Van Gogh Reborn!
Chapter 164: Summer Valley (10)

Chapter 164 Summer Valley (10)

“You don’t understand this situation at all!”

Chevasson Simon shouted angrily.

“Don’t you know how easy it is to be misunderstood? You should at least explain yourself!”

He knew well that Henri Marso was a warm person, as they had been friends for a long time.

But because of his arrogance, he was easily misjudged and sometimes acted inappropriately.

That was dangerous.

Those who knew Henri Marso’s weakness started to use it as a weapon to gain power, and he had to intervene as soon as possible.

As a friend.

And as a lover of art, he couldn’t afford to lose the most talented painter born in France since Bernard Buffet.

“The one who doesn’t understand the situation is you, my friend.”

Henri Marso looked very calm as he closed his eyes and received a shave.

“Why don’t you know?”

He didn’t realize the seriousness of the situation, even though the blade was under his throat.

It was useless to persuade him, so Chevasson’s voice became more desperate.

“Why do you think he’s doing that? He’s being investigated, so he’s trying to sway public opinion before that. It will affect the trial, and even if he gets a fair verdict, he will have already suffered irreversible damage by then.”

“I agree with you.”

Arsene joined in to support Chevasson.

Jerome Kerbiel, who had a grudge against Henri Marso, was currently being sued and investigated.

Even if his corruption in the SNBA was proven to be true, it would take a considerable amount of time.

Until then, Henri Marso’s image could be severely damaged.

And as Chevasson said, even if the truth was revealed in the trial, not everyone who was disappointed in Henri Marso would clear their misunderstanding.

But despite Chevasson and Arsene’s repeated persuasion, Henri Marso showed little interest in Jerome Kerbiel and the expelled ones.

“How’s the Antermittang review going?”

“Isn’t that the least of your worries right now?”

Henri Marso frowned.

“What’s more important than that?”

“…Sigh. The audit is not that easy. I told them to finish it by next week, so don’t worry and take care of yourself. Please.”

Chevasson pleaded one last time, as if it was his final wish.

Henri Marso, who finished his shave, moved his head and looked at himself in the mirror.

“My friend.”

Chevasson Simon, who turned away with a sigh, turned his head back with a glimmer of hope at Henri Marso’s call.

“Your hands get dirty when you clean up the trash.”

“What are you talking about all of a sudden?”

Chevasson firmly told him after a moment of hesitation.

“If you’re saying that because of them, I disagree. Does it make sense that you can’t clean because your hands get dirty?”

Chevasson, who was furious at Henri for not appreciating his sincerity, snapped at him, and Henri Marso chuckled.

“It’s not my business.”

“Whose business is it if not yours!”

Chevasson my friend is making a big mistake.

The king does not move himself.

The king is an absolute being that cannot be compared to anything else.

How can the livestock that even their owner doesn’t recognize understand the king’s will?

No matter how much I teach them, they can’t understand literature like beasts, nor can they understand my noble will like rogues.

There’s no reason to deal with beasts that can’t communicate.

If they had any intention of doing so, they would have eaten the food I gave them and done their job.

The beasts that kicked us out with their own feet are nothing more than prey for the hungry wolves.

What will happen when a fat pig meets a pack of wolves that had to survive without any fence?

“Sir.”

Arsene, who had seen off Chevasson my friend, came back.

“I’m also worried that you’re taking this situation too lightly.”

This loyal servant is the same.

“If you let them know that Jerome Kerbiel is being investigated, it will be somewhat resolved.”

As Arsene said, one phone call would make Le Figaro, Le Monde, TF1, Canal+ and all the media praise my noble will.

“Arsene.”

“Yes.”

“When did I start begging?”

Those who want praise are nothing but delusional people who lack the qualities of a king.

The king is a pioneer.

He is the one who walks ahead of everyone else.

Only when the people who share his heart follow him and look up to him can he be called a true king.

“But.”

“If I’m worse than those trash, then I guess I have to.”

“…”

“They’re watching.”

The people are watching.

They will judge who is right and who is wrong with their own experience and learning.

My noble actions and will will not fail to reach their ears and hearts.

The howling of the beasts can’t stop it.

“Just take care of the Antermittang without any problems.”

Arsene bowed his head.

He handed me his smartphone as he got up.

“It’s Pierre Malo, the representative.”

I wonder if the work I entrusted him with is done.

It’s good, because I have to submit the painting to the Arnuvo contest anyway.

He’s a tight-lipped person, so I might be able to ask him to keep the anonymous participation a secret, but I have to avoid any unexpected situations as much as possible.

He’s quick-witted, so I have to be careful not to make him suspicious of my work.

I’ll just check the schedule for today.

I answered the phone.

“Go ahead.”

-Don’t be surprised.

What does he mean?

-There’s no more lovely work than this. I want to show it to you as soon as possible. What do you think?

<Henri Marso 785> and <Henri Marso 787> seem to be well completed.

“Arsene, what’s the afternoon schedule?”

“You have a social meeting with President Charles Mangin and others, and then you promised to attend a charity party hosted by Congressman Jean Bulo.”

I have about an hour to spare.

“Let’s go now.”

-You’ll really like it.

I handed my smartphone to Arsen.

“Get ready. We’ll leave in 10 minutes.”

“Okay.”

I felt dizzy as I was putting on my clothes.

It was no wonder, considering how messy my life had been for the past few weeks.

I left the charity event of Jean Bulo to Michelle and decided to go to bed early today.

“Henri.”

It was the nanny’s voice.

I turned around and saw her coming with a dustpan in her hand, wearing an apron.

“Hoon is coming. Did you hear?”

“How do you know?”

“I heard it myself. He asked if he could come over.”

“Where? Here?”

“Where else? I told him you would like it and he said he already knew.”

“Tell him not to come.”

“Why?”

I knew what was going on in that little bastard’s head.

He wasn’t coming to see me, but to feast on the nanny’s food.

“You can’t do that. You have to be friendly. How can you push away the only friend you have?”

“Who says I don’t have friends.”

The nanny blinked. She shrugged and asked.

“Who?”

“I don’t need that crap!”

“Look at him. You don’t have many friends, so be nice to him.”

“Don’t worry about it! And why are you holding that? I told you not to clean!”

“Kid. How can I be the only one not working when everyone else is?”

“You don’t have to!”

“Where is that rule? Cleaning this house is my job, just like drawing is yours.”

Damn it.

I don’t know how long she plans to work with her bad back.

She could have delegated the chores to someone else, but it was frustrating to see a member of the Marso family holding a dustpan and a rag.

“From now on, your job is to drink tea and do yoga. Got it?”

***

“How do you like it? Isn’t it lovely?”

Henri Marso was speechless at Pierre Malo’s question.

He had handed over <Henri Marso 785> and <Henri Marso 787> to Michelle and received Hoon’s sunflower signature as a gift.

He never expected him to make a frame for it.

The black-painted wood exuded elegance.

“It’s a paint made from the sap collected from ebony trees. Doesn’t it make Hoon’s yellow sunflower stand out more?”

Henri Marso, who had been momentarily broken, shook his head.

“Didn’t I ask you to put it in something moderate?”

“You can’t put such a cute picture in a ready-made product. Besides, it’s something that Mr. Marso especially loves, so I made it as a bonus. It’s my gift to you.”

“…”

Henri Marso reluctantly accepted Hoon’s sunflower signature.

Hello, this is Bing. I can help you with editing and translating your web novel text. Here is my suggested version in English:

The sunflower’s yellow color stood out more thanks to the frame that Pierre Malo had made himself.

He smiled and showed Henri Marso <Henri Marso 785> and <Henri Marso 787>.

“There are many great works this year. I’ve already taken care of ten works by Hoon and Mr. Marso. Oh, you also gave me <Love7> by Go Su-yeol, right?”

“It has to be splendid.”

Henri Marso emphasized.

He trusted Pierre Malo’s skills and didn’t make any special requests, but <Love7>, which would decorate the modern gallery of the Marso Museum first, had to be adorned magnificently.

Pierre Malo chuckled.

He could see through Henri’s thoughts.

“When will you give me the work? Hoon is booked for next week.”

Henri Marso looked at him and Arsen stepped in.

“We agreed to receive it after the London schedule. It’s scheduled for February next year.”

Pierre Malo nodded and wrote down Henri Marso’s name and <Love7> on the schedule.

“You look a bit tired. Are you busy because of the Arnuvo contest?”

Henri Marso was surprised.

But he soon judged that Pierre Malo, who didn’t know about his participation in the contest, didn’t ask with any other intention.

“It was a really brilliant idea. A contest decided by a complete vote. There were 1,700 applicants, right?”

The number of applicants itself was not particularly large, but the fact that they were all well-known and recognized people proved the status of the Arnuvo contest.

“It’s also cool that they only reveal the title of the work. They want to judge by the work itself, not by the fame of the painter. I’m sure more people will get the opportunity. Fairly.”

Pierre Malo continued to chat.

“But I wonder if they won’t recognize it. There are also artists with strong personalities like Mr. Marso. It would be fun to find out what kind of painting Hoon will participate in, but I’m sorry that I found out in advance.”

Pierre Malo looked at Henri Marso, who was listening silently.

“Are you really okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not very talkative, but you’re more taciturn today.”

Pierre Malo stroked his mustache and observed Henri Marso.

He was worried that he was troubled by the recent SNBA member expulsion incident that had been making a lot of noise.

But he soon decided that he was not someone to worry about.

He thought it was because he had a lot of things to take care of, such as the Marso Museum, the Arnuvo contest, and the SNBA 2028 Salon.

“You should rest well today.”

Pierre Malo sincerely wished the hero of the French art world well.

This summer.

He expressed his affection and respect for him, who had been working hard to prepare for cleaning up the art world stained by bribery, corruption, and criticism.

“I’m rooting for you, Eroica.”