CH4

An hour later. Hannam-dong, Chairman Park's study.

Under the amber light, Park Yong-hak put down his magnifying glass and asked.

"Did you think all those gallery folks were trying to curry favor with me, so you decided to choose a Western painting on your own?"

"...."

"Did you expect them to roll out the red carpet for your shopping convenience?"

"I'm sorry."

"It's only natural that money attracts thieves. Do you think avoiding them will solve the problem?"

"...."

"Look around the world. All you'll find are people after your money. What kind of business can you run by only associating with people you're comfortable with, avoiding those who desire your wealth?"

"I have no excuse, Father."

Park Yong-hak didn't even glance at the painting his daughter-in-law brought.

"Have you ever thought about why I'm building an art museum?"

"As the company grows, as a form of social contribution…"

"Do I look like someone who would think about giving back before earning money?"

Of course not.

"I find it wasteful to buy a pack of gum if it doesn't benefit Hyungang."

"...."

"Do you think I'd build an art museum to contribute to society?"

His sharp eyes suggested she had completely misunderstood.

"A businessman's greatest contribution is earning a lot of money, creating jobs, and paying taxes. Do I need to build an art museum with my money?"

By now, he could have sent her away, but Park Yong-hak still had more to say, as he reached for his tea.

While the tea lost its warmth, Chairman Park regained his composure.

"Do you want to know why I'm building an art museum?"

"Yes, Father."

"Technological advancement will eventually hit a plateau. Hyungang will catch up with Japan, but a time will come when China will challenge us."

"...!"

"When that stagnation hits and performance levels off, what will differentiate us? Of course, it will be design."

In the future, where technology is fundamental, design will be the premium.

That was how Park Yong-hak envisioned the 21st century.

"If I lay the groundwork, my son will innovate and bring our technology to the forefront. And by the time it reaches my grandson's generation…"

"...?"

"It will be necessary to establish the company's identity."

"D-design Hyungang."

"Yes, that's the future I envision for Hyungang."

Gulp.

While Song Soo-hee swallowed nervously, a smile formed on Park Yong-hak's lips.

It was as if to say he hadn't chosen an art major as his daughter-in-law for no reason.

In the end, she should learn a lot while planning the art museum and pass on that cultivated aesthetic sense to her grandchildren.

"Isn't it better for a mother to educate her children?"

"I understand what you mean."

"Good, now you may leave."

At Park Yong-hak's words, Song Soo-hee bowed her head and left.

***

Alone in his study, Park Yong-hak stared intently at the painting his daughter-in-law had brought.

A work by a university student, they had said.

Not bad, considering.

'With all my nagging, I forgot to ask how much she paid.'

He clicked his tongue in regret.

He slowly looked around the spot where Song Soo-hee had been.

Last night, he had subtly leaked word to the Insa-dong area.

Hyungang's daughter-in-law would be coming to look at items.

People would naturally line up to please her.

If she came back with a painting she liked, Park Yong-hak had planned to give her a lecture.

'I sent you to develop your eye, and you relied on my name to seek favors?'

That's about the extent of it.

It was also a kind of test, after all.

However.

Song Soo-hee had made an unexpected choice.

'Western painting, huh…'

He liked her honesty in not seeking favors, her resourcefulness in utilizing her area of expertise, and the results of her quick thinking.

Above all, considering it was an improvised solution…

"Hmm."

The piece in front of him wasn't bad.

Of course, he'd need to check how much she paid.

As Park Yong-hak was about to get up.

"...?"

An unexpected scene caught his attention.

One entire bookshelf on the left side of his desk was empty.

Like a thief had come in, one side of the wall was completely bare.

What on earth?

It's impossible that a thief had actually entered Park Yong-hak's mansion.

Even if one had, they wouldn't just steal books.

As he stared at the scene in bewilderment.

"...!"

He remembered what he had told his grandson during dinner.

-If you've read all the books in the living room, take the ones from my study. That should keep you occupied for a year.

'Could it be that the little one really took all those books?'

In disbelief, Park Yong-hak let out a small laugh.

"Ha!"

***

At the same time.

Scratch, scratch.

I was diligently writing my novel at my desk.

'I wish I had a typewriter.'

After writing so much that my hand ached, I turned to my reading stand to give my mind a break.

Writing novels, reading books, and enjoying art for a change of pace.

'This is paradise!'

I wondered how Song Soo-hee was doing.

Hopefully, she didn't get too scolded by Chairman Park.

'Hmm.'

Park Yong-hak's love for art is well known.

He often discovered promising artists and bought all their early works.

He must have taken quite an interest in Lee Yoon-ki's painting as well.

'Well, at least she avoided the worst outcome.'

Just as I was about to turn my attention back to my book.

I couldn't get the image of the painting out of my head.

<Yoo Sun-ho, 1st year, 'Spiral'>

Damn it, I can't even look it up!

I could only smack my lips in regret.

'It was such a wonderful piece.'

If I could earn money as an adult, the first thing I'd buy…

'No.'

There's no way the painting would still be available by then.

People have eyes too.

They'll recognize the artwork and snatch it up quickly!

Realizing this, I let out an involuntary groan.

Even as Hyungang's third-generation heir, I couldn't exactly polish my parents' shoes and whine, 'Buy me this painting.'

And saving up my allowance would take ages.

'Is there any way to get money?'

An 11-year-old shouldn't be pondering such questions, but my 35-year-old self came up with a decent plan.

'The New Year's Literary Contest.'

Yes, in my previous life, I won quite a bit of prize money and managed to get by for a few months!

Let's see.

'It's mid-November now… there's still time.'

The usual deadline for the New Year's Literary Contest submissions is early December.

And the 80s are the golden age of Korean literature, so the prize money should be substantial.

'This could work out well.'

There's no guarantee I'll win.

But still!

I was a promising writer who won the Young Writer's Award, Dongin Literary Award, and Yi Hyo-seok Literary Award one after another.

I should be able to manage the New Year's Literary Contest somehow.

Hmm.

If I'm really uncertain, I can write multiple pieces and submit them to different newspapers…

Yes, if I win the prize money… first, I'll get a typewriter!

And I'll make sure Yoo Sun-ho's 'Spiral' hangs in my room.

With a clear goal in mind.

'Let's write.'

I grabbed a long pencil with my small hand.

***

Time flew by.

During that period, I threw myself into my writing with mad dedication.

I quickly completed a short story and, just in case, a literary critique as well.

'I will win that prize money!'

Fueled by this single-minded determination, I stayed up late into the night.

In the end, I submitted my work to four different newspapers, regardless of their political leanings.

Two short stories, one poem, and finally, a critique.

I didn't realize how greedy I was.

'So what!'

Having struggled all my life, I wanted to be compensated in this life.

What's wrong with that?

'Even if it's wrong, I can't help it. I'll live my life as I please.'

While I focused on my 'economic activities,' I kept an ear out for news about Song Soo-hee.

Thanks to that, I heard some interesting tidbits.

She went to Insa-dong daily as per Chairman Park's orders.

She always brought back excellent antiques.

The surprising part!

She also brought back one Western painting every day, even without being told to.

Like some kind of buy-one-get-one-free deal…

Because of that, she had to work twice as hard.

Mornings in Insa-dong, afternoons touring art colleges around Seoul.

Is it persistence or stubbornness?

'She's amazing.'

As the number of works Song Soo-hee brought back piled up, the New Year's Literary Contest announcement date approached.

***

The New Year's Literary Contest winners are announced on the first day of the new year.

But for the newspaper, they usually contact the winners before Christmas for interviews and to invite them to the award ceremony.

'By now, I should have heard something.'

If I had a cell phone, I would have given them my number, but in this era, there are no pagers either. I had to list the house phone.

Because of that, I hovered near the phone every day, feeling anxious.

I couldn't answer the phone myself.

When a call came, the staff would first check the purpose and then connect it to the family.

'I can't even answer a call freely…'

Even being part of a chaebol family has its inconveniences!

A few days later.

One day, I had moved a sofa near the phone and was reading a book.

The last time I checked the clock, it was around 2 PM.

RRRR.

The phone rang loudly.

While the staff rushed to answer the call.

"...."

I put down my book and watched the receiver intently.

Is it not this time either?

Seeing the staff's stiff expression, I pouted.

The 1980s.

A golden age for talented writers in Korean literature.

'Oh, no matter what, can't I even debut?'

Although it lacked some mass appeal, I was confident in the artistic and aesthetic value!

'Could it be…'

Was my childish handwriting causing a bias?

Otherwise!

'How could a writer with several years of experience fail the New Year's Literary Contest!'

Sigh.

As various thoughts cluttered my mind.

"If you need to confirm something, you should contact the headquarters. Even if you're a businessman, there's privacy to consider. Calling the home phone without reason is inappropriate…"

Maybe because of the tense atmosphere.

The staff glanced at me.

They probably didn't want to use harsh words in front of the young master of a chaebol family.

"It's not for an interview? Should I believe that?"

Wait, is this conversation…?

"Excuse me."

The staff turned to me, covering the receiver to muffle the conversation.

"Yes, young master?"

"That call…"

"...?"

"Is it from a newspaper?"

"Yes, but…"

"Could they be looking for me?"

"For you, young master?"

"Please check. Quickly."

Though puzzled, the staff conveyed my words.

Then, looking shocked, he turned back to me.

"Young master, did you submit something to the New Year's Literary Contest?"

As soon as he finished speaking.

"Woo-hoo!"

I let out a loud cheer.