Van Gogh Reborn!

Christine Nolan blinked at the two geniuses who suddenly started fighting, 

"I would rather eat 10 bowls of grandpa’s salty kimchi than speak politely to you! Ahhh…I’m getting goosebumps just thinking about it." 

"What do you mean by goosebumps, you damn brat?" 

When he met them separately, Henry Marceau and Ko Hun, were unexpectedly normal. 

Of course, he understood that Henry Marceau wanted to brag about Raphael's work, but asking a 10-year-old boy to request politely to him, was a bit out of line. 

It was beyond ridiculous. 

On the other hand, the same was true of Ko Hun. 

After spending nearly three weeks together, he could see the blessings of the boy in addition to the talents given by heaven. 

Curiosity and the desire to fill it were purely exceptional. 

He was considerate of the people around him and followed the teamwork fairly well. 

He couldn't understand because such a child growled when he met Henry Marceau. 

"Wait. Both of you calm down, and this isn't something to fight about," 

Art Director Nathan Evans stopped them. 

The two people, who looked around, turned their backs against each other. 

Nolan sighed and opened his mouth. 

“Can I continue?” 

The two did not answer. 

Nolan, who took it as a sign that he could proceed with the meeting, continued the agenda. 

"Maybe I'd like to look around Mr. Marceau's collection. Emily, how much time do you need to measure?" 

“It'll be done in three days.”

Emily Lever, prop manager, answered clearly. 

Emily and her team members were absolutely necessary while seeing Henry Marceau's private exhibition room. 

Nolan sorted things out. 

"Okay. Jane stays and gets permission to film, Hoyte, let's take a look," 

Nolan asked cinematographer Hoyte Van Werkel. 

"Of course. I'd like them to use equipment if possible. A boat and a drone." 

“Sure. Bring your team members and come back after finishing the schedule. Me, Emily, Evans, three days, no. I'll stop by Paris in four days with Mr. Marceau." 

“All right.” 

“Mr. Marceau, are you okay with this?” 

“I don't mind.” 

When Henry Marceau did not disagree, he asked Ko Hun this time. 

“Hun can stop by Germany tomorrow and come straight to Paris. Is the schedule okay?”

“It's okay,”

Nolan clapped his hands. 

"Now, the meeting is over. Let's all do our best." 

Ko Hun and Henry Marceau, who came out of Nolan's room, stared at each other. 

Then Ko Hun sighed. 

“Let's talk for a minute.” 

“What…. are you talking about?” 

Ko Hun beckoned impatiently. 

There were no people in the cafe on the second floor of the hotel, so he thought they could talk quietly. 

Ko Hun, who sat down, spoke first. 

“I don't hate Marceau,” 

Ko Hun said, recalling when he saw Henry Marceau standing up on the pedestal. 

“At first, I thought you were crazy.” 

“What?” 

“Listen,” 

Ko Hun continued, appeasing Henry. 

"But it turns out you're really a hard-working person. When I saw [Marceau's jewel], I understood that it was more beautiful because you're so serious about art. I don't hate that kind of person." 

Ko Hun took out his true feelings. 

Ko Hun felt that Henry Marceau seemed a little crazy, but he knew that most Artists are like that. 

It may be because of the psychological pressure that comes from doing art, so everyone was broken somewhere. 

Ko Hun himself was the same. 

He couldn't understand Henry Marceau, but he didn't hate him. 

“I like your works. The 766th self-portrait and the [shadow] you displayed this time were very impressive. I felt jealous.” 

“You… jealous of me?”

Henry Marceau doubted his ears. 

He couldn't believe that someone who gave him an inferiority complex envied him. 

"Yes," 

Ko Hun nodded. 

"I'm not a genius like you. I don't have skills, I don't know anything about Jung's psychology. I didn't have time." 

Ko Hun was truly envious of Henry Marceau and contemporary artists. 

Born and raised in this era, they naturally shared the knowledge and emotions enjoyed in the 21st century. 

Even the changes in Art that have continued from before were acquired with that knowledge. 

But Ko Hun didn't have that time. 

He thought he could work much harder than them to get to the same starting line. 

But a year was too short for that. 

Meanwhile, for Henry Marceau, it sounded as if Ko Hun was saying that he had not been able to study as much as the time spent by established Artists because he was still young. 

He can't believe it would be upsetting. 

It was an unexpected thought for Henry Marceau, although he was angry at the difference in natural talent. 

Strictly speaking, the difference was definitely the difference in how much longer they lived. 

"However," 

Ko Hun opened his mouth. 

"I don't think it's unfair. It's knowledge, I can fill it up as I can learn it." 

Henry Marceau stared at the young genius who looked directly at him and said it.

The kid, who, how much he tried to scare, never budged. 

"I'm really jealous of your skills – the skills that you've earned from your hard work. But one day I'll definitely paint a great picture like you." 

Ko Hun finished. 

Henry Marceau's head was complicated. 

He was disturbed by the words that Ko Hun was envious of him and that he would catch up to his skills one day. 

After a long pause, Henry Marceau opened his mouth. 

“My first……” 

It was a very low voice. 

"Fame as an artist came when I exhibited my work by buying all the billboards at Paris Station," 

Ko Hun tilted his head. 

"I did it out of anger because no one recognized me. It cost me about 4 million euros to maintain it for a month?" 

Henry Marceau raised his eyes. 

"I'm not a genius." 

Henry Marceau expressed his pains to someone for the first time. 

"I wanted to find me. I wanted to be recognized for who I am. So I painted without rest like a machine, and chiseled until my palms became hard." 

Ko Hun calmly listened to Henry Marceau. 

“People said whatever they wanted. They said I was playing with money like a fool. They said I was an attention seeker. They said even a dog would become famous if it got promoted like that.” 

Henry Marceau's voice was calmer than ever. 

" But it never mattered. It wasn't enough to stop me from pouring out everything I had and felt. If I stopped because of those remarks, I felt like I couldn't be who I am." 

The property handed over by his parents was so much that no one could ever dream of. 

He was able to do Artistic activities much more comfortably than others, and he did not hesitate to use the only ‘talent' given to him. 

He poured out everything he could to be recognized as an artist, 

"But you appeared." 

Henry Marceau's voice was somewhat rising. 

"As you said, you moved me with a brush you held for less than a year. Right now, you’re in the biggest exhibition in the world alongside my painting." 

"That's because of you." 

"…." 

"Thank you very much. I wanted to say it early, but I couldn’t. And when did you buy [Guest]? Ah….Was it Marceau who wore the mask at the auction? I think Pierre Malo was the one who made the frame………..Oh, I'm sorry. Go on." 

Henry Marceau exhaled for a while to calm himself. 

Henry, who closed his eyes and organized his thoughts, continued. 

"I don't believe in talent. Nothing can be achieved in the Art world without putting everything you got – time, effort, money, and even health. Even after putting in all this, many couldn’t achieve what they wanted. But you're denying all that." 

“When did I?” 

“Your existence itself is.” 

Henry Marceau's eyes lit up. 

“I have to check it out myself – How do you draw a picture? What do you think and what process do you go through before painting a picture? I have to check it with my own two eyes”

Henry Marceau stood up. 

"Only then will it prove that I'm not wrong." 

⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩

While the production crew obtained permission to film from the British government, I was scheduled to briefly visit Germany. 

This is to proceed with the contract with paint manufacturer Schmincke. 

"Why did you come in late yesterday?" 

Grandpa questioned me on the plane about what happened yesterday. 

"It wasn't a big deal." 

"Do you know how worried grandpa was? Nolan said the meeting was over an hour ago, but I couldn't get in touch with you." 

"……I talked to Henry Marceau." 

"What? Why with him?" 

"Just." 

Looking at grandpa's expression, I couldn't hide it any longer, so I told him what happened yesterday, and when I told him that we were envious of each other, he turned his head slightly.

“Is that all?” 

“Yes.” 

Grandpa leaned on his back, apparently relieved. 

"I didn't expect there would be such a side to him, since he was so narcissistic." 

Neither did I.

The clearer you know what you lack, the more you try to perfect it. 

I think maybe Henry was the same. 

“Did you guys make up then?”

“No.” 

Somehow it's gotten more awkward since yesterday. 

When I ran into him for a second this morning, I avoided looking at him without realizing it. 

In the future, we will often face each other while working on movies, but I don't know how to treat him.

While I was struggling to find an answer, we arrived in a large city called Düsseldorf, where Schmincke's headquarters was located. 

Robert Meyer, an acquaintance of Uncle Bang, welcomed us warmly.

(To be Continued)

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