The first news of the portrait’s reappearance after a long hiatus was titled “A Gift of Raw Meat Dripping with Blood,” so Yoo Seong-Woon went straight to see Gio.

“Gio.”

“Yes, please speak.”

“Do you... have some kind of grudge against our company policy?”

“Not at all. And you’ve come at just the right time. Yoo Seong-Woon, I have a gift for you. It will bring you great joy.”

“You’re really just handing this over like breathing now? Did I do something wrong? What kind of warning is this? No, before that—did my words even go into your ears?”

“I’ve gotten stronger.”

“Looks like it.”

It was a portrait that had strangely adapted well to human society. As the portrait moved as if to lift something, Yoo Seong-Woon quickly stopped him.

“W-Wait, before you lift any meat, let’s talk first.”

Yoo Seong-Woon panicked. He couldn’t grasp what he had done wrong or what had gone off the rails. If possible, he needed to resolve this through conversation.

Thankfully, Gio was a portrait capable of moderate interaction. If things went well, he might be persuadable. Yoo Seong-Woon made a desperate attempt at a roundabout refusal.

“I don’t have any culinary talent like you, so I can’t do anything with meat that hasn’t had the blood drained. More than that, I haven’t even given you anything, so if you’re giving me a gift, how am I supposed to repay you...?”

“Yoo Seong-Woon, are you my friend?”

“...Friend, yeah, of course?”

“You’ve already paid all that’s required through that.”

“I’m really sorry, but did I, without knowing, sign some sort of slave contract? Or maybe a body-part waiver? What exactly did I offer that lets me receive a gift like this?”

A huge wave of fear hit him.

“Gio, I keep telling you. If you’re going to make contracts with people, at least give some kind of notice first. Can’t I just die like a human? Am I immortal? Undying? Or were you serious when you said I’d still be your friend in the next life?”

Gio ignored him completely.

“Fortunately, Yoo Seong-Woon, this time you have a choice. Choose between lamb or chicken.”

“...Chicken?”

“You chose so willingly. You’re a good adult. I shall give you both as compensation.”

“Please don’t do this.”

Yet Yoo Seong-Woon found himself holding large slabs of meat in both arms.

“...I have a question. You clearly said lamb and chicken, so why are both of these so heavy? Never mind the size—why are they both so red? Isn’t one supposed to be chicken? Why is it dripping blood? Why didn’t you drain the blood during slaughter? Are you really not mad at me? I’m seriously terrified.”

“That is a misunderstanding on your part. The blood here is exquisite, so I only did minimal cleanup. When grilled, the meat gains density, and when boiled, the umami increases. You may separate and consume the blood if you wish, but it’s best cooked in this state. That’s why I gave it as a gift.”

Contrary to Yoo Seong-Woon’s fears, there was a valid reason.

“If you want to understand the size and color of this gift, you’ll find the answer in my portrait. May I invite you, Yoo Seong-Woon?”

“Unfortunately, I just got off a night shift. I’ve got a lot of locations to check right now, and I put everything aside to come see your face. I thought maybe this was one of your protest methods.”

It was a portrait that always gifted high-quality ingredients and food to humans. The sudden presentation of raw meat still dripping with blood sent a chill down his spine.

It wasn’t uncommon for certain works to give cryptic warnings in such a fashion.

Only then did the portrait seem to realize the fear of humans. Yoo Seong-Woon remembered the portrait making a similar mistake in its early days of exhibition.

Still gloomy and blunt in tone, the portrait nevertheless tried to comfort him with its own form of kindness.

“...You and all the staff at this company have been very kind to me. I had no complaints and never intended to protest. I apologize for the lack of packaging. I used paper that could absorb the minimum amount of blood—I didn’t expect such a strong reaction.”

“I mean, it’s hard to say the packaging was the only issue...”

“From now on, I will try to act more moderately from your perspective. If others do not fear me, then I will also explain the gifts.”

“...Well, as long as you’re not upset, it’s fine. I was just wondering if you were angry about not being able to build a Temple of Wrath or something.”

“I have no need for a Temple of Wrath. Don’t you agree?”

“My opinion doesn’t really matter...”

Yoo Seong-Woon let out a sigh that was either relief or resignation.

‘...I figured it wasn’t anything serious since the guild master and the fifth floor director didn’t give any warnings, but... really, there wasn’t a single issue beyond what I imagined.’

He rewrapped the meat—tinged slightly with blood but neatly packaged—in a zip bag. Then, he wiped the outer blood with a handkerchief.

Returning to his usual, calm smile, Yoo Seong-Woon packed the meat into his work bag.

“Anyway, I’ll enjoy it.”

“You’ve lost weight. Are you not eating well?”

“I always say this, Gio. Hunters should only gain weight if there’s a real reason. Otherwise, they’re unfit to be hunters.”

“But you are thinner than average.”

“I am the average, okay? I eat twice a day, so don’t worry.”

“Twice?”

“......”

Yoo Seong-Woon responded like a pro.

“I plan to start eating four times a day.”

“Good.”

The portrait nodded.

“It seems, unless it’s just a feeling, that you’ve been particularly busy lately.”

“Well, how should I put it... Earth’s been kinda chaotic these days.”

“Is it because of me?”

“That’s part of it, but Earth was already creaking on its own. It’s a sandcastle world, really. And with the mystical being shaken up lately, of course the gardens are getting noisy.”

“Ah.”

The portrait known as Gio’s spoke as if it understood.

“There have been many minor disturbances recently. I saw large and small friends roaming the city. I remember you calling them ‘children of the Origin.’”

“Children, huh. That’s a cute way to put it.”

To Gio, the Eye of the Origin, they likely did feel like his own children.

“Yeah, the long nerves and veins of the mystical network surrounding Earth are twitching. That’s why even the snowy field I serve hasn’t been quiet. Do you remember the healer Jeong Yeong-Won you met before? She’s reportedly gone into full retreat... It’s one of those events you just have to go through when living on Earth.”

Yoo Seong-Woon smiled calmly.

“Not blaming you, just saying.”

“My apologies for the trouble.”

“No need to feel responsible—it’s a natural phenomenon. That’s just how Earth self-regulates. It creates large and small disturbances, then returns to its original state.”

“Sometimes, I’m curious about your garden.”

“...Yeah?”

The words made him smile with his eyes.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have the authority to invite others into it like you do. If you step in personally, maybe the story changes, but I’m not able to.”

It’d be strange for a gardener to have full control over the garden.

“Want to at least see my eyes?”

“Are you offering your eyes?”

“The part of a person where the garden is most visible is the eyes.”

“Eyes...”

“......”

Though hidden by black paint, he could feel the gaze.

“......”

Still terrifying.

‘...It’s been a while since I felt this chill.’

His heart, his brain, even his bone marrow felt like they were exposed to the air. If that paint hadn’t obscured the portrait’s gaze, Yoo Seong-Woon wouldn’t have endured it. As a gardener, he was even more attuned to these things.

Soon, the portrait finished its garden viewing.

“It’s cold.”

A plain observation.

“I’ll knit you a scarf soon.”

“Oh... That’d be nice, thanks, but... I’m not going to end up taxidermied or anything, right?”

“You recognized me as a friend. That’s payment enough.”

“So my opinion did matter in the end?”

“Becoming friends always requires mutual thought, doesn’t it?”

“You really do like friends, huh?”

“I do.”

The portrait confirmed.

“I like friends who can blend, promises that are not broken, and punishments that are appropriately given.”

“......”

Yoo Seong-Woon opened his mouth briefly, then shut it.

“...I see.”

Best not to dig deeper.

“Do you want to know anything about my recent life? Or about current events? Since you’ve been inside the portrait lately, I figured you’d want to hear these things.”

“I’m curious if the Collector’s staff are okay.”

“If it’s about you—yeah, a new notice did go up recently. You’ve been handing out gifts of raw meat dripping blood, so there was a warning to be cautious. We didn’t know exactly what it meant.”

“So the packaging of my gift was indeed insufficient. I apologize.”

“You don’t need to apologize so much.”

Yoo Seong-Woon laughed brightly.

“We’re all kind of used to this sort of thing.”

Like getting mysterious meat chunks from a pitch-black painting.

For Gio, this was the first time, but Yoo Seong-Woon had already known—many works gave warnings through such bizarre methods.

Collectors were trained to stay sharp in such moments.

Usually, such signs were expressions of displeasure, ominous curses, warnings, or prophecies. Curators saw them all as part of the “work’s fragments.” That’s why Yoo Seong-Woon rushed to see Gio.

“If anything else surprised me, it’s that you’ve officially been recognized as a divinity. In a world full of divine energy, few religions are recognized by the state.”

“That probably means there are many who joke around.”

“Yeah. If divinity is recognized carelessly, its mystique grows immensely. And immense power, unless restrained, becomes a disaster. So unless the divinity itself is remarkably self-disciplined, they don’t recognize it as religion.”

“But they did for me.”

“Well, you’re... you, so... yeah...”

Yoo Seong-Woon had nothing else to say.

“Do you know what your followers are doing these days?”

“They’re not followers. They are art lovers who enjoy my paintings.”

“Right, art lovers. Do you know what they’re doing?”

“They’ve been visiting those in need and offering appropriate help.”

“Exactly. Even without proper doctrine, a temple, or even uniforms, look at the positive social impact your ‘non-followers’ are having. The Association and government made the right call.”

“Oh, heavenly deities.”

“You can’t just call on them...”

Those beings had no power to help Gio.

“As for the Collector’s people, you don’t need to worry. They’re all scrambling to make you comfortable. Right now, the Collector’s staff fall into one of three categories.”

“I’m listening.”

“Those who like you, those who respect you, and those who fear you.”

“I’ll choose the second.”

“Unfortunately, you have to take all three. Even if you demolish your home here, nothing changes. The thoughts of the Collector Guild members about you are, well...”

Yoo Seong-Woon concluded.

“...A natural phenomenon.”

“A natural phenomenon.”

“Like the fog that sometimes drapes over a lake.”

“Fog.”

“Fog that you can talk and exchange with.”

That tendency had always existed, but once it became clear that the Black Cloak was more than divine, it only intensified. It wasn’t a normal reaction, but then again, this wasn’t a normal collection.

The portrait asked:

“Everyone is calm.”

“Because we all know that’s the wise choice.”

Yoo Seong-Woon knew exactly what his coworkers were thinking.

“We are the collection, Gio. Stability is everything. The Guildmaster never forced it, but only those who choose to maintain that balance remain here. If people in a service job let their emotions sway them constantly, what can they possibly do?”

So they had to be polite.

“We have to treat you with the same courtesy.”

Whether it was awe, respect, or fear—it didn’t matter. They just had to follow the manual. Emotions were personal. The gears of society shouldn’t reveal their teeth.

“Don’t worry. Our feelings and thoughts don’t matter. Every staff member exists to serve you. Whatever they may hold inside, they’ll turn away from it on their own. Because they know... it’ll be very exhausting if they don’t.”

“That is your way. I respect it.”

The portrait’s reply was blunt and dry, as always.

“You’re not offended?”

Yoo Seong-Woon rubbed the corner of his mouth with an awkward smile.

“You’re, um... a person, right? I wondered if treating someone who sees themselves as a human this ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) way might feel like mistreatment. Bit of a late question, but... are you really okay?”

“I understand that it is one of the ways you see me. I accept all of those ways. What I think of myself doesn’t matter to you.”

“Just like we don’t matter to ourselves?”

“And just like I do.”

The portrait summarized simply:

“We respect each other.”

“That’s nice.”

“I like it too.”

“Yeah, that’s how it was. That’s right...”

He understood what that meant.

Humans interpreted this being as a “portrait.” And the being, in turn, interpreted the humans beyond the frame as “paintings.” Since they were both artworks to one another, there was no reason not to show respect.

Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine.

“...Just thinking—despite seeming like you’ve changed, you haven’t changed at all.”

How was that possible?

‘...You became the son of the Sun, the divinity of Wrath. One day you’re a person, another day a dragon. And in the end, you return claiming to be a painting that insists it’s human.’

This being was capable of interaction. And to interact was to blend. When paint is added to water, it should dilute, but this one always stayed the same. Truly a taxidermied painting.

It was astonishing.

“Hm...”

But making that too obvious might offend. Since Gio’s portrait considered itself human, it was best to play along.

Yoo Seong-Woon spoke as if he’d just remembered something.

“Right, looks like I’ll have some time soon.”

“A vacation?”

“I rolled around in front of the Guildmaster. Did a full-body floor scrub.”

“She probably wasn’t fazed.”

“She enjoyed the show and gave me time off. That’s how I live, Gio.”

It was worth the humiliation.

“I’m off this Friday, all day. With the weekend, maybe I’ll even travel. If you’re okay with it, maybe a proper overseas trip? Things are a mess, but the U.S. has calmed down enough—it could be nice.”

“I can help you travel.”

“Oh, right. Anyway, let Joo-Hyun know too. I’ll be insanely busy until Friday, so tell her to be patient. If she wants to hang out before then, bring her along. Don’t forget.”

“Joo-Hyun and I are one body.”

“See, when you say that, it doesn’t sound metaphorical.”

“We are as one body, but separately.”

After a brief pause, the portrait replied:

“I will wait.”

“Wait, I just had a feeling. You’re not just going to sit still while waiting, are you? What will you do while you wait?”

“First, I shall farm.”

“Whatever that means, I’m looking forward to it.”

“Please do.”

***

And then Friday came.

“So, you’re telling me Gio made this popcorn?”

“For today, I successfully selected the corn kernels that would pop well.”

“Oh my god...”

Never in her life had she seen popcorn the size of a baseball. Fluffy and soft—almost like slightly firm marshmallows.

Joo-Hyun held a popcorn bucket folded expertly from paper. She sat beside Gio. Next to Gio was Yoo Seong-Woon, sitting under a blanket made from goldenstep sheep’s leather.

Dana, Honey, the teddy bear, the wisteria water dragon, and a mysterious flowerpot were also present.

“...?”

Hesitating, Joo-Hyun asked in front of the giant TV:

“Why are we sitting on the floor when we have this big sofa?”

“Ah.”

“Ah...”

Yoo Seong-Woon offered a plausible answer.

“Sitting cross-legged is comfortable?”

Gio added a remark:

“It’s okay if food drops on the floor.”

Joo-Hyun nodded.

“Alright, I get it—no deep meaning. Let’s just start the movie.”

And so, on Friday evening, they put on a horror movie and held a deep analytical discussion on the occult phenomena depicted in it.

Yoo Seong-Woon especially said, “I’m learning a lot,” and looked very satisfied.