Chapter 138 (1) - The Mysterious Art Museum

Chapter 138 (1) - The Mysterious Art Museum

Inside the car heading to Milan Airport, two weeks later.

With a face full of disappointment, Monica grips my hand tightly and says,

"Call me often, okay?"

"Ha ha, Monica. It's not like we're saying goodbye forever, why are you like this?"

"Still, thinking that I won't see you for a long time makes me sad."

"Ha ha, you're something else, Monica."

Thinking about it, it's already been four years since I first met Monica. A connection that started in Korea and continued even in Italy.

Come to think of it, my relationship with this person is not an ordinary one.

With worried eyes, Monica asks,

"Are you sure you don't need a bodyguard?"

"I'm fine."

"It's close to France here. I can send the company's bodyguards on a business trip."

"Ah, I can't trouble you for a personal trip."

"You absolutely must not show your face in crowded places, Ban. It might be better than Italy, but you never know."

"Who would recognize me in a rural village?"

"The countryside should be okay, but you have to wear a mask when you're at the airport. You got it?"

"Got it, ha ha."

After a lengthy nagging like an older sister, Monica hands me a thick envelope.

"Here."

"What's this?"

"Stock certificates. Made out to Artist Company as you requested. Dividends will be deposited to the company during the stock option exercise period."

"Ah, thanks."

"And I sent a gift to Korea for you."

"A gift?"

Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport.

Wearing sunglasses, I drag my suitcase toward the taxi stand.

Compared to Southern Italy, where it was rare to see Asians, here, with a higher proportion of Asian pedestrians, no one pays attention to me.

'I was so surprised when the flight attendant recognized me on the plane.'

Monica had booked me a first-class ticket.

Just to be safe, she chose a French airline over an Italian one. When a French flight attendant recognized me and greeted me, I realized that even the French knew who I was and thought I should be more careful. But once I got off, no one paid me any attention.

Even when I cautiously took off my sunglasses, the same was true.

I hesitated to take off my hat but removed my mask.

As I walked to the taxi stand, I met the eyes of dozens of people, but no one showed any interest.

'That's right!'

This is it. Ah, who knew people's indifference could be so joyful.

I put my mask and sunglasses in my bag, pressed my hat down, hopped into a taxi, and headed to my destination.

The taxi driver didn't speak any English, allowing me to watch the scenery outside the window in peace.

My destination is Auvers-sur-Oise.

Where is that, you ask?

People involved in the art industry might know, but it's likely an unfamiliar destination for the general public. The reason being, it's a rural village with almost no historical landmarks or attractions. But why am I going there?

"It's where Vincent van Gogh spent his last 70 days and ultimately passed away."

I'm on my way to see the final footsteps of the artist I respect the most in my life.

When speaking of Van Gogh, his brother Theo cannot be omitted.

Their graves are also in this village.

About 27 kilometers north of Paris.

Like in my country, just a short distance from the capital in Europe, one can find a countryside setting.

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