Chapter 142 (1) - The Mysterious Art Museum

Chapter 142 (1) - The Mysterious Art Museum

The public opinion wasn't initially aggressive towards me. At first, these articles appeared:

"Omniscient Single Life, Chilly Recording Ends. Why?"

"Staff Leaks Unedited Video!"

"Artist Syndrome Strikes Yong-Han? Criticism of an Arrogant Artist"

"Gentleman Ban Jung-Hoon's Anger, But Why?"

"The Rift Between Yong-Han and Ban Jung-Hoon, Where's the Truth?"

I saw the leaked video. It wasn't edited; it was just as recorded.

I thought I had expressed my thoughts in a softened manner, so I wasn't too concerned.

Sung-Cheol was worried, but I reassured him it was fine since public opinion wasn't on Yong-Han's side.

Honestly, whether I was affected by 'artist syndrome' or not, I thought it was a trivial matter.

But that bastard insulted my teachers. Later, I thought I should have cursed him out more strongly.

However, public opinion, a frightening monster, suddenly changed its face.

On my one rest day per month, I lay in bed until two in the afternoon.

Our house is in a quiet area a bit away from Paju city center. In the morning, only the sounds of birds and insects gently ring in this peaceful place. But not that day.

I heard voices through the second-floor window.

I couldn't make out exactly what they were saying. Sometimes I heard mom's voice, so it seemed she was talking with the neighbors.

In a half-asleep state, not sure if it was a dream or reality, I suddenly felt the voices getting louder and got up with a disheveled face.

After rubbing my eyes for a while, I opened the window with a tired face.

I couldn't see outside the gate due to the surrounding walls, but I could hear clearer voices.

"My brother didn't do anything wrong! Your son is better, huh?"

I pulled mom roughly and yelled.

"What are you talking about! Go inside."

I pushed mom inside and then faced the still glaring women.

"What do you want?"

A mid-twenties woman with glasses stepped forward, hands on her hips.

"We're Yong-Han's fan club. Do you know how much trouble you've caused him?"

Hah, what is this? Not wanting to deal with it, I waved them off and said.

“I don’t know how you found my house, but if you keep causing a scene, I’ll call the police. Leave now.”

I slammed the door shut roughly. But Yong-Han's fans didn’t leave and lingered in front of the house. When I went out late at night, seeing no one around, I found red spray paint graffiti on the gate.

‘Artist's disease is your chronic illness, idiot.’

My teeth clenched in anger, but I grabbed a sponge and scrubbed the gate clean. I barely restrained myself from immediately calling the police.

Then the phone rang. I thought it was a telemarketing call and almost didn’t answer, but it was a mobile number, and they called three times in a row, so I answered while cleaning the gate.

"Hello?"

-Hello, is this the artist Ban Jeong-hoon?

"Yes, who is this?"

-This is Yong-Han.

"......"

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