Van Gogh Reborn!

Chapter 290:

Chapter 290:

290

The Scoundrels (10)

November 20th.

It was getting chilly when I headed to Venice, Italy, to meet the scoundrels.

It was my first time visiting, but I quickly understood why it was called the city of water1

The blue sky and the green sea.

The white buildings with red roofs were intertwined.

I thought it was a city connected to the canals, but there were also waterways between the buildings, so I could move around by water taxi or water bus.

I was captivated by the unfamiliar scenery.

I unpacked my luggage at the hotel and went out to find an eel restaurant in the old town.

The old town didn’t have proper roads for vehicles, so I had to walk or use a water taxi or a water bus.

“Walking would be faster.”

“But we came all this way, we have to take a boat!”

My grandfather, who had visited Venice several times, said that the water bus was slow because of the speed limit, but Jang Mi-rae insisted.

“I want to ride it too.”

I joined in, and my grandfather and Bang Tae-ho didn’t force us.

“Then let’s take a taxi.”

We looked for a taxi that was faster than the bus, but it was just a small boat with a motor.

Jang Mi-rae and I were disappointed for a moment, as we wanted to ride a gondola, but soon we admired the view beyond the cold wind.

“It’s awesome, right?”

I nodded eagerly.

“I wonder if the others are coming safely.”

“Yes. I checked the departure and arrival times. They all left from Korea together, so they should be brought to the hotel well. I’ll just have to pick up Ma Eun-chan separately.”

My grandfather and Bang Tae-ho, who had visited several times, talked about the scoundrels.

“Hoon-ah, do you know?”

Jang Mi-rae, who was looking around, turned around with a whoosh.

“What?”

“Claude Monet loved this place.”

I didn’t know that Claude Monet, the master of impressionism, had anything to do with Venice.

“He said it was a city too beautiful to express in a painting.”

“I think I know what he meant.”

It was a truly splendid city.

“He painted it well. How many pieces did he paint?”

I’ll have to look it up later.

I was enjoying the cruise for a while, when I started to see things I hadn’t seen before, enchanted by the exotic atmosphere.

Things like candy wrappers were floating on the water.

Sometimes a bad smell came up.

“Ha ha. The canals are like sewers, so they’re not clean.”

My grandfather told me why the canals of Venice were so dirty, as I looked around with a grimace.

The romance was gone.

We got off the taxi and walked a bit.

When we entered the eel restaurant that my grandfather had visited several times, a handsome man came up and greeted Jang Mi-rae.

“How can I help you? Camellia Bianca.” 2

He was fluent and witty in English, probably because he was doing business in a tourist spot.

Jang Mi-rae blinked a few times and pointed at herself.

“Me?”

“Is there anyone more lovely than you here?”

He’s crazy.

“Right here. My son.”

Jang Mi-rae smiled and looked at me.

I was bewildered, wondering what he was talking about, when the staff looked at Jang Mi-rae, Bang Tae-ho, and me alternately and chuckled.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean anything else.”

My grandfather laughed and ordered the food, then scolded him.

He also took seven paintings that I didn’t announce to the public, such as and .

“The problem is that he took the ones I drew at school.”

“That’s weird. He’s a jerk, but he’s not the kind of person who would steal.”

“Exactly.”

He returned the paintings of other kids, but he wouldn’t tell me why he didn’t return mine.

I don’t care about the others, but I really want to show to other people.

“It’s strange. Marso said something when you had your solo exhibition. He said your paintings should be seen by more people.”

“Yeah. That happened. That’s why you were able to hang it at the Whitney Biennale, right?”

Now that I think about it, that’s true.

I don’t think he’s the kind of person who would say one thing and do another, but I don’t know what he’s thinking.

-How is it?

Oliver Walker, the construction manager of the Marso Art Museum, showed the inside of the annex with his camera.

Henri Marso nodded, confirming that the work was progressing as requested.

The white walls were planned to be painted with sunflowers and bees by Ko Hun and the kids from the playground.

“Just keep going like this.”

-Okay. If there are any changes, please contact me by the end of this week.

“Sure.”

After ending the call, Henri met Michelle’s eyes.

“Why?”

“Because I was curious.”

The Marso Museum was a space to exhibit the works that Henri had collected.

He had separated the places to display new works at the gallery and previous works and collections at the museum.

As the number of works increased, the Marso Gallery alone was not enough for the exhibition space, and there were too many works that he regretted storing in the annex of his residence.

Historical artifacts.

In addition to national treasures or equivalent works, he also collected works by contemporary masters like Go Suyeol, and they were to be exhibited in chronological order.

“I didn’t know you’d build an annex. Do you like Hoon that much?”

“Shut up.”

Michelle chuckled.

She thought she knew what the adorable idiot was thinking.

He didn’t just like the paintings of the genius boy, he was happy to meet a friend who resembled him.

He denied it, but Henri and Ko Hun were similar in many ways.

They had genius talents and were diligent workers, and they were born in wealthy environments but lost their parents.

Both of them showed mature aspects that were admirable on one side, but they had childish sides in human relationships.

Was it their original personality?

Or was it because they had never met someone they could talk to?

But Henri Marso was definitely changing.

After meeting Ko Hun, the man he only knew with canvas, he started to smile and get angry more often, expressing his emotions.

He forced Ko Hun to follow a tight schedule, saying he cared about his health.

He congratulated him for winning all the awards at the Grand Art Tour, which was a series of art exhibitions, and collected the paintings he submitted as performance evaluations to build an annex.

His methods were immature, but his intentions were clear.

Michelle was happy and proud that Henri’s world, which he had only opened to her and his mother Sherry Gado, was gradually expanding, but she was also a little sad.

“What about me?”

Michelle buried her back in the chair and put her fingers behind her head. When Henri, who was reading a news article, looked up, she pulled her chin.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

Henri turned his eyes back to the article and frowned.

“Tell me quickly.”

“I said no, okay?”

1)The Palace of Ducal, Auguste Renoir, 1881, oil on canvas

2)The name of the flower. The meaning of the flower is lovely you