chapter_0088

Chapter 87:Walk Together – (2)

Chapter 87:Walk Together – (2)

April had arrived.  

And I was on my way to Incheon Airport with Mari, riding in the art studio’s car. Of course, there was a staff member driving for us.  

Two months before the Venice Biennale.  

Now, it was time to go set up the artwork.  

I yawned.  

“Haam…”  

“…”  

From last night until early this morning,  

we had been in meetings at the HU Art Studio headquarters.  

It was the final check-up with the Biennale’s curator, technicians, and the installation team, reviewing every detail of the artwork. On top of that, we had to adjust the cargo schedule, so aside from brief naps, I barely got any sleep.  

‘Roughly… the total preparation period took just under six months. Everyone had a meltdown when I changed the concept a bit back in January, but in the end, we pulled it off.’  

Honestly, this was nothing short of a miracle done at lightning speed.  

‘Being invited only half a year in advance as a newly discovered artist… that was cutting it way too close.’  

Typically, for an artist participating in the Biennale,  

careful selection was required from securing sponsorships to assigning a curator to oversee the exhibition. Not to mention, conceptualizing a piece that fit the Biennale’s theme took ages.  

That’s why the usual preparation time was at least one to two years.  

But who were we?  

The proud people of the ppalli-ppalli (hurry-up) culture, fueled by 2007-era patriotism! To those overflowing with national pride, a year was a luxury.  

– What? We need a bunch of monitors and TVs? Just take all the ones from our company!  

– What? We need an expert in modern installation art? Hey! Gather up the friends who’ve got experience in that!  

– What? Money? Our precious Hana-chan, don’t even worry about that! We’ve got plenty!  

– Our genius girl Hana can do whatever she wants!  

– Go out there and make Korea known to the world!  

– …A-and, well, it’d be nice if you could win an award too.  

Looking back, maybe I was exaggerating a bit, but it honestly felt like a national project.  

A mix of corporate, academic, and governmental support—like a Korea-flavored, lovingly wrapped gift package.  

‘…Even the artists who were originally shortlisted for the Biennale were gracious enough to support me.’  

Seriously…  

Just how much expectation were these people placing on me?  

Thinking about that weight,  

I yawned once again, my mouth stretching wide open.  

“…Huaam.”  

As a citizen of the New Country, I still couldn’t shake off my exhaustion.  

At least I’d be able to sleep during the flight to Italy.  

‘…It’s not a private jet, but at least I have a first-class seat this time. I’ll stretch out my legs and sleep properly. I can never get any rest when I’m sitting in a weird position.’  

Ah, this was bad.  

I had become someone who could no longer be satisfied with regular seats.  

Woe is me…  

Just as I was lamenting my own corruption (?), the car we were in began approaching Incheon Airport.  

The driver glanced at the rearview mirror and spoke.  

“We’ll be arriving soon.”  

“…”

“…”  

Hm?  

Isn’t this about the time Mari would usually say something?  

‘…She’s acting strange today. ‘Hana! Have a great trip! I’ll have a room ready for you at my place when you get back!’, Normally she’d be messing with me by saying something like this.’  

I glanced to my side.  

“…”  

“…”  

Mari looked restless.  

She seemed more nervous than I was the one actually participating in the Biennale.  

And she had been holding a small handbag in one hand for a while now.  

“…”  

I sneaked a glance at it and casually threw out a conversation starter.  

“…Funny, isn’t it? It’s April again.”  

“…!”  

Mari smiled slightly.  

“…Yeah. We first met in April, you prepared for a new exhibition in April, and little Hana first saw my work in April.”  

“…Sometimes, it’s a little scary how you pick up on what I’m implying with just a vague comment.”  

“Hm? What do you mean? There’s no way I wouldn’t understand what you’re saying, Hana.”  

“That unwavering confidence is kind of scary too.”  

“…Hmph.”  

Mari puffed out her cheeks slightly. Then, as if her nervousness had eased, she started rummaging through her handbag and pulled it forward.  

“Mari, what’s that?”  

“…”  

She hesitated for a moment before taking something out.  

It was a small girl’s cardigan.  

‘Huh? Is she cold? But that looks way too small for Mari… Did she just grab something random from the studio in all the chaos?’  

I tilted my head as I looked at it.  

“…Isn’t that too small for you, Mari?”  

“Don’t you remember this?”  

“?”  

Hmm.  

It felt like something I should remember, but…  

“…”  

“…”  

Then, Mari casually spoke.  

“This is the one you put over me back then.”  

“…”  

I froze for a moment.  

And then, a familiar memory surfaced.  

— Do you like art?  

The day of the accident.  

The cardigan I had draped over Mari, who was shivering from blood loss.  

“!”  

I clapped my hands together and exclaimed.  

“Oh—oh! That one from the accident! You never threw it away?”

“Yeah, whenever I smelled it, I felt calmer when I was anxious. So I kept using it. Whenever I got nervous or had a bad dream.”  

“…Huh?”  

M-my scent…?  

Mari continued speaking.  

“That’s why I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can return the cardigan. I think I’ll keep using it from time to time.”  

“O-oh…”  

“…But there’s something else I want to give back to you.”  

“?”  

Mari unpinned the name tag attached to the front of the cardigan. Then, carefully, she pinned it onto the front of my uniform.  

I looked at the name tag.  

『Hana』  

“!”  

It was also something familiar. It was a name tag that Teacher Ahra had given us in elementary school. At the beginning of the semester, so we wouldn’t confuse each other’s names with our friends.  

But I had kept wearing it.  

—So that people would know that I am ‘Go Hana’…  

Thinking about it now,  

perhaps I was just afraid,  

Afraid that I would be forgotten, as if in a past life.  

“…”  

I gently stroked the stiff, laminated name tag.  

And when I lifted my head, my eyes met Mari’s.  

“…”  

“…”  

Her eyes, tinged with a slight shade of brown,  

still held traces of worry and sorrow.  

Her troubles weren’t over yet.  

But the darkness was gradually fading…  

Beyond the window, the light shone through, reflecting my own bewildered expression.  

Go Hoon had been forgotten,  

but Go Hana had remembered.  

The girl, who bore the name of the Holy Mother, spoke.  

“…Before my mom passed away, she told me—  

That angels are so pure, they can understand even the most difficult words.  

And that one day, an angel would come down to be my friend.”  

“…”  

“Thank you, my angel.  

Thank you for coming down to me.  

Thank you for saving me.  

Thank you for being born into this world.  

I always gain strength just by looking at you.”  

Mari cupped my face in her hands, delicately, as if she were handling a precious gem that might crack at the slightest touch.  

“…Thank you.  Wherever you go, I’ll be cheering for you.  I’ll do my best, so I can become your angel too.”  

“…”  

I held her hands in return.  

“…You already are.”  

“…Yeah.”  

As if in prayer,  

we held hands and looked at each other.  

May the person before me…  

find happiness.  

That was my prayer.

“…”  

“…”  

“…”  

— Honk!  

“!”  

“!”  

“!”  

A sudden car horn startled us. Looking ahead, the driver cleared his throat awkwardly before speaking. His face was slightly flushed for some reason.  

“Ah, s-sorry! It just seemed like an important conversation, so I was driving slower without realizing…!”  

“…”  

“…”  

It seemed the car behind us had run out of patience and honked.  

Before we knew it, our car had entered Incheon Airport. But just before reaching the parking lot, the driver had hesitated.  

“…”  

Mari and I both froze in place.  

“…”  

“…”  

Then, at the same time—  

A laugh burst out.  

“…Pft.”  

“…Heh.”  

“Ahaha—!”  

“Pfft—!”  

Mari laughed as she spoke.  

“Have a great trip! If it’s you, Hana, I know you can do it!”  

“…Yeah.”  

I reached for the car door to step out.  

“…”  

Mari tilted her head slightly as she watched me.  

“…Hana?”  

“…”  

I turned around and hugged her tightly.  

“!”  

Mari gasped, clearly startled by the sudden embrace.  

“…Hana?”  

I spoke softly, so that only she could hear.  

“…Art is still so much fun.”  

“!”  

“I think… I was born to create art.”  

“…Yeah.”  

“Thank you for helping me find my reason for living.”  

“Mm.”  

I let go, straightened up, and opened the car door.  

Then, I stepped forward , wearing my name tag, boldly displaying my name, ‘Hana’.  

Go Hana.

The ‘one’ when you count one, two, three.  

The one who brought people together as ‘one.’  

“…!”  

There was a massive crowd in front of the airport.  

The people waiting for me, and those who were there for their own business, all started looking in this direction.  

“!”  

“!”  

“!”  

The reporters began taking photos all at once.  

Click!  

– Click!  

People waiting for their flights stared at me in surprise.  

– Oh! Writer, what’s that name tag?  

– Haha! Is there anyone in Korea who doesn’t know the name ‘Go Hana’ by now?  

– Still, it feels familiar and nice. That name tag.  

– You’re leaving now, right?  

– Go Hana, stay strong!  

And at the airport entrance,  

everyone who came to support this Biennale was there.  

Uncle, Teacher Ahra, Juri, Mija, Geonwoo, Palgon…  

“Hana! Have fun and enjoy yourself! The one who enjoys it the most always wins in the end!”  

“Our Hana! You’re the best! We’re so proud of you—!”  

“Hana! You’re so cute!”  

“Hana-chan! Fighting!”  

“Safe travels!”  

“Ahhh! Writer, you’re amazing!”  

Among the group was Choi Woo-hyun, one of my closest companions,  

President Kang, who was busy with his securities firm,  

and artist Park Seok-jo, who had once represented Korean artists at the New York Expo.  

“Saintess! Minseo noona and Chulsoo ajhussi couldn’t come because they’re busy, but they told me to cheer you on for them!”  

“…Congratulations in advance.”  

“Haha, looks like you’re off for another grand adventure.”  

I greeted them and kept walking forward.  

“…Thank you.”  

At the platform where the plane was visible, people gathered to assist with the Biennale were waiting for me.  

Leading them at the very front was Chief Jung.  

Now quite familiar, Chief Jung spoke to me.  

“Writer, you’re really departing now?”  

“…Yes!”  

And so…  

I kept walking forward.  

The place I finally arrived at was the venue for the Venice Biennale,  

specifically, the Korean Pavilion in the Giardini.  

A city of water, where lush greenery meets gentle waves.  

A girl who had grown up in a dim, underground world  

had now reached a place considered the very heart of the art world.  

I turned to the people who had followed me and said,  

“Let’s begin.”  

“Yes, Writer!”  

Here, I would create the life of a man.  

A man who could not exist without art,  

who could not have survived without it,  

a man who had pursued beauty his entire life…