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Chapter 53 Part 2 - The Mysterious Art Museum

A street artist's life changed when he ended up at a mysterious art museum. DBT,Korean,Novel,Translation,Art,Artist,Slice of life,Poor to Rich,Mystery

“Stop it, since when have you cared about that?”

“Giggle, hey, but how much can I spend?”

“Just spend it roughly. I don't know about that stuff.”

Man, I can’t believe I’m paying for a meal for 11 people. Never even imagined it. These days, a serving of pork belly costs about 20,000 won… When did pork belly become so expensive?

Assuming two servings per person, that’s 264,000 won for just the meat. Adding meals, drinks, and sodas, it would come to about 400,000 won. Maybe even over 500,000.

Youngju rolls her eyes and snatches the credit card from my trembling hand, chuckling.

“I’ll try to keep it under 400,000 won.”

Phew, that’s my friend.

I wave to Youngju and turn around.

“Hey, go ahead. Have a good meal and see you tomorrow.”

Hurry up and leave.

I feel like I'm about to cry.

400,000 won. I can't believe I'm spending 400,000 won on people who aren’t even my family.

Ah, should I think of them as family since we’re working together, even if it’s just for a while?

Yeah, let’s have a mental victory.

My juniors are my family for three months, it’s not regrettable. Not at all.

After Youngju leaves, I’m alone in the studio.

I stick the prepared paper onto the wall.

I climbed a short ladder to attach six large sheets of paper and started attaching the board members' photos from the right corner.

Some at the front.

Some at the very back.

Some in the corner.

Some in the center.

And I take out a pencil to write down their characteristics observed in the board meeting under the photos.

It would be nice to know their names, but without them, I write the characteristics under the photos with the same number.


Has a small face for a man.

Looks more so because of his broad shoulders and large build.

More fat than muscle, so not a great fit.

Has a thick neck, so he usually wears the top two buttons of his shirt undone.

Raises his left eyebrow when he frowns.


Unlike the photo, has a wavy perm and brown dyed hair.

Preference is visible with lace on the wrists, neck, and ends of the shirt.

No black in the wardrobe.

Prefers pastel tones over primary colors.

Likes logo play, giving off a nouveau riche vibe.


Looks a bit older than in the photo.

There are age spots not seen in the Photoshopped picture, but they don’t seem necessary for the painting.

Prefers suits, but doesn’t suit him because he’s overweight.

Has three folds on his neck.

Seems to like luxury goods, but prefers logo-free items.

A~C is the arrangement in the picture.

Arranged regardless of gender, based on facial expressions. Those who often had a serious expression were arranged in A.

During the board meeting, Youngju and I took separate observation notes.

Youngju might have noticed something I missed, and vice versa. So, I unfold the notebook Youngju left for reference and supplement the content.

After arranging the photos and making some more adjustments, it was already late at night.

Looking at the time, it was 1 AM.

Probably, my juniors and Youngju have already finished their meal and gone home.

But then, I realized the last bus had already left?

Too stingy for a taxi, I guess I'll just pull an all-nighter.

I need to move quickly for everyone else to move.

President Yoo didn’t contract with our company, but rather with me as an individual.

It will be a problem if the finished artwork isn’t mine.

I sit at my desk, looking at the layout on the paper, and mutter.

“Once Youngju calculates the exact ceiling width with isometric, I’ll shoot my painting onto the ceiling and have the juniors draw it exactly as it is, right?”

First, I will draw on a canvas.

The canvas is square, and the ceiling is round. There will definitely be some leftover space at the edges, and I need to think about how to cover that up. That would probably be the last part of the work, so it’s not an immediate worry.

I interlock my fingers and stretch, then smile broadly.

“Alright, shall we start? Up to here with Klimt’s hints, and from now on, it’s my own method.”

You can imitate a method, but you can’t copy a work.

It’s not just plagiarism, but also something an artist’s pride can’t tolerate.

Now, it’s time to paint my own picture.


The next day, in the studio.

Youngju, who no longer goes to the Seoul City Art Museum, parked her car early in the morning in front of the studio.


The studio door is open. Youngju, squinting her eyes, grumbles.

“Jung-hoon, this guy, there’s plenty of materials bought in advance for the office, and he leaves the door open? If anything's missing, he's dead today, really.”

Irritated, Young-ju flings open the half-open studio door and her eyes widen.

“What, what is this?”

An obviously unfinished painting.

But the quality of the work in progress is indescribably excellent.

On the 200-size canvas, the faces of the people pre-arranged in the layout seem to float, looking as if photos were directly pasted, so lifelike.

Swallowing hard, Young-ju walks up to the painting and mutters.

“Crazy, Jung-hoon, this guy. I knew he was good, but this good?”

As she says the name 'Jung-hoon', Young-ju suddenly remembers the current situation and looks around. She finds him sprawled in a corner chair, fast asleep.

She quietly observed Jung-hoon and then went to her car to get a blanket from the back seat. Returning, she gently covered the sleeping Jeong-hoon, taking care not to wake him.

Quietly placing her bag down, Young-ju once again looked at the large canvas and chuckled as she gazed at the sleeping Jeong-hoon with a newfound appreciation.

"It seems like I made a good choice choosing the president."

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