Van Gogh Reborn!

Chapter 212:

Chapter 212:

212

Friction (5)

Ill be back soon.

I dont want to.

Grandpa frowned.

Ill come to get you in two days.

You can go. Ill stay at the hotel.

How can I leave you alone here? Huh?

I understood how he felt.

No matter what I said, I was just a ten-year-old grandson to him. He couldnt leave his only grandson in a foreign country.

I would do the same.

Huh? Im sorry, grandpa.

He hugged me and patted my back.

I didnt know how to get out of this predicament.

I wont go out. I can order room service for food.

I pushed him away and looked him in the eye. He had a look that said no way.

Hoo.

Bang Tae-ho sighed deeply.

He was probably blaming himself for this situation, being the responsible person he was.

The more I refused grandpas wish, the more I felt sorry for him and Bang Tae-ho.

Ill stay with Grandpa Martin.

I didnt have to go to Marsos house.

Grandpa needed someone he could trust and leave me with, and in that case, Martin Jansen, who had a long friendship with grandpa, would be a much better choice.

It wasnt too far from Over Sur Oise, and I could be comfortable there.

He said he was in Arles when I called him yesterday.

Then what about Pierre?

Hes on vacation from today.

I can stay with him for two days even if hes on vacation.

He went surfing in New Zealand. He cant leave his house empty.

This was a conspiracy.

Someone must have orchestrated this situation.

How could everything fall into place like this?

Hoon-ah. If you stay at Marsos for two days, Ill buy you anything you want.

Grandpa pleaded with me, and I had no choice.

Sometimes you have to do things you dont like.

How old do you think I am to say that?

Hoon-ah.

There was no other way.

Fine.

I had said I wouldnt go with him this morning.

I could imagine his face when I told him I would stay with him for a few days.

Look at him.

He looked down at me with a smug face as I arrived at Marsos mansion with grandpa.

He was more annoying than I expected.

I couldnt stand his face, so I avoided his gaze.

I wanted to go back, but I couldnt refuse outright, knowing grandpa and Bang Tae-hos situation. I kicked the floor and swallowed my anger.

Grandpa opened his mouth.

Then Ill trust you and go.

Dont worry.

I hated to say that.

Hoon-ah.

Grandpa crouched down.

I had to look him in the eye, and I could tell how much he cared.

Call me if anything happens. Ill answer anytime. Okay?

I will.

It was already too late.

I had to endure for two days without clashing with him.

Eat well and chew your food. Apply lotion and dont forget to brush your teeth.

Im running late.

I would normally agree, but I felt embarrassed to be treated like a child in front of Marso.

I sent grandpa off quickly, using the flight time as an excuse.

Then, see you later.

Yes. Have a safe trip.

I waved goodbye and turned around, only to see Marso smiling slyly.

I didnt come because I wanted to.

Sure.

Henri Marso acted as if he understood everything, which made him four times more annoying than usual.

No, really.

Marso chuckled.

You must have some pride. You must have wanted to make up a plausible reason.

I said no.

Stop it. The more you deny it, the worse you look.

I really wanted to punch him hard.

I came because I was worried about Grandpa. I could have stayed at the hotel.

Thats not enough to explain why you came to my house. You know better than anyone that there are many people in Paris who are friends with the high society. You came looking for me because you wanted to stay at my place, didnt you?

He inferred that I had a lot of acquaintances in Paris, but I chose him because I liked his house.

Martin Jansen is in Arles. Pierre Malo went on vacation.

Henri Marso shook his head as if he had no choice.

The manager has family issues. The high society has schedules. Jansen is on a business trip, Malo is on vacation.

So?

Do you think things would work out so well? Dont you think its pathetic?

I felt like going back to the hotel right now and hitting his shin.

I was already so frustrated, and I had to spend two more days with him.

Call me a taxi.

A taxi?

I cant stay here. Im going back.

There was a line in a drama I watched recently that said forgiveness is easier than permission.

Grandpa would understand if I explained the situation later, after staying at the hotel.

Can you do that?

What cant I do? Do you think Im your girlfriend?

A familiar person came behind Henri Marso, who shrugged his shoulders.

It was Sherry Gado, the mother of Michel Platini and the nanny of Marso.

Oh, Hoon is here. Why are you here? Come on in.

Sherry.

She was still a kind person.

Are you hungry? I prepared something delicious, so go upstairs and rest for a while.

Why are you like that? Geez. Look at me. Congratulations. How did you two win and runner-up, huh?

Thank you.

Good for you. Good. I also baked you a blueberry tart, your favorite, as a congratulatory gift.

The crispy tart and fresh blueberry pulp came to mind, and I salivated without knowing it.

Did you say Raymonds pizza was so delicious last time?

I nodded, remembering the potato pizza I had when Marso invited me to show off his reform.

Ill make it even better this time. Go upstairs and rest. Ill call you when its done.

Okay.

Maybe it wasnt all bad.

Hoon was enjoying the dinner that Sherry Gado had prepared with care and was in ecstasy.

He sat in a comfortable chair, savoring the aroma that still lingered in his mouth with Sherry Gados blueberry tart, and listening to Brahms Piano Concerto No. 2 played by the Berlin Philharmonic, he felt as if his fatigue had flown away.

How long are you going to do that?

Henri Marso called out to Hoon, who was intoxicated with happiness.

Just a little more.

Get up. Wash up.

Just a little later. Ah.

Hoon bit into the blueberry tart.

The pie with a rich butter flavor matched well with the tangy pulp, and it was an excellent texture.

Hoon didnt know how to express his elevated mood.

Henri Marso turned off the music.

Hoon, who was enjoying his rest, got up with a frown.

Whats wrong?

Wash up.

Hoon, who couldnt resist the landlords coercion, reluctantly left the living room of the guest room and headed to the sink next to the bedroom.

He squeezed toothpaste onto his toothbrush and wondered how he could draw his happiness tonight.

He decided to sketch on his tablet and sort out his thoughts, since he didnt bring his drawing tools.

"Come to the studio by 8 a.m. tomorrow."

Hoon turned his head at Henri's words.

"Don't you have to do the test test?"

Hoon quickly rinsed his mouth and asked.

"Already? I thought we were going to do it when we go to Paris next year."

"You have to do it as much as you can when you have time to release it perfectly."

As with all products, Gaebok', a new technology, was especially important for testers.

It was essential to adjust the sensitivity to follow the artists' delicate senses, and to repeatedly check for errors in various situations.

"You're working hard."

Hoon expressed his honest impression.

He learned that Henri Marso, who was not an engineer, had developed his own knowledge and developed it while eating dinner.

"Of course."

Henri Marso crossed his arms.

"The people who follow can only see the front, but the people who lead are different. You have to do your best every day because you don't know how hard you have to work."

Hoon blinked and brushed his teeth.

"You too."

"Me?"

"Yeah."

Hoon spat out the toothpaste he had scraped between his gums and teeth.

"I don't want to do better than others. Just enjoy it."

"They don't see you that way, even if you think so."

Henri Marso felt that Hoon still didn't know what kind of existence he was.

"You participated in the Whitney Biennale less than a year after your first exhibition. And now you've beaten those damn oldies and won at Art Nouveau."

"I'm just lucky."

"What?"

"I'm lucky!"

"Brush your teeth properly."

""

"Whatever you draw, they have you as a goal to overcome."

"That's not true."

Hoon spat out the toothpaste and denied Henri's words, then brushed his teeth again.

He had received more attention than before, but there were still great artists.

He realized that through the Art Nouveau competition.

"You don't know."

Henri emphasized again.

"More than 50 papers have been submitted about you, who have been active for less than two years."

"How do you know that?"

Henri Marso stopped talking for a moment and ignored Hoon's question.

"You're the ninth most popular among the active artists. Don't you still get it?"

Hoon held water in his mouth.

"You're already in the center of the art world."

Hoon looked up at Henri and met his eyes.

"That means there are as many people as dust who want to trample on you, look down on you, and harm you."

Hoon spat out the water that rinsed his mouth.

He repeated countless times that not everyone was good, living in his past and present lives.

There were people who envied others in the same situation, and there were those who harmed them in a negative way.

"Now your grandfather won't let them go. Me too."

Hoon washed his face.

"Don't just wet it, use a cleansing foam."

"It's clean like this."

"Don't you look forward to tomorrow morning?"

Hoon quietly squeezed the cleansing foam into his palm.

"You have to protect yourself from those guys. You're young, so you don't need to know the law or how to punish them."

"What do you mean?"

"Do something amazing that they can't even dare to do. Show them the difference."

Hoon stopped rubbing his face.

"The best thing to do is to get ahead of them so that even those who want to curse and drag you down have to follow you."

Hoon listened to all of Henri Marso's words and washed away the foam without answering.

Then he wiped off the water with a towel.

"I told you before, I don't want to do that."

Henri Marso thought that Hoon was only saying ignorant words, but he couldn't say anything to the following words.

"I like living with my grandfather, future aunt, and you, drawing good pictures. If someone wants to be first, let them do it. I don't care about selling my work more expensive than anyone else."

As long as there is someone who likes my paintings like Marso, thats enough for me. Marso feels the same way, right?

I was about to leave the sink when Henri Marso blocked the door.

I was startled by the loud noise he made as he leaned against the wall.

What now?

Is that all?

I nodded.

No matter what Henri Marso thought, I was firm in what I wanted.

Disgusting.

I flared up at his words.

Whats so disgusting! You should respect other peoples thoughts!

Your feet.

Yes?

Why dont you wash your feet. Why do you only wash your face and not shower? Why dont you apply lotion.

I blinked.

Wash properly.