Portrait of a Grandson
Meanwhile, at the Hyeon-gang Art Museum, Chairman Park Yonghak stood a long while gazing at the painting on the wall.
When he had first seen it, the picture had possessed no name at all. The moment people grew certain it was a da Vinci, they fell over one another to christen it. Plain as the name was, it was the most honest and the most sure: Portrait of Duke Ludovico.
Park Yonghak liked it. This was a painting he wanted kept beside him for a long time, and perhaps that was why, the moment he faced it, thoughts of every kind came rising.
What if da Vinci had been a man of his own time? I would have commissioned a portrait, just as Duke Ludovico did. He would have given the man time enough that he never fled a deadline.
Ah—no. To own a da Vinci was joy enough. It doesn't have to be my face.
Hyeon-gang was Park Yonghak's very double. If the chance were truly given, he would borrow da Vinci's hand and set Hyeon-gang itself upon the canvas. The mere imagining seemed to please him. The corner of his mouth climbed in a wide, slow grin. Was it only that the long restoration was finished at last? Listen to me, thinking every fool thing under the sun.
Then, as if none of it had happened, he smoothed the look from his face and spoke.
"Uk-hwan. You there?"
A moment later, footsteps drew near.
"You called, Chairman?"
Even as the chief secretary bowed, Park Yonghak's gaze stayed fixed on the painting.
"Get those invitations out today."
"You're unveiling the work at last?"
"Aye. Bringing the important folk in and introducing it to them myself—that's only proper, isn't it?"
"I'll see to it at once."
"And you be sure to call Chairman Jeong over at Daebo Group. Mind you, the man can't tell a painting from a fence post. He'll stand there blank and go home, and what'll he have done besides?"
Perhaps it was the name of his old rival. A light came into Park Yonghak's eyes.
"Knows pictures or doesn't, we've still got to invite him. Haven't we?"
"We'll receive him with every courtesy."
A gathering that would fill with the great names of politics and business. There the da Vinci would be shown—and with it, the future of Hyeon-gang.
"Seoul National, Yonsei... They've been tearing about raising such a fuss, a few of them seem to know already."
"Sir?"
"It's nothing."
Park Yonghak waved him off, as if to say that was enough.
A few days later, in Yongin.
Park Yonghak's collection was kept in the basement of the Yongin Cultural Foundation, a place from which the public was strictly barred. Perhaps that was why Jo Sudeok's face was drawn so tight. He let out a long, shaky breath. He had come running the moment he was summoned, without so much as asking why. How many people have ever seen Chairman Park's collection with their own eyes?
His Adam's apple bobbed hard—and just then a man came striding toward him.
The man introduced himself as the chief secretary. Now that Jo looked, the face seemed familiar.
"The Chairman particularly asked me to assist you."
"Assist? Please, don't say such a thing."
The air between them was easy enough. Both men served a principal of their own; one glance, and they understood each other. Sure enough, Jo Sudeok opened his mouth before any explanation came.
"It's an unveiling of a da Vinci, and one painting hung up all by itself would look bare. So I'm to pull several works from the Chairman's collection and plan a special exhibition outright. That's the idea, isn't it?"
"Precisely."
"And since we'll be receiving distinguished guests, the pictures will have to be worthy of the occasion—and there ought to be a story running through them as well."
"You see it at a glance, so there's no need for me to explain. I think I understand why the young master is so fond of you, Professor."
"Oh, come now. If this is all I amount to, what must we say of the chief secretary who serves the Chairman himself?"
"Ha ha."
Warm as ever. But the joking did not last. The moment Jo Sudeok faced the paintings, the smile vanished clean off his face.
"Th-this... this is a Monet, isn't it?"
"Yes. The first work the Chairman ever set out to acquire."
He had seen Monets often enough. He had thought the painter thoroughly familiar.
…!
The picture before his eyes was something else entirely. Well, of course. That was why a man of Chairman Park's eye had chosen it.
He had taken only a few steps when familiar hands kept catching his eye.
"Chagall?"
"Yes."
"And this is Dalí, isn't it?"
"It is."
"Matisse?"
The chief secretary nodded, and nodded again.
Even this much would have ranked among the great collections of Asia. And yet.
"Pi... this is Picasso."
"Yes. The most expensive painting in the Chairman's collection. Ah—though now the da Vinci will be the dearest of them all."
Price was not the point. How many people alive owned a Picasso, and a large oil at that?
"An idea seems to be coming to you."
"Sorry?"
"About how to plan the exhibition. You look as if you've got the feel of it."
"Ah—yes. Of course I've got the feel of it."
The most extravagant ingredients in the world were spread out before him. Setting one table for lunch was nothing at all.
"If you'll draw up a list, Professor, we'll have everything prepared to match."
"Yes. Then I ought to call you by tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"
"Why drag it out? Better to knock it off while the words are still warm."
"Swift and decisive, as expected! There's a reason the young master favors—"
The praise ran on, but flattery that obvious never reached his ears. Just then Jo Sudeok's head was a tangle of excitement and joy.
An unpublished da Vinci, added to the Chairman's collection. The finishing touch—the eyes painted on the dragon. At this level, not only the Korean art world but the whole world would shake.
And every bit of it our Representative's doing. Heh.
He wanted to boast it loudly enough for every living soul to hear, but the Representative would probably stand a step back even on the day of the event. Well. He's the sort who would hand a company this large over to his brother.
No hand in the management whatsoever—only a plan to spend the money. For the sake of that grand, if one could call it grand, dream, Jo Sudeok had no intention of slacking either.
But is such a thing even possible?
However splendid Chairman Park Yonghak's collection might be, the brightest legacy in it was surely Representative Park Jihoon himself.
And knowing that, the Chairman means to leave our Representative to play?
Hm. Hmm. Hmmmm. No matter how he turned the figures, they refused to come out even. Jo Sudeok raked his nails through the innocent hair at the back of his head.
The day of the exhibition, at the Hyeon-gang Art Museum.
It was the first tuxedo of my life. The swallowtail jacket was strange enough on its own, and a bow tie, of all things. Grandfather had sent a tailor and had the clothes made specially for me.
Handsome, I'll grant it. For someone who had only just finished elementary school, it felt like rather too much. Worse, my hair was pomaded and swept straight back. The whole effect was so purely slick that I was beginning to doubt it.
And yet—what was this? Everyone I met put a thumb in the air.
"Now there's a face."
"Too handsome. Our Jihoon."
What? Was this the sort of look they fawned over in these years?
Anyway. It was only the one day. Bear it. Just bear it.
Unlike me, dressed within an inch of my life, my brother Park Yugeon had come in an ordinary suit. No work done to his hair, and no bow tie like mine. There was no chance he had dressed as he pleased for an affair like this. The protocol team must have seen to him. Which was to say the protocol team had drawn a rank between our clothes. I don't like the smell of this.
Just then, as if to prove the hunch, Grandfather singled me out.
"Jihoon. You there?"
"Yes, Grandfather."
The unfamiliar shoes slowed my steps, but he showed no sign of minding. He only looked at me with a calm eye.
"Stay stuck to your grandpa's side all day."
"Sorry?"
"It's the painting you brought home, isn't it? If there's explaining to do, you ought to do it yourself."
If that was the reason, well enough. But I was the only one they had put in a tuxedo, and any way I looked at it there was another intention underneath. Sure enough.
"Well now, Minister Gu. This here is our grandson, Park Jihoon."
He introduced me first to every person we met.
"Prime Minister Lee, you saw this painting back when you were president of Seoul National, didn't you? Aye. That's the one our grandson went and fetched himself from America."
"How do you do. My name is Park Jihoon."
"Chairman Bang! Didn't I tell you? Takes after me. A face as bright as they come."
"Hello, Chairman. My name is Park Jihoon."
"Jihoon, this here's Governor Yoon of the Bank of Korea."
"It's an honor to meet you..."
Was this what a groom felt, working the line at his own wedding? I went about greeting people without a pause, as if my soul might leak clean out of me. At first the sheer weight of the names startled me a little.
"I've heard so much about you..."
Even that, once we passed twenty, stopped stirring any thought at all. Greeting, handshake, a kind word. Greeting, handshake, a kind word. My head was just going blank when a voice came calling from far off.
"Hey! Chairman Park!"
Loud enough to ring through the banquet hall, perhaps. Grandfather's face crumpled in an instant.
The owner of that great voice did not care. He came toward us at the head of a troop of young men, a proud bearing and a stride to match it. I knew him at a glance. Grandfather's lifelong rival, a giant who had left an enormous mark on the modern history of Korea: Chairman Jeong Yeongju of Daebo Group.
"Well, look at you, Chairman Park. Been a while."
Grandfather said nothing.
"I'm grateful for the invitation, I'll give you that. Still, I did find it odd. All this racket over fetching one measly painting—I wondered what the fuss was for."
Chairman Jeong soon turned his gaze on me.
"So it was all on account of the grandson."
He bent his head until his eyes met mine.
"You're Park Yonghak's grandson?"
"How do you do, Chairman. My name is Park Jihoon."
He looked back at Chairman Park, his face gone sly and slick.
"Picking an heir from among your sons ought to have been enough. Now you won't feel easy until you've handpicked the third generation too?"
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"Way I hear it, some fourth-grader flew off to America and came back with a painting. And with the money he made that way, he became the major shareholder of the semiconductor company?"
Chairman Jeong let out an empty laugh, as if even he could not believe what he was saying.
"At this rate I wouldn't be surprised if he starts making grenades out of pine cones. Why not? Have him leap the Han River while you're at it. This isn't North Korea. What are you so short of, that you're out here building a cult of personality?"
"A cult of personality?"
"Why the wounded look? The cult talk was a joke. But let's speak plain. The world can see that Grandpa bought the grandson's painting himself. Won't they rise up shouting illegal gift?"
Chairman Jeong went on as if talking to himself, laying his thoughts bare.
"If you wanted to slip the boy that bit of money early, you should have just done it and been finished. Handing it over as semiconductor shares—what's that about? You think the talk of something illegal won't come out and stick?"
At that he turned back toward me.