Baibamneul Flower Tea
Rustle….
"……."
A long, pale hand sifted gently through flower petals dried to a pretty pale sky-blue.
It was Ji-oh.
"Hmm."
He was making medicine.
"Looks like they're fully dry by now."
It had already been eleven days since he had thoroughly dried the Baibamneul flowers that had been carefully steeped atop the leaves of a Dorongdorong tree. Under the mild breeze and sunlight the petals had become bone-dry, almost entirely scentless. It was a completely different feeling from the thick fragrance that had billowed out when he first boiled them to remove the toxins.
"I wonder if the scent will come back once I put them in water again."
Seo Ji-oh murmured quietly to himself as he packed the well-dried flowers, one by one, into a sterilized glass jar.
"I'm not entirely sure a tea made from these will actually turn into a proper hemostatic medicine… No matter how generously I look at it, this just seems like ordinary flower tea."
Ji-oh's eyes drifted toward another drying tray. It held the Mangdung Fruit he had left to dry.
"……."
In a mere eleven days the Mangdung Fruit had shriveled to the size of raisins and, peculiarly, had turned a deep golden yellow.
"This one seems to get more fragrant the longer it dries."
When it came to scent, the Mangdung Fruit and Baibamneul were complete opposites. The fruit grew stronger the more it dried; the Baibamneul grew weaker.
"……."
Ji-oh's eyes blinked twice in rapid succession as he tallied the work still ahead of him.
"…It's going to take a long while yet before these are dry enough to grind into powder."
You little brat. Still moist inside, aren't you.
"You have every right to become my comrade—a proper crispy-outside, soft-inside french fry."
He coolly abandoned the Mangdung Fruit, scooped up only the Baibamneul, and stepped into the cabin.
The System had explained that Baibamneul medicinal tea greatly aided hemostasis and immunity. Of course, it had neglected to mention the exact temperature or dosage required.
Does that mean I'm free to figure it out myself? This System friend of mine seems to trust me way too much. Honestly, it really shouldn't. I'm just a humble Gangwon potato…
With that in mind, Ji-oh decided to brew the tea however he pleased. The magnificent potato Seo Ji-oh also happened to possess a talent for the tea ceremony.
"…Hmm…."
He set the glass jar of flowers on the table and paused for a moment.
"……."
Standing blankly like a computer mid-reboot, he finally opened his mouth.
"I don't think I have any teaware."
Teaware.
In short: tea vessels.
"Right?"
More precisely, a teapot and teacups. As someone deeply interested in gourmet living, Seo Ji-oh was well-versed in the implements used for brewing tea.
There was the teapot itself for steeping the leaves, the cups into which the finished tea was poured, the cooling vessel for tempering it, the discard bowl that held only the spent leaves so one could appreciate the aroma—the varieties of teaware were many.
Of those, Ji-oh decided he would make only a teapot and cups.
"To the workshop, then."
Fortunately, Ji-oh possessed the ability to turn drawings into real objects.
"To awaken superpowers at this age… Even a grown adult thoroughly ground down by society must keep a spark of childlike wonder somewhere in his heart if he ever wants to become a magical girl someday."
Thus spoke a twenty-nine-year-old man.
"What a potato I am. A splendid potato."
Under the beautiful banners of friendship, peace, and love, Ji-oh honorably ignored the rather alarming recent developments in his life.
The direction I walk becomes the road itself.
Even if that road happened to be a derailed roller coaster.
Whether out of consideration for a man who lived so unthinkingly, or for some other reason, this world helped Ji-oh in many ways. The cabin's layout, its furniture, its household goods—all of it seemed to reflect the tastes of Seo Ji-oh, who had continued painting even after becoming a teacher. There was even a workshop.
Climbing to the second floor, Ji-oh headed straight for the studio that occupied half the floor.
"Let's see…."
He sat before an easel that already held a canvas. Familiar paints and brushes of every kind waited for him there.
"What should I draw, and how?"
What Ji-oh needed to paint was teaware. And that teaware would hold Baibamneul flower tea fragrant with vanilla cream.
If the cost was the same, better to choose the scarlet skirt, as the saying went. Putting extra care into the painting wouldn't cost him any more money, so Ji-oh thought the matter over quite carefully.
"……."
About ten minutes passed. At last the man sitting before the canvas spoke.
"…The tea itself will come out such a pretty color."
His characteristic calm, flat tone flowed out as gently as if he were admonishing students.
"White porcelain would be best."
What made good teaware? Having brewed tea with serious intent several times before, Ji-oh already knew the answer.
First, it had to please the eye.
"White as drawing paper."
Second, it had to feel comfortable in the hand.
"Stable…."
Third, it had to harmonize with the tea.
"It should bring out a clean color."
Ji-oh was no great master craftsman, but he was more than capable of enjoying his own modest gourmet world.
This was precious flower tea he had worked hard to produce. If he was going to steep it, he wanted to do so in excellent vessels.
"……."
He selected a fine white pigment of exceptionally smooth particles. It was a dense color, like whipped cream piped straight upward.
The cabin's workshop was like an old apothecary; every small drawer hid all manner of materials. Among them were seashells that gleamed with a porcelain-white light. Ji-oh had already ground them finely and made paint from them.
Paint made from shells that ought to live by the water. Snow-white teaware painted with that pigment. Pale sky-blue petals steeped in that teaware….
"Yes."
Nice.
"I like it."
It pleased him.
"It'll look just like the pond nestled among the roots of the spring. That should do it."
His hand began to move.
And following those gestures, Ji-oh's eyes traveled across the canvas as if licking it clean.
"……."
It would hold blue tea, so the color should feel warm rather than cool.
What warmed the body was both actual temperature and visual temperature. He wanted to drink warm tea.
"……."
This teaware would have been shaped by hands as fine as silk.
Fingers so delicate that not a single print remained on the moisture-laden white clay, moving softly and slowly, humming a little tune while turning the wheel on a spring day steeped in leisure.
Wouldn't the person forming the clay have worn a smile so gentle it put any onlooker at ease?
"……."
Because it would be lifted with a light and affectionate heart, the handle was heavy and smooth. Stretching comfortably sideways for a good grip, the handle looked almost like ivory. It glowed with that same warm light.
Round the end. Round the body as well. Smooth every surface until not a single sharp corner remained. Gently stroke the damp clay to tidy the interior, then fire it in a hot kiln.
What will you call yourself?
"……."
You are clean drawing paper; not a single picture or curve mars you. That is best for holding tea.
The glaze resembled the flawlessly clear water of a mountain stream. As if dipped a hundred times into that pure water and lifted out again, as if transparent stars had been melted and poured over it—he coated the pure-white porcelain thoroughly with that luminous glaze.
And so, once more fired in the kiln, his softly rounded teaware….
"……."
The instant he painted the shadows that gave it weight—
"……."
—it dropped, with a soft tok, onto Ji-oh's knees.
"……."
Clink.
A light, transparent sound.
Solid, and yet…
He set the brush down and took the teaware in his hands. The sensation that wrapped around his palm was as yearning as a child searching for its father.
"Yes."
And so, in the end, something light as a cloud and soft as cotton pleased him greatly.
Being able to turn drawings into real objects was truly a wonderful thing.
So convenient.
Ji-oh leisurely enjoyed his tea.
The teaware shaped from paint rather than clay and glaze satisfied him completely. It harmonized beautifully with the pale blue liquor that had gently seeped from the Baibamneul.
Perhaps because the white is so dense, it also pairs well with the soft, creamy fragrance of the flowers.
The grip felt steady in his hand as well. Unless someone came charging at him like a bull and launched a soccer kick, there seemed little chance of dropping it.
"Nice."
The tea was savory without the slightest sweetness, yet its fragrance was so unabashedly sweet that he thought it would go perfectly with cookies later.
What if I added fruit and sugar and made iced tea? Or turned it into milk tea—it would suit that beautifully too, given how strong the cream scent is…
He had no oven, but there was a hearth, and flour in the storeroom, so someday he ought to try baking cookies. From ancient times it had been said: the more food, the better.
And this is supposed to greatly help with hemostasis and immunity? Doesn't feel particularly medicinal.
Ji-oh found it a little strange.
"Has my body changed?"
Originally Seo Ji-oh had always been someone who felt the effects of food ingredients quite strongly.
Everyone knew blueberries were good for the eyes, yet most people felt no particular difference after eating them. Seo Ji-oh, by contrast, would feel his vision brighten after only a few berries.
But even while drinking a medicinal tea acknowledged by the System, he felt nothing….
"……."
Ji-oh blinked twice.
If we're being picky, the fact that this body has no physiological needs at all is already strange enough.
He stopped before the thought even reached the first letter of "worry." The splendid potato understood perfectly well on his own.
He could eat and sleep, yet he never felt excessively cold or hot. He had never once broken a sweat, and in the same vein he had never needed to trouble the toilet—though the cabin did possess one.
Let's just decide I've evolved in some exceptional way. I'm already a haunted portrait; what pointless fretting is this?
Anyway, it was funny, so it was fine.
Thinking that, Ji-oh took another sip of Baibamneul tea.
"……."
It was delicious.
"Teacher?"
"……."
"No answer again today. That's terribly sad. Doesn't it get lonely being in there all alone? I could keep you company so very well…."
"……."
"Teacher, are you sleeping? Knock knock knock? Maybe you don't respond because it's Korean? No, that can't be—you've ignored all twenty-seven languages so far…."
It was delicious, but he felt he might choke on it.
Then that man will go down in history as the only human who made a haunted portrait choke on its tea.
Eleven days had already passed since the gentleman named Bi Sa-beol began his self-PR campaign in front of the front door.
Time inside the painting world flows however it likes according to my mood or schedule, so I can't be precise, but still…
To pour this much passion into a portrait after only a single brief eye contact was impressive, he had to admit.
"Someone obsessed with ghost stories, maybe."
It was understandable to feel excited about a mysterious painting that opened its eyes on its own. That was part of a haunted portrait's charm.
But the fact that this Bi Sa-beol was not the sort of man who had time to spare shoved Ji-oh into a realm of horror and utter disbelief.
"I hear he's the chairman of one of Korea's top three conglomerates…."
Chairman, shouldn't you be working?
The warehouse where Ji-oh's portrait hung was Bi Sa-beol's private gallery, and the man possessed an extraordinary collecting urge toward works of art… that much Ji-oh had learned from the conversations of other staff members who occasionally visited the gallery.
Perhaps because there were simply too many pieces. The vast gallery was far beyond what Bi Sa-beol alone could manage, so each work inevitably had at least one dedicated caretaker.
They kept changing for some reason, but I had caretakers assigned to me as well.
Thanks to their conversations, Ji-oh had learned a few things about Bi Sa-beol.
A maniac for collecting.
Ordinarily he was said to be a gentleman of ordinary sensibilities with a playful streak, yet the moment anything related to art was involved he became a complete madman who stopped at nothing.
Hazardous.
Even so, Ji-oh did not feel any particular ill will toward the man called Bi Sa-beol.
"……."
Ji-oh's gaze settled on the frame hanging from the tree.
The moment he looked at Bi Sa-beol, who was once again attempting conversation on the other side, information only Ji-oh could see flickered across the smooth glass of the frame.
He blinked twice.
"……."
Amazingly, the frame measured the danger level of any living being loitering beyond the portrait.
Judging by the reactions of the people on the other side, the display seemed visible only to Ji-oh himself.
"Teacher? Teacher? Have you truly no interest in speaking with me?"
"……."
"If you would only tell me what offering you desire, I could bring it to you still alive. Teacher?"
So the reason Ji-oh deliberately left Bi Sa-beol in that state was nothing complicated.
I can already see an unmanageable future just from exchanging a single word.
It was blatantly burdensome. Ji-oh was not yet a vessel large enough to contain the human called Bi Sa-beol.
A Gangwon sun potato must be approached carefully so as not to bruise it…
His speech was quite polite and his manners refined, yet a stranger camping outside someone else's front door for fifteen hours at a stretch was burdensome no matter how one looked at it.
"……."
He sensed no malice, and the man didn't seem like a bad person, so it wasn't that Ji-oh disliked him.
"…More like I'm a little reluctant."
Even just listening one-sidedly was already exhausting, wasn't it?
He'd suck the energy right out of me.
Ji-oh simply—
"……."
—was waiting until conversation seemed feasible.
He can't keep this up forever. Once that man runs out of battery, I'll try making contact.
He had no desire to have his qi drained for nothing.
Scary person.
Ji-oh nodded at the thought that he could avoid that scary person.
"This really is a good place to live."
Having already stepped outside the portrait several times, Ji-oh knew. All people could see right now was the portrait of Ji-oh himself.
What mattered was Ji-oh's own will. When he possessed the will to interact with the outside, the "Ji-oh" inside the painting opened his eyes. He had discovered this fact after installing a mirror back when he was still in the abandoned school.
So no matter how leisurely I take things in here, nothing shows outside.
In this place, at least, Ji-oh's complete freedom was guaranteed. Whether a conglomerate chairman was waiting with bated breath for his reply or not, he could enjoy this peaceful rest without the slightest concern.
Fortunately, after the busy red-haired middle-aged man—true to his status as a major corporate chairman—vanished while announcing yet another challenge, Ji-oh was able to savor perfect peace.
"……."
He had been leaving the man alone because all that chatter was somewhat welcome in its own way….
"…But I can't keep leaving my only front door abandoned like this."
He needed to reclaim ownership.
After a moment's thought, his gaze turned toward the frame, where no presence could be felt outside.
"……."
At last Ji-oh opened his mouth.
"Shall I go out for a bit?"
The fate that would automatically turn him into a trespasser the moment he stepped through the front door was lamentable, yet just as every adult in the world eventually did, Ji-oh accepted his destiny.
Sometimes when a person lived long enough, they ended up trespassing.
"……."
Besides, he had been kidnapped too, so it was mutual.
He rather doubted anyone consulted a portrait for permission before purchasing it, but in any case they had hung him in a gallery without obtaining his consent.
That would make it a violation of portrait rights as well.
"…Ta-da."
Ji-oh's ultimate positive mindset successfully completed its rationalization.
(To be continued)