Christmas (1)
There were roughly three places in Seoul where financial firms tended to cluster.
The first was Yeouido, where domestic securities firms mostly gathered.
The second was Gwanghwamun, home primarily to foreign securities firms. It was the center of Seoul, and with the embassies concentrated there, getting work done was easier.
And the last was Gangnam, where PEFs and mid-sized asset managers were packed together.
I had no intention of going back to Yeouido, so after weighing Gwanghwamun against Gangnam, I finally chose Gangnam.
Because it was closer to home.
Without bothering to wear out my shoes, I contacted GN Real Estate Consulting, a place I’d come to know through Sung Yoon-ah’s introduction. They immediately found a property that matched my conditions.
They handled all the furniture and equipment too, once I mentioned what I wanted.
Money could make anything happen in this world. As for the computer, I decided to order it with help from an expert.
Sunwoo grumbled as he put together the quote.
“Is it really okay to use high-end talent like me for something like this?”
“You said you don’t really have much to do these days since the game went under, right? Then let’s take this chance to order a new computer for home too.”
The moment I said we should buy a new home computer too, his face lit up.
“Hmm. Building a PC quote isn’t simple, you know. You have to check compatibility, calculate the heat output from power consumption, design the cooling system...”
“I’ll just go to Yongsan and buy one.”
“Hey now! At that rate, you’ll get taken for a ride by the Yongsan sharks.”
“A little beating never killed anyone.”
“I’m not speaking figuratively. You might literally get hit.”
“......”
What on earth was Yongsan like? Was it some demon pit on earth?
“Don’t worry. Leave it to me.”
He looked a little excited. Building a computer quote really was fun, I supposed.
“Specs?”
“Top of the line. I’m going to use it as a workstation for work.”
“Hmm. It’s not a great time to be building a new rig.”
“Why not?”
“CPU and graphics card prices have gone way up. If you go to Yongsan, they’re basically hiding products and selling them at market price.”
“The price changes every day?”
“No, it changes by the morning and afternoon.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
“Computer parts aren’t sashimi. They’re selling them at market price?”
Sunwoo answered, “Parts whose prices were always volatile were sold that way already. It’s gotten even worse recently because of Battle Island.”
“What does that have to do with it?”
“That game is pretty demanding, so the demand for PC upgrades is insane right now. Graphics cards and CPUs are in short supply, and gaming monitors that support 120Hz or higher are selling like crazy.”
“Come to think of it...”
I had seen banners outside PC cafés advertising that they’d installed top-spec machines that ran Battle Island smoothly.
If hard drive capacity kept growing without end because of porn, then the reason PC specs kept rising was games.
Really, how many people bought high-spec PCs for work like video editing or graphics work?
Everyone was just upgrading RAM and graphics cards because they wanted to game.
“Thanks to that, the specs of games currently in development are trending upward across the board too.”
One well-made game could influence the PC market itself.
Come to think of it, there were no such things as movie PCs or music PCs, but gaming laptops and gaming PCs were sold as separate categories.
“Ah! I need a lot of monitors.”
“Why?”
“So it looks like I’m working hard.”
“......”
While Sunwoo was drawing up the PC quote and placing the order, I sat in the chair I hadn’t even unwrapped from the plastic yet and sorted through the coming days in my head.
Soon enough, a big game would unfold in Korea.
If I bet well, it was a good chance to make a lot of money. But to sit at the table, I needed chips first.
In the end, the painting money had to come in before anything could move forward. If that didn’t happen, I’d have to bring in outside investment.
By now, they should be appraising the painting.
* * *
The New York gallerist Robert Fandel had not slept properly for days. He’d barely been eating either, enough that even his family had started to worry.
The painting that the Korean had bought had definitely been a Da Vinci. He’d missed it by the narrowest of margins, right before his eyes.
From his perspective, it felt almost like it had been stolen from him.
What on earth was that Korean?
At that moment, a single thought flashed through his mind.
Wait. What if he knew I was looking for the Da Vinci painting and kept trailing me the whole time?
Once that idea took hold, everything fell neatly into place.
The reason that bastard was in Central Park that day was because I was there. Then, when I moved to Chicago, he followed right behind me. Did he know my destination was Eppenfrit Gallery and get there first?
It all made sense now.
A chill crawled across his whole body.
His target was the Da Vinci painting from the very beginning! Approaching me casually, acting like he didn’t know much about art, all of it was a scheme to deceive me.
He had long since forgotten that he’d been the one to strike up the conversation first.
Robert kept thinking.
That bastard has enough eye to recognize a Ranksy painting being sold at a street stall. Something even I, a professional, failed to identify. And if he was sniffing around behind me, then he must be someone in the same business.
Getting the painting in hand wasn’t the end of it. In fact, it was fair to say that was where it all began.
A painting that hasn’t been appraised or restored is worth practically nothing.
Who would believe and buy a Da Vinci painting if it were in that wrecked a condition?
Since it couldn’t be sold as-is, they would have to move quickly to appraise and restore it.
Judging by the fact that his name is hardly known, he doesn’t have the kind of connections or influence in the art world to handle that. If he can’t get it appraised and restored, he’ll be forced to sell it for whatever price he can get.
He intended to seize the chance and somehow reclaim the painting then.
While he continued trying to identify the Korean’s true identity, an unexpected invitation arrived.
The Thomas Art Foundation.
A foundation supported by the Saudi royal family, it acquired a wide range of artworks and supported artists.
Patrick had received the invitation as well.
As Robert entered the gallery with his friend, a man called out to him.
“Oh! Mr. Fandel. What brings you here?”
“Ah, Professor Sutherland.”
The elderly white man in glasses was Edward Sutherland, a full professor at New York University whose specialty was art history.
Robert had met him several times before. That was because he was such an expert on Leonardo da Vinci that he had even authored a biography of him.
The two of them had consulted him more than once while pursuing the Da Vinci painting.
“Did you happen to hear what this is about?”
“Not really. I was contacted and told it was very important, so I came.”
Champagne and wine were laid out alongside a simple spread of hors d’oeuvres.
Before long, guests began arriving one by one. To Robert’s surprise, most of them were prominent figures in the art world.
Patrick said, “That’s Richard Oster, the Metropolitan Museum restorer. He restored a Sandro Botticelli painting last time.”
Robert nodded.
“And the man next to him is Michael Lensky, the art reporter from the New York Times.”
He was famous for the article in which he exposed a forgery at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. At the time, the museum had even threatened to sue him, but in the end his claims were proven right, and they apologized to him.
The other faces were no less impressive.
Jonathan Ridley, a curator from the National Gallery in Washington. Alain Routin, a curator from the Louvre. There was even Danilo Bonucci, who had overseen the restoration of one of Da Vinci’s murals.
In short, specialists from the American and European art worlds had all gathered in one place.
After a while, a middle-aged Saudi man in a suit appeared before them.
“Good evening. I’m Umar Abbas, chairman of the Edward Foundation, which manages its operations. First, I’d like to sincerely thank you for accepting my invitation. The reason I called all of you here is to ask for your expertise in appraising a painting.”
At that, the assembled guests began murmuring to one another.
“What kind of painting is it that you’d go to this much trouble?”
“It must be no ordinary work.”
“Heh, I have a feeling we’re about to see something incredible.”
Patrick looked at Robert and said, “Wait. Could this be...?”
“N-no, it can’t be.”
There’s no way that painting has already made it to a foundation run by the Saudi royal family!
He desperately denied it, but a bad feeling had already begun to creep into Robert’s chest.
Chairman Abbas led them down to the basement appraisal room.
Connected to the storage room, the appraisal room was guarded like a bank vault, with state-of-the-art security systems and every detail under strict control, from lighting and temperature to humidity.
Inside, all the tools needed for an appraisal were already prepared. At the center stood a large table.
Chairman Abbas carefully lifted the cloth covering the table.
“This is the painting.”
The painting measured 45.4 centimeters wide by 65.6 centimeters tall.
Its surface was battered and stripped in places, the paint worn away and blurred, but within it stood a mysterious man wrapped in an air of deep stillness.
The moment Robert Fandel saw it, he thought, You son of a bitch. Give me my painting back...
* * *
While ordering the office computer, I also ordered furniture and appliances for the house.
I’d been resting at home while waiting for the prince’s call when my phone rang. There weren’t many people who would call me.
I answered it.
“What are you doing?”
“Just staying home. What about you, Yoon-ah?”
“I’m at work, of course. You do know today’s Christmas Eve, right?”
“Come to think of it...”
I hadn’t really done anything, and somehow it was already Christmas.
Last round, I think I had spent it with my girlfriend. This time, I didn’t really have anyone to meet. Maybe I should stop by my parents’ house?
“Don’t you have plans, Miru?”
“Hmm. Not really anything pressing.”
“I’m only working half a day today. Want to meet in the afternoon?”
“Huh?”
What was this? Why was she asking to meet on such an important day as Christmas Eve?
Could it be...?
“A date request?”
There was a brief silence.
“I’m hanging up.”
I hurriedly said, “I was joking. What time and where should we meet?”
I was already bored from staying home anyway, so this was perfect.
After making plans, I ended the call. Then Sunwoo, who had been sitting nearby, asked, “Who was that?”
“Sung Yoon-ah.”
“The one you met last time?”
“Yeah.”
Sunwoo tilted his head.
“What exactly are you two?”
“Just former coworkers.”
“What kind of former coworker asks to meet on Christmas Eve?”
“Well, I mean...”
If you were close, that sort of thing could happen, couldn’t it?
“Don’t you have plans?”
“Ah! I’m meeting a former coworker later too.”
“A woman?”
“Yeah.”
“......”
Come to think of it, around this time he might have been dating someone. I didn’t really remember, since I didn’t pay much attention to other people’s love lives.
But when I actually got ready to go out, the only clothes I had were the suit I wore to work, a T-shirt with a stretched-out collar, and pants with knees bagged out from wear.
I’d been wearing this miserable wardrobe all this time, hadn’t I?
“Guess I should buy some clothes too.”