Chapter 4

Rustle….

“…….”

A long, pale hand sifted through the beautifully dried, light-sky-blue petals.

It was me.

“Hmm.”

I was making medicine.

“This seems about dry enough.”

It had been about 11 days since I started drying the well-boiled Baibamunil flowers on the leaves of the Dorongdorong Tree.

The flowers, thoroughly dried under the warm wind and sunlight, had almost no scent.

It was a different sensation from the deep fragrance that had flowed out when I first boiled them in water to remove their toxicity.

“Will the scent return if I put it in water again.”

Muttering softly, I carefully packed the well-dried flowers into a sterilized glass jar.

“I have my doubts whether brewing this into a tea will actually make a good medicine for hemostasis… no matter how you look at it, isn’t this just regular flower tea.”

My eyes turned to another sieve.

It was the one where I had been drying the Mangdung Fruits.

“…….”

The Mangdung Fruits, which had dried to the size of raisins in just 11 days, had strangely turned a deep yellow color.

“It seems the more this one dries, the stronger its scent becomes.”

In terms of the intensity of their fragrance, the Mangdung Fruit and the Baibamunil were polar opposites.

The Mangdung Fruit’s scent grew stronger as it dried, while the Baibamunil’s, conversely, grew weaker.

“…….”

My eyes, calculating the work I had ahead of me, blinked twice rapidly.

“…It’ll still be a long while before it’s dry enough to be ground into a powder.”

Tsk, you’re still moist.

“You are worthy of becoming a comrade to me, a crispy-on-the-outside-and-moist-on-the-inside french fry.”

I coolly gave up on the Mangdung Fruit, took only the Baibamunil, and went inside the cabin.

The system had explained that Baibamunil tea was a great help for hemostasis and immunity.

Though it didn't say at what exact temperature or in what dosage it should be consumed.

‘Does it mean I can figure it out myself? It seems this friend called the system trusts me too much, I wish it wouldn't. I'm just a new potato from Gangwon-do….’

In that sense, I decided to brew the tea my own way.

The wonderful potato Seo Jio also had a talent for the tea ceremony.

“…Hmm….”

Placing the glass jar of flowers on the dining table, I paused for a moment.

“…….”

Standing blankly as if a computer were rebooting, I soon opened my mouth.

“I don’t think I have a dagi.”

Dagi.

Simply put, tea utensils.

“Right?”

To put it more plainly, it meant a teapot and teacups.

Being very interested in gastronomy, I knew a lot about the dagi used for brewing tea.

First, there was the tea pot for steeping the tea leaves and from there, the types of dagi were diverse, including the teacups into which the brewed tea is poured, a cooling bowl to cool it down and a waste bowl to discard the tea and capture only the aroma.

Among them, I decided to make only the teapot and teacups.

“Let’s go to the workshop.”

Fortunately for me, I had the ability to turn paintings into real objects.

“To think I’d get a superpower at this age… as expected, no matter how world-weary an adult is, they must hold on to a childlike innocence in a corner of their heart to one day become a magical girl.”

So said the 29-year-old man.

“I’m a cool potato.”

Under the beautiful names of friendship, peace, and love, I honorably ignored the recent developments of my life, which was undergoing an unusual transformation.

‘The direction I am going is the path.’

Even if that path was a derailed roller coaster.

As if in consideration of me living so thoughtlessly, this world helped me in various ways.

The same was true for the cabin's structure, furniture, and household goods, and perhaps reflecting my tastes from when I had painted various works even after becoming a teacher, there was also a workshop.

I went up to the second floor and headed straight to the workshop, which took up half of that floor.

“Let’s see now….”

I sat down in front of an easel with a canvas on it.

There were various paints and brushes of a familiar form.

“What should I draw and how?”

What I had to draw was a dagi.

It would hold the Baibamunil flower tea, full of vanilla fragrance.

As they say, if it's all the same, go for the prettier one.

Since it wouldn't cost more money to put effort into the drawing, I thought about it quite deeply.

“…….”

About 10 minutes passed like that.

After a long while, I, who was in front of the canvas, opened my mouth.

“…Since it will produce a beautifully colored tea.”

My characteristic, even-toned voice flowed out steadily, as if I were reasoning with students.

“Baekja would be nice.”

What is a good dagi?

Having brewed tea with a serious heart several times before, I knew the answer.

First, it must be pleasing to the eye.

“White like a drawing paper.”

Second, it must be comfortable in the hand.

“So that it has a sense of stability….”

Third, it must be in harmony with the tea.

“It will have to produce a clean color.”

I wasn't a great artisan, but I was good enough to enjoy my own humble world of gastronomy.

Since it was a precious flower tea that I had worked hard to make, I wanted to brew it with an excellent dagi if possible.

“…….”

I chose a fine-grained white paint.

It was a dense color, like stiffly whipped cream.

The workshop in the cabin was like an old apothecary, with all sorts of materials hidden in small drawers everywhere.

Among them were seashells with a white, porcelain-like sheen, which I had finely ground to make paint.

Paint made from seashells that should have been by the water.

A pure white dagi painted with that paint.

The light-sky-blue petals that would be steeped with that dagi….

“Yes.”

Nice.

“I think it’s good.”

I liked it.

“It will look just like the pond held by the roots in the spring. That should be enough.”

My hand moved.

And following that gesture, my eyes moved as if to lick the canvas.

“…….”

Since it will hold a blue tea, a warm color would be better than a cool one.

Both the actual temperature and the visual temperature influence the warming of the body.

I wanted to drink warm tea.

“…….”

This dagi would have been made by hands as fine as silk.

With hands so fine as to not leave a single fingerprint on the moist white clay, moving them softly and slowly, humming a tune on a spring day soaked in leisure while turning the potter's wheel.

Wouldn't the person shaping the clay have had a gentle smile, enough to reassure even the onlooker?

“…….”

Because it will be lifted with a light and affectionate heart, the handle is heavy and smooth.

The handle, extending straight out to the side for a good grip, is like ivory. It emits such a warm light.

Its end is rounded.

Its body is also rounded.

The surface is smoothed so gently that not a single sharp edge can be found.

The moist clay would have been gently stroked to tidy its insides and then fired in a hot kiln.

What shall I call you.

“…….”

You are a clean drawing paper, so you have no pictures or curves.

That would be good for holding tea.

The glaze resembles a spotlessly clear stream.

As if it had been dipped in and taken out of that clean water 100 times, the pure white porcelain is meticulously covered with a lustrous glaze, as if a transparent star had been melted and draped over it.

My roundish dagi, fired once more in the kiln like that….

“…….”

The moment I drew the shadow to give it weight.

“…….”

Thump, and.

It falls onto my lap.

“…….”

Clatter.

A light, transparent sound.

‘It’s sturdy, but….’

Putting down the brush, I held the dagi in my hands.

The sensation that wrapped around my palm was as plaintive as a child searching for its father.

“Yes.”

And so, in the end, the thing that was as light as a cloud and as soft as cotton, I really liked it.

***

Being able to make paintings real was a truly good thing.

‘Convenient.’

I leisurely enjoyed the tea.

The dagi, crafted from paint instead of clay and glaze, satisfied me.

It went very well with the blue tea water that flowed faintly from the Baibamunil.

‘Perhaps because it’s such a high-density white, it also harmonizes with the creamy, soft fragrance of the flower.’

The grip felt in my hand is also stable.

Unless someone charged at me like a bull and landed a soccer kick, it seemed there was no chance of dropping it.

“Nice.”

It was a nutty tea, not at all sweet, but its fragrance was so blatantly sweet that I thought it would go well with cookies later.

‘How about making iced tea by adding fruit and sugar. Or it would go very well as a milk tea, since the cream fragrance is strong….’

I don't have an oven, but I have a furnace and there's flour in the storage, so I should try making cookies someday.

As they say from old times, when it comes to food, the more the merrier.

‘To think this is a great help for hemostasis and immunity, it doesn’t quite feel that way.’

I was a little puzzled.

“Has my body changed in some way?”

Originally, I was a person who was greatly affected by the efficacy of the ingredients I consumed.

Unlike people who, despite the common knowledge that blueberries are good for the eyes, feel no change after eating them, I would feel my eyes become refreshed after eating just a few berries.

But even though I was drinking a medicinal tea acknowledged by the system, I couldn't feel any change….

“…….”

I blinked twice.

‘If I'm going to nitpick, I should start with this body that has no physiological phenomena at all.’

I stopped before I could even get to the ‘c’ of contemplation.

The wonderful potato had already come to a fine understanding on its own.

I could eat and sleep, but I didn't get colder or hotter than a certain point.

I never sweated and in the same vein, I never had to trouble the toilet, separate from the fact that there was a bathroom in the cabin.

‘Let’s just say I’ve evolved in a special way. To think I'd worry about such useless things when I've already become a haunted portrait.’

Whatever, it was funny, so it was fine.

Thinking that, I took another sip of the Baibamunil tea.

“…….”

It was tasty.

“Sir?”

“…….”

“You’re not answering today either, what a very sad thing.

Aren’t you bored being alone in there? I can be a really good conversation partner….”

“…….”

“Sir, are you sleeping? Knock knock? Is it perhaps because I’m speaking Korean that you’re not reacting? No, that can’t be, there was no reaction to any of the 27 languages….”

It's delicious, but I think I’m going to get indigestion.

‘Then that person will be recorded in history as the only human who made a haunted portrait get indigestion while drinking tea.’

It had been about 11 days since the gentleman named Bisabeol had started his self-PR in front of the front door.

‘The time in the painting world flows arbitrarily according to my mood or schedule, so it’s not exact, but anyway….’

It was quite remarkable to put that much heart and soul into a portrait he had only made eye contact with once for a moment.

“Is he obsessed with ghost stories?”

He could have been thrilled by a mysterious painting that even opens its eyes on its own.

That was the charm of a haunted portrait, after all.

But the fact that the man named Bisabeol was not such an idle person pushed me into a world of horror and exasperation.

“I hear he’s the chairman of one of the top 3 conglomerates in the Republic of Korea….”

Mr. Chairman, what are you doing not working?

I learned through the conversations of other employees who occasionally visit this gallery that the warehouse where my portrait was hung was Bisabeol’s personal gallery and that he had an exceptionally strong desire to collect works of art.

Perhaps because there were so many items.

This large gallery was not on a scale that Bisabeol could manage alone, so he had no choice but to assign at least one manager per artwork.

‘Although for some reason they kept changing, I too had managers assigned to me.’

Thanks to the conversations they had, I was able to find out a few things about Bisabeol.

‘A madman obsessed with collecting.’

They said that although he usually has a playful side, he is a gentleman with ordinary sensibilities, but when it comes to art-related matters, he becomes a madman who stops at nothing.

‘Harmful.’

Nevertheless, I did not have bad feelings for the person named Bisabeol.

“…….”

My gaze fell on the frame hanging on the tree.

The moment I saw Bisabeol trying to start a conversation again from the outside, information that only I could see popped up on the smooth glass of the frame.

I blinked twice.

Safety ★★★★☆

“…….”

Surprisingly, that frame measured the danger level of the living creature loitering beyond the portrait.

Judging from the reactions of the people on the other side, it seemed that only I could see that sign.

“Sir? Sir? Do you really have no intention of having a conversation with me?”

“…….”

“If you would just tell me what kind of offering you desire, I can catch it alive for you. Sir?”

So, there was no particular reason why I was leaving Bisabeol in that state.

‘I can already see an unmanageable future unfolding just from striking up a conversation once.’

It was openly overwhelming.

I was not a vessel big enough to contain a human like Bisabeol.

‘A new potato from Gangwon-do must be approached with care so as not to get bruised….’

His way of speaking was quite polite and his actions were refined, but a person you’ve just met who camps out in front of someone else’s front door for 15 hours at a time was, no matter what anyone said, definitely overwhelming.

“…….”

I didn't particularly dislike him, since I didn't feel any malice and he didn't seem like a bad person.

“…It’s just a bit daunting.”

Even though I was just listening one-sidedly, it was already tiring.

‘My energy will be drained.’

I was just.

“…….”

Waiting until I judged that a conversation was possible.

‘Surely he won’t be able to keep that up forever. Let’s try to interact when that person runs out of battery.’

I just didn't want to get my energy drained for no reason.

‘A scary person.’

I nodded my head at the fact that I could avoid that scary person.

“It’s a truly good place to live.”

I, who had already gone outside the portrait a few times, knew.

What people could see now would only be the portrait in which I was drawn.

The important thing was my own will.

When I had the will to interact with the outside, the ‘Jio’ in the painting opened his eyes.

This was a fact I had discovered after setting up a mirror when I was at the abandoned school.

‘So no matter how much I relax inside, it won't be visible from the outside.’

Here, at least, my complete freedom was guaranteed.

It meant that it didn't matter at all if I took such a peaceful rest, regardless of the conglomerate chairman waiting desperately for my answer outside.

Fortunately, after the busy red-haired man, befitting a conglomerate chairman, disappeared while announcing another challenge, I was able to enjoy complete peace.

“…….”

I let him be because it was nice in its own way to have someone chattering like that, but….

“…I can’t just leave my only front door neglected like this.”

I had to reclaim my ownership.

After pondering for a moment, my gaze turned to the outside of the frame, where no sign of human presence could be felt.

“…….”

At length, my mouth opened.

“Shall I try going out once.”

My fate of automatically committing trespassing just by stepping out the front door was lamentable, but like all adults in the world, I eventually accepted my fate.

Sometimes in life, a person might end up trespassing.

“…….”

I was kidnapped too, so it was mutual.

I doubted there was anyone who would ask for a portrait's opinion before purchasing it, but in any case, they had also hung me in the gallery without seeking my consent.

Then there would be a violation of portrait rights too.

“…Tada.”

My ultimate positive mindset successfully completed its rationalization.

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