Do Not Lose to a Blacksmith
"You must not lose to a blacksmith!"
It was the next morning.
Yoo Seon-woo walked down the hallway toward the dining hall, chewing over the events of the previous day.
...Yes. No matter how much he thought about it, it was simply absurd.
Reading the spell formula within a painting? And a mere blacksmith who did nothing but hammer iron, at that?
Thinking rationally, the answer was obvious.
He was definitely bluffing.
He had probably just gotten lucky and struck the illusion's weak point.
Yesterday, he had been too flustered and let that brat take the initiative.
Today would be different.
Unable to sleep, tossing and turning all night, he had finally poured his heart out in the private chatroom of the Spell Painter elders.
The Ink Fragrance Society.
He had sent the message in a panic, but the response he received was lukewarm at best.
They complained about the late hour, mentioning they had an early morning golf game and were already in bed, and so on.
They all made it clear they found him annoying, suggesting they talk slowly once the sun came up, whatever the matter was.
So, Yoo Seon-woo dropped the decisive line.
At that, the chatroom, which had been on the verge of leaving him on read, instantly erupted despite the ungodly hour.
The first to jump was Hak-jeong.
As the fuss dragged on, Muk-gye, famous for his few words, cut through the noise with a single stroke.
He had heard that some rootless bastard who didn't even belong to a family had been running wild lately.
They weren't some third-rate neighborhood spiritualists. How could they lose face to a brat like that?
At the stern reprimand to tighten his discipline, Yoo Seon-woo's shoulders instinctively slumped.
That was when Hak-jeong chimed in again.
Sim-un. In this room, he was the orthodox master whom no one could match when it came to deciphering painting spells.
He finally spoke.
Sim-un then went on to explain in detail what a painting's spell formula actually was.
Once the brush was moved and the image was completed, the spell formula grew and tangled wildly like vines as a result.
Therefore, deciphering it through logic was considered impossible even among Spell Painters.
Yes. That was only natural.
They were the elders of the Spell Painters, after all.
Even Master Sim-un, who was second to none when it came to painting spells, admitted he couldn't even trace the branches of Cheong-ram's formulas.
Much less a mere blacksmith.
There was no way it was possible.
...Yes. It was just luck. He simply stumbled into it.
Only then did the anxiety that had weighed on his chest all night begin to melt away.
Reinvigorated, Yoo Seon-woo cautiously brought up the main point.
He swallowed hard, waiting for the reply.
Creak.
The dining hall door opened.
Yoo Seon-woo walked with a leisurely stride and sat before the breakfast table, which had been meticulously prepared by the servants.
Yes,
Yoo Seon-woo thought.
After speaking with the elders in the chatroom, his mind finally felt clear.
The words that brat had spouted yesterday were indeed nothing but nonsense.
The fellow was clearly an expert at exaggerating his achievements and deceiving others.
But now that he had been taught how to counter painting spells by his seniors,
he had nothing left to fear.
Today, he would make a proper showing as a Spell Painter, resolve the request, and claim his rightful share.
With those pleasant thoughts, he picked up his spoon, but...
...Wait, what?
What is this?
The atmosphere was somehow turning strange.
"Do-hyeong! You must try this abalone porridge! Isn't this the absolute best for breakfast? Hahaha!"
Yoo Seon-woo could only watch in bewilderment.
That man, Jin Muyeong, was practically glued to the side of the blacksmith—who looked much younger than him—constantly calling him "Do-hyeong" and "Brother."
He had definitely heard that Jin Muyeong was a notorious delinquent with a terrible temper.
A guy who had even been kicked out of the Dragon family.
Why was that ill-tempered thug suddenly acting like this?
...No way.
Did he get scared after seeing that blacksmith get lucky with the painting yesterday, tuck his tail, and decide to call him "brother"?
Tsk. To think he's from the Dragon family. Even if he's an outcast, he has absolutely no dignity.
Well, it was obvious.
They probably snuck a few drinks together in their room last night.
Birds of a feather flock together, after all.
Yoo Seon-woo clicked his tongue and quietly turned his head away.
And then.
"Um, Master..."
It was the swordswoman, Kim Yu-ha.
The woman who had been so quiet and tight-lipped when he first saw her yesterday...
"Please try this too. I... peeled it myself..."
...was blushing slightly, shyly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
She then gently slid a meticulously peeled shrimp onto Dohyun's plate.
She was even stealing glances at him, unable to hide her affection. Anyone could see it.
Even her...?
A delinquent spiritualist bowing and scraping to a brat covered in bluffs and luck, calling him "brother."
And even the stoic, silent female swordsman was acting cute?
Just what in the world had happened...
...during that single night while he was asleep?
After finishing their meal, the group headed back to the vault.
Dohyun was having a strangely uncomfortable morning.
On his right was Jin Muyeong.
He was still glued to him, singing his praises and calling him "Do-hyeong."
...Well, he was always like this, so whatever.
The problem was on his left.
"Um... Ms. Yu-ha?"
"Y-yes?"
"Could you walk a bit further apart? I think you're a little too close."
"Ah! I-I'm sorry!"
Yu-ha startled, taking a half-step back.
Then, with a flushed face, she tightly hugged her innocent sword.
Her attitude, which had strangely changed since yesterday, and the sudden closeness made him feel quite burdened.
Why is she acting like this too...?
Even during breakfast, the two of them kept talking to him, leaving him completely disoriented.
...Well, she's probably just in a good mood because her sword was repaired well.
Dohyun decided not to think too deeply about it.
After walking for a while, they arrived back at the gallery from yesterday.
“This is the gallery you saw yesterday,”
the butler said, stopping his steps.
In truth, it was Dohyun who had requested to return here.
While examining the spell formula inside the sunflower painting last night, one thing had been bothering him.
Dohyun re-examined the spell formulas of the various paintings hanging in the gallery, one by one.
And then,
...As I thought. That was it.
Nodding quietly, Dohyun turned to the butler standing beside him.
"Sir. Are there perhaps more of Master Cheong-ram's works here?"
"...!"
The butler showed a slightly surprised expression. He fell into thought for a moment before speaking.
"...That is correct. In fact, I was planning to show them to you today. Please, come this way."
The butler led the way, continuing his explanation.
"Actually, the late master... was exceptionally fond of Master Cheong-ram's paintings during his lifetime. He collected them tirelessly until his passing."
Leading the group across the gallery, the butler stopped in front of another firmly closed room.
He slowly opened the door.
Creak—
And the moment they saw inside,
"W-what! This is unbelievable!"
Yoo Seon-woo, who had followed behind, gasped in admiration.
Inside the fairly spacious room,
paintings of the exact same style as yesterday's sunflower packed the walls in every direction.
"A-all of these are Master Cheong-ram's...! Heavens. To think such a collection exists in this world!"
Yoo Seon-woo rushed frantically between the paintings, making a huge fuss.
However, Dohyun's gaze had been fixed elsewhere from the very beginning.
...As I thought.
Dohyun slightly loosened the suppressor inside his clothes, gathering spiritual power at his fingertips.
Then, he gently brought his fingertips to his eyes.
Whoosh—
The moment his vision blurred and then cleared,
the textures of bright blue circuits surfaced all at once over the paintings filling the room.
...Indeed.
Dohyun slowly traced the lines, one by one.
The structure that drained life force, which he had felt in yesterday's sunflower.
That heinous spell formula was engraved identically all over Master Cheong-ram's paintings in this room.
Meanwhile, Yoo Seon-woo wandered among the paintings, constantly pouring out exclamations.
"This is undoubtedly an authentic piece depicting one of the Twelve Zodiac Guardians! And what about that one? Is that not Master Cheong-ram's brushwork from his later years?!"
In front of paintings, it was naturally his turn as a Spell Painter to shine.
He raised his voice as much as possible, starting to boast about everything he knew.
However,
"..."
the atmosphere was somehow strange.
"...So, as for this piece—hey, are you listening?"
Yoo Seon-woo's face stiffened as he looked around.
QA no one was listening.
Sensing something was off, he quietly turned his head.
Every single one of them...
...was stuck like leeches to the sides of that young brat.
"Do-hyeong! What about this painting? What do you think of it, Brother?"
"M-Master... let's walk together..."
They were hanging onto him, bowing and scraping.
Urgh...!
He was invited here under the title of a Spell Painter.
Yet, even while looking at paintings, no one paid him any attention.
Beyond losing face, he felt as if his pride had been trampled into the dirt.
...Just you wait. I'll make you realize who the real master is soon enough.
Yoo Seon-woo gritted his teeth.
It was just as the group gathered in front of a massive painting that filled an entire wall.
The moment he faced the canvas, Yoo Seon-woo was overwhelmed in spite of himself.
A tsunami as large as a house surged across the painting.
A massive black wave looked ready to burst through the canvas and pour down at any second.
It raged fiercely, as if to swallow the viewer whole.
"Wow..."
Yoo Seon-woo took a step toward the painting, completely spellbound.
"Wait, don't go near—"
Dohyun urgently tried to stop him, but he was a step too late.
Sssss—
Suddenly,
the air in the room grew subtly heavy.
...Huh?
The moment he sensed something was wrong,
the black tsunami inside the canvas...
...rippled.
Like real seawater.
"...Huh?"
And the next moment,
Crashhhhh!
the massive wave inside the painting spilled violently out of the frame.
.
.
.
By the time they regained their senses,
they were in the middle of an endless black sea, the water sloshing beneath their feet.