35
Chapter 35 The Final Gift
November 6, 1996. One week before the CSAT, Do Minho arrived at the filming set of “Korea’s Top 1%.”
“Today, we have a truly special guest. The first-ever winner of ABS Quiz 5000 and the youngest champion in Korean quiz history, Do Minho!”
At the introduction by main MC Choi Jincheol, Minho confidently stepped onto the stage.
“Can you greet the viewers?”
“Yes.”
“Go ahead.”
“Hello. I’m Do Minho, student number 40 from Class 1-4 at Sangnok Elementary School.”
The opening was fairly ordinary.
“This tiny kid really won Quiz 5000 against PhDs from Korea University?”
“No way!”
The celebrity panelists reacted loudly as expected, and the audience followed suit.
They were, after all, following a script.
“Everyone, don’t be surprised. Not only is Minho great at quizzes, but he’s also an exceptional painter.”
But when Minho’s paintings were revealed on stage, the reactions began to shift from scripted to genuine.
“Wow!!”
Even those familiar with television production couldn’t dismiss this as staged.
The paintings were real.
And more than that—
Minho wasn’t just displaying finished works. He was going to complete an unfinished painting live.
“Minho, this one looks unfinished.”
“I can finish it now.”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
Standing on a chair to reach the massive canvas, Minho began painting.
The production team was willing to endure the long process just to verify his skill.
“Minho, this painting is quite unusual.”
MC Choi Jincheol tried to keep things engaging.
“A painter who looks like you is holding a woman and drawing a baby. And a man is stepping out of a frame?”
“It’s based on the idea of 화룡점정.”
“What’s that?”
“There was a painter named Zhang Sengyou. He painted dragons but refused to draw their eyes. He said if he did, they would come to life and fly away.”
“That sounds unbelievable.”
“No one believed him either. So he drew the eyes—and the dragon flew away.”
“Really?”
“No. It’s a story. But it means the final touch completes everything.”
“I see. So this man in the painting has come to life?”
“You could interpret it that way.”
“And the baby too?”
“If I were to draw the next scene, yes.”
The panel laughed.
“If great art gives life, then your painting should too.”
“Isn’t that right, everyone?”
The panelists leaned forward, fully immersed.
“It looks more real than a photograph.”
“And the composition is fascinating. That empty frame…”
“Maybe the woman used to be inside the frame?”
“Exactly.”
The discussion moved beyond the script.
“Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Then this isn’t just a painting. You created a family.”
Everyone knew Minho was an orphan.
The show had prepared to highlight that.
But—
“That’s true. But it’s not my family.”
The room fell silent.
“It’s just a normal, complete family.”
No one expected Minho to say it himself.
“I used to want a family. A mother. A father. That’s why I started drawing.”
His words carried weight.
“But I realized something. That painter wasn’t creating for himself. He created for others.”
Silence deepened.
“I’m not him. I can’t create life with painting. But I did create parents once—through adoption.”
The atmosphere grew heavy.
“But I wasn’t a good child.”
Some began to understand.
“I didn’t want parents because I needed love. I just wanted what others had.”
His voice remained calm.
“But they were different. They truly wanted me as their child.”
Then—
He switched the brush to his left hand.
Gasps filled the room.
But his strokes remained flawless.
“I’m left-handed. But I forced myself to use my right hand.”
The audience watched in stunned silence.
“I wanted to be the same as everyone else.”
He continued painting.
“But one day, I realized I was using my left hand again. It felt natural.”
No one could speak.
“I was trying to live for them. And they were trying to live for me.”
MC Choi Jincheol carefully asked—
“What do you mean?”
“I wondered how to make them happy. They wondered how to make me happy.”
“That sounds like a good family.”
“Yes. But we were moving in parallel.”
“….”
“Life is meant to be lived for yourself.”
The words struck deeply.
“I didn’t need parents. But I chose them. And they needed a child who could simply receive their love. But they got me.”
“….”
“This painting is my final gift to them.”
His voice remained steady.
“I hope they become a family with a child more lovable than me.”
“And… they did.”
“…They had a biological child?”
“Yes. Someone much more deserving of love.”
“So you left?”
“Yes. I asked for it.”
Shock spread through the room.
“I thought we’d both be happier.”
Even if people doubted him—
This was his truth.
“I am happy.”
The room was silent.
No one could interrupt.
“I didn’t want to be pitied.”
It was pride.
And gratitude.
Then—
A woman spoke.
“Minho, you seem to have ‘baby angel syndrome.’”
It was psychiatrist Shim Miyoung.
Minho looked at her calmly.
Amused.