The Mysterious Art Museum

Augusto? Oh, the word she used to call that man earlier is his name. Sounds like a name of a coffee machine. Monica looks excitedly towards the kitchen.

“Uncle’s Osso buco is the best in the world, so look forward to it.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a dish where veal shanks from the back leg are cooked slowly with white wine, and the marrow in the shinbone is not removed, which makes the broth rich and the meat tender.”

Oh, a meat dish. And looking at the cooking method, it seems like a dish Koreans would love.

“I'm looking forward to it.”

In Europe, it’s common to wait at least an hour for food after ordering. I sat down comfortably, expecting the same here. However, perhaps because the dish requires long cooking and had been prepared in advance, it arrived surprisingly quickly.

Uncle Augusto fires off a rapid-fire rap, and Monica responds in kind with her own speedy rap, which to me, seems quite unfamiliar. Uncle points to a tomato-colored sauce and gestures for me to try it. I scoop some with my fork and put it on the meat and vegetables, looking at Uncle for confirmation.

He nods, and upon tasting it, I smile broadly.

‘Delicious.’

It's not just a comment. It really is delicious.

I wonder if they don’t sell this in Korea? Nowadays, there seems to be nothing you can’t find there. I should look it up later.

As I give a thumbs-up to Uncle Augusto, who's eagerly anticipating my reaction, he laughs heartily and pats my shoulder. Hmm, Italians do seem to enjoy physical touch.

Once the meal begins, Uncle Augusto briefly steps away and then returns with dessert, joining us at the table and starting a lively chat. But I couldn’t understand a word.

Still, it would be rude to show my boredom.

Monica has come to her hometown for the first time in 10 years and is catching up with an old acquaintance, so I can understand the lengthy conversation.

But my patience soon wears thin.

Holding my forehead, I sigh under the deluge of rapid conversation.

‘He talks so much!’

It's been an hour already.

Monica starts to notice my restlessness, but Uncle Augusto shows no sign of stopping.

As dusk falls and the deserted square remains empty, I feel increasingly frustrated. Is this why people left this place?

Noticing my growing boredom, Monica quickly wraps up our time there. Uncle Augusto seems eager to talk more, but upon seeing Monica’s signal, he hurries to shake my hand, saying something. Monica translates for me.

“He says he’s sorry for forgetting his manners since it’s been so long since he’s seen me.”

I respond in the Italian I had quickly memorized before leaving.

“Prego di niente.”

Uncle Augusto’s eyes widen in surprise at my Italian, and he bursts into laughter, slapping my shoulder again. Uh, why is he like this?

Monica stands up and says, “I’ve arranged for the accommodation to be ready; let’s go together.”

“Ah, I guess there won’t be any water or snacks there?”

“Yes, if you need anything, we should buy it beforehand.”

“Let's do that.”

I wave goodbye to Uncle and head to the nearby market. It's an unmanned store, but still has essentials. I grab wet wipes, water, some beverages, and Italian snacks, and ring the bell at the counter. The owner appears from the back.

“si, si.”

It must be the owner. I turn around and freeze.

‘Twins?’

Uncle Augusto rushes in, wiping his hands.

“Augusto?”

He grins at me. So, the restaurant owner also runs the market. Well, in a place with no people, that makes sense.

I pack my purchases and tell Monica, who’s waiting outside, “Ha, looks like the restaurant owner also runs the market.”

She smiles and nods.

“He runs the butcher shop and fruit store too.”

“……………………”

He runs all four shops by himself? Talk about a monopoly. Well, it's hardly a monopoly when there are no customers.

Monica leads the way, saying, “Our accommodation is behind the cathedral over there.”

I follow Monica to our lodging.

It's a two-story house situated just below a hill, behind the cathedral, up a slope next to it.

Entering the house, there's a slightly chilly feeling. Monica, setting down her bag, says, “This place has been empty for a long time, but electricity and gas are connected. The bedroom is on the second floor.”

It’s a small house with a kitchen, living room, and bathroom on the first floor.

Though slightly bigger than the basement studio I used to live in, the two-story division makes the space seem ample.

“Where will you be staying, Monica?”

“I’ll be at a house near the village entrance. There’s no parking here. I have to go to the factory site every day, and staying here would be too inconvenient.”

Then why didn’t she arrange for me to stay near there too?

Noticing my puzzled look, Monica smiles.

“You’ll see how nice this house is once the sun sets. I’ll go and rest now, call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks for everything, Monica.”

After Monica left, I went upstairs to unpack my bags, then returned downstairs and decided to take a shower first.

Fortunately, there was plenty of hot water. After a refreshing shower, I wrapped myself in a towel and went to the living room, where I noticed the moonlight streaming in through the large open window and walked over to it.

And there, in front of the large window, I smiled at the sight of the big full moon.

“So, that's why she gave me this place.”

The full moon was clearly visible, unobstructed by anything.

The view from this window was unique in the village, offering an unobstructed view of the sky. I wiped my face with the towel and laughed emptily.

“A deserted village, and now a full moon too. It's like something out of a legend.”

Somehow, it feels like tonight might be a bit eerie.

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