October 13, 1494

* * * *

October 13, 1494.

Among the contents of a letter Amadeo wrote to his younger brother Hadrianus, there is this line:

"The sculptor of the garden, Michelangelo, left for Venice without saying a word to Pietro."

* * * *

Resell.

Buying limited-edition or time-limited collaboration items—those sold in small quantities—and reselling them at a higher price.

That is what resell means.

While the main focus tends to be clothing or sneakers, a wide range of products can fall under this category.

It could be limited-edition merchandise or a special edition fountain pen—anything whose value increases rather than decreases like typical second-hand items.

Those who buy and sell these kinds of products professionally are known as resellers.

Recently, this method of making money—called resell-tech—has been gaining traction among the younger generation, particularly the MZ generation (Millennials and Gen Z), because reselling can sometimes generate several times the original price in profit.

At this very moment, Han Jae-woong, who was waiting in line in front of Kang-seok's booth at Art Basel Miami Beach with hopes of a profitable resell, was one of those resellers.

'What do I do...?'

He had come to Miami on vacation, and during his trip, he learned that Kang-seok, who had been gaining popularity in Korea, would be participating in the art fair. With nothing but casual curiosity, he decided to stop by.

That's when he found out that Kang-seok was selling 100 sets of handmade shimmer pearl inks and custom glass dip pens as limited-edition merchandise.

Up until the moment he learned this—and even when he got his reservation number from the kiosk—Han Jae-woong was absolutely convinced he had hit the jackpot as a reseller.

Kang-seok's works are nearly impossible to buy, even if one wants to.

And even if they can be bought, they are usually too expensive for most people.

In such a scenario, the shimmer pearl inks and handmade dip pens—while not cheap—seemed like a fair price considering they were handmade by Kang-seok and were limited editions. A guaranteed hit product.

That's why Han Jae-woong had been excited at first.

'...At first, that is.'

Now, waiting anxiously for his turn, Han Jae-woong's expression was distorted—almost close to tears.

The reason was simple.

His desire to resell Kang-seok's merchandise was slowly fading.

As a seasoned reseller, Han Jae-woong had never experienced this before—and it was driving him crazy.

"(Would you like to put a dot here?)"

"(A dot, yes. Heh. Sure. I plan to draw a very, very big dot.)"

"(I'm looking forward to it.)"

"(Right?)"

Looking at Kang-seok, who was now fluently responding to customers in English, Han Jae-woong let out a long sigh. Even he didn't understand what was happening to him.

He could make a profit without ever opening the ink bottle, without even touching the pen.

So why was his heart pounding at the thought of using that dip pen and ink?

'I'm not a child anymore... Ugh, seriously.'

His turn kept getting closer. Why did it feel like time was moving faster? As that thought crossed his mind, Han Jae-woong turned his head.

Then he noticed the situation around him.

Most people were anxiously waiting for their turn, but not everyone.

Some checked how many people were ahead, then wandered off to see more artworks or take bathroom breaks. And among them, Han Jae-woong noticed people staring nervously at the kiosk—just like him.

There weren't many of them, but he felt like he could recognize them without an introduction.

'They're resellers like me.'

The sale hadn't even been going on for a day, yet resellers—mostly Korean—had already flocked here from who-knows-where.

'Everyone's struggling like I am.'

It was clear.

He hadn't spoken to any of them, yet he felt like they were sharing the same mental state.

...If those people all leaned toward not selling, those who did sell could enjoy an even bigger profit margin.

He wanted to be the one who made the most money. He really did... but was it truly possible? Han Jae-woong couldn't hide his anxiety as he looked at the others. It felt like staring into a mirror.

And then—

"(Next customer.)"

Along with Kang-seok's calm voice, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Han Jae-woong fumbled to check it.

It was his turn.

Looking at Kang-seok, who waited calmly for the next customer, Han Jae-woong slowly stepped forward.

Screw it. I'll just buy it for now.

He made a half-hearted decision and plopped down in front of Kang-seok.

.

.

.

He shouldn't have.

Han Jae-woong stared blankly at the finished painting as it dried.

On the white side of the postcard, the sea—his favorite scene—was drawn. A calm ocean swallowing up the sunset.

I can't believe I painted this.

He gazed at the ocean, eyes wide with wonder.

He'd thought he had no connection to art—but looking at this, maybe he'd just never invested the time. Maybe he actually had some talent. No—he was sure of it now. He was pretty gifted at painting.

Maybe I should start collecting inks.

Even if not for painting, they'd be good for journaling or writing. Come to think of it, there were a lot of limited-edition fountain pens these days... Maybe he should get one too?

As he mulled over all this, staring at the drying image, his grip tightened.

In his hand was a blue glass dip pen and a bottle of ink.

Blue. His favorite color.

If he'd really planned to resell, he should've chosen a red hue that matched the sunset tones of Florence, the theme of the set.

Ah. I'm screwed.

Why did I pick blue?

Each person was only allowed to buy one of Kang-seok's goods.

No buying in bulk, no second purchases, no exchanges. Even now, before payment, he could still switch to red... he should switch...

But he couldn't open his mouth.

Because, honestly? He really wanted that blue.

Han Jae-woong scrambled to reason with himself.

Look. Just because I'm a reseller doesn't mean I need to resell everything I come across, right? I'm not doing this as a full-time job—it's just a side hustle. Maybe I'm taking this too seriously. Yeah. Today, I'll buy this for myself. I can resell something else later. There's that collab sneaker release with the celeb—that'll flip for sure. I'll sell those instead. Yeah.

Let's do that.

Just as Han Jae-woong made up his mind—

Kang-seok looked up and said:

"Let me explain the price. The set starts at a minimum of 397 dollars, which is about 520,000 won. You can pay any amount over that, no upper limit. Just include the experience cost you just had, and pay whatever feels right."

Listening to Kang-seok's explanation, Han Jae-woong had a thought.

It was his first time seeing him in person, and those vivid reddish-brown eyes were striking. Something that would stay with him a long time. It was like looking at an old, redwood tree. But—no. This wasn't the time for that.

As Kang-seok quietly stared at him, Han Jae-woong gave a small nod.

"Yeah, got it."

"Here's the receipt."

Kang-seok slid the price range sheet under the certificate of authenticity and contract, as if silently prompting Han Jae-woong to write the amount himself.

Then, as if to say "It's really up to you," Kang-seok made a motion of capping the ink pen and averted his gaze.

It felt like a gesture of trust—telling him to write whatever he wanted, as if to say, "Don't mind me."

Han Jae-woong slowly reached out.

In his hand was the limited-edition dip pen, still holding a trace of ink.

He pulled the paper closer to himself.

Having been there from the beginning, Han Jae-woong had seen it all—whether in English or Korean, everyone had heard the same explanation, translated through apps or otherwise.

As he watched, Han Jae-woong had thought: "How strange. Of course it's 520,000 won. What else is there to pay for?" He had naturally intended to pay exactly that amount.

But… he didn't know anymore.

His fingers began to glide across the paper with surprising ease.

"I don't even know why I'm doing this, honestly."

It felt like those moments when a parent walks into a store just to buy a stroller, but ends up purchasing a high-end luxury one just because someone said, "It's for the baby."

With confidence, Han Jae-woong wrote: $1,588.

That was 2.08 million won in Korean currency.

With the same unreadable, considerate expression, Kang-seok processed the payment, then carefully packed the ink and dip pen in a luxury paper bag prepared by Bloom—alongside the certificate of authenticity, the contract, and the receipt.

As Kang-seok saw him off, Han Jae-woong bowed slightly and stepped out of the booth.

Walking away like a man under a spell, Han Jae-woong became sure of one thing.

Resale? Re-market it?

No one could. No one would dare claim to sell this product. It was more like a prophecy than a hunch.

"(Next customer.)"

Surrounded by people, calling out for the next guest with a detached expression, Kang-seok's figure made Han Jae-woong suddenly realize—

"Ah. I should've asked for an autograph."

Having missed his chance at a legendary item, Han Jae-woong rubbed his now-burning earlobe and thought: Miami really is hotter than Korea. With that thought, he gripped the postcard tightly.

For some reason, it felt like he had just picked up a new hobby.

"I'll be heading out now."

Late afternoon.

The sun was setting over Miami Beach, and the buildings near the shore were beginning to dress in neon.

Kang-seok stood up from the now-empty sales counter.

In his hand was a paper bag holding a few dip pens and ink sets marked not for sale. Nothing from the for-sale stock remained.

In other words, he had sold every item on the first day of the art fair.

Curator Jin Do-wook and Jin Yu-mi looked toward the empty counter with mixed feelings—mainly regret, knowing that there'd be no more endless lines of visitors circling Bloom's booth to buy merchandise starting tomorrow.

"Um... what's your schedule like from here? Should I take you back to your lodging?"

"Ah. Could you take me to the studio instead of the lodging, if possible?"

The studio.

Not the temporary one Bloom had arranged. He meant the white building he had purchased from Simone Cassani.

Jin Yu-mi quickly nodded.

It was rare for an artist—unless attending solo—to even walk around an art fair booth, let alone assist with merchandise sales.

But Kang-seok hadn't come to sell artwork in the first place, and yet he had helped with the merchandise, effectively boosting the booth's success for Bloom.

"If I keep freeloading like this, how could I ever suggest putting a merchandise shop in the Fresco building?"

With that thought, Jin Yu-mi instinctively snatched the car keys from Director Jin and practically dragged Kang-seok toward the parking lot.

As Kang-seok walked, gallery reps who had witnessed Bloom's booth's miraculous popularity lit up with recognition in their eyes.

They hadn't realized in the morning, but now everyone knew.

Everyone knew why Bloom's booth drew such crowds. Who this quiet, youthful-faced man was. Everyone recognized Kang-seok as he passed.

Yu-mi tried to hide this gem-like artist as subtly as possible, but she was far too small to shield him properly.

And so, like a fishbone stretching long through the exhibition hall, Kang-seok walked, trailing every gaze behind him.

His slight smirk twitched as he walked the exhibition like it was a fashion show runway.

It was, without question, an incredibly successful art fair debut.

Time passed quickly.

Kang-seok's impact at Art Basel Miami Beach became the subject of several online articles.

Due to Korea's generally tepid public interest in the art market, only a few pieces were written—but within Korea's tight-knit art world, it was a major stir.

About four days later, Bloom Museum succeeded in being named one of the Top 10 booths at Art Basel Miami Beach, just as they had hoped.

On the global art platform Artsy, Bloom's booth was named among the Top 10, with Kang-seok cited as the key factor behind its success.

This recognition from Artsy—one of the largest platforms in the art world—was no small feat. Reading the article, Jin Yu-mi turned with a radiant smile.

"Artist-nim! There's an article—you're in it!"

Blue sky.

Warm sunlight.

Cool breeze.

Hair gently fluttering.

Wearing a white dress perfect for the beach, Jin Yu-mi walked with her phone held out. Her wooden platform heels made rhythmic thumps as she went.

She twirled halfway around one of the building's thick white pillars as she climbed the stairs. Inside the stone structure, the cool air contrasted with the sunlight filtering in, illuminating the blue hues that filled the space.

Bluer than the sky, cooler than the ocean—blue tones spread across the floor.

Though she had seen it before, every time she passed through this door, her heart raced. The vivid blue materials evoked the sea.

Even more than the real Miami Beach outside, this space felt tranquil and pure. Jin Yu-mi found herself unable to stay away, even on the final day of her break.

...But where is the artist?

She looked around, puzzled. It was quiet. Raw stones and materials still lay around the floor.

Hopping lightly between them, she made her way to the white railing. From above, she heard quiet voices.

It was Kang-seok and Cassani.

Cassani often came to chat after his morning surfing sessions.

Following their voices, Jin Yu-mi slowly climbed the stairs. The closer she got, the clearer the conversation—but she couldn't understand a word.

They were speaking in Italian.

"(Should I attach it here?)"

"(Hmm. That's perfect.)"

Peeking through a crack in the door, Jin Yu-mi stayed silent so as not to disturb them.

Through the gap, she saw Kang-seok's back.

For a moment, it looked broader than it had on the first day of the fair. Then she saw the pencil in his left hand. A pencil. A pencil…!

Her eyes widened.

Just as she leaned to get a clearer look at the paper taped to the wall, Kang-seok's hand moved.

His stroke across the paper was smooth, like a wave.

Gripping the doorframe, Jin Yu-mi leaned further.

And finally—she saw it.

Behind his figure, the paper on the wall revealed itself.

Amid a white space, a graceful gray line danced like a tide.

It was a wave.