Rossellini (8)
In Milan, Italy, on the Quadrilatero street.
Two journalists who had photographed every mural in the village and covered the completed factory appeared in Milan. Romano, apparently weary from the long journey, spoke with a tired look.
"Ah, thinking about going to Rome where our head office is after finishing the report here, it seems like a dark road ahead."
"For a scoop, a journalist must go to the ends of the earth."
"Yes, yes. I get it."
Watching the bustling crowd of Milan, so different from the quiet countryside, Romano asked.
"The villagers seemed to really like that Ban guy, right?"
"Mm."
"I heard he's Korean."
"Yeah."
"It seems the perception of Koreans has improved a lot. When I was young, back in the 2002 World Cup, there was a huge fuss when Italy lost to Korea. That Ahn guy, the player from Perugia, had his car smashed, couldn't enter the country, and had to flee to Japan. You know about it?"
"No idea, I'm not interested in football. But Korean culture is popular these days. Music, dramas, and movies especially. Korea's sweeping the Oscars now."
"Hmm, that's true. Definitely emerging as a cultural powerhouse. But it's different in the art world. A Korean painter? Never heard of one."
"True, in the classic arts, we've only heard of Korean pianists. I've never heard a Korean name in the art world."
"If a good painting came out by chance, but you've seen it yourself, right? Those village murals. Not a single one was painted carelessly. Each one was a masterpiece. The whole village looked like an art museum."
"I felt the same way."
"With such a person in charge of the store design, it's naturally smelling like a scoop, right? Heh, how many scoops in one trip, this is."
"We have to release them all at once. It's trouble if someone else gets the wind of it first. Don't expect a series."
"Hey, we can still release a separate article on the rural village."
"Do journalists look like fools to you? Someone will surely catch the scent soon. We have to be the first."
"Mm, a shame, but can't help it. Oh? But it seems like something's going on over there?"
At Romano's words, Isabella, who turned her head, saw a building where many people had gathered.
"Did a fire break out?"
Romano browses on his phone and then wrinkles his eyebrows.
"Just a moment. Isn't that the main store of Monica?"
"What?"
"Let's hurry over there, if so many people are gathered, it means something's there. We might lose the scoop if we're late."
Before he finished speaking, Isabella was already running.
"Run!"
The two people squeezed through the crowd.
After twisting and turning to get through, Isabella gasped at the sight of the store that finally appeared before her eyes.
"What is this?"
Romano, who arrived a bit later at the front, habitually clicked his camera shutter frantically more than twenty times in rapid-fire mode, unable to take his eyes off the sight of the store.
"A pond has appeared in the middle of Milan..."
**
Monica's secretary Cicci did not have a great first impression of Jung Hoon.
Although he seemed kind and nice, his reliability as a work partner was doubtful, especially with such bizarre initial work, causing trust to be very low.
However, she was astounded by Jung Hoon's work once the process passed 50%. Her astonishment soon turned into respect for Jung Hoon.
Cicci, sitting on the floor next to Jung Hoon who was painting a mural, asked.
"Ban, aren't you hungry?"
"Oh, Cicci. Now that you mention it, I am a bit."
"Should I get takeout if you're busy?"
"Mm, that's fine too."
"You seem to need a break. How about moving to a restaurant and eating comfortably?"
Jung Hoon paused to think for a moment, then finally put down his brush and smiled.
"That sounds better. Where's Marco?"
"In the parking lot."
"Then I'll be back. Aren't you eating, Cicci?"
"I'm fine, go ahead."
As Jung Hoon exited through the back door, Cicci glanced at the crowd outside the store window, gathered to admire the painting.
It's been like this since the morning.
When he first started applying the bright blue paint, people ridiculed it as tacky, but when the painting transformed into a pond, their eyes widened in amazement, and now they come to watch every day.
"Among them, there are journalists, fashion people, influencers."
Cicci, after a moment's thought, walked towards the door with a click of her heels, opened it wide, and called out to the pedestrians.
"You can come in and look around! But, please do not touch the walls. The paint is still wet."
Upon her invitation, the people at the front surged into the store.
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