The Mark That Changed Everything
When Alexis mentioned repatriation, General Director Yang Dong-seok clenched his fist without even realizing it.
It was exactly what he had expected.
Yang Dong-seok had conducted a thorough investigation into this Fabergé egg case.
That was only natural for the person overseeing Kim Si-woo’s documentary.
In the course of that work, he had also taken in enough to understand how cultural-property disputes between nations tended to unfold.
If the Russian government made an official demand for repatriation, it would not end as a simple legal dispute.
There would be pressure through diplomatic channels, a blockade through international art-trade networks, and even a public-opinion campaign backed by the media.
Once a state began moving in earnest, it was no longer an arena a private individual could stand his ground in.
The best-case scenario was negotiation.
Either the Russian side would quietly offer an appropriate sum as compensation, or the matter would be settled by mutual, unspoken agreement under terms of a loan exhibition.
Even the method Kim Si-woo had mentioned was probably some kind of negotiation card like that.
But then.
Si-woo rose from his seat and opened his mouth.
Yang Dong-seok folded his arms, his face tight with tension.
At the request to bring the CT scan data back up, his lips went dry.
Cutting-edge equipment from Crosier Fine Art.
The judgment of renowned appraisers.
Even cross-verification from trusted institutions.
And yet there was something they had missed?
Then, through the murky noise, a set of characters emerged.
- N. 1922. A
Yang Dong-seok’s mouth fell open.
That’s Antiquariat’s sales number!
Physical proof that the Soviet government had sold it officially.
The countless documents he had read during his research flashed through his mind.
For relics sold through Antiquariat, Russia would have a hard time claiming repatriation.
There was no legal or moral footing for demanding the return of something the Soviet Union had sold with its own hands.
No, it was more than that. It was a past Russia would rather keep buried.
With this one engraving, Russia’s repatriation claim lost its foundation.
Yang Dong-seok watched the experts react in stunned disbelief, then glanced sideways.
His eyes met Director Choi Min-ho’s, and they gave each other a slight nod.
The camera angle was already zoomed in on Si-woo.
The moment hidden evidence finally came to light.
The young Korean appraiser who had found it, and the shocked reactions of everyone around him.
The picture was perfect.
Once this went public on Nutflix, it was going to cause an uproar.
Yang Dong-seok fought back the smile tugging at his mouth and muttered to himself, Kim Si-woo really is something else. To see with his own eyes what world-class experts couldn’t find even with cutting-edge equipment... He just flipped the entire board.
* * *
Alexei stared at the screen for a long time.
His lips had gone stiff.
He must have wanted to refute it.
But the characters on the screen were unambiguous.
- N. 1922. A.
Antiquariat’s sales number.
The management code assigned directly by the Soviet government.
He could have argued that further verification was needed to prove whether those letters were truly a sales number.
But that would have been a desperate, pathetic move.
Everyone present knew exactly what it was.
Alexei finally opened his heavy mouth.
"...Understood."
After a short silence, he continued.
"I will also report in detail on the meaning of the remaining number."
Alexei removed his glasses and wiped the lenses.
"I will convey only the objective facts as they are. That is all I can do as a researcher."
It was the only thing Alexei could say.
With physical proof in hand that the relic had been sold lawfully, claiming illegal removal was impossible.
More than anything, the existence of Antiquariat itself was an uncomfortable part of Russia’s history.
The humiliating era when, under Stalin, the country sold off its own cultural heritage to the West for a pittance to earn foreign currency.
Dragging that out into the open on the international stage was something Russia would rather avoid.
Whether they would swallow the burden and push ahead anyway was another matter.
Alexei did not think the government would go that far.
Once Alexei stepped away from his seat, Caroline, the chief curator of the British Royal Collection Trust, approached Si-woo first.
"That was extraordinary. I could barely believe it when you found it at the Rose Bowl Flea Market, and I never would have imagined you’d uncover a hidden sales number as well."
Caroline looked at him with a smile that reached her eyes.
"To be honest, when I watched the Singing Bird documentary, I thought a lot of the detective work and relic discovery had to be staged. It’s television, after all. I assumed the editing just made it more dramatic."
She let out a helpless laugh.
"Today changed my mind completely. Seeing it in person, I realized it wasn’t staged at all. Your eye for this work is the real thing."
Caroline handed over her business card and said, "I’m looking forward to seeing what you do next. If you ever find yourself in England, please do get in touch."
"Thank you. I certainly will."
After Caroline left, Sarah Fabergé approached cautiously.
The chair of the Fabergé Heritage Committee.
The great-granddaughter of Carl Fabergé.
Sarah hesitated for a moment as though choosing her words, then spoke carefully.
"Mr. Kim Si-woo, are you considering selling Chariot and Angel Egg?"
He shook his head.
He already had enough money.
If he wanted to draw people to Culture Street around Eterna Gallery, he needed a relic with real name value.
A Fabergé egg was the kind of relic that even people with no interest in art had at least heard of once.
And on top of that, there was the symbolism of it being one of the seven missing eggs.
The longer time passed, the higher the value of a relic climbed.
That was doubly true if it was Chariot and Angel Egg.
If such an object were displayed at Eterna Gallery, the gallery’s prestige would rise.
It would also be a major help in building up Cheongdam Culture Street.
So he said it plainly.
"I’m sorry, but I have no intention of selling it."
Sarah let out a soft sigh, clearly disappointed.
Then she composed her expression and said, "In that case, if you ever need help with restoration, please contact us anytime. Our committee is constantly reviving the lost techniques that were used in my great-grandfather’s workshop."
Sarah looked once more at Chariot and Angel Egg and said, "We’d be able to help you restore that egg to its original form. I’d love to see my great-grandfather’s work standing before people in its most beautiful state."
"Understood. Once we reach the restoration stage, I’ll be sure to contact you."
Sarah offered a warm smile and held out her hand.
One by one, the experts finished gathering their things and left the appraisal room.
Then James Miller came over.
"As expected of Mr. Kim Si-woo."
James shook his head and laughed.
"I never imagined it would turn out like this. Honestly, when Alexei brought up repatriation, I was tense. I thought we might have to brace for a long legal fight."
He exhaled in relief.
"To resolve it in a single blow... The way you knew, when even the most advanced precision equipment couldn’t find it, is still unbelievable to me."
James paused for a moment, then looked at Si-woo with a serious expression.
"Mr. Kim Si-woo. What do you think about Crosier Fine Art releasing an official press statement? Authenticating Chariot and Angel Egg and uncovering the Antiquariat sales number. If we put the material out before Russia makes a move, they won’t be able to do much about it. And the art world will turn upside down."
Si-woo extended his hand without a second’s hesitation.
"I’d appreciate it."
"Appreciate it? It would be our honor," James said with a grin. "Just the fact that we handled the authentication of a lost Fabergé egg will change our standing in the industry. I should be the one thanking you."
* * *
Crosier Fine Art moved quickly.
James Miller contacted both headquarters public relations and legal at the same time.
The key was to establish the fact before the Russian side had a chance to react.
The Fabergé Heritage Committee, the British Royal Collection Trust, and Crosier Fine Art.
An official press release was prepared under the joint names of the three institutions.
It was distributed simultaneously to art media, major wire services, and people across the auction industry.
The story spread like wildfire.
The lost Fabergé egg, long called the holy grail of the art world, had finally shown itself.
Sarah Fabergé, chair of the Fabergé Heritage Committee, called it a "discovery of the century." ... (truncated)
Articles from all over the world rushed to report the news.
Especially because it came before the heat around Singing Bird had even cooled, Si-woo’s name was mentioned constantly.
Korea exploded as well.
There were countless articles, of course.
And then the flood of national-pride content came pouring out one after another.
* * *
Si-woo turned down dozens of invitations from American programs and talk shows before returning to Korea.
NBC’s The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon, ABC’s Jimmy Kimmel Live!, Late Night with Seth Meyers, and a stream of interviews of every kind.
Once news spread that he was in the United States, the offers piled up one after another.
He appreciated the attention, but right now he wanted to rest.
After a long flight, he reached home and opened the front door.
"Mom, I’m home."
But there was no one there to greet him.
Especially not Kkamangi.
The black cat was sitting squarely in the middle of the living room, showing him its back.
Normally it would have run to the front door.
The fact that one ear was angled back slightly meant it definitely knew he was home.
But it didn’t even turn its head.
Only the tip of its tail tapped, tap, tap against the floor.
Anyone who had ever raised a cat knew what that meant.
That was not affection. That was displeasure.
"Kkamangi, I’m home."
No reaction.
When he took one step closer, Kkamangi rose lazily from its spot and walked into the kitchen at an unhurried pace.
It looked as if it had been offended by his absence over the past few days.
"Sorry, Kkamangi. That was my fault. Forgive me."
In the end, he had no choice but to take out some Churu in the kitchen.
The rustle of the wrapper made Kkamangi’s ears perk up.
Its head still remained turned away.
But its nose twitched faintly.
It was sniffing the air.
Once it reached the Churu, Kkamangi started licking at it as if nothing had happened.
So much for pride in front of Churu.
Meanwhile, his mother had spotted him from a corner of the kitchen and waved cheerfully.
She had no intention of putting down the phone she was holding.
It was probably another one of those nonstop calls from friends and acquaintances.
Her voice was full of pride.
"Yes. So our Si-woo...."
While she was talking, he washed up and came back to sit on the sofa.
Kkamangi, now finished with the Churu, had climbed onto the sofa without him noticing.
When he stroked its head, the cat seemed to finally forgive him.
The low purr that started softly grew louder and louder, and in the end Kkamangi flopped onto its side and showed its belly.
His mother was still on the phone.
There was no telling when she would finish.
"Oh, sis. Yeah, you saw it too? It was on the news? No, America’s done for now and I’m back in Korea. Haha."
His mother’s voice kept rising.
* * *
Before leaving, he had spoken with Crosier Fine Art.
They would watch Russia’s response for a while longer.
If there was no reaction, they planned to arrange transport to Korea.
After that, once the restoration work is done, it should be unveiled to the public at Eterna Gallery.
With Antiquariat’s sales number having been discovered, Russia would have a hard time making any reckless move.
Still, this was no time to let his guard down.
Come to think of it, I’ve been so busy I haven’t even checked how much is in my account.
He had a rough idea of the amount.
But he had never looked at the exact number.
After the Hong Kong auction, money itself had started to feel strangely unreal.
He didn’t really have hobbies that required spending, nor any obvious place where a huge sum would have to go.
No matter how expensive something was,
he could now swipe his card without hesitation, without being tied down by money.
But money, if you just held onto it, was a loss in itself.
Prices rose, and the value of currency fell.
He needed to put it to work somehow.
Stocks didn’t appeal to him.
So what about real estate? Or maybe he should start buying relics more aggressively?
This was the kind of thing you asked an expert about.
Just as he was about to call Representative Shin A-young, a text from an unfamiliar number caught his eye.
He stopped the hand that had been stroking Kkamangi’s back as he read the message.
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