Van Gogh Reborn!

Chapter 192: Awakening (10)

Chapter 192 Awakening (10)

As I was trying to figure out what had happened, Cha Si-hyun showed me his smartphone.

It was an article posted on The Guardian, titled “Why It’s Ga Hoon’s Work”.

It quoted Alex, who runs an art channel on YouTube.

I wondered what Henri Marso had done this time, but he only said that <Beauty> was a perfect work and he didn’t paint it.

Alex’s speculation seemed to have triggered it.

“It was a troll.”

Bang Taeho bit his tongue.

“He must have gone too far to get attention for his YouTube views. I didn’t think he was that kind of person. I’m disappointed.”

“Hmm.”

Grandfather sighed as he read the article again.

“The vote difference has increased too.”

Cha Si-hyun showed me the voting status.

<Beauty> and <Summer Winter>, which had narrowed the gap to 20,000 votes, were now 50,000 votes apart.

It seemed to have been affected by the fact that <Beauty> was known as my work.

What can I do?

It’s going to be revealed in a few days anyway, so I’m not too worried, but I want to do well in the contest I participated in.

I don’t care about winning, but I don’t want to lose to Matisse either.

“What should we do?”

Bang Taeho opened his mouth as he stroked his chin.

“We have to tell them what we submitted to make up for the loss. Or say we didn’t paint Beauty. Ah.”

Bang Taeho clapped his hands as if he had a good idea.

“Maybe this could be a good thing.”

I didn’t know what he meant by good thing, so I looked at Grandfather and he told me it was a good thing.

Bang Taeho connected an infrared keyboard to his tablet.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to leak some source.”

It was the content that I had a contract with Schmincke for a year.

I received 600,000 euros for using only Schmincke paints for my oil paintings this year, and I did some publicity broadcasts and filmed some commercials, but I didn’t have many works to show.

“They can’t figure it out. They don’t know what paint I used for Beauty, but they probably didn’t paint it all with Schmincke paint.”

“Yes.”

“Then it will naturally be known that it’s not true, and Schmincke will be mentioned again, so I think I’ll have a reason to get a better deal next time.”

“Does that work?”

“It’s the Arnouvo Contest. It’s not easy to get attention in an event that ten million people are interested in.”

He’s thinking of making money even in this situation.

I think I met a good person.

Vroom- Vroom-

The smartphone vibrated.

“It’s Matisse.”

He asked me as soon as I answered the phone.

-Did you see it?

“Yes.”

-Sigh.

He sighed, unlike himself.

-I’m telling you for sure, it’s not me.

I remembered the time when I saw him with Michelle and he said nonsense because he was addicted to gambling.

He didn’t need to fool anyone, or maybe he hated lying, but he couldn’t lie.

There was no answer, so I tried to comfort him.

“I know.”

-…What?

“Alex misunderstood, right?”

-Yeah. That bastard made up the story.

“Yeah.”

He was silent.

“Is that all you have to say?”

-…I wanted to be on equal terms.

“I know that too.”

He doesn’t want to lose to me, and neither do I.

No, to be exact, I don’t want to disappoint him.

He doesn’t know how heartwarming it is to be loved by such a great artist.

“We’re not the kind of people who misunderstand each other over something like this. Don’t worry.”

I might have gotten angry if it was before.

It was announced that I painted a different picture, not the one I prepared.

I might have lost some votes too.

But I know well that Matisse wanted to compete with me on equal terms and that he was telling the truth.

He’s not the kind of person who would use such a cheap trick.

-…Okay.

“I’m preparing something on this side too.”

-That’s why I’m saying this.

Matisse cut me off.

I wondered what he was going to say, and he spoke in a serious voice.

-Summer Winter. I’ll say I painted it.

I didn’t understand what he meant for a moment and asked again.

“What?”

-Let’s say I painted it. Then it’s fair.

I wish he would be smart or stupid, not both.

“What are you talking about? Stop it right now.”

-Why.

“Why do you think? What difference does it make?”

-What difference does it make? My painting got more votes because of your name.

“I guess so.”

-So you should use my name too.

What kind of logic is that?

-I don’t believe anything you say, so this is the only way. I’ll take care of it, so just know that.

“Don’t make things more complicated!”

***

-Don’t do it! I told you not to do it!

As I hung up the phone with a roar, Henri Marso looked at his smartphone with his chin pulled.

“What did he say?”

Michelle Platini, who was next to him, asked worriedly.

“He told me not to do it.”

“Look at that. How far do you want to be fair?”

Michelle Platini blamed Henri.

He had suggested that he should introduce <Summer Winter> as his own work, since Hoon had lost votes. He told him to ask the person himself, but he was refused as expected.josei

Michelle noticed that Henri Marso was making a nervous expression as he kept nagging.

He was usually restless when things didn’t go his way, but he was quiet now, which was strange.

‘Did I go too far?’

Michelle lowered her voice, feeling sorry for pushing Henri too hard.

“What’s wrong? Why are you like that?”

Henri clenched and unclenched his fists as he spoke.

“He said no.”

“What?”

Henri Marso, who had been easily misunderstood by his eccentric behavior, couldn’t forget what Hoon had said.

‘We’re not the kind of people who misunderstand each other over something like this.’

“No…”

He was lost in deep thought for a while, after being excited by what had happened in the morning.

Meanwhile.

Kim Ji-woo, who was surprised by the news that Hoon had painted <Beauty>, visited the gallery next to the police station.

‘This is strange.’

She couldn’t find an answer as she became more and more curious about <Beauty> the more she saw it.

At first, she didn’t think that Hoon had painted it at all, and thought that Alex had made a wild guess for the sake of views, but when she looked closely, she felt a faint similarity.

Hoon liked to use complementary colors, and the mysterious golden color of orpiment and the blue curtain that expressed the darkness in <Beauty> gave that impression.

The composition, texture, and way of depicting objects were all different, but she felt strangely similar.

‘Is it because I think Hoon painted it?’

“How do you feel? Does it look like Hoon’s work?”

“Surely, that mysterious golden color is hard to express unless you’re an Asian.”

Kim Ji-woo turned her head.

She was talking with Tom James, an art critic, and his entourage.

“Some people compare it to Klimt.”

“Haha. Well, I don’t know. They both used gold, but they’re completely different. If Klimt’s gold is brilliant, then the gold in this work is calm. I want to say it’s elegant.”

“Hoon is also good at using gold.”

“That’s true. Although this gold color is different, he showed a very nice gold color in his first work, Sunflower.”

“Many people were interested in his oriental oil painting at that time.”

“Hmm. Maybe that’s really the case. But if so, it’s amazing.”

“It’s hard to believe that Hoon has already developed such a descriptive power.”

“That’s a reasonable thing to say.”

“Isn’t he the grandson of Go Soo-yeol?”

“Haha. Is that so?”

Kim Ji-woo tilted her head as she listened to the critics’ conversation.

Not only herself, but also others were finding strange similarities between Hoon and <Beauty>, even though they didn’t believe he painted it.

The impatient reporter wrote an article saying that <Beauty> was Hoon’s tribute to Henri Marso, based on the close relationship between Henri Marso and Hoon.

‘Is that true?’

Kim Ji-woo was about to leave the gallery to ask Hoon directly.

A startled voice whispered.

“Matisse painted it.”

Kim Ji-woo, who had learned some French from the interview with Henri Marso and the Arnouvo Contest, turned her head.

A platinum-haired young girl was staring at <Beauty>.

“Blanche Fabre?”

She was a French genius painter who had been in the top 10 of the contest from the beginning, but kept dropping out.

Blanche Fabre, who was called by a stranger, moved her gaze.

“Oh, sorry. I was surprised.”

“Yes.”

Blanche Fabre looked at <Beauty> again, not caring much.

Henri Marso, who was praised as the best painter since Bernard Buffet, was too high a wall for the young painter.

She faced the huge wall that she had to overcome someday, and clenched her fist as she observed <Beauty>.

She wanted to forget the fear that rose from the vagueness with the will to overcome it.

Kim Ji-woo, who saw her confident expression, asked quietly.

“You said Matisse painted it earlier, right?”

“Yes.”

“Matisse, as in Henri Marso?”

Blanche Fabre nodded slightly and Kim Ji-woo hurriedly took out her business card.

“I came from Korea Art. If you don’t mind, I’d like to do a short interview. Is that okay?”

Kim Ji-woo smiled a sales smile.

She was worried that the genius painter who was attracting attention in the European art scene would agree to an interview, as she had been asked many times in Korea, ‘Where is Korea Art?’

“Kim Ji-woo?”

Blanche Fabre looked up and asked, checking the English name on the card.

“That’s right. Kim Ji-woo.”

Kim Ji-woo smiled brighter.

“Okay.”

“Really? Are you okay now? How about a cafe?”

Kim Ji-woo was happy to have a solo interview with an artist who was attracting attention in the French art scene.