"Take a seat first. And step away from the wall."
"Alright. Understood."
I clicked my tongue in disappointment but wasn’t actually planning to draw on the wall.
I had only meant to play a little prank after hearing footsteps in the hallway.
Still holding the pen in my hand, I sat down across from Lee Ji-Cheol.
“...It would be nice if you could put that pen away.”
“I feel a bit more grounded when I’m holding it. Please understand.”
Chairman Lee Ji-Cheol looked at me with a mix of concern and resignation, as if bracing for the possibility of me charging at the wall. Eventually, he let out a sigh and started speaking.
“Phew... I’ve taken care of the task you asked me to handle. Thankfully, it seems there was significant resistance to it in Japan.”
“Didn’t I tell you? Taking that thing back would only bring trouble.”
“It seems there was some internal disagreement among their leadership. Whether to send over the Gumiho or not, that sort of thing.”
That’s right. Chairman Lee Ji-Cheol had gone to Japan to deal with the Gumiho. I’d also asked him to try bringing it back to Korea if possible.
And he succeeded.
As for how he managed it... well, I assume it was through his considerable wealth and influence.
The Gumiho was a painting that posed a logistical nightmare for any political administration. It wasn’t the same as the Seiren.
The Seiren was relatively quiet—it wouldn’t invite people into its illusionary world unless someone deliberately sought it out.
But the Gumiho and other masterpieces were different.
They enjoyed playing tricks on people, even tormenting them for fun.
Not all masterpieces were like that, but they generally regarded humans as inferior beings. The Seiren was no exception.
“It seems Japan was eager to rid itself of the Gumiho as soon as possible. Every time someone looked at the painting, casualties would follow like clockwork.”
“It’s Korea’s fault for selling it off recklessly, and Japan’s fault for gleefully taking it.”
My mentor had clearly outlined the dangers of the masterpieces and how to handle them, but governments never listen.
It’s no wonder I feel disillusioned with nations.
The Gumiho was the eldest of the masterpieces, their figurative firstborn.
However, being a fox in nature, it was not only mischievous but also extraordinarily skilled at captivating people.
Unless it was me, my mentor, or another masterpiece, it disliked humans approaching it. If anything, it would grab them just to torment them.
“With such a greedy fox, it’s inevitable that incidents occur.”
“If it’s beyond human control, it really does sound like a headache. I brought it here as you requested, but are you planning to paint over the Gumiho as well?”
“Yes. I’ll be reworking all the other masterpieces too.”
“Hmm... I take it you’d prefer to work quietly this time as well?”
That was accurate. Once I finished reworking the Seiren, it had returned to its original resting place in Lee Ah-Ram’s tomb.
The media and the world at large had yet to discover it.
My plan was to fully rework the remaining masterpieces before unveiling them to the world.
Any interruptions along the way would only be a hassle.
“I’ll need your assistance again.”
“Understood. But I hope you’ll be willing to return the favor when I need something.”
“As long as it’s within my power, I’ll help.”
“It’s nothing too difficult.”
With those words, Chairman Lee Ji-Cheol stood up.
“The Gumiho hasn’t arrived yet. It’ll probably take about a week, but I’ll let you know if it arrives earlier.”
“Thank you. That saves me a trip to Japan.”
“This time, my personal interests also aligned with the task. I’ll try to accommodate your needs as much as I can. After all, Wu Hua personally requested it.”
“That old man’s words are usually useless, but I understand. Thanks for letting me know.”
I also stood up, bowed politely, and left the chairman’s office.
My face was as calm and composed as ever.
***
A peaceful, tranquil early winter.
As December rolled in, memories of the previous year surfaced.
Around this time last year, I had resolved to create Hollow Snow. Hard to believe it’s already been a year.
A lot happened over the past year. Among them, the biggest accomplishment was winning the Prize.
“Wow! Oppa, look over there!”
My younger sister, Ha-Yoon, walking beside me under the gray sky, pointed excitedly at something.
A Christmas tree had come into view, previously hidden between buildings. A massive tree now stood prominently in the open space.
“There wasn’t one last year. Looks like they installed it this time.”
The tree, planted squarely in the plaza’s center, was... well, gigantic.
“If I had to guess, it’s as tall as a seven-story building.”
“Oh, right, Oppa! What are we doing for Christmas this year? Staying home again?”
In our family, Christmas is usually simple.
Sometimes we go out to eat or take a small trip somewhere.
Nothing extraordinary, but we’re content with it.
But the way Ha-Yoon asked hinted at something else entirely.
“Wouldn’t that be best?”
What she meant was a pajama party.
I wasn’t particularly into the idea, but it had become a family tradition a few years ago because she insisted on it.
“This time, let’s invite everyone!”
“Our house isn’t that big, you know.”
“Just invite the older sisters!”
What a clever solution.
And so, my sister and I strolled through the winter streets, casually chatting about nothing and everything.
It’s not like there wasn’t work waiting for me. There was always something to do. But time spent with family is priceless.
Which is why I try to accommodate any requests from them whenever possible. No matter what it is.
“Oh, let’s invite Ye-Hwa unnie and Teacher Ah-Reum this time too!”
“Sounds like it’ll get even noisier.”
Our parents were home right now. If you’re wondering why it was just the two of us out here, it’s because Ha-Yoon specifically wanted to spend time with me.
As we joked and chatted while walking, someone suddenly called out to us.
“Oh! Are you Ha-Yoon and Ha-Eun?”
We often ran into people who recognized us.
Neither of us turned fans away, and impromptu signing sessions sometimes popped up.
Of course, people were mindful not to take up too much of our time, so they dispersed quickly.
“Hehe, now I want to hold a fan meeting!”
For Ha-Yoon, it seemed like she wished the interaction had lasted longer.
“Start small if you do. It’s better to begin on a manageable scale.”
“Huh? Wouldn’t it be better if it were big?”
“That’ll be exhausting. You’ll get tired quickly, and it’ll just get harder.”
“Oh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Ugh, that’s disappointing.”
As she clicked her tongue in frustration, her eyes lit up and she suddenly dashed off.
Since there was no snow on the ground yet, I didn’t bother stopping her.
Still, if she tripped... well, that’d be unfortunate.
I followed her and found myself in front of a small exhibit.
Famous works were displayed on individual monitors inside.
The exhibit was quiet, and we were the only ones there.
“Oppa, Oppa! Look at this.”
Ha-Yoon gestured toward one of the monitors she was staring at.
“Oh, it’s Peach Blossom Paradise. Judging by the background, this must’ve been at the awards ceremony.”
“Out of all the paintings, isn’t it amazing that yours is here?”
“If you think about the odds, it is pretty surprising.”
“Are you secretly thrilled?”
I couldn’t answer her question. Her narrowed eyes bore into me.
I carefully avoided her gaze and pointed with one finger.
“I saw someone selling cotton candy outside earlier. Want to go?”
“Really?! Let’s go!”
So simple. At the mere mention of cotton candy, her eyes sparkled, and she grabbed my hand.
“Hey, slow down. You’ll fall.”
“It’s fine! The cotton candy will save me!”
The subject seemed to have shifted, but maybe it was just my imagination.
Still, I felt good. And that was enough.
***
[Chairman Lee Ji-Cheol: I need a quick favor.]
[Me: Right now? I’m at home.]
[Chairman Lee Ji-Cheol: ...Could you make it work? It’s an urgent matter.]
[Me: Where should I go?]
Given the transactional nature of our relationship, refusing wasn’t really an option.
I left the house and headed down the stairs.
“Uh... hello?”
“Please, get in. I’ll escort you.”
Lee Ji-Cheol’s secretary was already waiting for me. He must’ve predicted I’d agree and sent someone ahead of time.
Well, this was certainly a first.
[Chairman Lee Ji-Cheol: Where are you now?]
[Me: Just got in the car. What’s this about?]
[Chairman Lee Ji-Cheol: My granddaughter’s been kidnapped.]
What the—? Then why call me? Does he want me to get kidnapped too?
[Chairman Lee Ji-Cheol: It’s about the Gumiho. It seems Soo-Rin accidentally looked at it.]
Ah, that explains it. So she’s probably unconscious and unable to wake up right now.
This was turning into a mess. Though, didn’t he say he’d let me know when the Gumiho arrived?
[Chairman Lee Ji-Cheol: It happened this morning, while they were moving the painting.]
Ah, that makes sense. For a moment, I almost felt slighted.
Still, there’s no need to panic. The Gumiho is one of the more docile masterpieces—second only to the Seiren.
The other pieces are a different story, requiring constant vigilance as if each one is missing a screw.
Of course, that’s only for other people. I’m the exception.
The Gumiho typically resembles a child—playful, with a face that constantly looks bored.
If Lee Soo-Rin is with it, she’s not in any real danger.
That said, she’s probably mentally drained. The Gumiho demands constant entertainment.
It’s like a puppy in some ways... though at times, it feels more like a cat.
Either way, I’d need to see it for myself. After all, the painting had been brought back from Japan for this very reason.
No, “brought back” isn’t the right term.
“It was mine to begin with.”
“Recovered” might be a better way to put it.
These random thoughts dissipated as I arrived at Lee Ji-Cheol’s workshop.
Outside the workshop door stood Chairman Lee and several others, their faces tense with worry.
His face, in particular, was lined with concern.
“Let’s deal with this quickly and fix things while we’re at it.”
I hated dragging out messy situations.
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