Work Text:
Cale has simply been enjoying his peaceful life, like really. The matters about the Hunters are done, finally. As a compensation, the Gods had chipped in making some rooms in the Super Rock Villa to his liking. One room has never ending foods from Earth 1, the other has other supplies that he wanted (he made sure to tell them if there are any electronic devices there it better be rechargeable with magic and unlimited internet or else he was looting all their temples).
Sluuuurp.
“This is life,” He leaned back in his rocking chair, a bowl of ramyeon in hand. It had been years since he had proper Korean foods, so he was enjoying this while everyone was gone. He hasn’t told Choi Han, Sui Khan, and Choi Jung Soo about that food room yet, he wanted to enjoy it for himself for a bit.
What should he do today? Hmm.
Glancing around the room, one thing catches his eyes. It was his portrait with the Henituse. It wasn’t like the usual noble family portraits, but their family portrait was filled with life and happiness.
Right, didn’t the Gods also give him an art room? He should go back to painting again, since some types of arts aren’t known in this world, he could make it work, right?
He wiped his mouth with a napkin, slurping down the last of the broth before he stood up, stretching with a satisfied sigh. The oversized white hoodie he wore—gifted by Raon, who had enthusiastically declared it his "Human's Official Lazy Uniform"—hung loosely on his frame as he padded barefoot across the villa.
The so-called “art room” was located in one of the newer extensions. Honestly, he hadn’t stepped foot in it since it was made. The Gods had mentioned it offhandedly—something about a personal studio with "infinite materials and inspiration from the multiverse." He hadn’t paid much attention at the time. Too busy recovering from the aftermath of almost dying again , probably.
The door creaked open with a low hum of magic, revealing a surprisingly warm and cozy space. Tall windows bathed the room in sunlight despite it being underground. Easels stood by the side, blank canvases stacked neatly. There were brushes, paints, charcoal, sculpting tools, even clay—way more than he knew what to do with. And in the center, a round, cushy armchair and a coffee table stacked with books on Earth art.
“Huh,” he muttered, walking in and trailing a finger across a row of acrylic tubes. “This looks… professional.”
He paused. Then squinted.
“Wait. Is that… ?”
He walked over to a corner shelf. Nestled among bottles and jars was a small black tablet, exactly like the ones he’d seen digital artists use on Earth. Next to it sat a stylus, and when he picked it up, the screen flickered to life with a chirpy message:
Welcome, Artist Cale! Let the inspiration flow.
“…Oh no,” he said out loud.
Because if this was here… that meant someone, some God , had been watching those random YouTube art channels he used to fall asleep to. And worse, they were enabling him.
***
Two hours later, Cale had somehow found himself sitting cross-legged on the ground, a canvas in front of him and paint all over his hands.
“This looks nice.” Cale nodded to himself. The portrait was everyone important in his life, his friends and family.
As Kim Rok Soo, he had many hobbies before the apocalypse, painting was one of them. He used to take art classes because as an orphan, there really wasn’t anything he could do. Having hobbies was the only way he could distract himself with loneliness.
He dipped his brush into a lighter shade, adding highlights to Raon’s wings. They were slightly uneven, but it somehow made the painting feel more alive—more real . A small, fond smile tugged at his lips.
“…Still got it,” he murmured, then froze. “Ugh. That sounded so cringe.”
He immediately wiped his hand on his hoodie and picked up a rag to blot the edge of the canvas instead. No one heard that. Good.
As he stepped back to look at the painting, he realized something: his heart felt light. Not the “Oh, I just scammed a kingdom” kind of light—but the kind that came from doing something that had nothing to do with strategies, negotiations, or survival.
Just… being.
Painting for no one but himself.
He took a deep breath and sat down on the floor again, cross-legged, arms resting loosely on his knees. The room smelled faintly of paint and sunlight, and there was a kind of peace here he hadn’t expected to find.
He placed his paintbrush down. He cleaned up his mess, and looked at the unfinished painting one last time.
“I’ll finish this tomorrow.”
***
Ron had noticed the young master exiting this room that he himself hadn’t been in. He watched as his young master left to go back to his own bedroom, and took a peek inside the room.
His eyes widened for a bit but then he smiled. Even if the current young master was not the original Cale Henituse, he and the original were too similar. But…
Looking at the unfinished painting, Ron’s smile was softer.
The similarities aren't too bad.
***
Cale had been painting for days, hoping to finish these art pieces.
Each one had its own mood, its own story. He didn’t aim for perfection, just sincerity. There was one of Raon mid-flight, mouth wide in a joyful roar. Another of Choi Han, sword lowered, standing peacefully in a field of sunflowers. Even one of Eruhaben mid-sigh, looking annoyed but regal. Cale had chuckled the whole time painting that one.
They were all memories. Moments he hadn’t realized he’d stored so deeply. The strokes weren’t always steady, and his colors sometimes bled a bit, but that didn’t matter. It felt right. It felt like remembering and letting go, all at once.
Of course, it didn’t stay quiet forever.
“Human! What is this ?! Is that me?!” Raon’s high voice rang through the villa as he flapped into the room one bright morning. “It’s majestic! I look strong! Handsome! Mighty!”
Cale groaned. “You weren’t supposed to find out yet.”
Raon’s eyes sparkled as he hovered in front of the canvas. “I LOVE IT! Can you draw me with a crown next time? Oh! And treasure underneath me! And maybe fireballs behind! Pew pew!”
From the door, Choi Han chuckled softly, having followed the noise. “You’ve been spending a lot of time in here, Cale-nim.”
Cale blinked. “You noticed?”
“Everyone noticed.”
Cale sighed in mock defeat and gestured to the mess of supplies. “It’s… relaxing.”
Choi Han nodded with a knowing smile, stepping inside. “May I see them?”
“…Sure.”
And just like that, more of his people filtered in over the next few days. Some came curious. Others came with quiet awe. Sui Khan made sarcastic comments that somehow sounded suspiciously like praise. Eruhaben squinted and corrected Cale’s color theory (“Gold doesn't shine like that , dear boy”). Even Alberu sent a note— “Heard you’re a secret artist now. I expect a flattering portrait of your future king.” Cale rolled his eyes, but added Alberu’s portrait to the to-do list anyway.
***
One evening, as the sun dipped low and cast orange streaks through the windows, Cale stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by his finished works. He’d hung some up. Left others leaning against walls. The room was chaotic and personal in a way the rest of his life never really got to be.
He still wore the same hoodie—paint-stained and fraying at the sleeves now. His hair was a mess. He hadn’t schemed, planned, or plotted in days.
And he was okay.
“…Yeah,” he whispered to himself. “This was a good idea.”
Behind him, Raon settled into the cushy chair, tail curled around himself. “What are you painting next, Human?”
Cale didn’t answer right away. He stared at a blank canvas, then smiled slightly.
“Not sure. Guess I’ll find out tomorrow.”
And for once, not knowing felt perfectly fine.