Chapter 89:Walking Togather – (4)

The professors encouraged me, saying they enjoyed the exhibition. Then, with slightly dazed expressions, they said they would take a look around the other exhibition halls.  

“…”  

I didn’t follow them.  

As a resident artist, I stayed in place.  

So, I continued sitting by the trickling fountain. Under the warm early summer sun of Venice, I took in the scent of the green foliage and observed everything from the cool shade.  

“…”  

Right in front of me, the Korean Pavilion was still packed with people even though it was only the preview period, before the general public arrived.  

—Murmur, murmur  

Go Hun’s funeral hall was filled with mourners. They cried, laughed, and talked about that man.  

—“I think it’s about Buddhist enlightenment…”  

—“No, those stairs represent Jesus’ suffering…!”  

Was it an interpretation of death?  

—“I still don’t know.”  

—“I can’t forget his final moments.”  

—“They were so intense.”  

—“That white powder reminded me of when we cremated my mother.”  

—“It brought back memories of when my eldest son passed away from pneumonia.”  

These were people from an entirely different world star artists, celebrities, business tycoons. They had seemed so distant, yet here they were, mourning a man who had struggled at the very bottom.  

Without realizing it, they had all become mourners for one man.  

A man who had lost everything,  

his dreams,  

his love,  

his name,  

his family,  

his place.  

Yet, he undeniably existed here.  

He walked among the audience, communicating through art.  

‘He,’ who could never coexist with me, had now appeared in this world as the form of art.  

In this world, both Go Hun and Go Hana existed at the same time.  

He existed now.  

He existed with me.  

“…”  

If it were me, would I be satisfied now?  

“…”  

…I don’t know.  

Not anymore.  

“…I am Go Hana.”  

I am now Go Hana, the girl who is loved, who stands at the forefront, who shares moments with countless people.  

No matter how much I recall the past, I can no longer understand Go Hun’s feelings.  

But one thing is certain, my heart feels lighter now.  

Because I was able to return what he left me as existence itself.  

And so, I could watch the rest of the process without hesitation.  

Simply feeling content, watching the mourners gather.

“…”  

Feeling a sense of debt toward one’s past self is ridiculous… but there are things in this world that can’t be explained by reason alone.  

At least, that’s what I thought.  

At that moment, I heard the lively sound of dress shoes clicking behind me.  

—Tap, tap!  

A familiar voice called out.  

“Go Hana, writer! I brought something delicious from nearby! You’ve worked so hard, so eat up and recharge—!”  

“!?”  

I turned around.  

There stood Jeong-Jeonjin, holding bags filled with a delicious aroma. Her already messy hair was even more disheveled, making her look like a shaggy dog.  

She grinned and plopped down beside me.  

“You’ve been sitting here ever since the opening, haven’t you? Aren’t you hot? Come on, eat this and regain your strength.”  

“…Thank you. How are the others? Are they getting some rest?”  

“Of course! Everyone pushed through until dawn.”  

“That’s a relief.”  

We pulled out fragrant bread and fresh fruit from the bag and started eating. Taking a big bite, the sweet taste spread through my mouth, and I could feel energy returning to my body.  

‘During the installation period, I really poured everything into it…No wonder I’m still exhausted.’  

We quietly continued our lunch.  

“…”  

“…”  

With the sound of the fountain as our background music, we finished our simple meal. Meanwhile, a steady stream of people continued to enter and exit the Korean Pavilion in an orderly line.  

We watched them absentmindedly.  

Jeong-Jeonjin, sipping on a fresh fruit juice from who-knows-where, spoke with a satisfied smile.  

“…This is amazing.”  

“?”  

“During the Venice Biennale preview period, only the pickiest VIPs come. And yet, look at them all completely captivated. To be honest, I teared up when I first saw it too.”  

“Really?”  

“Yeah… It reminded me of when I was studying in a tiny goshiwon, trying to get into a big company.”  

“…I see. That makes sense.”  

Jeong-Jeonjin spoke wistfully.  

“Yeah, it’s like… I feel like anyone who’s gone through a tough time would have a lot on their mind walking through that space. The White Man too.”  

“?”  

Her words confused me.  

…The White Man?  

‘Was there something about a white male in the artwork?’  

For some reason, Miz-chan’s face popped into my mind, making me wonder if I had subconsciously incorporated something like that into the piece. Unable to hold back my curiosity, I asked,  

“The White Man?”  

“The one made of powder. It was so intense I really loved it.”

“…Ah, I see.”  

I let out a small chuckle.  

‘My mind was so consumed by the keyword “death” that I never even considered judging it by the color of the powder itself. That’s kind of funny. I never thought of looking at it that way.’  

The interpretation varied drastically depending on who was viewing it.  

In the end, wasn’t this just another branch of art?  

With a satisfied smile, I responded.  

“I’m glad you liked it.”  

“…”  

But Jung-Jeonjin didn’t answer. She just stared ahead with wide eyes, straw still in her mouth.  

“…”  

“…Jung-Jeonjin?”  

“A-Ah, Writer…!”  

“?”  

She pointed toward the long line of visitors coming and going.  

There, a group of middle-aged men in suits stood, holding documents. They were of various ethnicities, all wearing serious expressions, making them stand out even from a distance.  

I had a good guess about who they were.  

They were none other than the  Venice Biennale jurors .  

During the preview period, they visited all the exhibition halls and scored them, determining which artists would receive awards. Essentially, the results of the Venice Biennale would be decided today or tomorrow.  

‘…Not that I’m particularly greedy for awards.’  

Just setting up this memorial for Go Hun was enough to bring me peace. Maybe that’s why I didn’t feel nervous.  

‘They just seem like some old men coming to pay their respects…’  

However, it seemed like the others around me didn’t see it that way.  

Murmurs spread through the crowd.  

—Oh, the judging is starting now.  

—Wonder what kind of evaluation they’ll give.  

—They rarely give awards to Asian artists.  

Jung-Jeonjin spoke in a thin, trembling voice.  

“J-Jud… Judging committee…!”  

“…”  

“W-What should we do…?”  

She looked down at the fresh fruit juice and bread she was holding, mumbling anxiously.  

“S-Should I offer them this and ask them to be generous…?”  

“Uh… Jung-Jeonjin. Please calm down. Those people aren’t the type to snack while looking at exhibitions.”  

“…Oh no!”  

“…”  

While Jung-Jeonjin was caught in panic, the jury members stepped inside the exhibition hall.  

From that moment on, Jung-Jeonjin fell completely silent, trembling.  

“…”  

I could only murmur to myself.  

‘…I don’t need an award or anything. I just hope that somewhere deep in their hearts, they remember Go Hun.’  

A few minutes later, the jurors emerged again.  

Right in front of the exhibition hall, they engaged in a serious discussion.  

“—.”  

“—.”  

“—.”  

And then, the judges remained silent for a while.  

One of them clutched the documents with slightly trembling hands. Another adjusted their glasses and furrowed their brow.  

They looked like people who had just witnessed a major accident.  

“…”  

“…”  

“…”  

The atmosphere was undeniably heavy.  

Sensing that something was off, Chief Jung started chattering his teeth and trembling, while the eyes of the surrounding spectators remained fixed on us.  

I was starting to get worried.  

‘Did we break some kind of law, like the Illegal Installations Prohibition Act? Damn it, if we have to shut down the exhibition over something like this, that’s going to be a real headache. Even funeral homes stay open for at least three days closing on the first day would make us a laughingstock.’  

At that moment,  

one of the judges pointed at me.  

Immediately, all of them turned their gaze toward me.  

“—!”  

“—?”  

“—.”  

Muttering something under their breath,  

the judges began striding toward the fountain.  

Chief Jung and I instinctively looked at each other.  

“!”  

“!”  

It didn’t take long for the judges to reach us.  

Standing before us, they simply stared in silence.  

“…”  

“…”  

“…”  

“…”  

“…”  

For a while, we shared an awkward silence.  

‘Why…? Did we actually break some Biennale rule illegally…?’  

Just as an unfamiliar sense of unease began creeping in,  

one of them finally spoke to me in English.  

“Are you… artist Ko Hana?”  

“!”  

Taking responsibility, I answered.  

“…Yes, that’s correct. I’m in charge of the Korean Pavilion exhibition.”  

“…”  

Awkward…  

They stared at me for a long time.  

Then, they stepped back.  

“…Our apologies.”  

“…?”  

Without another word, the judges turned and walked away into the distance.  

I said turning to Chief Jung.

“…They’re such oblivious people. The author’s bio and name should all be written there.”  

But Chief Jung suddenly exploded with excitement.  

“W-w-w-writer…!”  

“Uh, yes…?”  

“Isn’t this amazing?! Stopping in their tracks to ask your name it’s basically the same as saying, ‘Here, take the Silver Lion Award and just wait patiently, kid!'”  

“…?”  

No, that’s quite the overinterpretation…  

Unlike my thoughts, Chief Jung grabbed me under my arms, lifted me up, and spun me around. Her smile sparkled like sunlight it was pure  hope  itself.  

“A debut award…! The Silver Lion Award! The Silver Lion ! Ahaha! It’s an award that’s barely ever been given in Asia! Everyone must be completely shocked looking at you right now! This is huge!”  

Spinning in that whirlwind of excitement, I calmly refuted her words in my head.  

‘It’s still too early… For now, the Biennale is still centered around Western aesthetics. That’s why Asian artists haven’t won awards there.’  

Strictly speaking, my work <Walking Together> was a comprehensive art piece deeply rooted in Eastern philosophy. I had no idea how much it would appeal to the judges, who had a Western artistic sensibility.  

‘…Besides, media, digital, and performance-based interdisciplinary art isn’t even the mainstream of this era yet.’  

Simply put, it was a heretical work, packed with artistic grammar that might only be appreciated in the future. A heretic’s requiem, meant solely to etch the image of a man who never existed into people’s minds.  

‘A piece like that winning the Silver Lion Award? That’s unlikely.’  

I felt bad for Chief Jung, but I didn’t bother saying it out loud. After all, someone who had helped me this much was  this  happy letting her enjoy it a little wouldn’t hurt.  

“This is amazing! Writer!”  

“…”  

*

“…With this, the Silver Lion Award ceremony concludes.”  

In the end, the Silver Lion Award went to another artist.  

I took my eyes off the stage where the ceremony was taking place.  

“…”  

There, Chief Jung and the rest of the Korean Pavilion team stood frozen, their eyes blank. They had rushed over, full of anticipation after hearing the award announcement, only to be met with the harsh reality.  

“…”  

“…”  

“…”  

Chief Jung suddenly trembled and muttered,  

“T-this is ridiculous—!”  

“!”  

Then, the curator and other crew members started voicing their complaints as well.  

“Are those judges out of their minds?!”  

“There’s no one more deserving of a debut award than our artist, Go Hana!”  

“They were definitely bribed!”  

Before their anger could reach a breaking point, I spoke.  

In a voice that was perfectly clear.  

“It’s okay.”  

“I-But…!”  

“I’m fine.”  

I looked at them and spoke calmly.  

“Just being here and exhibiting with all of you has already made me happy enough. I appreciate you getting angry on my behalf, but let’s not end our journey on a bad note because of our anger.”  

“…”  

“Please, let’s continue enjoying this festival together.”  

“…Okay.”  

Chief Jung and the others started leaving the awards ceremony venue, looking dejected.  

“…”  

I had fulfilled my duty here.  

I didn’t wish for anything more.  

‘Let’s continue engraving Go Hun’s name into people’s minds… That is my purpose here.’  

And so,  

we  

dragged our feet as we left the venue.  

We walked until the stage was no longer visible.  

I turned to the dispirited Chief Jung and spoke.  

“Let’s have a nice dinner tonight. If we all chat together, we’ll feel better in no time.”  

“…I…”  

“…Okay.”  

Chief Jung sniffled and wiped her glasses.  

At that moment, a scream echoed from afar.  

It was one of the Korean curator staff members who had come with us.  

“A-Ah, ahhh?!”  

“?”  

“?”  

He suddenly came running toward us, shouting.  

“G-Gold…! Gold!”  

People tilted their heads in confusion.  

“Gold?”  

“What gold?”  

The curator shouted at the top of his lungs.  

“…Go Hana, the artist she won the Golden Lion Award—!”  

“?”  

“?”  

Everyone wore stunned expressions.  

The Golden Lion Award.  

The highest honor bestowed upon a contemporary artist.  

A weight so heavy that it felt almost impossible to see a Korean artist’s name next to it.  

That’s why no one could accept it right away.  

“…”  

“…”  

“…”  

But then reality set in.  

They all turned to look at me.  

“The Golden Lion Award—?!”  

“The Golden Lion Award?!”  

“The Golden Lion Award?!”  

—Thud!  

Chief Jung dropped her glasses.  

The sound of the lenses shattering rang out, but she didn’t seem to care.  

“A-Hah, ha, ha… Ha… Golden…?!”  

Voices overlapped, crashing down on me.  

For a moment, my vision flashed. Then, it blurred.  

And in that instant, I realized.  

From this moment on…