I'm pretending to be calm, but right now, I'm quite flustered.
They ca all the way here to the most remote part of southern Italy to cover ? And it's not just one magazine but so many people? Not Korean journalists, but local Italian ones?
But right now, I have to finish my painting.
This isn't a studio; it's outdoors.
The light changes outside. Even as I paint, the reflection of light on the cathedral and other backgrounds is subtly shifting.
If it were before I t Monet, I would have asked the model for understanding and postponed the painting since the background would remain the sa anyway. But not now.
The shouting of the journalists disrupts my concentration.
"Van! It's ICON Magazine. We flew here from Ro to et you."
"Quiet! There aren't any magazines based outside Ro. Van! It's Quid Magazine, the number one magazine in the art world. Let's start with us."
"That's a lie! The number one art magazine in sales is Article Writer!"
The competing journalists.
I glance at them briefly. I could entertain each one, but why are they so fiercely arguing over who goes first?
"Please wait, I'll be done soon."
Yona and loni, who have also attracted the journalists' attention because of , look extrely uncomfortable.
I hurry to finish the painting and, after signing at the bottom right corner of the canvas, I hang the pen on its edge and pass it to Yona.
"Don't touch the painting; it's still wet. Can you take it to your house and then co back here?"
"Huh? Oh, okay."
Yona first hands the painting to his wife and then whispers to .
"Will you be okay alone?"
"They're just journalists; it'll take so ti because of their number. Take your ti."
"Are you a very famous painter?"
"No?"
"Then why is this happening?"
"I think it's because I helped soone famous recently. Hurry back."
"Okay, got it."
The people, unable to take their eyes off the still-wet painting. A journalist cautiously approaches loni, who is carrying the painting.
"Excuse , did Van paint that?"
"Yes? Yes… he did."
"May I take a photo?"
"A photo?"
It's not just a painting; it's a portrait. If it becos an article, it's the sa as revealing loni's face.
Yona steps in to dissuade the journalist.
"I'm sorry, but that's not possible."
The journalist persists, not giving up.
"The value of the painting changes if it's spread in the dia. If it's a painting by Van, you could get a good price for it."
"……."
The two fall silent at the ntion of value. The journalist delivers the final blow.
"It's a portrait by the hottest painter in Italy right now. If it's made public, you could get at least 7,500 euros for it. Are you sure you don't want that?"
Their eyes bulge at the ntion of a price exceeding ten million won.
I didn't understand a word, but I can guess the situation.
"Yona, are you planning to sell it?"
I ask jokingly, leaning askew. He frantically waves his hands.
"No! No, I definitely won't sell it!"
"Hurry and go."
"Okay! Honey, let's go!"
loni, almost dragged to the taxi. From her conversation with her husband, it seems like she's questioning if it's right to receive sothing like this for an 80 euro taxi fare.
It's surprising to that my portrait is priced so high, but compared to the painting I made for Mrs. Kang in Paju, it's a drop in the bucket.
As I pack up my art supplies, I say,
"Well, then, who shall we start with?"
The journalists eagerly raise their hands. I glance at them. They look like concubines seeking the king's favor.
I find it a bit amusing, but I can't play with people's hearts. They're all earnestly doing their jobs.
Then, Isabella, who first spoke to , raises her hand and shouts.
"I know Lea!"
What?
Lea? Is she talking about the little angel I know?
My eyes widen in surprise, and the tall man with her shows his cara screen.
Indeed, there's Lea's face, smiling brightly in front of the mural at her house. It's been a while since I left the village, and I feel a deep longing.
After staring at the cara for a while, I smile and speak.
"You go first."
"Oh! Thank you!"
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