo Seong-un decided to converse as the portrait suggested.
“By any chance, can you come out of that portrait?”
“Yes, I can leave.”
“…”
Monsters hated humans. He had expected it to hesitate, at least a little, since he was asking for information about itself. The answer came unexpectedly fast.
Did his embarrassment show? ‘Gio,’ who was staring at Yoo Seong-un without even blinking, pointed it out.
“You look flustered.”
“I just… didn’t expect you to tell me so readily.”
“There was no reason not to tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because you asked.”
“What if I asked with malicious intent?”
“That is a lie.”
The portrait spoke in a low, quiet, yet clear and firm voice.
“Mr. Yoo Seong-un, you are a good and polite person.”
“…Me?”
“That is why I spoke to you.”
“…”
“Is this a sufficient answer?”
Yoo Seong-un resolved to be cautious.
‘This portrait is sensitive to good and evil.’
And though he didn’t know the criteria, it also possessed the ability to distinguish between the good and evil of others. It could classify a stranger it had never even spoken to before.
‘In that case, if someone it judged to be evil spoke to it… would it simply ignore them?’
Or would it attack?
“…”
“Do you have a question?”
“Ah… right.”
Recalling the recent ‘ghost commotion,’ Yoo Seong-un asked.
“The Black Cloak I saw yesterday, that was you, ‘Gio,’ right?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“Then the ‘ghost’ rumored to be wandering the gallery lately, wearing a pitch-black cloak and handing out delicious gifts… that is also you, correct?”
“…”
What was he thinking? ‘Gio’ blinked twice and murmured, “A ghost.”
“…I’m sorry if that offended you.”
“No. A talking portrait is certainly worthy of being described as haunted.”
The portrait continued in its characteristically blunt voice.
“However, I have never died.”
“…”
“Still, it seems I am indeed the ‘ghost’ you spoke of.”
“…Was there a reason you were wandering around the gallery?”
“I was curious about where I am right now.”
His voice was extremely calm and low. It was a voice that made it hard to imagine him feeling interest in anything.
“Rare works are on display, which caught my attention.”
“…”
“I was curious about what kind of place this gallery is, what kind of people work here, what kind of lives they lead, and what names and tastes they have.”
Though his tone remained dry, the answer itself—showing a deep interest in human lifestyles—was truly something you’d expect from a monster.
‘No… it’s not certain, but maybe he isn’t a monster.’
If that were the case, things would get even more complicated.
“…”
“When one is alone, one naturally seeks a conversation partner.”
Whatever his intention, ‘Gio’s’ pitch-black eyes landed on Yoo Seong-un. It was an artificial shift of gaze, as if to let him know, ‘I am looking at you.’
“Even more so if it is a polite person like you.”
“You seem to like polite people.”
“At the very least, I judged that the staff managing this gallery were more suitable conversation partners than the crimson leader of this place.”
“By leader… do you mean Guild Master Bisabeol?”
“He is a talkative man.”
The portrait’s eyes narrowed slightly. It was a faint change, hard to notice, but the implication was clear.
“He talks so much that it is difficult to even respond.”
“…”
Ah, the Guild Master.
‘He fell out of favor.’
So that was why the man had never been able to converse with the portrait. Every curator on Basement Level 5 knew that Guild Master Bisabeol was highly interested in Gio’s Portrait. They knew he frequently spoke to it, calling it a truly special piece.
‘I wondered why that man never said anything about the portrait being able to talk…’
He knew Gio’s Portrait could move and speak, but he had never actually had a conversation with ‘Gio.’ It was because ‘Gio,’ having judged the Guild Master to be rude, had deliberately refused to respond.
‘He reaped what he sowed.’
I knew he’d lose out eventually, living like that. Honestly, he deserved it.
Organizing his thoughts, Yoo Seong-un bowed politely.
“I apologize.”
“…”
“I apologize on behalf of our Guild Master.”
His role was to manage the works here. Among those works were many with their own egos, like Gio’s Portrait. There was nothing to be gained from breaking the rules of ‘Gio,’ a presumed humanoid monster, and offending him.
‘Above all, he seems sensitive to manners.’
Fortunately, the portrait’s expression remained blunt—neither pleased nor angry. Still gloomy and pale, it was stiff but showed no signs of displeasure.
Sure enough, the portrait spoke in a neat voice.
“It is fine.”
“Our Guild Master is a bit of an unusual person.”
“He did not seem like a bad person. So it is fine.”
“…”
Yoo Seong-un made a mental note.
‘As long as they aren’t evil, he won’t be hostile even if they lack manners.’
Even as he thought this, he felt suffocated. He couldn’t begin to gauge the other’s abilities.
‘Does he have an Appraisal Skill advanced enough to judge even Guild Master Bisabeol’s alignment? He’s a monster that’s hard to handle in many ways. An Appraisal Skill of that level would be hard to find anywhere in the world.’
No, in the first place, could an existence with such ‘eyes’ even be defined as a monster?
“…”
“…”
After a brief silence, the portrait spoke again.
“Do you have a question?”
“…Your bluntness surprises me, Gio.”
“I was merely being polite.”
“Polite, you say.”
“If one is human, should one not be polite?”
It was precisely that aspect that made him seem inhuman.
‘Normal humans don’t observe etiquette so meticulously.’
Rather, it felt excessively thorough, like a monster with a clumsy understanding of human life trying to awkwardly mimic it.
While Yoo Seong-un was slightly taken aback, the portrait continued on a different topic.
“This is the first time I have seen you, Mr. Yoo Seong-un. Is that correct?”
“That’s correct. Guild Master Bisabeol said he no longer has the time to manage your portrait, and the previous curators have been reassigned to other works. So, I’ve taken over the duty.”
“Thank you for keeping the portrait clean. I wanted to greet the previous curators as well, but I was not ready at the time. Thank you once again, on their behalf.”
“Managing the works is our duty, so there’s no need to thank us. But I will let them know you were grateful.”
However, a question did arise.
“…Can you tell what the people outside are doing even when your eyes are closed? Have you been continuously observing this side from inside the portrait?”
At his question, ‘Gio’ replied with his unreadable, blunt face.
“Since you are in frames, I have no choice but to watch.”
“…”
“Moving paintings are interesting.”
“…Is that so?”
For some reason, it was a bit chilling.
‘Does he mean that we are the paintings, not him?’
Yoo Seong-un himself couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was so chilling about it. It was just that, according to the portrait’s words, ‘Gio’ viewed everything outside his canvas as a painting. Even though to everyone else, the painting was Gio’s Portrait.
To that painting, we were…
“…”
…paintings.
“Is this a sufficient answer?”
“…Yes.”
Indeed, this was a dangerous entity.
“Probably.”
Day 2, complete.