Oil On Canvas

“The following is the moment everyone has been waiting for.”With a leisurely voice from a man, a white wall rotated like a revolving door.The revealed main attraction was a small oil painting, about the size of a No. 25 canvas.Two men in white gloves held the small frame firmly, making sure it didn’t shake even a little.“There’s no need for an introduction. This is Pleasure and Foam by Batista Sorolla.”The packed auction house murmured with excitement.It was the original of an image reproduced countless times in advertisements, television, and movies—a painting known around the world.It was the last of three versions painted by Batista Sorolla; the previous two versions were already on display in museums in New York and France. The media had been buzzing about this auction daily, especially since the consignor’s grandfather was a Spanish noble and long-time patron of Batista.“We’ll start at thirty million dollars.”With this brief declaration of the starting price, attention shifted from the painting to the man behind the podium with the auction house’s name.Dressed in a fitted black suit and black tie, the head auctioneer’s attire, as if conceding the spotlight to the artwork, was entirely devoid of color.Yet the man still shone.“And we’ll go up by one million dollars.”This was due to his platinum blond hair, almost silver, and green eyes. His tidy appearance couldn’t mask the impression of a man as seductive, flashy, and arrogant as a snake.“Who does this brat think he is….”Someone in the crowd sneered quietly at the impressive auctioneer, who looked just over thirty. They weren’t wrong. While the auctioneer wasn’t exactly young, he was certainly too young for an auction of this scale.At least, he was definitely too young to handle an auction with an estimated price of eighty million dollars.But there was no sign of tension on the auctioneer’s face.“We’ve already got thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three million.”His green eyes quickly scanned the bidders, picking them out like an eagle snatching easy prey, showing no excitement.“Thirty-four million by phone, thirty-five million on the floor.”The bids showed no sign of slowing down, and no one seemed tense just yet.A screen beside the auctioneer displayed the company logo and the image of the artwork. The converted amounts in dollars, euros, pounds, Swiss francs, yen, and Hong Kong dollars skyrocketed in real time.“Fifty-five million by absentee bid. Fifty-six million on the floor.”The auctioneer’s arms moved fluidly. Amid this, one bidder raised their paddle and called out as if bored.“Eighty million dollars!”This remark threw cold water on the heating atmosphere.While it wasn’t common, it also wasn’t unheard of for someone to raise the stakes at their discretion.“Eighty million from the floor.”There’s a sequence for everything, especially for the conservative, older wealthy attendees at this auction.Everyone knew the painting would exceed eighty million dollars. There were too many who’d go higher.But that didn’t mean they’d welcome someone prematurely calling out the end before its time.The bidder who shouted eighty million wouldn’t buy the painting. They simply demanded a skip in the tedious process. Those who understood this gave disapproving looks.“Quite an aggressive move.”But the auctioneer’s lips merely curved into a soft smile.“No need to go that far. Did I look too exhausted? I’ll take it as a kindness to save me some trouble.”At his gentle reprimand, people relaxed and laughed. The atmosphere was barely brought under control, and someone called out eighty-one million dollars by phone bid. The auction continued.“Eighty-three million!”The big players mostly preferred phone bids and anonymity. So, it was typically the auction house staff holding the receivers who raised their hands until the end.“Lisa is… ah, too bad. Is Margot continuing? Eighty-five million.”The auctioneer called the staff’s names casually, enticing the bidders beyond them. His gestures and tone were almost seductive.“Ah, eighty-six million on the floor. Impressive.”The auctioneer continued, smiling only with his eyes at the bidder on the floor.“I really want to find a fitting price for this excellent piece. We’ve reached eighty-six million dollars so far. What about you, Stefan?”The man named Stefan, holding a phone, nodded with a raised finger. There were still many contenders remaining.“Seventy-eight million from Stefan’s side. Shall we go straight to eighty-eight million with Margo? Thank you, eighty-eight million.”The estimated price had long been surpassed. Now, no one raised their hand easily. The auctioneer gently and persistently increased the bid.“Don’t you think we’re entering the realm of dreams now? From here on, we’ll go up by two million dollars.”The auctioneer doubled the increment. People murmured, and the auctioneer tilted his chin as he looked at the staff member with the phone. With a slight nod from the caller, the bidding resumed.“Then ninety million from Stefan. Got it. Ninety million. Ah, and ninety-two million on the floor.”“Here, ninety-four million!”“From Margo’s side, ninety-four million. Back to the floor, ninety-six million. Ninety-six million on the floor. Stefan?”The man called Stefan put down the phone. The auctioneer, without changing expression, turned his gaze back to the floor bidder. Another paddle was raised.“Ninety-eight million on the floor. Margo, can we go to one hundred million?”The auction house staff holding the receiver was speaking so quickly that it was impossible to read their lips. As the conversation dragged on, the tension in the room grew taut, like a tightly stretched thread.“Take your time. I have plenty of time, after all.”The auctioneer’s joke elicited nervous laughter throughout the room. Margo then raised a finger and nodded. The auctioneer’s green eyes glinted.“One hundred million dollars.”The staggering figure silenced the auction house. The expressions of the floor bidders were obscured, but a slight shake of a head was caught on the screen.No more paddles were raised.The auctioneer seemed to savor the quiet moment. Everyone’s eyes were on his lips as he gracefully curved them into a smile.“If no one else will raise, I will now sell this piece. Batista Sorolla’s Pleasure and Foam, one hundred million dollars, hammer.”The hammer, fitting snugly in the auctioneer’s large hand, came down sharply on the podium.Bang.“Sold.”Applause erupted. Cameras flashed all around, and cheers mingled with murmurs, creating a chaotic scene. It was the auctioneer’s calm voice that settled the crowd.“Starting now, the most expensive painting sold in auction history is this piece. Including fees, one hundred twenty million dollars—Batista Sorolla’s Pleasure and Foam.”The auctioneer, Luca Orsini, smiled from the screen as the one who had conducted the world’s most expensive auction.“How much is one hundred twenty million dollars?”And… Bae Dojin, who had been staring blankly at the screen, mumbled.He rubbed his eyes and turned off his phone screen, then began counting on his fingers.“One, ten, hundred, thousand, ten thousand… and about three more zeros.”The bid alone was one hundred million dollars—over 1.1 trillion won in Korean currency.“That’s incredible.”Dojin murmured, shivering—not from the huge sum, but because he was cold.“Why is it so cold?”Dojin looked outside and rubbed his arms. The canal in front of his house was barely visible due to the thick fog. Though he’d left the radiator on overnight, it had turned off on its own. He decided against turning it back on since he’d be heading out soon.‘Might be late at this rate.’Dojin quickly put on his clothes. Packing was easy since his Venetian apartment was tiny.“Hope it’s not broken.”Just before leaving, Dojin eyed the radiator suspiciously. If it were broken, he’d be in trouble. The room wasn’t just cramped but also damp, old, and expensive.Dong, dong, dong.Ah, being old meant poor soundproofing too. It was the church bells nearby that rang even on weekends, grating on Dojin’s nerves. It also meant it was really time for him to leave.‘The weather’s intense today.’Dojin boarded the Venetian water bus, the vaporetto, sighing lightly. After dozing for about fifteen minutes and crossing a narrow bridge that barely fit two people, he arrived at his destination.Ca’ d’Orsini.A modern art museum, the name meant “House of Orsini.”It was a house only in name, more of a five-story palace. The first two floors were a must-visit modern art museum for Venice tourists, while the third floor housed a modest Eastern art museum, which was where Dojin was headed.‘Made it on time!’It was thirty minutes before opening. The thick fog made everything look blurry. In the courtyard beyond the main gate was a well that hadn’t been used in about 300 years… and a small light flickered.Through the red glow, a man gradually emerged. Cloaked in mist, he sat on the edge of the well, cigarette in mouth.“Ah.”Dojin stifled the sound that escaped him. He was already spotted, and the man glanced at him, blowing out a long trail of smoke.The man’s platinum blond hair contrasted sharply with his tanned skin, as if he’d been vacationing somewhere sunny this winter. Even through the cigarette smoke and fog, his pale green eyes stood out, like grape-stone gems.‘What a strange coincidence.’Strange things happen in life. Meeting the man he’d seen in the video that morning was surprising, but not impossible. So, Dojin tried to walk toward the museum as casually as possible.“Are you going in?”But could even something like the man speaking to him be possible? His voice was a low baritone Dojin recognized, speaking English without a trace of an Italian accent.“Yes? Oh… yes.”“What did you come to see?”The man extinguished his cigarette in a portable ashtray and stood up.He was enormously tall, with broad shoulders, and his attire was much more relaxed than it had been in the video. Within just a couple of steps, the man was right next to Dojin, bringing with him a sharp, smoky scent.“I didn’t come to see anything in particular.”Dojin’s weak reply in English seemed to make the man’s green eyes regard him as a typical clueless tourist. Feeling belatedly compelled to clarify, Dojin added,“If I had to choose, it would be Ōei Katsushika.”“Third-floor Eastern collection? That piece won’t be here for a while. It’s under restoration.”As he said that, the man kindly held the door of the museum building open until Dojin came inside. After giving a slight nod, Dojin headed toward the elevator with a familiar step. Coincidentally, they were heading in the same direction.The man swiped his card first and got on the elevator, then looked at Dojin, who was about to join him.“This elevator is for staff only.”Did he really think Dojin was an eager tourist starting a museum tour at dawn?‘But then, why did he open the museum doors for me even though it’s not open yet?’He must be quite a spontaneous person, thought Dojin. Dojin pulled out his employee card from his pocket.“I am staff. I need to work on the restoration of that Ōe Katsushika piece.”He had absentmindedly spoken in Italian, which was a mistake. Just as he closed his mouth and entered the elevator, it was the man’s question, not an apology or an awkward laugh, that broke the silence.“Did you attend that carnival party? The private one at Palazzo Casarnadi on Saturday?”In Luca Orsini’s voice, entirely free of the Venetian dialect, there was a hint of interest. Dojin sharply inhaled in surprise.“I didn’t go.”“Are you sure?”The words were casual, but his gaze was surprisingly intense. Fortunately, the elevator stopped, though not so luckily, Luca got off on the fourth floor as well. The conservation room and the offices were in completely opposite directions.‘Just go to your office already.’But against Dojin’s wishes, he followed him toward the conservation room.“Are you sure you didn’t go?”He was persistent, all over a simple answer that didn’t satisfy him. Dojin, now tired of it, played a card that usually worked well.“It might be difficult for you to differentiate between East Asian faces. I understand.”It was phrased diplomatically, but the implication was clear: if you, as a European who can’t distinguish Asian faces, are so sure it wasn’t me, then just let it go.Most people would feel awkward and stop talking at this point. But Luca Orsini wasn’t that easily deterred.“How could I see a face at a masked costume party?”“Then why are you even…”“I remember the voice. The accent, too.”“More rhythm!” His language instructor’s voice from his study days in Florence seemed to echo in his head. If you speak Italian like a creaky robot, no one will understand you!Trying to ignore that persistent memory, Dojin shook his head slightly.“I, well, I need to start working.”Dojin gave a vague smile as he held his card key to the lock on the conservation room door. A much longer arm than his own caught the door before it could open all the way.“You’re sure you didn’t go?”“I didn’t. Really.”“Then what was your… name again?”“I never told you my name.”He really didn’t want to continue this conversation. He’d rather ignore him and go straight into the conservation room, but the man in front of him was a member of the esteemed Orsini family.‘It’d be nothing for him to have me dismissed.’Thus, Dojin responded politely, his tone laced with the suggestion that this highborn individual was wasting his precious time.“Just call me Bae.”“Then you can call me Luca. But is Bae your name?”“No, that’s my family name. My name is…”But what would he need to know that for?Dojin trailed off, intentionally vague. He was the only East Asian working there, so Luca could easily identify him as “that Asian.” His actual name wasn’t necessary.“Your name.”“Uh, Mr. Orsini, I really need to get to work.”At least, that part wasn’t a lie. Dojin had tasks to complete before his shift officially began. He was a regular employee with a designated office and working hours, unlike the man in front of him, who had more money than he could ever need.Dojin glanced at the lock, now flashing red.“If you keep holding the door, the security alarm will go off.”“Do you know who I am?”“Excuse me?”“You called me Orsini instead of Luca. I never told you my last name.”As Luca leaned against the door, Dojin briefly hesitated, searching for an appropriate response. In the art world, Luca was a prominent figure, and there were countless ways he could have known about him. After a short pause, Dojin picked a neutral answer.“I saw the auction. Pleasure and Foam.”“Do you enjoy auctions?”“Well… If you search for the Cadorcini Museum, news and videos about you pop up under related searches. So…”“Oh.”As if unaware of that, he furrowed his brow. It was almost surprising. The Orsini family was renowned as one of the greatest art patrons and collectors of the century. Yet, here was the family’s son, acting as though he hadn’t benefited at all from his lineage.“Well then, I’ll be going.”Dojin nudged him slightly and scanned his card key. There was no further reaction. Although Luca seemed lost in thought, he raised a hand in a casual farewell when Dojin nodded lightly.“Do your best.”Dojin thought he heard something similar from behind him, though he couldn’t be sure. To him, the only thing that mattered was that he wasn’t late.“Doin!”Inside the conservation room, Gemma, who had arrived before him, waved her hand. The room was always cluttered, despite their efforts to organize it, due to the many supplies and paintings in the midst of restoration.“I keep telling you, you can just call me Bae.”“But we’re friends, Doin.”No matter how often he corrected her, saying Dojin, the “J” was nearly unused by Italians.So he didn’t bother correcting her anymore. After seven years of this, “Doin” had practically become his nickname.“Doin, I just saw Angelo heading to the office. Want to go now? Should I come with you?”“No, it’s fine if I go alone.”“But wouldn’t it be better to go together?”“No, really, I’m fine. Anyway, thanks, Gemma. And here, take this.”Dojin pulled out a columbina mask, covering only his eyes, and a black cloak from his bag. Instead of accepting it, Gemma waved her hands.“No, you keep it. Carnival happens every year, and since you’ll keep getting invited to parties, you’ll want to have something like this.”“No way.”“Seriously, you’ll keep getting invited. Trust a Venetian when they say so.”Dojin quietly lifted the corners of his mouth. His “no way” wasn’t about the invites, but closer to disbelief that he’d go through the trouble of going out during Carnival again.“At least put the mask in, Doin.”“I’d rather work during that time.”Dojin swallowed the thought and finally put the mask back into his bag.The Carnival he experienced as soon as he arrived in Venice had been overwhelming. The small island, always bursting with tourists, looked like it might sink under the crowd.The previous weekend, which included the last day of Carnival, was the worst. Lost among the crowd, his navigation app’s performance suddenly plummeting, Dojin had felt like sinking down and crying.“Where were you, though, Doin? Did you even make it?”“I went, but left quickly. There were too many people.”“That’s the fun part, though! Even if everyone’s covered up, the locals still know who’s who just by glancing, so when there’s a new face, everyone gets excited.”Excited.“Yeah, everyone was definitely excited.”Dojin clicked his tongue. Even recalling it now, that strange party seemed unreal. People in Rococo costumes and masks, waving fans or wearing extravagant wigs, danced while sipping dark, sweet, and potent drinks.“Um, Gemma, I accidentally went up to the second floor.”“The second floor? It was supposed to be closed off… What was up there?”He tried to hint if she knowingly invited him to such a place, but her response was just curiosity.“Well, I’d better go see Angelo now.”Gemma looked as if she wanted to ask more, but Dojin quickly gathered his notebook, pen, and tablet, and left.***“As you know, Angelo, my major was oil painting restoration, and I studied in Florence.”“Right, that’s true.”“So, I don’t understand why Lorenzo keeps assigning me to Eastern painting restoration. I’m constantly switching tasks with Gemma, who actually studied in Japan.”“I understand what you’re saying. I’m not sure why Lorenzo is assigning work that way either, but he must have his reasons, and I can’t just step in and change it.”In a typical workplace, Lorenzo—a supervisor—had a simple reason for assigning Dojin, an oil painting restoration specialist, to Eastern art.He simply didn’t like Dojin.“Honestly, it was Lorenzo who threw me into the Eastern art section just because I’m Asian.”Having lived in Europe as an Asian for so long, he immediately suspected discrimination. It wasn’t just that. Lorenzo’s dislike for Dojin had other reasons.A hopeless crush on Gemma and jealousy at her checking on Dojin a few times.“How could I explain this properly to a boss?”On top of that, according to Gemma, Angelo and Lorenzo were close friends. Should he try harder to convince him? Show more of his restoration work? As Dojin held back a sigh, Angelo suddenly got up from his seat.“Signora Orsini.”“Angelo.”Her voice was as sharp as scraping metal. Dojin also stood up.A small, elderly woman with snow-white hair and a stern face entered the office. Wearing a dark brown dress and multiple strands of pearl necklaces, she was accompanied by a man who appeared to be her assistant.Clutching the handle of a cane shaped like two golden snakes entwined, Signora Orsini stared intently at Dojin. Noticing her gaze, Angelo hurried to introduce him.“This is our new restorer.”“My name is Dojin Bae.”Before Italy became a republic, the Orsini family had been nobility, and since then had maintained a thriving art collection business under the guise of a winery—a centuries-old legacy.This woman, having joined the Orsini family through marriage, had gained a reputation for her discerning eye, praised as “the most Orsini-like taste” for her collection amassed around WWII.She was a legendary figure, and anyone would feel intimidated standing before her.“So, this one, the kid they brought in from the Uffizi… does he just look young, or is he actually young?”“I’m twenty-eight.”“Well then, what’s the issue?”“It’s nothing serious, Signora.”“I wasn’t asking you, Angelo.”The signora tapped the floor with her cane, prompting Angelo, who had interrupted, to back off.Dojin felt like the proverbial rabbit caught in a tiger’s den, especially since this tiger seemed gracious enough to actually hear him out. Though nervous, he had no choice but to speak up.“My assigned work and my actual tasks are very different.”“What are you restoring right now?”“Katsushika Hokusai’s Waterfalls series.”“You see, I only recently heard about this situation. Lorenzo mainly handles work distribution, so if we wait until he’s here, I can clarify the situation more thoroughly.”Angelo, trying to interject, fell silent under her glare. The signora looked as if to say this was a waste of time over such a trivial matter.“Are you good enough to question Lorenzo’s decisions?”“Pardon?”“Bambino, did I ask a difficult question?”She called him “bambino,” treating him like a child. Beyond that, her thunderous scolding left him struggling to respond.‘How should I answer that?’Good enough and well.They were vague words without a clear standard to measure against. Dojin prided himself on his skills as a restorer, but in front of someone reputed to have the finest eye in the world, his confidence wavered.“If you could take a look at this…”Ultimately, it was up to Signora to decide.Dojin opened his notebook, showing her some restoration photos, and, feeling it wasn’t enough, even opened his tablet. He half-expected her to wave him off, but she scrutinized each photo with surprising focus.“You did this?”It didn’t seem like a bad reaction. Though he likely nodded too many times, caught up in the moment. She clicked her tongue in mild disapproval.“Why are you carrying this around?”“It’s important to me.”Ignoring him, Signora took his tablet and meticulously flipped through the photos, taken from multiple angles as if by compulsion.“This kind of detailed record makes it easier to reference similar works in the future. And just in case I have to restore the same piece again…”Documentation was essential in restoration. Dojin was meticulous, even obsessive, about keeping records. Signora handed back the tablet and notebook, tapping Dojin’s shoe with her cane.“Bambino. Come with me for a moment.”“Pardon?”The “tiger of Orsini” paid no heed to his surprise and entered the elevator ahead of him.“What are you doing? Get in.”Angelo gave him a gentle push, and Dojin hesitantly stepped into the elevator, which led to Signora’s private office on the top floor.The entire fifth floor was Signora Orsini’s workspace and personal area.The windows were enormous, offering a view of mist-shrouded Venice. With such large windows, one would hesitate to hang art, yet he glimpsed works spanning over five centuries in different styles as they passed by. Signora, supported by her assistant, opened the door.“What?”Inside, a familiar man sat cross-legged on a deep green sofa, waiting for Signora. Dojin recognized the face instantly, though his surprise was solely his to bear.“Luca.”“Nonna.”The man glanced briefly at Dojin before rising from his seat.“When did you arrive?”“Not long ago. Could you spare a moment for your grandson? I have something to discuss.”“Later. It’ll only take a minute. Go out and bring back some fritelle or something.”“You should watch your sugar intake at your age. You should cut back on alcohol and smoking, too, if you want to live longer.”“I’ve lived long enough. And if all you came here to do is lecture me, you might as well have stayed in London.”It might’ve sounded affectionate, but their tone was more businesslike than familial. As Luca prepared to leave, Signora unexpectedly stopped him, pointing her cane at Dojin.“Show him what you showed me earlier.”“Me? Uh, here…”Caught off guard, Dojin handed his tablet and notebook to Luca. Luca’s hand brushed Dojin’s finger, and Dojin quickly pulled back.“Hmm.”Luca Orsini barely skimmed through the notebook. Though it was thicker than usual with multiple printed photos, he flipped through the pages with near impatience. Signora tapped her cane on the floor.“Well?”“I’m surprised you’re asking my opinion.”“You’re the only one in the family who can still judge art. Look carefully.”Signora’s words softened the sting of Luca’s indifferent inspection. Dojin couldn’t help but watch his expression.‘Is he even looking properly?’Luca Orsini briefly furrowed his brow on a few pages, but the push for an answer came from Signora.“It’s quite good, isn’t it?”“Nothing bothers me.”“Right?”For a restorer, “nothing bothers me” was praise. It meant it was flawless, as though untouched, or seemed so effortless that it made one wonder what work was done.“Though, of course, it’s hard to say without seeing the piece in person.”That additional comment came off a bit rude.‘Fine, then. Go see it yourself.’Dojin swallowed his retort and managed to maintain a composed, almost smiling expression. Signora tapped her cane on the floor once more.“Good enough. If it’s fine by you, it’s fine. Luca, go wait downstairs. Have a coffee or something.”Instead of answering, Luca looked at Dojin for a long time with an unreadable expression. Dojin returned the look with a polite nod, and Luca finally exited. Once the heavy door closed, Signora murmured to herself.“Not because he’s my grandson, but his eye is quite sharp.”“Yes…”“He just goes crazy for money. Instead of keeping them, he’s always thinking about selling every piece. I don’t see the fun in that.”“Ah.”Money was important, and unless one was extraordinarily wealthy, collecting art wasn’t something a regular person could do.‘What should I say to that?’It was difficult even to react to Signora’s words, which hovered somewhere between praising her grandson and criticizing his foolish choices. All Dojin could do was try to wrap this uncomfortable conversation up quickly and get back to the restoration room.“So… why did you call me here?” he murmured, his voice trailing off. Despite her age—at least 60 years his senior—Signora’s voice boomed with authority.“Bambino. I see you’re quite capable. If you worked at the Uffizi, then handling this little corner shop should be no problem for you.”It was unthinkable to compare the Cadorcini to a “corner shop,” even if it didn’t match the scale of the Uffizi.The Cadorcini was a museum housed in a five-story building along the Venetian canals, as grand as any centuries-old palace. Just selling the smallest painting in its collection could easily buy out several so-called “corner shops.”“Are you a foreigner, Bambino? Or are you from here?”“I’m a foreigner.”“Where are your parents?”“In Korea.”“Living and working alone around here must be complicated.”The sudden line of questioning caught him off guard. Although living and working alone wasn’t without challenges, Dojin had been doing it for a while, and he didn’t need Signora’s concern about it.Should he say he was fine or just admit it wasn’t all that complicated?“Bambino.”“Yes? Ah, yes.”“As I said, this place may be like a corner shop, but the people working here all know each other. Angelo tends to look out for Lorenzo a little too much, Lorenzo may be a fool, but he’s competent enough with sculptures and bronze restorations. They’re all close, having known each other since they were young.”“I see…”“When you get older, you start to despise losing time to bothersome things. I really don’t have time to spare. It’s easier to let a newcomer go when something irritating comes up.”It was simple logic. And since Dojin wasn’t foolish, he understood right away.It was, however, unfair.Like most people, Dojin often kept silent about unfairness if it didn’t serve his best interests. But this time, the unfairness and resentment he felt were too much to bear.“Just a moment ago, you said I was ‘quite capable.’”“Yes, you’re good. But restoration isn’t painting. It’s a field where substitutes are available. You’d have to be the best to be irreplaceable, and frankly, you’re still too young for that.”In his studies at the school in Florence and his work at the Uffizi restoration lab, Dojin had been one of the best.Even without the exaggerated praise of his Italian colleagues, he knew where his skills stood. But as Signora said, the world was vast, and there were indeed those better than him. Compared to them, his experience was relatively unremarkable.Her simple observation deflated his pride.“Do you happen to know anyone in this field?”“When I studied in Florence, I knew some professors and curators there. They said I could return if things didn’t work out here.”“Return where? To the Uffizi?”Dojin nodded.“I remember them saying, ‘There are good restorers, but none quite like you. Let us know if you ever want to come back.’”He recalled the people at the Uffizi who had told him to return anytime. Mentioning it was just a small attempt to salvage his wounded pride.“Didn’t I once gift the Uffizi a Rembrandt on permanent loan? And the director’s still Eike, right?”Predictably, the “tiger of Orsini” was entirely unimpressed.‘If she’s bringing up the director and Rembrandt by name…’Dojin had no other choice. He hadn’t intended to win this, so he raised a quiet white flag.“I like this museum, and I’d like to keep working here. I do have some issues with Lorenzo, but nothing major. I’d really prefer to resolve it as best as I can.”“Is that so?”“Yes, I just wanted to understand why you called me here…”“Bambino.”“Yes.”“Come to this address later. Around lunchtime. I’ll inform Angelo.”Signora took out a fountain pen, slowly wrote down an address, and handed it to him. Caught off guard, Dojin accepted the note. He wanted to ask exactly when at “lunchtime” he was supposed to go, why he should go to this address instead of staying at work, and why she had chosen him in particular.“I don’t quite understand.”What would understanding accomplish for the likes of you? The expression on her face said it all. Dojin carefully folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket.“I’ll be there at lunchtime.”