I Became an Artist in a Romantic Comedy

Chapter 56: Summer, 1.4 billion.

I shoved my hands into my pockets and looked around.

It had been three minutes since I came down to the lobby after receiving a call from Mr. Hong Jin-hu.

Where was he?

“Over here.”

Tap.

As I was scanning the area, I felt something cold on my cheek.

When I turned, I saw the man holding an ice cream bag against my face.

“Can’t you greet someone normally?”

I raised my hand, grabbed the bag, and pushed it away.

“Isn’t this how kids these days greet each other?”

“In what country, exactly?”

Hmm… He mumbled softly, disappointment evident in his tone. “I’m sure I saw people liking this on YouTube.”

What is even happening right now?

He bit into an ice cream bar and tilted his head.

“Let’s change locations first.”

His voice came out muffled because of the ice cream in his mouth, but I could still understand him. Barely.

Without missing a beat, he responded, “Let’s head to the café we met at last time. It was quiet and pleasant there.”

That café from before? Oh, that place.

The one where I had been relaxing with my sister before he dragged me in with his “planets” entourage.

I nodded slightly, agreeing. Then, I quickly finished the ice cream in my mouth.

“But wasn’t that café rented out last time? Wouldn’t there be people this time?”

“Don’t worry. I rented it again.”

“…I see.”

These bourgeois types don’t understand the value of money, do they?

“Your expression seems a bit insolent.”

“It’s just your imagination.”

We headed back to the café from last time.

And once again, the only people there were the staff.

If this isn’t an outrageous display of wealth, I don’t know what is.

“I’ll have an Americano,” I said.

“Don’t you like sweet things, Ha-eun?”

“It’s not that I dislike them, but they don’t feel healthy. Also, can’t we settle on one form of address? Either call me a student or use my name, not both.”

“Haha, forgive me. As you get older, your mind tends to wander.”

What does aging have to do with this? How many people actually get confused about this? He’s not even old enough to blame it on memory loss.

I chose a seat by the window—same as last time. I liked the view outside.

“You picked this spot last time, too. Is there a reason for that?”

“I don’t know. At some point, I just started checking for window seats whenever I go to a restaurant or café.”

“It’s the first floor, though. There’s not much of a view.”

“True, but habits are hard to break.”

Anyway, shouldn’t we be getting to the point now, Mr. Hong?

As if reading my mind, Mr. Hong’s demeanor shifted.

“Alright, let’s get started. What do you want to do about Heo Mu-seol?”

His sharp gaze locked onto me.

“You’re being awfully direct.”

Was this the same man I knew? His sentences felt unusually clipped, lacking their usual casualness.

“You wanted to get this resolved quickly too, didn’t you? Honestly, I’d feel pretty bitter if something like that ended up in ordinary hands.”

Such impatience. Not that I minded. Artists often create their best work fueled by a desire like this.

“Couldn’t we hand it over to the organizers?”

“Don’t even suggest that.”

He was firm. I didn’t expect such a flat-out refusal.

His eyes were the most serious I’d ever seen.

It reminded me of the day we first met. Right, this was probably the real Mr. Hong.

Someone who held the seat of the sun couldn’t possibly be mild-mannered all the time.

Crossing my arms, I tapped my fingers on them—my usual habit when lost in thought.

Tap, tap.

“Just to confirm—do the other ‘planets’ know about this?”

About him consuming Heo Mu-seol, I mean.

When he smirked in response, it sent a shiver down my spine.

‘…This man is terrifying.’

Even among colleagues, betrayal was always a possibility. And it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t Mr. Hong but another planet sitting here.

People in the art world are often… a bit unhinged.

“What about donating it to Atlantis?”

“That would spark a bloodless war. Is that what you want?”

Yikes. He’s scarier than I thought.

I understood Heo Mu-seol’s worth better than anyone. It was likely unmatched among masterpieces.

Most masterpieces have short lifespans, which is what makes their value so immense.

But what if their lifespan was long?

Its worth would be inestimable. Even now, major works are often state-managed.

‘Wasn’t The Angel in France?’

If I ever visit France, I should see it in person.

“Hmm.”

I swallowed hard. Donating it would indeed lead to war, just as Mr. Hong said.

If it were given to a corporation, the damage would be catastrophic.

Giving it to the government didn’t sit well with me either.

‘Can’t trust those bureaucrats.’

We’d be lucky if they didn’t sell it off in a backdoor deal. And since such cases have happened before, that option was out too.

That left personal ownership.

Which, of course, was exactly what he was aiming for.

“It’s a difficult situation, no doubt. But wouldn’t managing Heo Mu-seol yourself be too much for you?”

He added, “It’d also be a strain on your health, wouldn’t it?”

I frowned. Why bring my health into this?

“Are you trying to threaten me?”

“Not at all. It’s just a concern. What good would it do me to threaten the person who created Heo Mu-seol?”

His expression remained unreadable as he stared at me.

A blank face.

‘Tch. Unsettling.’

Bringing up my health was deliberate. He knew I couldn’t realistically oversee Heo Mu-seol long-term, which put me in a bind.

“How far have you thought this through?” I asked.

Worst-case scenarios still needed to be considered. This wasn’t over yet.

“Only as far as whether we’ll ever see its equal in this field again.”

“Wow. That’s a roundabout way of saying you’ll cut my fingers off.”

I chuckled dryly despite myself.

‘That’s such an outdated threat.’

It’s a tactic with no real weight—just a ploy to take control of the conversation.

“I wouldn’t do something so cruel. I’m simply concerned for your well-being.”

“Then at least ease up on your expression while saying that. Any kid passing by would burst into tears.”

“I’d like for you to decide soon. Dragging this out any longer seems unnecessary.”

Ignoring my quip, he slid both hands into his suit pockets.

His bored expression and slight air of irritation made it clear he didn’t feel rushed at all.

‘Geez. Must be nice to have so much time on your hands.’

I had plenty to say, but the words refused to come out. That kind of feeling.

“Fine, let’s settle this,” I said, letting out a deep sigh.

Finally, as though sensing the conversation moving forward, his face lit up slightly.

“One thousand.”

“You don’t mean thousand ten, do you? Is it billion?”

“Of course.”

One trillion won? This wasn’t a video game, but he tossed out “one trillion” so casually that I was dumbfounded.

“Sigh. That’s too much. It’s an overwhelming amount.”

Of course, Heo Mu-seol was worth at least a trillion won. But in another sense, it was a painting you couldn’t buy even if you had the money.

“Honestly, I’m the only one who can manage Heo Mu-seol.”

“Oh? Then what’s this meeting about? What’s this whole charade for?”

“I mean, I do intend to sell Heo Mu-seol, but how should I put this…”

I looked up at the café ceiling for a moment before returning my gaze to him.

“Heo Mu-seol is priceless, even when converted into money.”

“Hmm, true. To be honest, I thought one trillion was too cheap, anyway.”

…Seriously, what kind of financial sense do people like him and Teacher Lee A-reum have?

“That’s why I’ll sell Heo Mu-seol under the condition that I receive maintenance fees.”

“Hmm? What do you mean by that?”

“I’m saying I’ll sell Heo Mu-seol. But I’ll manage it, and I’ll personally oversee it once a year. It’ll only take a day.”

“Doesn’t that put me at an unfair advantage? Leaving management to you makes me look bad.”

This was the same guy who joked about cutting my fingers off, and now he was worried about appearances?

“I’ll charge 1.4 billion won for each annual visit. The original prize money was 1.6 billion, and after deducting taxes and fees, about 2 billion was lost.”

“Hmm, so it’s like an annual fee. And the ownership of Heo Mu-seol?”

“That’s included, of course. After all, I painted it for the sake of the prize money.”

Honestly, it felt like I was getting way too good a deal here…

He murmured to himself and sighed.

“Do you think I’d casually sell Heo Mu-seol for an annual 1.4 billion without trust? I’m only doing this because I trust you.”

“Trust me?”

“You’re Hong Yehwa’s father and the one who holds the Seat of the Sun.”

“And a higher reason?”

“Obviously, it’s the first one. No matter how high someone’s position is, there are very few people worth trusting.”

I waved my hand and grimaced.

“You’re Yehwa’s father. I trust you personally because you don’t seem like a bad person from what I’ve seen.”

“Haha, even though I mentioned cutting off fingers?”

“Please. I know it was a joke.”

Mr. Hong Jin-hu chuckled dryly as if he couldn’t believe it.

“But doesn’t this seem like an unbalanced deal?”

“What now? Isn’t this the end of our negotiation?”

“The ownership will remain with you. Instead, as we said, I’ll treat it like a rental fee for Heo Mu-seol.”

“Seriously? You were so eager to take it.”

He laughed softly and waved his hand dismissively.

“I don’t think you’d ever actually take it back even if I held the ownership.”

Well, obviously.

“If you ever need it again, just let me know. I’ll return the ownership to you then.”

“Thank you. Shall we wrap this up?”

“Sure. Prepare the contract, and just so you know, my family will review it too.”

Please understand, Mr. Hong. As much as I might not look it, I’m pretty overprotected by my family.

“Of course. That’s only fair. Since we’re here, how about a meal before we leave?”

With a bright smile, he pulled out his wallet.

—

The summer I turned 17, I sold my first painting.

Well, calling it “selling” felt a bit off since I kept the ownership and only charged maintenance fees.

“Still, I’m getting annual payments, so it counts as selling, right?”

I would receive 1.4 billion won every year.

Considering Heo Mu-seol’s value, that wasn’t an outrageous amount.

I only gave a discount because he was Hong Yehwa’s father.

One day of management per year, and my account would grow by 1.4 billion won.

“…I guess I’ll need to open another bank account.”

I decided I’d give this one to Mom. She worked so hard raising me and Yoon.

Maybe this was the time to talk about moving houses.

We had more than enough money now.

Everyone dreams at least once about these kinds of things.

What if you were one of the 100 richest people in the world?

What if 10 billion won fell from the sky one day?

It would be amazing, wouldn’t it?

But do such dramatic things actually happen in real life?

Imagine someone works tirelessly for 10 or 20 years to save 10 billion won.

Meanwhile, someone else wins the lottery and walks away with the same amount.

In a world where people earn money through blood, sweat, and tears, if there were an easier way, wouldn’t everyone choose it?

Fortunately for me, I was chosen for the latter.

Forget blood or sweat—I gained it simply through “talent.”

—Account of Lee Ha-eun: 1,400,074,600 won.

1.4 billion won.

That absurdly large sum of money fell into my lap at the young age of 17.

This was truly a ruthless, meritocratic world.