Van Gogh Reborn!

Chapter 299:

299

The Final Showdown (4)

I was so exhausted from pushing myself physically and mentally that I felt sleepy as soon as I took a warm shower.

Normally, I would have been fine with an hour or two of rest, but I ended up sleeping for ten hours in the recovery capsule.

I pressed the bell to call for Arsene.

“Did you find him?”

“What time is it?”

“It’s about six o’clock.”

“Damn it.”

I remembered the people who nagged me to take a break in the morning.

“Michel and the kid.”

“They cut down a tree in the morning and decorated the reception room.”

“What?”

"It’s Christmas, isn’t it?"1)

Arsene smiled brightly.

Michel and Ko Hun had cut down a fir tree from the grounds of the Marso mansion and created a Christmas atmosphere for me, who had been secluded in my work lately.

In the afternoon, Blanche Fabre and Vida Rabanica, members of the Chocolatier, came to help.

Arsene was overjoyed to see that I, who had spent every Christmas alone, had made some friends.

“What a waste of time.”

I got up.

“Why don’t you enjoy yourself today?”

“I’m not interested.”

“Ko Hun and Mr. Platini went to Strasbourg.”

Strasbourg was a region that had been running a Christmas market since 1570.

It was called the capital of Christmas for its variety of related products.

“Haven’t you ever had a proper celebration? Mr. Platini seemed a bit disappointed all this time, so why don’t you spend some time with him today?”

It was rare for Arsene to keep persuading me.

He knew my personality well and focused on delivering information, not trying to convince me.

He sincerely wished that I would spend some time with the people I loved, so he made an exception this time.

As Arsene kept urging me in an unusual way, I moved my feet with annoyance.

When I opened the door to the reception room, it was dark.

As I looked around with a frown, the small lights that wrapped around the Christmas tree started to light up.

The children were smiling under the quiet glow.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah. I’ve never made anything like this before.”

“Your sock is crooked.”

Ko Hun, Blanche Fabre, and Vida Rabanica rearranged the tree with their artistic sense.

“Are you here?”

Michel Platini came up to me with a grin.

“It’s dark.”

“It won’t show the lights if it’s too bright.”

I scanned the reception room with displeasure.

The huge Christmas tree had socks, candy canes, stars, angels, bells, and lights hanging all over it.

Underneath, there were several gift boxes wrapped in red ribbon, and the children were putting a wooden doll on the shelf.

“Henri.”

Ko Hun waved at me.

“Here, take it.”

“What is it?”

“It’s baby Jesus. You just have to put it in the middle later.”

Ko Hun handed me a wooden doll and said.

“What is this?”

"Don’t you know what a creche is?"2)

I knew, but I had never experienced it.

Ko Hun, Michel, and Arsene all looked at me expectantly, and I hesitantly tried to put the baby Jesus doll in the middle.

“No, you can’t. You have to put it at midnight.”

Blanche Fabre scolded me.

“What?”

“There’s a day for putting the doll. Baby Jesus is on Christmas Eve at midnight.”

I held up the baby Jesus doll with a disgruntled look.

"Merry Christmas, Henri Marso."3)

“Merry Christmas.”

Michel and the children greeted me with bright smiles.

“Oh my, how lovely.”

Sherry Gado, who had prepared the dinner, came looking for the drawing room.

The children, who had experienced Sherry Gado’s cooking skills, hurried to the dining room with Michel, leaving only Henri Marso behind, looking uneasy.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you hungry?”

Sherry Gado urged Henri.

He was hungry, but Henri Marso couldn’t bring himself to move.

The noisy children left and the quiet night came.

Henri Marso was captivated by an unknown feeling and sat by the window in the drawing room.

He hated loud, messy, and noisy things, but strangely enough, it wasn’t a bad evening.

Michel came over and handed him a warm tea.

“Did you have fun?”

Henri didn’t answer.

He was confused.

He felt like he was wavering, who had been firm in everything until now.

He felt strange to accept the dinner with the noisy children and to be so relaxed even though he couldn’t produce any work.

“Are you stuck?”

Michel asked after taking a sip of tea. His voice was plain, without any worry or concern.

Henri put down his teacup and looked out the window for a while.

Michel didn’t rush him and sat by the window with him.

After a while.

Henri finally opened his mouth.

“It’s weird.”

“What is?”

“The kid calling me casually. The white-haired and the big-headed ones writing me letters.”

Michel smiled brightly.

“Do you hate getting closer?”

“…I don’t know.”

Henri Marso was facing a wall he had never experienced before.

The theme of the Venice Biennale, ‘Between’, was a very unfamiliar concept to him.

He had only thought about who he was, what he liked and disliked, where he was and where he wanted to go.

He couldn’t make any work as someone who had never thought deeply about his relationship with others.

In the meantime, his relationship with Ko Hun suddenly progressed and he received respect and love from the students of Henri IV Middle School and High School.

The white-haired and the big-headed ones, who were members of Chocolatier, treated him friendly and the French artists who joined the Venice Biennale joint exhibition hall also approached him with kindness.

It was a strange environment for Henri Marso.

Since he was young, those who came to him had the purpose of his wealth.

When he grew up, they only belittled and ridiculed Henri Marso’s work as being low-level.

He had to fight lonely battles with those who always had to fight and win.

He had fans, but he couldn’t share human relationships with them, so Henri Marso’s world was confined to his mansion.

Even the dozens of employees were business relationships, so the only people he truly exchanged his heart with were his nanny Sherry Gado and Michel Platini.

People started to appear in his narrow world.

He didn’t want to let anyone in, but a boy broke in and through that gap, many people were coming in.

He couldn’t define his relationship with others clearly because of that strange and weird experience.

And that was why the genius Henri Marso couldn’t take a single step for weeks.

It wasn’t easy to put someone else on the canvas that he had only drawn self-portraits.

It was different from drawing himself as the center, like he did in the Art Nouveau contest with .

“You shouldn’t think too hard.”

Michel opened his mouth.

“You’ve already drawn it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Shadow.”

It was his Whitney Biennale entry.

He had drawn Ko Hun’s , , and in the huge emerald eyes.

“You looked different. I could feel your desire to surpass Ko Hun.”

“…”

“Until then, you sometimes seemed inhuman.”

Henri opened his eyes wide and Michel chuckled.

“Do you really need to define it? Just think of it as having more friends.”

“He and I are not friends.”

“Then what?”

He was complicated.

He couldn’t call him a rival, because he was different from those who had blocked his way until now.

“To me, you two are the best of friends.”

“No, we’re not.”

“What do you think a friend is?”

Henri narrowed his eyes at Michelle’s question. It was a concept he had never thought about.

He was an artist that the whole world admired, but his social skills were barely at the level of a toddler.

He was too brilliant.

He was too special.

He thought and saw things differently and far ahead of others, so he couldn’t fit in.

Cheri Gado embraced him with love, and he fought and understood each other with Michelle Platini, but he never met anyone who could talk to him at the same eye level.

That’s when a genius who resembled him so much appeared.

Ko Hun was the only one who thought and acted at a similar level.

He didn’t know what a friend was, but he couldn’t define it with such a common word.

“Anyway, no.”

“I think you are. You two are the best of friends.”

“…….”

“Did Ko Hun not open his gift?”

Henri Marso looked at the big box that Ko Hun had given him.

“He probably filled it with chocolates.”

“Open it.”

Michelle urged him, and he reluctantly got up and opened the box.

There was something that looked like a frame sticking out of the cushioning material.

It was a painting that Ko Hun had given him as a gift, who had said he had no work to exhibit and didn’t sell or give away his paintings a few weeks ago.

Henri Marso took out the frame and was speechless for a moment.

The maple leaves that seemed to capture the sunset glowed softly under the light.

“He said he painted it while preparing for the Venice Biennale.”

Henri Marso turned his head.

“Then why did he give it to me?”

“He said he painted 17 pieces, and that one was the best one besides the entry.”

Henri Marso looked at the postcard attached to the frame.

It had the title and a short message saying “Let’s get along well in the future.”

“137 years?”

Henri Marso asked Michelle for an answer, but she just shrugged.

“He said the title of his entry was 149,597,870.696 km. The distance between the sun and the earth.”

Henri Marso looked at again.

He felt a longing for the sunset and the maple leaves that resembled each other across the unimaginable distance.

He still couldn’t understand the title of 137 years, but he felt like he knew what Ko Hun’s relationship was.

“Where are you going?”

“The studio.”

Henri Marso put down and headed to the studio.

‘He must have thought of something.’

His steps were urgent and clear, and Michelle was able to smile with relief.

In France, it’s Noël.

Crèche. The nativity scene.

It’s a tradition that started in the late 18th century in the south of France, Provence, where they depict the birth of Jesus with clay figurines.

It’s usually a church event, and as time goes by, the figurines increase as the story progresses.

In France, it’s Joyeux Noël (zhwah-yuh noh-el).

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