Chapter 63:Japan is Fascinated, America is Astonished – (2)

The last day of the exchange exhibition was over.  

The next morning.  

The company that had brought my paintings on the first day came to take them back to Korea. Unlike the installation, the dismantling was incredibly quick.

With the exhibition pieces being loaded one after another into a gray cargo truck, my exhibition came to an end.  

Palgon patted me on the back and said,  

“It’s all over now. You’re heading back to Korea the day after tomorrow, right? Wow… When they said a month, it felt so long, but experiencing it makes it feel short. Haha!”  

“…”  

But I couldn’t put my mind at ease until the very end.  

‘Usually, accidents happen when everything’s over and you’re wrapping things up. Didn’t writer O Yujin from my past life say that too? Back when she had an exhibition in LA, one of her staff shattered a glass artwork right before the final cleanup.’  

Gulp…  

That story, which had once felt so distant, sounded especially ominous now. So, I anxiously watched as the staff moved the last painting into the truck.  

‘Come to think of it, I wonder what Yujin is up to these days. I’ve been texting Mari, Juri, and Uncle regularly, but I haven’t heard much from Yujin. Should I reach out?’  

No… I decided against it.  

After all, Yujin was in her senior year of high school this year. Plus, it was just about summer break in Korea surely the hellish final sprint season for exams. I didn’t want to bother her unnecessarily.  

As I mulled over this, Palgon silently stayed by my side.  

“…”  

“…”  

For a few quiet minutes, the two of us just watched.  

Thankfully, the worst-case scenario I had been imagining didn’t happen.  

Seeing that everything was safely loaded, I let out a sigh of relief.  

“Phew…”  

The staff from the cargo company greeted me.  

“Thank you, ma’am. We’ll head out now.”  

“Yes, please take good care of everything until the very end.”  

A few hours later, I heard familiar voices outside.  

It was Geonwoo, Mija, and Yamada.  

“Mi-chan, don’t shake the shopping bag like that.”  

“Uheehee!”  

“Haruko-chan, your laugh sounds weird.”  

“!”  

Seeing them, I spoke up.  

“Did everything on your side go smoothly too?”  

Geonwoo nodded.  

“Yes, we stored all the monitors and peripherals at the company’s warehouse in Japan. Did all the paintings get taken care of?”  

“Yes… It all wrapped up safely.”  

“That’s great.”  

“Yes, very.”  

Geonwoo and I smiled at each other.  

Mija, holding shopping bags in both hands, proudly showed them off.  

“Uheehee! I got special illustrations and figurines from a famous artist in Akihabara! This Japan trip was amazing!”  

“Yoo Mija, be quiet.”  

Watching the group, I couldn’t help but laugh.  

“….”  

The computers, cameras, monitors, and other equipment used in <The Sanctuary of Saint Chris> were borrowed from Mija’s father’s company. After the exhibition ended, they were left at the company’s warehouse in Japan.  

‘He said since we brought them to Japan anyway, they could just be used as company supplies. But honestly, it felt like he was just using that as an excuse to help his daughter’s friend.’  

Lending out high-resolution monitors and computers capable of running advanced graphic programs wasn’t something you could do without immense goodwill.  

On top of that, Geonwoo, fluent in Japanese, had come along under the pretense of a month-long trip and helped me the entire time. It was like their whole family had gone out of their way to support me.  

Having lived alone before, I truly understood just how precious and generous their support was.  

“…”  

I bowed deeply to Mija and Geonwoo.  

“Truly, thank you for everything, from beginning to end. I don’t even know how I’ll repay this kindness.”  

“!”  

“!”  

Mija poked my side playfully.  

“Heehee, Hana-chan, come on… no need for that between us.”  

Geonwoo gave a wry smile and said,  

“Compared to you looking out for our silly Mija like a sister and making sure she doesn’t get bullied at school, this is nothing. Dad and Grandma are just so happy that our baby Mija has such a mature best friend like you.”  

“…I don’t get bullied, though.”  

“You did in elementary school.”  

“…Shut. Up.”  

The siblings started bickering again, their antics clearly meant to lighten the mood so I wouldn’t feel too burdened.  

“…..”  

Watching them, I made a decision. From now on, I’d only buy computers distributed by Mija’s family’s company. And if any digital issues came up, I’d subtly tip them off.  

‘Gotta gather some coins before heading to Mars, after all.’  

I turned to Yamada and said,  

“Yamada, thank you for helping us all this time. If it weren’t for you, we might’ve been in trouble.”  

“Eh, think of it as just another school festival.”  

“But what about your classes or exams? You’ve been spending time here every day from 4 PM.”  

“Huh? I finished the entire high school curriculum back in elementary school. And even if I don’t study, I still get perfect scores, so it’s no problem.”  

“…”  

Ah.  

Right.  

He wasn’t exactly ordinary either.  

‘Then again, this whole workshop was about gathering exceptional students from various countries…’  

Yamada let out a huge yawn and said,  

“Honestly, I had fun hanging out with you guys for the past month. I got to see sides of you I didn’t notice during the workshop, so it was even more interesting. You’re way more fun than the boring kids here in Japan. Especially the Koreans.”  

Without hesitation, he turned to leave.  

“Well, I’m off.”  

“Huh? At least stay and eat with us. I’d feel too bad if you just left like this.”  

*

“Ugh, it’s over. Totally over.”  

The summer of 2006 ended with a disappointing conclusion for the World Cup, leaving the South Korean public disheartened.

For citizens still riding the dopamine high of the 2002 semifinals, failing to advance to the Round of 16 was worse than lukewarm coffee utterly tasteless.  

Companies, who had pumped up national excitement and anticipated a summer-long festival, found themselves awkwardly holding special World Cup-themed products.

Patriotism-driven marketing, after all, only worked during the celebration.  

And with that, the festivities were over.  

“…”  

“…”  

“…”  

In front of their empty shops, business owners scratched their heads.  

-Scratch scratch.  

“…”  

“…”  

“…”  

And then someone asked:  

“So… what do we do now?”  

“!”  

“!”  

“!”  

A bold statement.  

“I mean, honestly, when else will the people in this tiny country feel this proud and throw festivals, except for an international ball game? It’s not like we have singers dominating the Billboard charts.”  

“…”  

“It’s not like we can keep asking visiting foreign celebrities, ‘Do you know bulgogi?’ forever. We planned all these campaigns banking on World Cup fever, but now what are we supposed to do when we didn’t even make it past the group stage?”  

“…”  

Someone should have shouted, “Nonsense!” and reprimanded the speaker.  

But no one did.  

Because it was an unforgiving truth.  

Just then, someone burst in with good news.  

“National pride! It’s here!!!”  

“?!”  

“?!”  

“?!”  

-What?! Who?  

-An international athlete?  

-Did a Korean movie win an award?  

The crowd murmured excitedly.  

A broadcasting producer, having rushed over after hearing the news from the Japanese embassy, grinned so widely his gums showed.

He was a writer who had been crafting variety show scripts based on Japanese formats.  

“A proud genius of Korea has appeared…!”  

“Wha—what?! Who?!”  

He silenced the restless crowd and played a video. On the screen was a small, adorably petite girl, her voice soft and mumbling, giving a presentation.  

“Whose daughter is this? She’s cute.”  

“But… so what?”  

“Oh, I’ve seen her on the news and a few variety shows.”  

“Is she famous?”  

“…Not really.”  

“So… what’s the big deal?”  

“Look at the captions and the commentary under the video.”  

“?!”  

The presentation resembled a simple school recital.  

But the subtitles and explanation below the footage were anything but ordinary.  

“What?! She’s an artist being scouted by the largest art agency in America, which is run by a Chinese-American CEO?!”  

“What?! Major U.S. art media outlets have already heard about her through Japanese contacts?!”  

“What?! Japan’s top contemporary artists and veterans gave her a standing ovation and showered her with praise?!”  

“What?! Japan’s biggest TV network has formally requested an interview because she’s getting so much attention?!”  

Not only that.  

The image of Japan portrayed through various media and internet articles became a sort of social phenomenon.

A scene of people obsessing over and dissecting the work created by a young genius, almost to the point of madness. It was reminiscent of a superstar’s trend.  

This wasn’t like the forced trends from before like inflating a small mention of Koreans in a local newspaper or a random internet article a hundredfold into a forced wave of national pride.

No, this was different. It truly felt like a Korean genius was shaking Japan to its core.  

Her presence was powerful enough to make senior executives grin ear to ear like doting grandfathers, charmed by what seemed like an adorable granddaughter.

Her track record of captivating Japan and astonishing America alone was enough to make her superstar material.  

Her background was nothing short of extraordinary:  

1. Came from a poor single-parent household.  

2. A self-taught genius with no access to private education.  

3. Gained early admission to Korea’s top arts school.  

4. Held her first solo exhibition without anyone’s help.  

5. Invited to Japan as a recognized genius.  

Especially for those still haunted by the emotional wounds of the failed 2006 World Cup, her fifth achievement resonated like no other.  

– That Japan, of all nations…!  

The eternal rival, incomparable in the realm of pure art, had bowed first to a Korean genius. It was an exhilarating sensation, on par with a dopamine shower.  

Even if a brief documentary about her were aired, it would be enough to send the nation into a frenzy of pride, celebrating her achievements with flips of joy.  

And if some seasoning were added to the story?  

“This will sell…”  

– Gulp…!  

But most of her success seemed to have gained recognition abroad. If they remained passive, there was a growing fear they would look like fools—letting a genius slip away to foreign countries.  

“If we leave her be, she’ll be taken…!”  

It would be a repeat of history, another instance of loss.  

“…”  

“…”  

“…”  

Corporate representatives exchanged glances.  

“As they say, national pride…”  

“…is akin to faith…!”  

*

I asked the man in the suit, who had been explaining the situation to me in the security vehicle (the rest of the group was arriving on another bus).  

“…So, because of my documentary, the special program, and the patriotic marketing products, I’m suddenly being called the ‘Nation’s Little Sister’…?”  

“There are a few more behind-the-scenes details, but that’s mostly correct.”  

“And now I have to go to Gwanghwamun…?”  

“All you need to do is a quick interview and take some photos with the ministers…”  

“Min-ministers…?!”  

I took a deep breath and cautiously rolled down the window of the security vehicle.  

Suddenly, I heard the deafening cheers of hundreds of people.  

“Waaaaah!”  

“….”  

Outside, there were people waving flags emblazoned with the Korean flag and my face. When they saw me through the window, camera flashes erupted, welcoming me with enthusiasm.  

“…”  

I quietly rolled the window back up.  

“…”  

“…”  

“By any chance…”  

“Yes?”  

“…Is this some kind of hidden-camera prank?”  

“?”  

The suited man escorting me—my security detail—tilted his head in confusion. That’s when I realized this wasn’t some elaborate hidden-camera joke.  

“…Haha, this is hilarious.”