Chapter 6

06

Father.

My father from my previous life, Lodovico di Leonardo di Buonarroti, was the son of a money changer and lived off the inheritance. He did not care for the family's poverty.

He was a man who had never shouldered the responsibilities of a household. That was my father, Lodovico.

Because of this, I had to shoulder the responsibilities of a household in place of my father, Lodovico. I took care of my father and looked after my siblings in his place.

“Father.”

That's why I knew. I knew how heavy and painful the burden of being the head of the household was for my father, Kang Hyun.

‘But, don't do that. You don't have to give up your dreams for us. Just try a little harder together.’

The moment I gathered my strength to speak, my father smiled awkwardly and opened his mouth.

“Seok.”

“...Yes, Father.”

“I think you misunderstood. I didn't mean it that way... um, that is...”

Father scratched the back of his head and walked to a corner of the store. It was a place where used furniture, which we had received from a junk furniture company, was piled up.

They were just old, dirty pieces of furniture. Father placed his hand on the pile and laughed hollowly.

“I meant to say that we should quickly sell these and clean up the store... I guess I spoke too vaguely and caused a misunderstanding.”

“...What do you mean?”

“...”

It was a lie.

Father always scratched the back of his head when he lied, so I couldn't help but know.

But I had to agree.

“Ah...! That's what you meant.”

I understood Father's reluctance to show his financial struggles.

He probably didn't want to show me that he was giving up his dreams because of money. I saw myself, who had threatened to give up art school a few days ago, overlapping with Father.

“You really should have said that from the beginning. I thought you meant it literally...!”

“Sorry, sorry.”

As I watched my mother making a fuss and my father calming her down, I mulled over the word "five hundred."

Five hundred thousand won.

If I had that, I could solve the current situation. But would it be easy to get five hundred thousand won?

It wouldn't be. I scanned the store with a cold eye.

...He said recently that items only came in and didn't go out, and it was true.

The store was packed with furniture, leaving no room for people to walk. It was a sight to behold. The thought of selling hard to earn five hundred thousand won disappeared on its own.

It seemed I needed a different approach. What good method could there be...,

– ‘...If your portfolio sells well, you could earn some royalties, and if it goes to a second printing, you could make a decent profit from then on.’

– ‘There's no problem with a solo exhibition. It's just a matter of hanging a couple of your pieces in my solo exhibition. If they're well-drawn, they'll sell, and the proceeds will be yours.’

Ah.

There was one. It was Mr. Go Doo-han's suggestion. A portfolio would take too long to produce, and it wouldn't generate income by the time the rent was due.

But a solo exhibition by Mr. Go Doo-han would be different.

According to the schedule, Mr. Go Doo-han's solo exhibition would be held in a month and a half. The rent was due in March, so if the paintings sold, the proceeds would be in the bank before the rent was due.

Of course, I didn't know how much the paintings would sell for.

I thought about the Venus plaster drawing sleeping in my portfolio file.

If just one professional with good eyesight came, it would easily exceed five hundred thousand won.

...

...

“Should I go in first?”

Late at night. It was well past the time to close the store, but my mother finally peeked out from behind the workshop door.

I thought she had already left when the lights went out, but she was waiting for Father. Father, who had been working by the workshop's main light, turned around with a surprised look.

“Haven't you gone yet?”

“I was waiting to go with you.”

“Why didn't you go first?”

“I'm about to go in now. Chae-young will be back from the academy soon.”

Mother seemed worried about Chae-young, who didn't like being alone at home. Father nodded at her words.

“Yeah, go on in.”

“Okay, okay. Is Seok staying longer?”

Mother's gaze shifted from me to the frame I was working on. I quickly covered it, worried that she would notice I was deliberately working slowly.

Seeing this, Mother thought I was embarrassed and nodded with a smile.

“Alright, alright. I won't look. Don't be embarrassed. Come in with Father later. I'll ride the bike.”

“That's not it... No, I'll see you later.”

“Okay, I'll see you later.”

“Alright.”

Father, after saying this, turned back and focused on his work. Soon, the sound of the back door closing echoed from afar. It was Mother leaving.

Now, it was just Father and me.

I fiddled with the frame. I had a lot to say to Father, but when I tried to speak, my throat felt blocked. It felt like I had a thorn in my throat. I looked around the workshop, trying to figure out how to start.

One side of the workshop wall was filled with photos. Starting from a young Father, then Father and Mother, a newborn me, and finally Chae-young, the photos gradually became more numerous.

Time.

That's what was captured on that wall. It was also the time Father had spent dreaming in the workshop. What must it feel like to not see the light for such a long time?

I couldn't grasp it. I hadn't experienced such a time in my previous life or this one...

I felt a sense of distance. At the same time, I decided what I wanted to say.

“...Father.”

“Hmm.”

Father, who was delicately carving wood with a chisel, turned around. In the shadows under his tired eyes, his gaze asked, "What is it?"

“I’ve been placed in the Sketching A class this time.”

“Really... What?”

Father, who was answering, stopped and asked in surprise.

A class.

It was an elite class at Cheonghua High School, where only the top 20 students could enter.

It didn't fit a student who had been in D class for two years and had been told a few days ago that they had no talent for art.

“I’ve been placed in the A class.”

“Yes, there was a class placement test today.”

I didn't mention that I had come in first.

Still, Father was pleased.

“Yeah... Ha, ha! We should have stayed and had some pork belly instead of just staying here. But, when did you get so good at sketching? Huh?”

“It was time for improvement.”

“Ha, ha? Time for improvement! Yeah. You've worked hard, so it's time for improvement. Now, you just need to keep getting better!”

Father smiled brightly. Seeing him more pleased than I was, my heart warmed.

Embarrassed, I pressed the frame in my hands. Then, I subtly brought up the main topic.

“...Father. There’s a saying that improvement is not a rising curve but a step graph, right?”

“Hmm. It means that artists alternate between stagnation and growth. The horizontal line gets longer with time and effort, and the vertical line gets longer with growth... Is that right?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

“Why are you saying this?”

“Well... According to the graph, the horizontal and vertical lines are proportional. However, since people’s perspectives rise in a curve, they feel a gap between their perspective and the horizontal line, leading to a sense of stagnation and frustration.”

“Hmm.”

The longer the horizontal line, the more the perspective would rise in a curve, making people feel even more frustrated and eventually leading to a slump.

“Right.”

Father nodded seriously at my words. Had he also fallen into a slump, feeling frustrated during his stagnation?

I didn’t know. I continued. Today, I found myself beating around the bush, but what I wanted to say was this.

“But, Father.”

I looked at Father straight. Father, who was picking out a piece of dried wood from the chisel with his fingernail, looked up. His eyes, glowing amber in the orange light, met mine.

“The important thing is that the horizontal and vertical lines are ultimately proportional. If you keep working hard during the stagnation, even if it takes time, you will eventually grow as much as the time and effort you put in.”

Like me.

I almost said it but closed my mouth. I wanted to comfort him, not to show off.

I felt a bit guilty, but that was what I wanted to say. It would be tough, but if you want to grow, you have to keep going. That will eventually become the foundation for growth.

“The horizontal and vertical lines are ultimately proportional...”

Kang Hyun mulled over the meaning. His son’s words were like a heavy stone. They were telling him that if he kept enduring, growth would come, even if it was tough now.

It was a rather crude form of encouragement. Kang Hyun swallowed a bitter smile but couldn’t hide his surprise.

Was this the same son who had run out of the house a few days ago, only to return when it was almost morning, saying he would or wouldn’t do art?

The comfort he offered was as profound as a philosopher in a textbook.

Had the early morning walk a few days ago had a significant impact on Kang Seok? Kang Hyun looked at his son, whose eyes were burning amber like his own, and thought,

You’ve grown, son.

While Kang Hyun was choosing his words, Kang Seok, who was trembling, sat on a chair next to Kang Hyun.

“Ugh, I’m getting goosebumps just saying it. Maybe it’s because it’s night and I’m feeling emotional.”

Embarrassed, he rubbed his face and bowed his head. Kang Hyun felt a lump in his throat. He suddenly felt motivated.

His son had offered such comfort; he couldn’t just show a wimpy side. He was a father.

Sometimes, one action is more powerful than a thousand words.

‘Five hundred. I’ll earn it.’

At that moment, Kang Seok picked up a piece of wood from behind the workbench.

“Anyway, it doesn’t look like Father will finish anytime soon... It’s boring just waiting, so can I try making something too?”

Kang Seok had picked up a part of a wooden crib. Kang Hyun’s brow furrowed in thought. Could he trust him with it?

He had taught Kang Seok how to refurbish used furniture since he was young, so he shouldn’t be incapable.

But it was a bit much to entrust him with selling it. Kang Seok’s skills weren’t good, even from Kang Hyun’s perspective. He was leaning towards politely refusing.

But then, the conversation from earlier came to mind.

– ‘The important thing is that the horizontal and vertical lines are ultimately proportional. If you keep working hard during the stagnation, even if it takes time, you will eventually grow as much as the time and effort you put in.’

Growth.

His mouth, which had opened, only let out a puff of air.

...Right. These were things he had bought cheaply, and there was an abundance of used furniture. Why should he refuse, making them just take up space?

Kang Hyun raised his hand and tousled Kang Seok’s hair.

“Do you remember how to do it?”

“Of course.”

It was permission.

Kang Seok picked up a chisel with a delighted look and began to fit a piece of wood to the broken crib’s support.

“It’s been suffocating. I’ll take it out soon.”

Muttering to himself, he drew lines on a large rectangular piece of wood with chalk, looking confident.

Kang Hyun watched him with satisfaction and slowly turned his head. It was time for him to focus again.

Kang Hyun slowly raised his chisel. It was another lifelong companion.

Outside the window, the night was deep, filled only with blackness.

In the workshop, filled with the smell of wood, the sound of chisels and breathing floated.

The father and son sat side by side, working under the fluorescent lights, which resembled candles.

Their work continued through the night.

...

...

The sky was a light blue.

A sparrow fluttered between the flower beds. A low heel hit the asphalt above the chirping.

The birds flew up quickly.

It was morning.

Baek Myung-hee opened the back door of Seok’s Furniture Store, facing the sunlight filtering through the winter gray clouds.

The lock clicked, and Baek Myung-hee pushed the door open grandly, striding into the store with a commanding presence.

“...Hey! Seok! Wake up, it’s morning!”

“Let him sleep if he fell asleep working. Wake him up gently.”

Kang Chae-young, following her mother, muttered as she walked.

“You have to eat breakfast.”

In Baek Myung-hee’s arms was a roll of homemade kimbap.

“It’s Saturday.”

“What does that matter? People need to eat. And Chae-young, I told you not to read your English vocabulary book while walking. You might trip. Hey...!”

While Kang Chae-young flipped through her English vocabulary book, Baek Myung-hee pushed open the tightly closed workshop door. The smell of pine resin filled her nose like entering a dense forest.

Baek Myung-hee turned on the lights, familiar with the smell. Instead of the workshop lights, she used household fluorescent lights. The white light illuminated the workshop, which had been dark.

Flap,

“...Mom!”

A bird flew in as Baek Myung-hee turned on the lights. She raised her hands in an X shape in surprise. Through the gap, a strange sight was visible.

A bird.

A brown-spotted back, a small but sharp beak. A yellow wagtail was rubbing its wings against the crib.

“Isn’t this...”

As Baek Myung-hee approached the crib in surprise, the yellow wagtail spread its wings in warning. At the same time, the wing it had been rubbing was removed from the crib.

The front of the crib was naturally revealed.

“...A bird?”

There was a work of art.

A high relief sculpture of a pair of birds with large wings, protecting baby birds.

7. High Relief