Chapter 116 (1) - The Mysterious Art Museum
Bonus chapter thanks to @SomeoneRandom on Ko-fi
"It's Father Pedro."
When the lady returns after running towards the church, she surprisingly brings Father Pedro with her. Then, English words flow from the priest.
Relieved to finally understand the language, I quickly stand up and extend my hand.
"Nice to meet you, Father. I'm glad you speak English."
Father Pedro warmly smiles and shakes my hand.
"A priest's tenure is short, so I move around a lot, picking up languages here and there."
Picking up languages, as if it's that simple.
Priests undergo extensive education.
Many can speak Latin and Hebrew, so surely they would have formally studied English.
There's no way a self-taught pronunciation could be so elegant and sophisticated.
"It's a real relief to find someone else who speaks English apart from Monica."
"Monica brought an Eastern person to the village, and it turns out to be you?"
Typical of a rural village.
News travels fast.
"Yes, sorry for the late introduction."
There's a church in the middle of the village, but I never thought to meet the priest. Even if I had known, I wouldn't have visited. I'm not religious. Maybe my mother would have.
But that's not the issue now.
"What exactly are these people saying?"
Father Pedro, having heard the situation from the lady, immediately starts the conversation.
"Are you the one who painted the mural at Sophia's house?"
"Oh, this is Emilia, who lives opposite the church. The lady over there is Elizabeth."
I look at Mrs. Emilia as Father Pedro quickly speaks and nod to both and then say,
"Yes, that's me."
As Father Pedro relays my words, Mrs. Emilia and Elizabeth start speaking rapidly, competing with each other. Watching Father Pedro mediate in Italian, it seems he's trying to calm them down.
Father Pedro then looks at me.
"Do you charge for your paintings?"
".?"
Of course, I make a living as an artist. Oh, wait. If he's talking about Sophia's house mural, is he asking if I was paid for that?
"The mural at Sophia's house was done for free."
As Father Pedro speaks, the grandmother pushes her way to the front, speaking rapidly. Mrs. Emilia also gestures and speaks from behind.
Looking to Father Pedro for help, he says,
"Both of them are asking if you could paint a mural at their houses. Is that possible?"
"?"
A mural?
I'm momentarily speechless.
Seizing the moment, two more female rappers begin their rap. Oh, my ears hurt.
Father Pedro listens to their stories, then laughs and says,
"Lea and Sophia came bragging this morning. They were so impressed after seeing the mural, they begged you to paint one at their homes."
This is begging?
They look like they'll kill me if I don't start painting right now.
Hesitating for a moment, the two start raising their voices, probably arguing with each other. I can't let this happen. I raise my hands and shout,
"Calm down, everyone! I'll do it, I have plenty of time, plenty!"
As Father Pedro quickly translates, both women break into broad smiles. I sigh and say,
"Just tell me where your houses are, and I'll paint them in a few days, okay?"
Honestly, I was wondering if I should charge them. Lea's house is a different story because of our acquaintance, but not the others. But then again, these country folks probably don't have much money.
Besides, I planned to set aside thoughts of money for the next three weeks. Let's consider it a service.
Two people competing to explain the location of their homes. I held out my sketchbook, asking them to draw a map and describe the features of their houses. The priest took the initiative, first drawing a map of Mrs. Emilia's house. After grabbing my hand several times and rapidly speaking, the lady returned home.
Next, the priest draws a map of the grandmother's house.
As I nod, understanding the rough location of the houses from the maps, the grandmother hugs me tightly. Then, her wrinkly hand sneaks into my pocket and quickly pulls out.
Watching the grandmother leave, I check my pocket and let out a hollow laugh as a large apple emerges from it.
The priest, seeing the apple, also laughs, saying, "She's asking to start with her house, I guess that's a bribe, haha."
The apple is so red, it's hard to believe how ripe it is.
I toss the apple like a baseball, catching it and taking a bite while watching the grandmother's departing figure.
Crunch.
The flesh of the apple falls away, and the juice bursts out. It must be the tastiest apple she brought. Chewing on the apple, I grinned.
So what if I'm being taken advantage of? It's not like someone wealthy is trying to trick me.
Once in a lifetime, it's not bad to draw a picture for an apple.
That famous Van Gogh also used to paint for a piece of bread. Who am I to say any different?
"From this afternoon, I'll observe the houses, and I'll start drawing from tomorrow. Please let them know if you see them, Father. Thank you for today."
After the priest leaves, I sit alone, eating the apple and looking at the sky.
The apple tastes incredibly good today.
Is it different from Korean apples, or is it just because it's filled with someone's care?
While rolling the apple in my hand and chewing its flesh, I muttered softly.
"It's a satisfying feeling, isn't it?"
Thinking rationally, there's nothing to be proud of.
I ended up agreeing to draw three houses for free. How is that a good thing?
But strangely, I feel very happy.
Biting into the apple again, I smiled broadly.
Maybe what I really want to do is this?
Creating paintings that bring smiles and happiness to others. My paintings touching their lives and bringing joy.
Isnt this what I truly want to do?
Im not sure yet.
It doesnt seem certain.
Life is different today and tomorrow.
But occasionally doing something like this seems nice.
After finishing the apple and wiping my hands, I stood up.
Now, shall I go call my little assistant?
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This 𝓬ontent is taken from f(r)eeweb(n)ovel.𝒄𝒐𝙢