Van Gogh Reborn!

Chapter 170: Eroica (6)

Chapter 170 Eroica (6)

Jerome Kerbiel, the former SNBA office manager, slammed his desk as he browsed the internet articles.

Unlike him, who was desperately struggling and even appeared on TV, Henri Marso was having fun with the kid.

I think theyre in cahoots.

What do you mean?

Theres no way a celebrity would do that on the street. Theyre doing it on purpose to create an issue.

Dont badmouth my brother. Hes always been like that.

Yeah. Hes not a very thoughtful person.

Even if Henri is like that, why is Go Hoon doing that lol

He seems to have a temper too. He gave Henri a double slap.

Theyre both fine when theyre apart, but when they meet, theyre a disaster lol

lololol a disaster lololol

The situation is weird. Theres a protest against Henri Marso right next to them, and theyre doing that.

Maybe they dont care?

Even the comments were mostly favorable.

He felt empty after all the time he had spent trying to rally and secure people who hated Henri Marso by tarnishing his reputation.

Jerome Kerbiel wrote a comment.

Its obvious what theyre doing. How can it be a coincidence that theyre doing that right next to the protest site?

What do they gain from doing that?

Right lololol They have nothing to gain from fighting with a kid.

Theyre trying to create a friendly image. Theyre trying to hide the fact that theyre authoritarian and tyrannical.

Oh?

Wow, theres a conspiracy theorist here.

Its not a conspiracy. Didnt you hear what the guy on TV said? Listen to the meeting recording.

Nah, Im not interested.

I listened to it and he was only saying the right things. He was angry that the beneficiaries of the Antermittang were still the same even though the scope of the benefits had increased.

I dont know much, but isnt that something to be angry about?

Thats not the point. You have to see how he treats the board members as he pleases.

What are you talking about? Hes questioning them because theyre doing something wrong.

Isnt he one of the dismissed people? lol

Do you know that the people who couldnt get unemployment benefits got all the money they couldnt get until now?

I think he has a point. Hes right to act coercively.

Its frustrating. Cant you see that things are getting normalized after they all got fired?

Obviously. You can see that theyre giving out the money they didnt give before with all kinds of excuses.

Where do you think that money came from? It must mean that those 3,000 people were all embezzling.

The artists are all welcoming him, but the dismissed people are the only ones complaining lol

Sir, I dont know who you are, but please stop. The things youre insisting on as evidence are all wrong.

Jerome Kerbiel couldnt type. He didnt know what to say.

There were some people who agreed with him, but most of the comments were supporting Henri Marso.

He couldnt surpass Henri Marso, who didnt do anything, even though he had paid for hundreds of articles and had 3,000 people post and recommend related posts and comments on various community sites.

He had given up the name of an artist.

And the name of a critic.

He was desperate after fighting only with evil.

Why. Why

He thought he had done enough.

He had won several competitions and was the envy of everyone when he was an undergraduate.

But at some point, everything stopped. His exhibitions were no longer noticed, and he started to work as a critic for a living, but it was only for a while.

He had no talent.

He thought so and lived in compliance with the SNBA office manager position and a generous salary.

He hated Henri Marso, who had taken that position away from him.

He resented his ruthlessness, who didnt tolerate even one mistake, even though he had been loyal.

He was annoyed by everything about him, who had talent, inherited a huge fortune from birth, was handsome, and got favorable impressions no matter what he did.

He felt wronged.

He despised himself for not being able to do that.

He resented his parents for not giving him wealth and talent, and the public who didnt understand his artistic world were too stupid.

The lawyer was the same.

He only gave him frustrating answers that he couldnt get acquitted no matter how much he appealed.

Jerome Kerbiel, who couldnt accept it and went through two investigations alone, was indicted for embezzlement and breach of trust and was facing a trial.

He wanted to change public opinion and influence the trial results a little, but it was useless.

The man who had lived in inferiority realized that he had nothing to do.

He gave up everything.

Jerome Kerbiel opened the drawer.

That was the only choice left.

*

September 17, 2028, Sunday, 10:30 a.m.

Jerome Kerbiel visited the Marso Gallery with a familiar face.

He wore a coat and stuck his hand deep into his pocket, looking around.

Many people had visited since morning to appreciate Henri Marsos works, and there was one guide and two security guards at the entrance.

Im sorry, but we cant do that. Its only available from 10:30 a.m. to 11 a.m. on September 17. Shall we make an appointment for then?

Jerome Kerbiel recalled what Arsen, Henri Marsos secretary, had said a month ago.

According to his own research through various information sources and the articles related to Henri Marso, it was as he said.

Henri Marso had no special schedule in the morning and was scheduled to attend the SNBA staff meeting at noon.

Jerome Kerbiel swallowed his dry saliva and moved his feet.

He entered the gallery without any resistance and looked around slowly.

The place, decorated only with Henri Marsos self-portraits and self-awareness, was full of happiness, admiration, and wonder.

Look at this.

How did he think of this?

Is this a photo? How is this a painting?

Jerome Kerbiel didnt miss a single work.

He was the best painter and sculptor since Bernard Buffet, praised as the Rodin of the modern era, the Marso of the present.

He was the man I could never catch up with.

He was the man who didnt allow me to give up and surrender.

It was the day when I made sure he would never ignore me again.

The more amazing he was, the more meaningful I thought my actions today were.

I walked around the gallery patiently, occasionally glancing at the second floor office.

I also listened to the conversations of the staff.

Did the director come in?

Yes. He was looking for you.

Oh no. What do I do? He must be busy planning for the Art Nouveau competition.

Go up and see him.

Michel Platini, the director, was in the gallery.

Should I bring some coffee to Mr. Arsen?

Are you interested?

Well hehe.

Arthur. Youre married and have a son.

No way.

And so was Arsen, Henri Marsos secretary.

I was sure that Henri Marso was in the second floor office.

But I didnt know when he would come down.

I checked the front and saw that Arsen and Henri Marsos cars were not visible, so I thought they might use the back door.

I passed by a boy holding a candy, first checking the underground parking lot.

Meanwhile.

Henri Marso, who visited Shadong in the morning, was greatly shocked by Go Hoons <Summer Nostalgia>.

He couldnt get any work done in his office, even after he returned, because of the lingering impression.

It would have been better if the work was excellent.

He had already seen many of Go Hoons works, so he knew his level well.

But what made Henri Marso flustered was that Go Hoon was still 11 years old, and he was improving every time he saw him.

<Sunflower> was a work that blended post-impressionism and oriental painting appropriately.

<Guest> was emotional and visually amusing, but it lacked descriptive power.

But what about <Frosty Wheat Field>?

It looked like a work that a master of impressionism had evolved and presented in the modern era.

<Mask> was avant-garde art, <Bullet> twisted the composition and distorted the figures, showing an expressionist tendency.

He seemed to be learning the history of painting, changing rapidly.

And through <Summer Nostalgia>, he created an image of a concept that he didnt have before.

His heart felt heavy with the inexplicable longing he felt in the illusion of wavering.

And at the same time, it seemed like something was changing lively when he moved his eyes quickly.

In five years, ten years.

And after that, he couldnt even imagine what kind of painting he would draw.

Henri Marso put his thumb on his forehead and fell into thought.

The trilogy he had conceived in three points was a work that showed all the skills he had accumulated so far.

He only submitted the first picture to the Art Nouveau competition because of anonymity.

But he wondered if it would be more loved by people than <Summer Nostalgia>.

Even if he surpassed it this time, he was afraid of the next.

He didnt want to lose.

He couldnt stay away from him, as much as he acknowledged and loved the boys work.

He couldnt accept that he was no longer a competitor.

That he was no longer in an equal position.

The moment his thoughts reached that point.

Henri Marso realized why he had been so conscious of Go Hoon.

It wasnt because he was jealous or felt inferior.

He wanted to be with another genius who was similar to him but different.

He hoped that the boy would be influenced by him, as he was by the boy.

He wanted to be recognized for the first time, as a lonely genius who had no ones understanding.

Henri Marso chuckled.

Damn it.

He didnt know how far he would go, but Henri Marso willingly accepted the competition.

He didnt want to give up, even if there was a moment when he was pushed back.

He felt a strong desire to paint when he saw Go Hoons work.

He liked that state.

Knock-

Someone knocked on the door.

He wanted to feel more satisfaction. He didnt want to meet anyone right now.

He ignored it, but there was another knock.

What is it?

Henri Marso was annoyed by the interruption of his thoughts.

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