Everyone who knew him knows

* * * *

"Everyone who knew him knows."

According to Benedetto Varchi (1503–1565), Michelangelo's eulogy included the following words:

"From the time Michelangelo began to write letters on a slate as a baby… he wrote differently from other children. Instead of writing, he used a stick to trace the shapes."

There was another story as well:

"...Michelangelo preferred going to churches to draw over going to school to learn grammar. He often skipped school to watch people draw, seeking out artists instead of scholars."

Just from that, it's clear that Michelangelo stood out in art even as a child. So what if he wasn't exactly a model student?

His life's path had already been foretold in those early days.

— Excerpt from a blog post recounting a lecture by Yang Seon-gu, author of Lessons with a Sculptor and a first-generation sculptor.

Fresco is on stone walls.

A mixture of water, lime, and volcanic ash (brown volcanic dust), combined in varying ratios to create a plaster, is applied three times in layers called arriccio, intonaco, and giornata.

Before the fresh plaster dries, pigments dissolved in water are painted directly onto the wall.

As the wall dries, the pigment is absorbed and becomes part of the surface, solidifying together.

A successful fresco, once completely set, shares the wall's lifespan until it crumbles—this is why the method was so highly valued in the past.

That's fresco.

And now, what Kang-seok was drawing on that white sheet of paper was essentially a sketch meant to be transferred onto such fresco plaster.

Simone Cassani silently observed the drawing Kang-seok was working on, done on a surface like white drawing paper.

Afraid to disturb him, Cassani kept his mouth tightly shut.

'Not that he'd even notice if someone did interrupt him, judging by that look in his eyes...'

Cassani tore his gaze from the sketch and looked at Kang-seok.

He was staring intently at the large white paper that had been cut to the dimensions of the fresco wall.

It was hard to believe he had entered such deep focus almost immediately after attaching the paper to the wall. His reddish-brown eyes, locked onto the paper as if nothing else existed, followed the white pencil tracing across it.

Gray lines stretched coolly, depicting the rising waves and the froth that broke at their crests.

'That wave's perfect for riding... so why is he drawing it so low?'

Kang-seok knelt as he drew.

The posture looked awkward to anyone, but his lines were unwavering. His gray strokes were neither too thick nor too thin, and even when the pencil briefly left the paper, it resumed with such control that the join was imperceptible.

In silence, Kang-seok moved his pencil with a firm, flat-lipped expression.

'At first, I thought buying a whole building to paint murals made him just some spoiled billionaire with money to burn...'

Cassani, chin in hand, recalled a few days earlier.

Kang-seok's ink and dip pen sets: Sunset, Dusk, and Florence's Sunset… and now this sketch he was drawing…

Even if he didn't want to admit it, he had to.

'I've somehow gotten tangled up with a real genius—the kind you never meet in a lifetime.'

How had he ended up acquainted with a genius?

It was surprising to meet someone so far from anyone he would ever normally be connected to. And yet, to be present at such a moment stirred something in his chest.

Just then—

Creaaak. A sound of a door opening made Cassani turn his head. It was Jin Yumi.

Jin Yumi.

She was the Bloom Museum staff member Cassani had seen at the booth before—currently serving as Kang-seok's assistant while he was on an overseas assignment.

With her index finger to her lips and walking lightly on her heels, she slowly approached, worried that Kang-seok's focus might be broken. The way she shut her eyes and inched closer was oddly endearing.

Cassani, watching her quietly, soon noticed she was standing right beside him, breathless but trying not to make a sound.

And Kang-seok's hand kept moving.

Scratch, scratch.

The sound of graphite scraping against paper filled the air.

A long pencil lead—at least 9cm, finely sharpened—moved across the page, tracing arcs like half-circles.

Kang-seok's hand was now steadily moving upward on the paper.

Without using an eraser even once, without drawing a single guideline, he sliced clean gray lines into the pristine page, utterly confident. There was no sign of hesitation.

It was as if a projector was casting an image onto the paper, his hand moving as though tracing a visible blueprint. But it wasn't just a simple draft.

Every line was so fine and delicate that even tracing over them would have been difficult for most.

Who knows how long Cassani and Jin Yumi had been entranced.

On the paper, a muscular half-naked man riding the wave was emerging.

Barefoot, surfing on water—a surface impossible to stand on—the man's tensed muscles conveyed a sense of instability and tension that could not be expressed with sketches alone.

To Jin Yumi, the sketch somehow radiated that rough, passionate energy unique to Hellenism.

She had felt it before in the painting Father, exhibited in Gallery Room 4, which she saw nearly every day—Kang-seok had an exceptional knowledge of and fascination with the male body, especially musculature.

Beautiful.

Muscles woven tightly like a textile pattern gave dynamic energy even to the still, flat sketch.

"...Amazing."

"(Beautiful.)"

Jin Yumi and Cassani murmured nearly at the same time.

Especially for curator Jin Yumi, it was frustrating that only she and Cassani had witnessed this. The whole world of Kang-seok's fans should have seen this dazzling sketch in action... If only it had been recorded on video—concentration or not. She clicked her tongue in regret.

No camera was nearby, which meant none of this would be preserved—and that made her furious.

But she had no excuse.

She had been just as spellbound and forgot to record it too… no use being bitter about it.

While she was fuming—

Kang-seok's pencil began drawing something long, connected to the man's hand.

What was that?

Cassani and Jin Yumi narrowed their eyes.

The long object starting from the man's hand gradually took shape.

Elaborate engravings, like the ornate Rococo style, began to emerge—it was a spear.

A spear.

The vast sky.

Waves rising dramatically beneath it.

A muscular, half-naked man riding the waves.

And a splendid spear in his hand.

Jin Yumi and Cassani quickly realized what the sketch was depicting. As soon as they did, Kang-seok's pencil lifted from the paper.

The design was complete.

.

.

.

In Front of the White Building

Kangseok, Cassani, and Jinyumi sat casually on the stone steps, each holding a hefty hot dog. It was a recommendation from Cassani, bought by Jinyumi, the curator.

It was December 22nd, Korean time.

While Korea was deep in the cold of winter, Miami's beach was holding steady at a warm and leisurely 26°C.

Just past noon, with the temperature nudging up to 27 or 28 degrees, Kangseok took a big bite of his hot dog, feeling the heat on his skin.

Jinyumi glanced at him sideways.

Upstairs on the second floor was the completed fresco design.

Downstairs on the first floor were materials still in progress—already, over a dozen pigments had been successfully developed.

They'd just acquired lime powder and brown volcanic ash, too.

As she ate, Jinyumi thought:

"At this rate, Mr. Kang might just keep working here in Miami before heading back to Korea…"

And it really looked that way.

Having worked closely with Kangseok during the Father project, Jinyumi knew his tendency to completely immerse himself in his work, ignoring food, sleep—everything—once he began in earnest.

So if he was already preparing for the actual fresco, there was a good chance he had decided to stay in Miami until it was complete.

Jinyumi stifled a sigh.

They needed to discuss setting up a merchandise shop inside the building quickly. Ideally, they'd return to Korea together, or at least leave a Bloom Museum staff member behind. But upon checking, everyone's schedules at the museum were already fully packed.

"Even I don't have any openings left…"

Bloom Museum might look flexible, but in the end, it was still a workplace. There was no such thing as a fully free work trip.

Sigh.

Maybe there was no helping it.

As much as she regretted it, she couldn't force an inspired artist to abandon their work and fly back home. The best plan was to help him get settled in—arrange lodging and essentials—and then return, dispatching a follow-up team as soon as possible.

That was the best option.

Jinyumi made up her mind and moved to speak.

She needed to ask about Kangseok's future schedule and explain Bloom Museum's situation and what needed to be done. But before she could even speak—

Kangseok, having just swallowed a mouthful of hot dog, asked nonchalantly:

"Shall we get going?"

"...Sorry? Going where?"

Still bright out, where could they possibly be going? Jinyumi stared at him in surprise—surely not back to Korea?

Kangseok responded with a confused look, as if wondering why she was so startled:

"If I'm flying out tomorrow, we should start packing and head back to the hotel, right?"

"Oh… yes. Right… but—you're really leaving?"

"Huh?"

"I mean… I thought you were so focused on the project that you were planning to stay and finish before returning to Korea."

"Ah. It's not that urgent."

And indeed, it wasn't an urgent task.

Kangseok hadn't been commissioned or pressured into doing the fresco for the white building. It wasn't a request or paid gig.

First things first—he took another bite of his hot dog.

What mattered most was finishing The Woodcutter back in Korea.

"And then…"

Kangseok stared off into space.

A memory surfaced—something his father had said at the furniture shop, when he gifted Kangseok a carving log:

"You said you're still young enough to enjoy Christmas and Children's Day, right?"

"It's a little late, but here's your Christmas present."

He really wanted to spend Christmas with family.

With no hesitation, Kangseok crumpled up the hot dog wrapper and stood.

He asked Cassani if he could watch over the building and surf a little while he was away in Korea.

Cassani, now a secret fan of Kangseok without even realizing it, readily agreed—as long as he could keep looking at the sketches. He even offered to sign a contract if needed.

Cassani added that he was dying to see the final version, so Kangseok better come back soon.

Kangseok briefly explained things to Jinyumi.

Then, without a second thought, he locked up the white building and handed one of the three keys to Cassani before walking away.

It was time to return to Korea.

Gray Skies

In the biting winter air, Kangseok zipped up his padded coat.

He could feel it the moment he landed—he was definitely in Korea now.

He pulled his suitcase behind him.

When he'd flown to Miami, he'd had his hands full with luggage. Now, with just one case, it felt so much lighter.

Kangseok breezed through customs and exited. Outside, the Bloom Museum staff who had cleared immigration earlier were likely waiting for him.

"First, go home, rest well, spend Christmas… then head to Master Yang Seongu's hanok…"

That was the plan as he stepped through the automatic doors—

Click click click click click!

Flashes exploded from every direction.

"Please wear this when you leave."

Kangseok had thought sunglasses in the dead of winter were odd… but so this was the reason. He was glad now—at least his eyes weren't being fried by all the camera flashes.

Just as he stepped forward, reporters who'd been held back by security started shouting:

"Mr. Kang! Just one photo, please!"

"You've been named the top contributor to Bloom Museum's selection as one of Art Basel Miami Beach's Top 10 Booths—how do you feel?"

"There are rumors that you'll be invited to the Biennale. What's your take?"

"Your work Sunset in Florence is generating buzz online, with people begging for a downgraded version to be sold regularly. Any plans for that?"

Reporters tossed out news even Kangseok hadn't heard, like carrier pigeons delivering bulletins. He picked up the information like he was receiving telegrams.

Jin Do-wook and Jinyumi were trying to shield him, insisting that questions would be taken later. But it wasn't necessary.

Honestly, Kangseok didn't mind all the attention. It felt good.

The mics and cameras kept inching closer.

"There's a rumor the Vatican is planning a visit to see your Creation of Adam on the 8th floor of the Renaissance Mall—do you believe it?"

"A Southern U.S. collector is inquiring about your work through an auction house. Any thoughts on listing your pieces?"

"Please respond!"

Kangseok's lips twitched into a smirk.

It was a rather spectacular homecoming.