Chapter 19: VIP in Plain Sight

Time crawled by at a painfully slow pace.
If the weather hadn’t been nice, they might have turned into stone statues waiting in anxious anticipation.

Just as the clock was nearing the hour, a single car pulled up exactly on time.
From the back seat of a sleek black sedan stepped out Woo Seon-kyung.

Even though the team members waved cheerfully and called his name, he only flicked his eyes toward them.
Dressed a bit more sharply than usual, he casually straightened the cuffs of his shirt as he climbed the stairs at an unhurried pace.
True to his pedigree, even the way he walked was straight and impeccable, as if drawn with a ruler.

Only after reaching the top of the steps did he tilt his head slightly in greeting.

“Hi.”

“What the hell—why didn’t you check KakaoTalk?
Were you trying to let us all dry to death?”

“We were going to see each other anyway.
Why bother?”

“It’s four o’clock.
Let’s go in.”

After checking his wristwatch, Woo Seon-kyung led the way without a second thought.
In his hand were four exhibition tickets.

Everyone followed close behind, their eyes glued to the tickets as if under a spell.

“Enjoy your visit.
Thank you.”

Mixed in among older patrons, the fresh-faced college students were greeted warmly by the gallery staff.
The smiles were brighter than usual, the service noticeably more attentive.
Naturally, it was because of the VIP hidden among them.

Everyone recognized Woo Seon-kyung’s face, but due to prior instructions, none of the staff acknowledged him outright.
They treated him like any other guest, offering only brief eye contact and polite nods when their gazes met.

The First Gallery, where the special exhibition was being held, was the largest space in Raum.
Its maze-like interior layout was unusual, but more than that, the gallery connected multiple floors into one vast vertical space, creating an impressive ceiling height.
A massive installation sculpture hanging near the entrance overwhelmed the senses from the very start.

For first-time visitors, the sheer scale of the space was enough to make them click their tongues in disbelief.

“This is insane.
Whoa…”

“Let’s start over there!”

The exhibition’s concept and purpose were forgotten the moment they stepped inside.
The team members were utterly captivated by the works right in front of them, their minds completely blown.

Woo Seon-kyung slowed his pace, deliberately leaving a bit of distance between himself and the others.
The excited group didn’t even notice him falling back, too busy gawking at the displays.

Before long, their voices faded until he could no longer hear them.
Freed from the group, Seon-kyung wandered leisurely on his own, surveying the interior.

What kept an exhibition space engaging ultimately depended on the curator’s planning ability.
And in a venue as large as Raum, where multiple artists participated in a single exhibition, it was especially important to arrange diverse artistic styles into a cohesive concept.

Fortunately, Raum Gallery was staffed with highly capable curators.
Even if the representative who held actual power showed little interest in day-to-day operations, the employees handling the real work were nothing short of excellent.
Thanks to the passion and effort they poured into their roles, the gallery consistently maintained the highest standards.

The special exhibition, rumored to have been prepared with clenched teeth, certainly delivered plenty to see.
True to its title, Tropical Mood, the space overflowed with vibrant, lively works.
A few of them, in particular, caught Seon-kyung’s eye.

As he stood before one painting, a woman dressed in a crisp, tailored suit stepped up beside him.
Several docents nearby were explaining artworks to visitors, but she remained silent, lips pressed shut.

After a long moment, it was Woo Seon-kyung who spoke first to the chief curator standing beside him.

“Chairman Song doesn’t know I’m here today, does she?”

“No.
As you requested, I didn’t report it.
And today she had one of her regular meetings, so she left early in the morning.”

“A meeting, huh…
I can guess what kind.”

It seemed she still hadn’t given up her upper-class matchmaking schemes.

“You must’ve worked hard preparing for this.
I’ve heard great things.”

“Not at all.
It’s simply our job.”

“I’m honestly relieved knowing Director Kim is here.
Please stay with us for a long time.”

At least until I take over as chairman.

Though he didn’t say the last part aloud, Kim Joo-won seemed to grasp the implication and smiled quietly.
In a voice only Woo Seon-kyung could hear, she replied, “I’ll be waiting.”

“Come to think of it, this is your first time visiting with friends.
Judging by your requests… you’re deliberately keeping your identity hidden, aren’t you?”

“No one knows yet.
Director Kim, you’ll have to pretend you don’t know either.”

“Do you plan on never telling them?”

“Is there really a need to announce it?
They’ll find out eventually.
It won’t take that long.”

A week.
At most, two.
That was his estimate.

“They’ll be shocked.
Most art history majors end up working in this field.
Oh, by the way, we have a few people on our team who graduated from Hankuk University as well.
If you’d like, shall I introduce them to your friends?
It could be a valuable experience, meeting and talking while they’re here.”

“Isn’t that a bit too much special treatment?”

“It’s not special treatment—it’s an investment.
Think of it as laying the groundwork for recruiting future talent.”

With that, Director Kim left without further ceremony.
The sharp click of her heels gradually faded away.
Kim Joo-won flicked her fingers, silently giving instructions to the staff.

Left alone, Seon-kyung continued browsing the paintings and naturally turned a corner.
He walked through the seemingly endless halls.
The comfortable lighting and perfectly controlled temperature and humidity pleased him.

Perhaps because the number of visitors was strictly regulated, the space never felt crowded, allowing for relaxed viewing.
Beside most artworks, small, barely noticeable tags indicated Sold.

At first glance, it looked like a luxurious museum wrapped in elegant packaging, but this was, unmistakably, a commercial space.
Every painting on display was a product.
With polished hospitality and extensive knowledge, the docents explained the works, subtly stoking visitors’ desire to buy.

The space feels too big.
It might be better if it were divided to help viewers focus more on the art.
Should we just rebuild the entire building?

More focused on the wrapping than the contents, Seon-kyung busily scanned his surroundings.

Then he spotted a painting he never expected to see.
Hanging there was the very piece his grandfather had purchased not long ago.

A couple boating on a deep-blue lakeshore.
Mesmerized, Woo Seon-kyung stopped in front of it and read the artist’s name aloud.

“Alain Minjo Chartier.”

“Minjo is my Korean name.
No one really uses it, though.”

A man had slipped up beside him at some point, whispering in fluent Korean.
The deep, almost sing-song voice and the rich aroma lingering around him were familiar.

Seon-kyung turned, stiffening in surprise.
It was the alpha who had helped him with a pheromone shower in the study not long ago.

He never imagined the man was a painter.
That this was his work.
And more than that—why was his Korean so good?

Seeing Seon-kyung blink his wide eyes in shock, Alain scratched his forehead awkwardly.

“If that’s your reaction, this is a bit embarrassing.”

“Ah—sorry.
I really didn’t expect this at all.”

“Alphas are pretty rare in the art world.
People are always surprised.”

He nodded as if he fully understood.
Standing with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing at his own painting, he looked every bit the artist.

The slightly lethargic face Seon-kyung remembered from the study now looked vivid, like a plant revived by water.
He seemed to be the type who came alive when facing his true calling.

“This is my favorite piece.
It’s small, but it took a full year to complete.
I always wondered who would end up owning it… and honestly, I’m even more satisfied knowing you bought it, Mr. Woo.”

“Strictly speaking, my grandfather bought it.”

“But you chose it.”

The flawless pronunciation and natural vocabulary—nothing about it sounded foreign.
A short, incredulous laugh escaped Seon-kyung.

“So did you help with the pheromone shower just to check who bought it?”

“Would it make me sound like a total pervert if I admitted it?”

He said yes—indirectly.

“I heard about you while preparing for this exhibition after Raum contacted me and I came to Korea.
They mentioned you needed help, and around that time, I found out you’d purchased Lovers of Montvert.
I only realized you were connected to Raum Gallery when I visited the estate that day.”

“So everything was just a coincidence.”

“Or maybe fate.”

Seon-kyung subtly turned his head away.
Alain’s gaze wasn’t on the painting—it was fixed squarely on him.
In those hazelnut-colored eyes, where brown and green blended together, there was unmistakable interest.

“Will I ever get to see the Raum that you run someday?”

“I hope so.”

“I’ll look forward to it.
I’m sure it’ll be even more wonderful than it is now.
I sincerely hope I’ll still be able to work with you then.”

Alain extended his hand for a handshake.
It was hard to ignore the hand reaching out so naturally.

When Seon-kyung clasped it, warmth and a firm, controlled grip were transmitted through their palms.
He shook once or twice, about to let go—but the other man didn’t release his hand.

“I’ve regretted leaving that day without properly saying goodbye.”

“Thank you for your help.
I’ll make sure you’re properly compensated.”

“How about dinner with me tonight?”

At that point, pretending not to notice was no longer an option.

“I’m here with other people.”

“It doesn’t have to be today.
I’ll be in Korea until the end of the month.
I hear you like Italian food—”

“Sir.”

Seon-kyung smiled, his face filled with a perfectly polished public expression.

“I don’t just have meals with anyone.”

And yet, the same Woo Seon-kyung—who supposedly didn’t eat with just anyone—was now being dragged by his team members into the alley of restaurants in front of Hankuk University.

Why am I here.
Where even is this place.

They had gone through all the trouble of meeting in Hannam-dong, so why were they now trudging all the way back to the area in front of the school?
He couldn’t make sense of it at all.

It was also his first time ever riding in a taxi.

He’d tried calling for a car separately, but they grabbed him, insisting he wasn’t going anywhere.
He ended up squeezed into an orange taxi plastered with cartoon characters.
Sharing body heat with three men, arms and thighs pressed together, was an experience he suspected he would never forget for the rest of his life.