The Lost Egg at Rose Bowl
Cherub with Chariot Egg
Year of creation: 1888
Place of creation: Russian Empire, Saint Petersburg, Faberge Workshop Main Branch (24 Bolshaya Morskaya Street)
Creator: Peter Carl Faberge
The imperial jeweler to the Russian royal family. From 1885 to 1917, he produced a total of 50 Imperial Eggs. A legendary workshop that created jeweled eggs presented by the emperor to the empress every Easter. After the workshop was shut down by the Russian Revolution, much of its manufacturing technique was lost.
Commissioned by: Russian Emperor Alexander III. Delivered to Empress Maria Feodorovna as an Easter gift on April 24, 1888.
The brilliant-cut diamond and sapphire finial are missing. The internal surprise, a miniature gold watch, has been lost. The tip of the angel's left wing is cracked, and the right wheel axle of the chariot is bent. Though gold-plated, the entire surface is covered in thick grease and dust that has hardened over time. Because of that, the gold's natural luster is completely hidden, and it could easily be mistaken for old brass.
Officially sold in 1922 to a private buyer in New York by Antiquariat, the Soviet foreign-currency agency. However, at the time of sale, the serial number was on the angel's back, but it was then perfectly concealed beneath a later layer of enamel.
Estimated value: at least 20 billion won
Fifty Imperial Eggs were produced by Faberge.
Forty-three of them were known to the world.
The remaining seven vanished after the Russian Revolution of 1917.
To collectors, they were things of legend.
"Good job, Kkamangi."
At my side, its tail swishing lightly, Kkamangi looked up at me with round eyes, and I gently stroked its head.
The cat seemed pleased and gave a soft purr.
But this time, instead of a gold light, a clean white glow rose up.
Is that why no memory surfaced from the object?
The thought nagged at me, but first I needed to check the Nutube video again.
Rose Bowl Flea Market in California.
One of the largest flea markets in the United States.
Among vintage collectors, it was practically sacred ground.
More than 2,500 vendors took part.
They said it had everything from antiques to odds and ends.
The problem was the operating schedule.
It only opened on the second Sunday of every month, so I checked the calendar.
"......"
Next Sunday was the second Sunday.
That left four days.
Has the Faberge egg already been sold?
It was a famous flea market, after all.
There was every chance someone had researched it properly and already bought it.
Still, just in case, I analyzed the video frame by frame.
In front of the table where the angel pulling the chariot with the egg stood, there was a sign.
It was blurry, but the text was clear enough.
O-47
Orange section, stall 47.
At the Rose Bowl Flea Market, every vendor had to reserve a spot in advance and register their identification information.
So then...
The orange section was the antique area.
It was popular enough that reservations were often booked months ahead.
I should contact the operations office.
I opened the official Rose Bowl Flea Market website and looked for a phone number, but then I remembered California was still in the middle of the night.
I decided to leave the call until the next morning.
Instead, I spent a long time playing with Kkamangi, who looked bored out of its mind.
* * *
The next morning.
The moment I woke up, I called Rose Bowl Flea Market.
I was worried they might not pick up because it was an international number, but my concern was pointless.
They answered as soon as the line rang.
"This is Amy from Rose Bowl Flea Market. How can I help you?"
A bright female voice came through in English.
"Hello. I’m calling because I’d like to purchase an item from the vendor in Orange Section, Stall 47 at the last market. Would it be possible to get their contact information?"
"Oh, we get that question all the time. People often hesitate, then regret not buying something later. You must have missed an item you really liked?"
"Ah... yes. It was something I really wanted."
"Oh dear. I understand, but due to policy, I can’t directly give out a vendor’s personal contact information."
That was exactly the answer I had expected.
"Then could you pass along my email address to them? I really want to buy the item."
"That I can do. Go ahead."
"Yes, my email address is..."
Tap, tap, tap.
I could hear typing over the receiver.
"I’ll pass it along right away."
"Thank you. And there’s one more thing I’d like to confirm."
"Go ahead."
"Will the vendor I mentioned be at the next market as well? If so, I’d like to go find them."
"Yes, just a moment... Stall O-47 has already been reserved by the same vendor for next month too. Booth layouts and participant information are public, so I can tell you that much."
"I see. Thank you very much."
Getting a response by email was the best option.
But if there was no reply...
I’d have to go there in person after all.
* * *
Yang Dong-seok, the executive producer at Nutflix, had been living in a very happy world lately.
The documentary he had planned after bringing in appraiser Kim Si-woo, Singing Bird, exploded the moment episode 1 was released.
Not only had it shot to the top of Netflix viewership worldwide, but it was also generating article after article and causing a storm of discussion everywhere.
Normally, Nutflix either released an entire series at once for binge-watching or split it into parts.
But this time was different.
They chose to release one episode at a time, with a week between each one.
And that decision had paid off.
Even episode 1 alone had shaken the world.
Anticipation for episode 2 only grew with each passing day.
Heh. I had no idea it would hit this big.
He had been confident in its success, but it was still a documentary.
Yet then an unexpected monster hit had broken out.
This was beyond anything he had imagined.
Even if it had only become number one in Asia, that would have been enough.
If they had released some other series from Kim Si-woo first instead, there was no guarantee it would have found this level of success.
There was no doubt that the story wrapped up in Anna had struck a nerve with viewers around the world.
Releasing Singing Bird first really was the smartest move.
Then one problem rose up in his mind.
Just how much do I have to offer Kim Si-woo for a season 2 renewal?
From Nutflix’s point of view, they had to hold onto Kim Si-woo no matter what.
Even the footage they had already shot was, if not on the level of Singing Bird, at least guaranteed to create plenty of buzz.
Just then his phone rang.
When he saw the name on the screen, a smile spread naturally across Yang Dong-seok’s face.
"Ha ha ha. Appraiser Kim Si-woo! What can I do for you?"
"Yes. Executive Producer Yang Dong-seok, hello."
"You’ve been well, I hope? These days, thanks to you, I can walk around the company with my shoulders back. Heh."
It was practically the same as walking around with wings.
"Well, the thing is..."
His voice was careful, almost hesitant.
Yang Dong-seok had been in broadcasting for a long time.
He could gauge the weight of a matter just from the tone of the other person’s voice.
"What’s going on?"
"I’m thinking of going to the United States for a bit."
"The United States?"
"Yes. It’s a personal matter, but if you happen to schedule any filming with Nutflix while I’m there, I might not be able to do it, so I wanted to let you know in advance."
Yang Dong-seok tightened his grip on the receiver.
The producer’s instincts began to stir.
Kim Si-woo was suddenly going to America?
He said it was a personal matter.
They didn’t know each other all that long, but Kim Si-woo wasn’t the kind of person who moved without reason.
"If it isn’t too much trouble, may I ask why you’re going to America?"
"There’s just something I’d like to see."
"Something you’d like to see?"
Yang Dong-seok’s heartbeat quickened.
Something Kim Si-woo wanted to see enough to fly to America himself.
"Could we perhaps go along as well...?"
"This one will be difficult to film."
He cut him off firmly.
"I’m not even sure yet. It’s the kind of thing I may arrive to find gone. It might already be in someone else’s hands, meaning I won’t be able to get it."
Yang Dong-seok swallowed a groan.
Whether it was a wasted trip or not didn’t matter.
He knew better than anyone that Kim Si-woo’s eye for objects was anything but ordinary.
Just think of everything he had found so far.
If they didn’t follow this, they were fools.
"Appraiser Kim Si-woo."
"Yes."
"We will absolutely come along. No, we’ll cover the cost of the flight and your stay in America, so please let us follow and film it."
It was an awkward request, but since they already had a contract with Nutflix, and he was asking so earnestly, Kim Si-woo couldn’t really refuse.
"Then let’s keep it to one small camera following me around."
* * *
Rose Bowl Stadium parking lot.
5:00 a.m.
They arrived in time for early admission.
Only Executive Producer Yang Dong-seok and Director Choi Min-ho had come along.
There was no large-scale filming gear.
Director Choi only brought a small GoPro.
That was perfectly normal at a flea market.
There were so many tourists filming vlogs that it would have been more unnatural to hide it.
The moment he stepped out of the parking lot, Yang Dong-seok gaped.
"Wow..."
There seemed to be no end to it.
The entire huge parking area surrounding the stadium was the flea market.
Tents and tables stretched on forever, and even though it was barely dawn, the place was already packed with people.
Some were examining items with flashlights.
Some were weaving between the tables with coffee in one hand.
And some, dealers buying in bulk, were dragging carts loaded with merchandise.
"No wonder they call it the biggest in the United States," Director Choi muttered, looking around with the GoPro in hand.
Yang Dong-seok nodded.
"Wasn’t it 2,500 booths? It’s going to take a ridiculous amount of time to look through all of this."
Furniture, tableware, vintage clothing, records, old toys...
It had everything.
To one person it might be trash, but to another it was treasure.
Those ambiguous objects lay scattered beneath the rising California sun.
Even as I scanned the area just in case, I didn’t slow my pace.
"Orange Section is this way."
I had memorized the market layout beforehand.
The three of us pushed through the crowd and kept walking.
Yang Dong-seok asked cautiously from beside me.
"But Appraiser Kim Si-woo, do you think the item you want will still be there?"
Without slowing down, Si-woo answered, "Honestly, I don’t know."
He had waited for a reply, but there had been no read receipt on the email.
"It was on the Nutube video from last month’s flea market. It wouldn’t be strange at all if it had already been sold."
"Then this could all be for nothing?"
"Yes. That’s why I said filming would be difficult."
Yang Dong-seok nodded, but his feet never stopped.
They had come this far. There was no going back now.
The orange section began to come into view.
Its atmosphere was clearly different from the other areas.
Antiques sat atop the tables.
Old silverware, vintage watches, ceramics, glasswork.
The eyes of the people inspecting them were different too.
Because it was so early, there were calm, deliberate buyers who looked like dealers and collectors.
Si-woo’s eyes swept over the stall numbers one by one.
O-44. O-45. O-46.
Then O-47.
Stall 47 in the orange section.
The sign was still there.
He stopped in front of it and looked at the shop in front of the sign.
There it is.
On the table.
Among the miscellaneous clutter.
I found the object glowing with a pure white radiance.
The very same object from the Nutube video a month ago was still sitting in the same place.
At a glance, it looked like nothing more than a common old brass ornament.
A dusty piece of junk with no gold and no jewels.
A treasure of the Russian imperial family slept under the California sunlight.
Without meaning to, I swallowed.
Director Choi Min-ho did not miss the slightest change in Si-woo’s expression.
He subtly adjusted the angle of the GoPro.
It was a perfect position to catch both Si-woo’s profile and the table at the same time.
The old man at Stall O-47 flicked a glance at the GoPro, but he didn’t react.
Three Asian tourists carrying cameras from the moment the morning began.
There was nothing more ordinary than that at this flea market.
I stood in front of the table and pretended to browse the items slowly.
An old candlestick.
A rusted cigarette case.
A cracked ceramic plate.
A few faded brooches.
And among them.
An ornament in the shape of an angel pulling a chariot that carried an egg.
One single photograph.
And a few lines of record.
That was all that remained to support the existence of this legendary artifact.
To actually see it here...
The entire surface had oxidized, turning a dark brown.
Over time, dust and all kinds of residue had built up thickly on it.
The places where jewels should have been set were empty.
But thanks to the status window, I already knew the gold plating wasn’t peeling away. It was just buried beneath layers of grime, making it look like brass.
The old man looked up at me.
"You like that piece?"
"Yes. It’s not bad."
As I answered lightly, I examined the ornament from different angles.
The old man half-lifted himself from his chair and said, "It is pretty old, yeah. Honestly, I don’t even know exactly where it was made."
"Where did you get it?"
I asked casually.
The old man adjusted his Los Angeles Dodgers cap and said, sounding like he’d been waiting for someone to ask, "Hm. That’s a bit of a long story."
He took a sip of coffee from his thermos.
"Ever heard of Faberge eggs?"
My heart lurched.
Did he somehow know what this was?
But the next words let me relax.
"I liked that sort of thing back in the day, too. Heh heh. Russian imperial jeweled eggs. Saw them on TV once. They were something else."
The old man pointed at the ornament with his chin.
"So when I first saw this, I wondered if it might be one of those. An angel pulling a chariot with an egg? Seems plausible, right?"
He snorted softly.
"But look at it. No gold, no jewels. Just a rusty brass lump. If it were a real Faberge piece, do you think I’d be sitting here doing this? I’d have sent it to auction already."
I let out a breath of relief inside.
The old man knew Faberge eggs existed, but he couldn’t imagine that the thing in his hands was genuine.
It wasn’t stripped gold plating, but decades of grime.
The traces of the missing jewels were still visible in the settings.
I was the only person at this flea market who could recognize that.
"So where did you get it?"
The old man narrowed his eyes as if drifting into memory.
"Maybe... thirty years ago? I was playing poker at some inn in Texas, or maybe somewhere else. Back then I was trucking all over the place. I had pretty good confidence in my skills. So I got a decent run of cards and cleaned the table out. Heh heh. But the other guy got so frustrated that instead of cash, he put this up as the pot."
The old man gave a dry laugh.
"He said it was a really valuable thing. I’d had a few drinks, so I just figured, sure, why not, and took it."
He looked back at the ornament.
"But the next day, when I sobered up, it was just an old piece of junk."
The old man shrugged.
"Still, I couldn’t bring myself to throw it out, so I kept it in the garage. This year I was cleaning the garage and brought it to the flea market."
I kept my expression under control.
"That’s an interesting story."
"Right? Still, the shape’s nice enough. An angel pulling a chariot and all that."
The old man yawned, still half-asleep, then took another sip of coffee.
"I put it out last month too, but nobody bought it. Well, of course they didn’t. Who’d buy something this old?"
He sighed.
"If it didn’t sell, I was going to skip bringing it next time. Either put it back in a corner of the yard or just throw it away."
"How much are you asking for it?"
The old man tapped the price tag on the table.
- $100
"A hundred bucks. It’s a bit steep, but maybe it’s an authentic piece, right? Want to take a chance on it?"
A hundred dollars.
It was so cheap I felt almost guilty buying it at that price.
Pretending to consider it, I took out my wallet.
"I’ll take it."
The old man blinked.
"Huh, really? You’re buying it?"
"Yes."
"Well, I was even thinking I might knock the price down a little if you haggled. Thanks. You’re my first customer today, so that’s a good feeling."
The old man smiled broadly as he took the hundred dollars.
"I don’t have any packaging or a bag or anything. Is that all right?"
"That’s fine."
I carefully wrapped the ornament in both hands.
In my palms, I could feel 138 years of history.
"It’d make a nice decoration if you put it on a desk."
The old man waved a hand.
"Thank you."
I bowed my head and turned away.
After only a few steps, Yang Dong-seok walked beside me and asked in a low voice, "...... Appraiser Kim Si-woo. That was the thing you were looking for, wasn’t it?"
I looked down at the ornament in my hands.
The angel’s wing. The chariot’s wheel. The vertically grooved egg.
I said quietly, "The GoPro is recording properly, right?"
Director Choi Min-ho slightly lifted the GoPro in his hand.
"Yes. From start to finish."
I gave a faint grin.
"We may have just found one of Faberge’s lost eggs."
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