Mari, still wearing her blindfold, opened her mouth.
“Ah~!”
I carefully placed a piece of steak into her mouth with my fork.
“Here you go.”
“Yum…”
Mari chewed the steak contentedly.
—Munch, munch.
“Is it good?”
“Yeah! It tastes even better when I can’t see! Do you wanna try it too?”
“Haha, but that means you’d have to take off your blindfold here, right?”
“Oh, right. I’m okay with the sounds of people now, but seeing them is still a bit…”
Mari scratched her head.
‘Well, since it’s a private restaurant booking with people she knows, she managed to come this far. It’s definitely better than staying holed up at home.’
I spoke to her gently.
“You can take your time. Just get used to it little by little.”
“…Yeah!”
I watched her with a warm smile, then cut a piece of my own steak and put it in my mouth. The rich, meaty aroma spread instantly, carried by the steak’s juices.
The piece of steak was like butter. The moment it touched my teeth, it melted away. I finally understood what people meant when they said truly delicious steak doesn’t need any sauce.
A Michelin-recommended steakhouse really was on another level.
‘Wow… This is the real deal, a true New York steakhouse…! Normally, I’d be too conscious of the price to even step in, but since someone else is paying, this tastes like pure heaven.’
That’s right.
Right now, this entire steakhouse had been rented out—on someone else’s dime.
I recalled what had happened a little while ago.
“…”
*
After the broadcast recording ended, Weiran approached me.
“As expected, you really are the genius writer I had my eye on. Not just anyone can shine in a situation like that. What you accomplished was truly incredible.”
“…I-I see.”
“Hehe, it’s unsettling when a scary lady suddenly pushes you hard and then acts all friendly, isn’t it? I get it.”
Thump.
She hit the nail on the head. Weiran smiled with her eyes—sharp like a fox’s, yet carrying the fierce presence of an eagle and a tiger. Her expression was truly unique.
“If you had failed to demonstrate even the minimum level of ability here… I would have just smoothed things over and ignored you. But you were different. Seeing a little elementary schooler overcome a challenge that even adults struggle to face… it made me wonder just how big of a potential you have.”
“I see.”
“So, I negotiated with Mr. Johnson in advance. I told him, ‘Let’s put the spotlight on this genius.’”
“…Ah.”
It seemed that my handling of the TV theft incident had left a deep impression on Weiran. That’s why she convinced the talk show host to shift the attention onto me.
“The result? A perfect success. I thought maybe I could help you grow, but I quickly realized you’re far beyond anything I could contain. Your potential is like that of a great tiger.”
“…”
“So naturally, I started to feel a bit greedy too.”
“What kind of greed?”
“I wanted to help turn you into the greatest art prodigy in history. That’s why, even though it pained me… I had no choice but to push you even harder.”
“…”
Weiran sniffled, pretending to be genuinely heartbroken.
“…”
For a moment, I was at a loss for words at her ambition—and her theatrics.
“…You’re exaggerating.”
“Hehe!”
She patted my shoulder.
“If we were in China, you’d be praised for your humility. But this is New York. Here, confidence is much more of a virtue.”
“I think I prefer the Chinese approach to that.”
“Do you? Then you should visit China sometime. Haorun would be happy to see you.”
“…Huh?”
My eyes widened.
Chen Haorun.
A Chinese boy I had met at a workshop in Japan.
And now, out of nowhere, Weiran had mentioned his name.
‘Wait, what? Why is he suddenly coming up…?’
Weiran chuckled knowingly.
“You didn’t know? I’m his aunt.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“…Ugh, I bet he spent the entire workshop sulking, reading books, and keeping his mouth shut even in front of the girls, right? He’s always like that. Tsk tsk. No wonder he’s still single in high school. Even in an arts school full of beautiful dance students, he insists on playing the lone wolf…”
“…”
She had suddenly launched into a rant about Chen.
And the worst part? Everything she said was true.
Oof…
She was roasting Chen,
but for some reason, I felt kind of bad too.
‘…I mean, sure, he’s quiet, but he’s got a certain charm. N-Not having a girlfriend isn’t a crime or anything…’
But I kept those thoughts to myself.
Weiran smirked.
“Anyway… I see now. I thought maybe you had some kind of backup plan and that’s why you took such a bold leap. But that wasn’t it. You were genuinely ready to take full responsibility, no matter the cost.”
“It wasn’t some grand, noble resolve—”
“Hey!”
Before I could finish my sentence, Weiran slipped something into my pocket.
—Thud!
Startled, I looked at her.
“What is this?”
“My business card. Our agency isn’t dumb enough to skin the tiger before its legend even begins.”
“…?”
“Our deal regarding the collection of all your paintings I’ll take a bit more time to reconsider it carefully.”
Then, Weiran winked and added,
“…On the last day of the exhibition, I’ll book a steakhouse using our company’s corporate card. You’re free to invite whoever you’d like and throw a party.”
“!”
Holding her business card, I stammered,
“Is… is that really okay?! That’s such generous treatment…!”
“Hehe! Eat and enjoy to your heart’s content, our genius artist. Laohu Agency wishes to walk alongside your legend.”
With a graceful bow, Weiran left the room, accompanied by her staff.
*
“…..”
And as promised.
On the final day of the exhibition, a famous steakhouse in New York had been reserved under my name. I invited Marie, the staff, the writers… and Dr. William’s group.
Chewing my steak,
I glanced around the surrounding tables.
“…”
The people I had invited were laughing and chatting in the elegant steakhouse.
The Korean writers were practically intoxicated with national pride, looking dazed. The surge of crowds after the show had boosted their fame, leaving them exhilarated.
— Wow, I seriously teared up watching that talk show!
— Korea…! Korea! Do you know how long it’s been since I last heard Americans say the word ‘Korea’ properly?
— I’m so glad I came to New York…!
Dr. William and the center staff were leisurely sipping their wine. Every time they looked at Marie and me, they smiled and gave us a thumbs-up.
— Why is Mari wearing an eye patch…?
— She’s gradually recovering.
— Hoho, Mari has always been a strong girl.
“…”
I shifted my gaze back around.
Marie, still wearing her eye patch, was chewing her food, and Chief Jung was gently wiping her mouth. At the next table, Marie’s attendants and installation technicians were sitting comfortably, looking relaxed.
Everyone was smiling with ease.
‘So it’s really coming to an end… The New York exhibition.’
I felt a sense of relief.
At that moment,
a crisp, glass-clinking sound rang out.
— Ting, ting, ting!
“!”
“!”
“!”
People turned their heads toward the sound.
Standing there was the representative of the Korean writers, the senior author Park Seokjo. Holding a teaspoon, he lightly tapped his wine glass to draw everyone’s attention.
With a face full of deep wrinkles, he smiled and spoke.
“I apologize for interrupting your enjoyable meal. But there’s something important I wanted to say to you all.”
Then, turning toward me, he continued.
“As an old, humble writer, I have been honored—perhaps undeservedly—to represent the Korean writers. But no matter how I think about it, the true star of this exhibition was not me, was it? I felt that we needed a moment to properly express our gratitude and appreciation, so I ask for a bit of your valuable time.”
“!”
“!”
“!”
Everyone in the steakhouse turned to look at me. Then, they erupted into cheers, calling out my name.
— Go Hana, our esteemed author!
— Our genius writer!
— Korea’s pride!
— Thank you!
Park Seokjo lifted his wine glass.
“To my precious fellow Korean writers who participated in this exhibition… To the young but immensely talented Mari, who has expanded her artistic world overseas… And lastly, to Go Hana, who arranged this gathering and became our guiding light… This old man wishes to express his heartfelt gratitude to you all!”
Everyone raised their glasses.
“…Hah.”
I let out a small chuckle and lifted my glass of water. Marie, still wearing her eye patch, grabbed Chief Jung’s wine glass, while Chief Jung anxiously watched her, worried she might take a sip.
In a soft voice, Park Seokjo spoke.
“Cheers!”
— Cheers!
— Cheers!
— Cheers!
I joined in.
“Cheers…!”
Everyone continued their excited praises.
— The greatest writer in Korea!
— A true genius of our nation!
— A treasure to the world!
‘…They really don’t need to go this far. They’re getting carried away. Is everyone just drunk on the atmosphere of New York?’
*
The day I returned,
Marie and I took separate flights.
Marie looked disappointed as we stood in the hotel.
— Ehh? Why? Hana, just come with me!
— Go Hana has an event scheduled, so she has to take a different flight.
— An event…?
— Instead, why don’t you two spend some quality time together this weekend, miss?
…In the end, Marie gave in to Chief Jung’s persuasion.
‘Still, it’s a bit disappointing that my opinion wasn’t really considered.’
— To be fair, I had already planned to spend time with Marie on the weekend. I just wished someone had actually asked me first.
Anyway.
I boarded the plane arranged by the Ministry of Culture alone. And throughout the flight, I kept thinking about the event.
‘Last time, they blasted the national anthem in an auditorium and put on some over-the-top patriotism show… So this time, are they going to dress us all in hanbok and make us sing Arirang together?’
“…”
Sigh…
This era’s sentimentality is… exhausting.
“….”
But what’s the point in worrying?
What will come, will come.
And this, too, shall pass.
I convinced myself with that thought.
‘Wearing hanbok and singing Arirang isn’t the worst thing in the world… Sure, it might be over the top, but acting cute for an audience once in a while isn’t the worst experience…’
But I had no idea what real theatrics were yet.
Because the moment I arrived at Incheon Airport,
I was met with a sight beyond my wildest imagination.
[Now entering: Author Go Hana—!]
The airport was packed with a massive crowd.
Everywhere I looked, people were waving banners and flags with my face printed on them. It felt less like a welcome and more like I had unknowingly started a political rally.
— Waaaaah!
— Waaaaah!
— Waaaaah!
Behind them, dozens of musicians dressed in hanbok, sitting in perfect formation. Holding traditional Korean instruments, they immediately began playing the moment I stepped into view.
– ♪
A very familiar melody.
It was none other than Arirang.
“…”
As the instrumental intro ended, a choir joined in, their voices swelling in grandeur.
— Arirang, Arirang, Arariyo—
— Arirang, Arariyo— Arirang
— Arirang, Arirang, Arariyo—
And then, in perfect synchronization—
A giant Taegeukgi unfurled from the airport ceiling.
— Flutter!
The crowd erupted into cheers, wildly chanting my name while waving their flags.
— Genius writer, Go Hana!
— Genius writer, Go Hana!
— Genius writer, Go Hana!
“…”
Standing in front of the platform,
I could do nothing but tremble like a newborn deer.