CH6

Only two or three people could pass through the narrow alley on the set. There, A shoved Ara forward telling her to escape alone, as he had already been stabbed in the lower abdomen during the first fight, so he couldn't keep running. He knew that they were going to get caught eventually if this continued. Rather than saying that he was going to sacrifice himself, it was more accurate to say that he felt that since they had already made it so far if neither of them survived, they would have died in vain.

"Why are you doing this?" Ara asked.

Some characters would always cause inconveniences in such a manner, even when they were in the midst of an escape. It might be frustrating for the viewers, but there was a need to unravel the role's current psychological state through this manner, which facial expressions alone could not convey. It was an inevitable scene, as it was a means used to tell the story.

"Because you have to live," A replied.

"Why?"

"Goddamnit, why are you trying to pry even though you already know the answer?!"

A could not give Ara the answer she wanted. Instead, he grabbed the back of Ara's head with his blood-stained hands and kissed her hard. That was their third kissing scene. The unexpected chemistry between A and Ara, led to the third of their kissing scenes, which had been gradually increasing in number. As a result, A's role went from a minor character, a loan shark, to a supporting male character, or possibly a second male lead.

Although it was not entirely accurate to call him the second male lead in terms of his total screen time alone, Director Moon argued that the most important thing was content and not screen time.

"I don't know if you actually committed murder or not, but today—! You killed me. I died because of you, which means that you killed me. So, you can't go to heaven. There isn't a heaven that will accept a murderer, so let's meet again in hell." Looking at Ara's shocked face and teary eyes, A smiled tenderly at her with his eyes. There was no sweeter goodbye than this.

In the hope she would crumble and suffer for the rest of her life, A continued to taunt her. "Don't think by any chance that you can be relieved about not having to see my face until you die. I'll become an evil spirit and stay by your side. I'll meet you every night in your nightmares, so regardless of how hard you try, you can't get away from me. Don't tell me you think we're parting ways here?"

A smiled languidly as he gently wiped the tears beneath Ara's eyes with his blood-stained thumb. Tears rolled down Ara's cheeks as she took a couple of steps back from A, who could die happy just by imagining it.

"Until the very end, I…"

"I will always be with you. If you don't want to go to hell with me today, you'll have to hurry."

They could hear footsteps coming from the other side of the alley. Ara finally came to her senses. She bit her lower lip and looked at A before taking a step backward. One step. Two steps. Ultimately, his former subordinates approached A from the back, as A watched Ara turn around and run away.

"This girl didn't even look back once, huh." Harsh. A's whisper whistled through the narrow alley in the chilly evening night.

"Let's finish this quickly." For the first time today, a bright smile appeared on A's face as he beckoned to a dozen of the subordinates who had been chasing him. "I'm going to be pretty busy if I start visiting you tonight," he said.

His statement about wanting to become an evil spirit who would visit her was not a metaphor or a lie to ease somebody's guilt. He sincerely meant it. It had only been less than a minute since they parted, but he was already missing her.

Even though it was a brawl, only two people could fight A at a time in the narrow alley. There was no other way for them as A was blocking the alley — the only shortcut to the main road. Therefore, they had no choice but to get past him. The blood flowing from his lower abdomen painted A's upper body red, and his movements had become a lot slower compared to their first fight. Nonetheless, he was still smiling brightly.

He grabbed the arm of a man who was striking at him from the side and twisted it, before kicking another man in the stomach and throwing the first man back into the group. He climbed on top of his retreating subordinates, as if falling backward, and grabbed a wooden stick that somebody was holding. Wielding a wooden stick instead of a sword, his movements made him look like a warrior from a world of martial arts.

His movements were so beautiful that it was hard to imagine a man like that had decided to become an evil spirit, in the hopes of tormenting the woman he loved. At this moment in time, the heart of a malignant person, hiding behind the noble act of protecting a woman he loved, became less important.

At some point, A's body gradually gave way and collapsed as he ended up taking more blows than he dealt. There were only four men left to move past A, who had dropped to his knees and was slowly drifting to the side. With his face touching the ground, A could see the subordinates who were already dead or had lost consciousness in his line of vision, but it did not make him feel any excitement.

Even though they were his subordinates and coworkers, their relationship allowed them to stab each other in the back at any time. He had known that he would die on the streets someday, so his death did not bring about much emotion. It was not sad or scary at all; he felt indifferent about it as if he were going to sleep like he did every night. In the midst of this, he was feeling uneasy because of one person's face.

"Do you… even know my name…?" A murmured.

Of course, she did not. He had never told her. That was how he had placed another burden on her. The kind-natured woman would be increasingly tormented by feeling the same guilt over and over again. Wishing she would spend her whole life in despair like that, A died peacefully as his eyes remained wide open.

***

As Woo-Jin waited for the cut signal, it seemed as though he had been dead for quite some time. He did not move his fingers and even stopped thinking about anything entirely; it was as if he had really died. Hence, even after the director finally gave the cut signal, Woo-Jin still could not escape from the clutches of A's death.

"A, it's not the time for you to die yet!" Director Moon cried.

As though he had been struck by lightning, the moment he heard Director Moon yelling at him, Woo-Jin shuddered and got up. Only then did he start to see the outlines of people within his blurry vision. On one side, there were people who were sniffling and crying, while others had their mouths open while staring blankly as if possessed.

The set was shrouded in a quiet and gloomy atmosphere, and Director Moon was the only one whose eyes were gleaming. "You know there are still a few outdoor scenes left, right?" he asked.

"Ah, yes!" Woo-Jin replied.

There was still a scene of them looking for Ara before she was caught by the loan sharks, as well as a scene where she got caught but was intentionally released. Those scenes were going to be shot outdoors, so the director was planning to shoot them all at once tomorrow. Or rather, today.

"So you have to remove yourself from A's death now and turn into the cold-blooded A who will be chasing Ara down once again. It's 3 a.m. right now, so get a good few hours of sleep. Jin-Hwa, come here and take care of our dear Woo-Jin's skin. We'll be shooting in the sun in a few hours, so his skin needs to be soft and smooth!"

Hearing Director Moon called him by name in such a friendly manner for the first time, Woo-Jin was startled for a moment.

Meanwhile, the makeup artist approached Woo-Jin before pulling him aside, saying, "Please don't worry, Director Moon! I'll turn this tired-looking skin into the skin of a newborn baby." The blood and bruises covering Woo-Jin's tired face were immediately wiped off cleanly by the professional.

"The highlight of the movie is finally out today."

The cinematographer looked at the scene they had just shot once again and smiled widely, feeling pleased. It had been a while since the scene that was originally chosen as the highlight had been reduced to a dull and uninspiring one due to Park Min. It seemed like only yesterday that he had cried about not being able to even use it in the trailer... To think a day like today had finally come.

"Our movie is no longer a movie full of trailers!" the cinematographer exclaimed. Death Hill, a movie he had once considered to be a failure, one that would be stigmatized and reflected in his filmography, was slowly starting to shine.

"When did Park Min say he was coming?" Director Moon asked.

The assistant director answered Director Moon's question glumly, "Tomorrow in the morning."

"Ha…"

Yesterday and today felt like a dream—the ambiance on set was good for the first time in a long while. Above all, there was a scene he wanted to shoot again. However, today's schedule was too tight. If only they had one more day… just one more day.

"Director!" A staff member appeared with the assistant director's phone in his hand and called out to him, sounding very excited.

The crew was not allowed to have their phones with them when filming was in progress. However, there were times when they would receive urgent calls, so all phones would be gathered and taken care of by an assigned staff member. This was because they had to pick up calls from people in the film industry and deliver their messages. Just today, the person in charge of the phones received a call from the assistant director. His eyes, which had been hollow throughout the entire unreasonable shooting schedule, strangely lit up.

"It's been canceled," said the staff member.

"What has been canceled?" Director Moon asked.

"Park Min's flight! It's been canceled due to fog, but according to the weather forecast, the fog warning will go on for more than a day. His manager called earlier, saying that he would return to Korea two days later than expected due to the flight cancelations and delays."

"Two days?"

"Yes! At least two days!"

Upon hearing the staff member's words, Director Moon's face started twitching strangely. Initially, he could not understand what the staff member was saying, but gradually realized what he meant. He suddenly stood up from his chair and looked around. In the corner of the set, Chae Woo-Jin, whose makeup had been removed and replaced with a sheet mask, was lying down on a long armchair.

As soon as Director Moon found Woo-Jin, he ran up and grabbed both of the latter's hands. He yelled, "Woo-Jin! Let's retake the scene we had shot previously!"

"I'm sorry?" Woo-Jin removed the mask on his face and started blinking rapidly. As he had fallen asleep within a short period of time, for a moment, Woo-Jin did not understand what the director was telling him.

"The scene that was shot a month ago. Let's do it again! The A at that time was a little inexperienced, unlike now. That A is not our A. Our A is a little lewder, a little crazier, and is filled with a little more pure love!"

In truth, Director Moon had been depressed all day because of this. The more Woo-Jin acted as the new A, the more regretful he was about the scenes they had shot before, as they paled in comparison. He even wanted to cry as he wrote new lines in his head and created continuity with different structures. Every time there was a break, he would lament about how he had the perfect actor and script, and asked himself why he could not shoot it. However, he had not known that the heavens really existed, and he had not known that his wish would be granted like this.

"Um… director?" Woo-Jin asked.

"I'll add in another kissing scene. It's going to be a perfect retake of a lover on the verge of going insane!" Director Moon exclaimed.

"I…"

"Ara will definitely agree to this, so don't worry about it!"

"That wasn't what I was worried about."

"Our staff members are perfectly prepared, so you just have to stand in front of the camera!"

Woo-Jin smiled awkwardly as he looked at Director Moon, who had not spoken this many words to him since the first time they met.

"What's wrong? Is there something you'd like to say?" Director Moon asked.

"About that…"

"If you have something to say, just be candid with me."

While Director Moon was holding Woo-Jin's hands tightly and smiling, appearing as if to say that he was very magnanimous, Woo-Jin said courageously, "I have to tutor someone tomorrow in the afternoon."

"..."

The set became entirely silent the moment everyone heard Woo-Jin's bright voice. They glared at him. The look in their eyes was close to resentment.

Unable to withstand the desperate gaze in front of him, Woo-Jin sighed quietly and gave them peace of mind. "I was thinking… of telling them I can't make it this week."

Finally, peace came over them.

TL/n - 

Jo Soo-deok couldn't believe his ears.

"Forming a team?"

(It's preferable to find another appraisal team, but if that's not possible, we'll have to create one.)

"You mean… forming a team to massage the results in our favor…"

(Of course not.)

"Right? Phew, what kind of person did I think our boss is? I've become jaded by the ways of the world, hence my unnecessary worries…"

(A fair and scientific appraisal is enough.)

Fairness is a given.

'Scientific…'

As if reading Jo Soo-deok's thoughts, Park Ji-hoon continued.

(Watching the Oxford appraisal team made me question things. How can a professor's word singlehandedly decide all results? That's more like an opinion than an appraisal, isn't it?)

"You mean objective facts are more important than subjective evaluations, and the tool for objectivity is science."

(Exactly.)

As Jo Soo-deok quietly stroked his chin, Park Ji-hoon went on.

(It's a bit strange that a da Vinci researcher can authenticate a work just based on their authority, without scientific evidence.)

"That's true. Appraisals relying on authority is indeed a fact."

(But even that authority is questionable.)

"Pardon?"

(There are less than 20 oil paintings attributed to da Vinci. And no recent discoveries. So, even experts… how many chances would they have had to appraise genuine works?)

Da Vinci was from the 1400s.

The possibility of discovering an unpublished work is extremely low for an artist like him.

Even an Oxford professor would rarely have the opportunity to appraise a genuine piece.

"My guess is this was probably their first time."

(And yet they finish the appraisal after looking through a microscope a few times?)

"I completely agree with you, but…"

(…?)

"Even if we find another appraisal team, it'll be similar. The appraisal methods will likely be more critical than scientific. It won't be much different from the Oxford team."

(That's fine. We'll create our own team.)

"You mean forming a scientifically-based appraisal team?"

(Yes.)

"That team… I assume… I'll have to form it?"

(Of course.)

"Just to remind you, I'm just an art professor…"

(You should say it correctly. The most well-connected art professor in academia!)

"Hmm, well, as you say, I do have some connections in the natural sciences…"

(That's perfect then.)

"Hmm."

At this point, Jo Soo-deok had a reasonable suspicion.

'Emphasizing science so suddenly… does he already have a suitable candidate in mind?'

But due to his straightforward nature, he didn't voice his thoughts.

Just do what you're told!

Alright, let's do the work well.

Questions will naturally be answered.

"Understood, boss. I'll finalize the contract and return immediately."

(I'll count on you.)

The call ended there.

***

Meanwhile.

Martin was pacing in front of the professor's office.

'Although it seems similar to existing da Vinci works, there are subtle stylistic differences.'

The professor's evaluation lingered in his mind.

The Oxford Art History Department's appraisal team.

Especially when it comes to da Vinci, it was undoubtedly the most authoritative institution.

That's why he enrolled in Oxford's graduate program.

But after joining the appraisal team, Martin's concerns deepened.

The professor's appraisal method was too unilateral.

Unlike the professor, who considered himself an artist, Martin was a typical scientist.

From winning the Science Olympiad in his youth to sweeping awards in MIT's physics department.

Naturally, his mind was set in scientific thinking.

How can they just conclude the appraisal by mentioning 'stylistic differences'?

Martin couldn't stand this situation.

That's why he had dragged himself to the professor's office.

"Hmm."

He couldn't bring himself to knock on the door.

Perhaps it's the difference between the US and the UK.

Oxford had a clear hierarchy.

Questioning a professor's words was almost taboo.

Meanwhile, at MIT, students argued with professors constantly.

Even if a Nobel laureate made a mistake in today's numbers, it would be immediately pointed out.

So, who cares about authority?

In the colosseum created by mathematics, everyone must fight equally.

In contrast.

'Why is art like this?'

Instead of different opinions clashing…

Everyone crawls under the massive authority.

Challenging the system would result in being ostracized among students.

'Should I just endure this?'

As Martin hesitated in front of the tightly closed door.

Click.

The doorknob turned from inside.

Startled, he quickly turned toward the hallway.

"What are you doing here?"

A familiar voice stopped him.

"A-Assistant?"

"I came for a quick approval."

Clearly a lie.

He was probably returning after delivering the professor's bag.

"What brings you here?"

"Uh, well…"

"Do you need to see the professor?"

"..."

"Martin."

"Yes."

"Didn't I tell you not to approach the professor directly? If you have something to say, relay it through me."

"I'm sorry."

The assistant's stern gaze made Martin bow his head automatically.

Satisfied with this reaction, the assistant spoke in a slightly softer tone.

"Tell me. I'll pass it on."

"No, it's fine."

"What is it?"

"Um…"

"Speak up."

"It's about the appraisal…"

"What about the appraisal?"

The tone turned harsh again.

Martin considered remaining silent, but he squeezed out his remaining courage.

"My opinion is…"

"Why is your opinion needed?"

"Pardon?"

"The appraisal is the professor's job. Why is your opinion needed?"

"But for a more accurate judgment…"

"You should step aside."

"...?"

"For an accurate judgment, someone like you should step aside."

Ha!

If the assistant wouldn't listen to a word, what about the professor?

Martin decided to keep his mouth shut.

Or rather, he closed his heart.

'So pointless.'

Did I come to the UK for this?

Leonardo da Vinci, the greatest genius in human history.

The role model who perfectly fused art and science.

Wanting to know more about him, he came to Oxford.

'Damn it.'

Art, science… Here, it was all about politics.

Martin turned away without a word.

He walked down the long hallway, his steps heavy.

He vaguely heard the assistant shouting behind him, but he didn't care.

Walking with his hands in his pockets, something touched his right hand.

'How should I live now?'

Distracted, he checked his pocket out of habit.

Hmm?

He found a small note with a phone number.

Below the number, the hotel name was written.

And below that, a crooked sentence.

'From Art to Science.'

As he stood there, he looked at the note.

'From Art to Science.'

Then he stood still, staring at it for a while.

As if smiling at the sunlight that finally broke after the monsoon.

***

Hotel, Park Ji-hoon's room.

Riiing!

The phone rang, and I hurriedly picked up the receiver.

Martin's face came to mind.

Wait.

If he speaks in English… how should I respond?

Suppressing my unease, I answered the phone.

"Yes, this is Park Ji-hoon."

But the voice that came through was fluent Korean.

(Boss, it's the assistant.)

"Yes, assistant."

(Sorry to call so late.)

"No, no. Go ahead."

(It's about the German appraisal team. They've reached a conclusion.)

They said it would take quite a while.

Is it possible this time too?

My eyes narrowed as I looked at the reflection in the window.

(It's confirmed to be authentic.)

"You said it would take a week? How did the appraisal period shorten so much?"

(Well, the handwriting was clear, making it easier. While lines can be imitated, the precise touches at the end are hard to replicate. Moreover…)

"...?"

(While it's difficult to appraise layered oil paintings, this is a single drawing, making it relatively easy to confirm.)

"So it's definite?"

(Yes, it is.)

Whew.

I knew the result, but…

Perhaps because of the da Vinci matter, hearing it's authentic felt strangely good.

"You've done well. I'll come over early in the morning."

(You've worked hard too, boss.)

"I didn't do much. It's thanks to the staff who worked hard to find the painting."

Oh, words aren't enough.

"Of course, bonuses will be given. It'll be a surprising amount, so look forward to it."

(I'll serve you for life!)

Just like Jo Soo-deok's student, such flattery!

As I was about to end the call.

"By the way, has anyone contacted or visited from the Oxford appraisal team?"

(No, nothing happened while I was here, but I'll check again.)

"No, that's not necessary…"

(Just in case. I'll ask the juniors and get back to you.)

I felt there was no need but agreed and put down the receiver.

Riiing!

What's this?

How could they have checked so quickly?

I answered the phone, surprised.

"Yes, assistant."

But then.

(Hello.)

An unexpected voice came through.

***

Since phone conversations were difficult, we met at the school lab.

So, a graduate student had to stay late to help with translation.

I sat down with the interpreter, and Martin sat across from us.

Martin was dressed similarly to before.

His red checkered shirt had turned green.

Oh!

Wearing glasses now, he fully completed the nerd look.

"Thank you for contacting me."

As I bowed my head, Martin waved his hand.

"I'm just a graduate student… but you asked for my opinion. I appreciated that. So I contacted you. I didn't expect to meet so soon."

"Is it uncomfortable?"

"No. It's not that. I was just surprised."

Martin scratched his head, embarrassed.

We exchanged light conversation to ease the awkwardness.

But ultimately, the conversation had a destination.

"You want to know my opinion on whether it's genuine?"

"Yes."

"To put it simply, I think it's impossible to know."

"Impossible to know?"

Martin nodded emphatically at my question.

TL/n - 

You can read

[

Chaebol up to Chapter 55+

An Investor Who Sees Future up to Chapter 53+ 

Hollywood Actor up to Chapter 53+

Perfect Hero up to Chapter 56+

Devil's Idol up to Chapter 17+

Soar to Stardom up to Chapter 25+

]

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