Chapter 44 (2) - The Mysterious Art Museum
Oh, Monica.
Of course, I havent received a single cent from the refrigerator incentives yet, but she's someone who created a steady source of income for me. I answer the call, pleased to hear from her.
Hi, Monica.
-Jeong-hoon, I heard from Min-young. How's the corporation establishment going?
Yes, I met with the person in charge today and worked on the documents.
-Hmm, if W Tree helps out, it should be ready in about three weeks. Then we need to rewrite our contract, right?
What contract are you talking about?
-Ha, look at this person. The profit from our contract was substantial, but if we don't sign it under a corporate name, we'll be hit hard with taxes, you know?
Huh, is that so?
But, can we really rewrite the contract?
Is that okay?
-It's Jung-hoons matter, but of course, I stepped in. We're done with this discussion, so we'll rewrite the contract once the corporation is established.
Thank you, Monica.
-If you're thankful, buy me a drink.
Of course!
-How about tonight, call?
Right now, tonight?
-Call Min-Young too.
President Yu Min-Young?
Yes, she's my client.
It's necessary to know what a client wants. Thanks to Monica, I can meet her naturally. There might be useful information for me in the conversation at the drinking table.
Great, where shall we meet?
-Um, I'm not familiar with Korea.
Do you only eat Italian food?
-I'm not prejudiced. I eat anything.
I smiled and said.
Then I'll send you the address, lets meet at Hongdae at 8.
**
Sizzling and cooking beef intestines.
To my eyes, they are the most delicious food in the world, but Monica, looking at them, seems like she's about to die.
Monica, poking the intestines with tongs, asked with a frightened face.
Jung-hoon, what is this?
Its intestines.
Whats that?
The large intestine of a cow.
Ew, and this?
These are beef tripe.
Also intestines?
Yes, probably the small intestine of a cow.
Ew, and what about this? Isnt this raw? Why arent you cooking it?
Oh, thats cheonyeop, eaten raw like sashimi.
And this is meat?
No, thats stomach, and the red part next to it is the liver.
..
Monica's face quickly turns as if she's about to vomit. In contrast, Min-Young, with an indifferent face, casually remarks.
When you were in Florence, you ate plenty of Trippa, stop pretending.
Monica, trembling with the tongs, picks up the intestines which are still raw and frowns.
At least with tomato sauce, its less graphic, isnt this too raw?
Hmm, I brought her here to introduce her to Korean taste, but maybe it was too much of a leap?
Fortunately, Min-Young doesn't seem to dislike it, but I'm worried about Monica.
Monica, frowning as she eats oily dried bread, looks upset. But the atmosphere in the restaurant is not normal.
It's a busy Thursday evening.
We, having reserved in advance, are barely seated at a central table in the restaurant.
The problem is that most people in the restaurant are looking at our table.
Why?
Obviously.
Because of Monica, looking like a Greek goddess, and the elegant Min-Young, oozing Oriental beauty.
Moreover, the bags they left on the empty seats next to them.
While men's eyes are on their faces and figures, women's are on their clothes and bags.
I glance at the unbranded, logo-less bag.
Probably because I dont know the brand, I don't recognize it, but it seems women do. The way they are staring at it must mean its incredibly expensive.
After cutting the intestines into edible pieces, I pick up a piece of well-cooked beef tripe, dip it generously in sesame oil, and offer it to Monica.
Monica, you said youre not prejudiced, right? Try one and you might change your mind.
Monica looks like she's about to cry.
Even the charismatic Monica can make such a face, somehow it seems cute.
Monica, with a trembling jaw, reluctantly opens her mouth to eat the tripe I offer.
The envious, strained sounds from the surroundings are just my imagination, but it doesn't matter. They wouldnt dare to come and speak anyway.
Monica, having put the tripe in her mouth, doesnt dare to chew, closing her eyes tightly.
After hesitating for a while, she chews the tripe with a surprised look due to the sesame oils flavor and opens her eyes wide.
Wow!
I wink and say.
Killer, right?
Its incredibly delicious! What is this?
Tripe, the small intestine of a cow.
Cow intestines are this delicious? Totally savory, give me more, something else too.
Min-Young chuckles and offers a fork.
Eat with your hands, Monica.
Like a baby bird, Monica eagerly takes the fork and starts asking which one is fully cooked, what should she eat next, and so on. I teach her how to eat gopchang and introduce her to soju. Initially, she said the bland taste of soju was not to her liking, but as time went on, her hand reached more frequently for the soju glass.
Feeling proud to introduce the taste of Korea to an Italian, I exchange drinks with the two, gradually getting pleasantly drunk.
After we finish four bottles of soju, Monica shows signs of intoxication first.
"Whoa, I underestimated Korean soju. If you keep drinking this, it could be trouble."
Min-young also says its been a while since she drank soju.
Hmm, do chaebols only drink whiskey and wine?
I can't understand why they wouldn't eat this delicious food.
Later, we should also try kimchi fried rice.
I think Monica would like that. You can't really say you've eaten gopchang until you've tried it with that.
Monica, after sipping a few more shots of soju, rests her chin on her hand and looks at Min-young.
Are the board members still the same?
I pretended to pour soju while listening intently. Min-young glances at me, hesitating as if wondering whether it's appropriate to speak in front of me.
I quickly fill her glass and say,
Come on, let's have another drink, President.
Monica, watching her glass being filled, speaks again.
Those people are only interested in immediate profits. They dont understand that true creation is not about satisfying desires, but about creating them.
I remained silent, observing carefully.
There must be some problem in the business.
It could be information unrelated to me, or it could be a hint to something relevant.
Either way, more information is always better.
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