With a faint smile, Yoo Seong-Woon continued.
“It must’ve been about ten years ago, back when the Great Calamity first broke out? Korea wasn’t really a country then—it was closer to chaos. Kinda like how the world outside of Korea beca lawless and remote.”
He shrugged.
“Just rember that it was a ti overflowing with all kinds of... well, cris that were irrational and incomprehensible. I’m saying this because what I went through might’ve had no aning at all.”
“I understand.”
“Let’s see. I don’t rember much of my earliest years. More accurately, there’s almost nothing I can describe. I was always trapped sowhere. A very dark place.”
“Were you kidnapped?”
“Probably, right? It’s hard to imagine my own blood would’ve done that. I an... actually, sure, I guess it’s not impossible. That was the kind of era we lived in.”
The world was in chaos.
“Well, yeah. I think that’s what happened.”
Truthfully, even Yoo Seong-Woon wasn’t sure.
“There was a ti before I joined the association when I calculated my physical age. I’d have been around two years old when the Great Calamity happened. I don’t know exactly when I was confined... but at two, you can already speak and understand a bit, right?”
“Right. You’d be active too.”
“Then it’s kind of weird. I have no mories of anything before that dark place. Nothing I saw, nothing I learned. And this all started before the Calamity even hit.”
Being kidnapped as an infant and locked up—most people would assu that happened after the Calamity. Before that, Korea still had so semblance of public order.
He laughed awkwardly.
“So, basically, I was either abducted as a baby... or my parents left like that from the start...”
“Is that so.”
“...But if it was my actual parents, that’d be even more horrifying, so I prefer not to think so. It’s also possible my mories from before age two were just erased sohow.”
“Most people don’t rember much from their early childhood anyway.”
“Yeah. I was in such a confused, uneducated state, I might’ve just forgotten everything. Not from any trauma or special reason—just sheer exhaustion.”
“That could be.”
“But even now, I still don’t know why it happened. I wonder what went down, but I’m not that curious, honestly.”
Yoo Seong-Woon squinted, as if narrowing his eyes at the past.
“Ah... I was so hungry back then. Every ti I woke up, there’d be sothing to eat, but just enough to not die.”
Even though food was usually a topic that made the portrait twitchy, Gio didn’t react at all. Seeing that, Yoo Seong-Woon rubbed his throat and continued, dredging up the faded past.
A cold, dark earth tunnel where he had to grope for food to even realize it was there. He couldn’t see anything, had no sense of ti. But one thing was clear—he was trapped there for a very long ti.
“I lived in there like that for several years.”
His growth had slowed due to malnutrition, but his body had still developed sowhat, so it must’ve been a while.
“With nothing to learn or watch, I didn’t know any language. I wore sothing that resembled clothes, but back then, I thought it was part of my skin. What could I have done?”
He was utterly ignorant.
“Then one day, sothing strange happened.”
“What was it?”
“I was given incredibly delicious food. I don’t rember exactly what it was, but it was warm, soft... maybe the first real food I’d ever eaten. And then...”
“And then?”
“My world collapsed.”
“It collapsed?”
“Literally.”
That cramped cave, pit, or whatever it was—sothing gave way.
“That’s what I ant by ‘buried alive.’ Whether it was on purpose, or just the unstable ground during the chaos of that ti, or maybe caused by a monster or sothing mysterious... I still don’t know.”
He had never tried too hard to figure it out.
“It was really tight. I couldn’t breathe. It was always dark, so that wasn’t new, but I had eaten too much and felt sick. I vomited, scread, struggled, wedged in the narrow gap...”
“......”
“That was the mont I thought—I can’t stay like this. Maybe it was ignorance that made brave. If I’d known anything, I might’ve been too afraid and just given up.”
But really, Yoo Seong-Woon had been angry that he threw up the food. It was frustrating. He wanted to escape.
“So I started digging out the dirt and stones that buried .”
“Was there enough room to move?”
“If it got too tight, I ate the dirt.”
“I imagine it didn’t taste good.”
“I was used to it by then, so I didn’t mind.”
“Ah...”
“It was probably winter.”
He didn’t know why the dirt was so hard. The blood from his scraped fingertips froze instantly. Maybe it was just in his head, but it felt so cold.
“But it was bearable. That place had always been cold. I was born with a high cold tolerance, and since I didn’t know any different, I managed.”
Of course, he couldn’t do it again now. He was a functioning mber of society who understood what warmth was.
“Honestly, I don’t think I was trying to escape. It was more like... I just wanted to reclaim the space I’d been living in. But then, suddenly, I saw light.”
“What kind of light?”
“The light of the snowfield.”
The first white thing he had ever seen.
“That’s why I fell in love with the snowfield.”
That day, the snowfield chose Yoo Seong-Woon.
***
The child walked barefoot through the snow. His feet froze, but over ti the pain faded, so it felt okay. The softness was unlike anything he’d known. The child fell in love with snow.
He looked up. The white stretched endlessly, making it impossible to tell up from down. But that was fine. He had always lived in darkness. The sheer expanse was enough. And so, he fell in love with contradiction.
The child’s body temperature was low. Though he walked without permission across the snow, he didn’t lt it. He accepted the world as it was without disturbing it. He loved this vast nature just as it was.
“......”
He looked at the ice.
“......”
And then slowly, he looked at himself.
Dark hair. Dark eyes. But pale skin from never seeing sunlight. That day, for the first ti, the child realized he existed. He accepted what he looked like.
And in the mont he beca aware he was alive, he turned white.
Snow-white hair. Sapphire-blue eyes. Pale skin. So much like his first love—the snowfield. That’s when he learned what joy was.
“...?”
His breath no longer ca out in puffs.
***
“Well, I guess that’s what you’d call fate.”
That was the story of how Yoo Seong-Woon beca a gardener.
“There’s a lot more after that, of course. I instinctively realized you shouldn’t eat anything from the garden and barely escaped the snowfield. Then I nearly got beaten to death by people after I spouted garden knowledge, sohow figured out how to survive, and eventually t other gardeners.”
“How old were you then?”
“About eleven, maybe? People kept calling a mad demon bastard, so I figured I was just so psycho. But then I heard so elders talk and realized that wasn’t quite it. That’s when I first learned formal speech.”
“Then how did you learn language before that?”
“It’s not like I never t people before eting the gardeners. You could call it ‘street language.’ Though, honestly, most of what I picked up were curses... All the words I’d heard were harsh.”
Yoo Seong-Woon chuckled as if making a joke.
“I told Joo-Hyun this once, but I never really got the hang of honorifics. They still feel awkward. Even though the elders worked hard to civilize , I’m still like this. I don’t get why Korean has formal and informal speech.”
“I’ve heard even foreigners struggle with that.”
Gio blinked and asked,
“Still, you found your path quickly, didn’t you? Before becoming a curator, you were the association’s research team leader, right?”
“Yeah, I was. I ended up working for the association sohow. Guess the gardener instinct never went away—I fell deep into research. But for soone who loves gardens, that place was too abusive toward Mystics to make it a lifelong career.”
“Mystic abuse—an unusual phrase.”
“That’s when I got the offer from Bisa Beul, the guild leader who always had a soft spot for . He kept saying I didn’t belong in that job... and maybe it was a curse, because I really did feel out of place.”
At that, Yoo Seong-Woon blinked.
“...Am I talking too much?”
“I’ve been listening carefully.”
“Sorry. I hope it wasn’t boring. It’s the ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) first ti I’ve ever told soone all this.”
“Didn’t you tell Guild Leader Bisa Beul?”
“I wrote it down in the contract’s special notes, so I guess he knows. But I never explained it directly. Not this thoroughly, anyway.”
But Yoo Seong-Woon’s confidence wavered quickly.
“...Or did I? He has such good eyes... Maybe he knew without saying it...”
“He’s certainly unusual.”
“All collectors are a little strange.”
And Bisa Beul was the king of the weirdos.
“Well, that’s my story. That’s how I’ve lived up to now.”
“What should I say in response...”
“Just say whatever you feel. I’m sure there were parts that sound shocking even now, but to , they’re just mories.”
“I want to feed you.”
“You’re as consistent as ever. But... yeah, now I’m getting hungry.”
Maybe it was because he rembered those tis of starving.
“Actually, it is about ti I got hungry.”
“Is that how it works?”
“Getting hungry after tending a garden is a classic gardener trait. Like how hunters get hungry after a dungeon raid.”
“Maybe we should open a restaurant for gardeners.”
“Oh, now that sounds fun.”
So Yoo Seong-Woon wasn’t so mild-mannered after all.
“If you open a place, sell to first.”
“As the owner, I should sell in the order people arrive.”
“That’s when I really feel how consistent you are, Gio.”
“Do I need to be consistent just to say sothing obvious?”
Gio asked,
“Would you like sothing to eat?”
“...You have food?”
“I brought skewers.”
“Why?”
“I also brought sweet potatoes.”
“...Seriously, why?”
“When there’s a fire, there must be skewers and sweet potatoes. It’s only natural.”
“Maybe you and I are from different cultures.”
“That’s true.”
Gio nodded.
“I’m from before the Calamity.”
“So that’s what you ant by different culture... I didn’t see that coming.”
Anyway, the skewers cooking over the fire slled amazing.
“Can’t I just eat it raw?”
“You’ll get food poisoning, Mr. Yoo Seong-Woon.”
“What’s the point of an A-grade stomach then...”
“That’s not what a stomach is for.”
“Isn’t it for digestion?”
“You’re better off filling it with good food. Why suffer?”
“So anything that doesn’t taste good isn’t even food, huh?”
This portrait was seriously obsessed with food.
“This feels so wrong.”
“Like boiling ran after midnight.”
“Yeah, kind of like that. Or eating snacks in bed.”
“That fits too.”
Cooking at over a fire in the snowfield—if any other gardeners heard, they’d ask what kind of madness this was. Honestly, it felt unreal.
But Yoo Seong-Woon had adapted to this sort of surreal reality.
‘You can’t not adapt when living next to Gio.’
Whenever it ca to this point, he always thought:
‘Let it be. Future will pay for it.’
It was bitter but peaceful—a peace born of resignation. Holding a chicken skewer in one hand and a veggie skewer in the other, Yoo Seong-Woon bit in. Juices burst in his mouth. It was perfect.
The portrait asked,
“How is it?”
“When are you opening your restaurant?”
“Thank you. I’ll let you know when I do.”
“My stomach’s getting warm...”
Chewing on the skewer, Yoo Seong-Woon blinked.
“......”
The crackle of the fire.
A friend’s gentle voice. The soft rustling of snow rabbits. The howling wind outside the igloo. The warm air trapped under the rounded roof. The unlted snow and the warm-colored fla. The delicious food...
“...Mm...”
Yoo Seong-Woon nodded.
“There’s so romance in this.”
“Right?”
“Wanna co again next ti?”
“Thank you for the invitation.”
“I’m the one who’s grateful...”
Yoo Seong-Woon smiled.
“...Thanks.”
Maybe a little awkwardly.
Like the first ti he learned what joy was.
***
“I thought of that Mr. Yoo Seong-Woon.”
At Gio’s words, Bisa Beul nodded.
“Mm, good. Say whatever you want. Daddy’s listening.”
“Gardeners really do need a union.”
“I feel like I’ve been earning money just for this mont.”
Bisa Beul rolled his eyes thoughtfully.
“Guess it’s ti we improved gardener benefits and treatnt.”
“First, I’d like to start by building a proper staff cafeteria. What do you think?”
“Oh, excellent. Very official.”
As the guild leader clapped and the portrait bead with pride, Yoo Seong-Woon remained silent.
“......”
“...Mr. Yoo Seong-Woon.”
Joo-Hyun, who had co to the Collector’s with Gio, poked his side.
“What did you whisper to him before you left?”
“Joo-Hyun, I’ve been thinking...”
“Yes? What is it?”
“Wouldn’t it be nice if we had a street food cart in the garden...?”
“...Are you serious?”
“...Gardeners are so cold and hungry...”
“......”
Hesitating, Joo-Hyun leaned toward the table.
“...Should I gather a list of gardeners?”
“Let’s start by shaking down Hae-Woon.”
“Mm... that sounds good.”
“People should eat before they work.”
Gio nodded.
“I like it.”
Tonight, it felt like he could paint a new picture.
***
A few days later.
“Excuse .”
Gio ca to visit Cha Eun-Hyeok.
“Do you sell fish-shaped pastries?”
“I do not.”
“Will you sell them in winter?”
“......”
Once known as the fish-shaped pastry guy, Cha Eun-Hyeok was losing his mind.
“...Let’s settle this with a conversation.”
Maybe the world really was ending.
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