Oil On Canvas

The smell of fish.That was Dojin’s first impression of Venice. An unusual island, where even the few places with land always had water in view. Through the open window, he could see the canal.“We’re going to be late.”Dojin lowered the outdoor shade and stood before the mirror. He looked ridiculous, but also, somehow, fitting.The theme is traditional attire, so you have to wear this.A white mask and a black cloak.It was the outfit that Gemma had insisted on giving Dojin after he’d repeatedly refused, saying it was unnecessary and didn’t want to spend the money. She said it belonged to her brother.The Colombina mask covered his forehead, around his eyes, his nose, and the tops of his cheeks. His nose wasn’t particularly low, but maybe it wasn’t quite up to Western standards either; the tip of the mask’s pointy nose jutted out, so he tightened the strings around the mask to secure it firmly. With the collar of the black cloak pulled up over his neck and its length extending past his knees, he felt a strange sense of anticipation.He felt like an incognito vigilante of justice or maybe a nimble spirit from the 15th century. At least, just a little.Palazzo Casarnardi.He’d saved the address in his maps app and even mapped the route, but he still felt anxious. Navigation apps seemed to lose all accuracy here. And since he wasn’t naturally good with directions, let alone in a city he’d just settled into, he was constantly on edge wherever he went.Plus, isn’t pickpocketing notorious around here?With all these variables to worry about, Dojin’s rule of thumb was to hustle at least thirty minutes early to ensure he’d arrive on time.I guess sneakers are a no-go.It was a private party with a traditional attire theme. Dojin had an invitation, which was worth a few hundred euros, so they probably wouldn’t turn him away… but then again, he couldn’t be sure. Italians could be incredibly lax about some things but suddenly strict about these matters.Dojin pulled out black dress shoes he’d barely worn. They were still stiff and bound to rub his heels raw, but he couldn’t risk getting turned away, especially for Gemma’s sake.But do people really walk around like this?Feeling uneasy, Dojin checked himself again in the mirror.Is this acceptable?He left the house, feeling so self-conscious that he kept his head down. Every time someone passed by, he felt like his face was on fire. But soon enough, he realized his worries were unfounded.“Amazing.”Once he entered a more bustling area, the streets were filled with people who looked as if they’d been cut and pasted from centuries-old court paintings and tourists in elaborate masks reveling in the mood. Compared to them, Dojin’s outfit was plain, even shabby.Honestly, I’m barely even dressed up.With a sigh of relief, Dojin relaxed.Even on the vaporetto, the large waterbus that served as the town’s bus equivalent, that proportion of extravagant people remained. Some wore magnificent masks, while others donned lavish outfits. Dojin sat in the outdoor seats at the stern, catching his breath.Thinking of the prime enemy behind all this hassle—the bald jerk.It actually started off pretty well, though.Yes, things had started quite well at Cà d’Oro.Though it was a famous gallery, they only had a few permanent conservators. Typically, museums only contracted freelance conservators for short-term projects when they needed restoration, so the fact that Cà d’Oro had permanent conservators indicated it was a reputable and stable gallery.Relocating from Florence to Venice had not been an easy decision for Dojin, no matter how nice Cà d’Oro was.He just wanted to get along well with the few conservators there and learn as much as he could.“You came from the Uffizi, right? I saw your restoration portfolio. It’s impressive. Looking forward to working together.”On his first day, Gemma shook his hand with a strong grip that pulled him closer.Caught off guard, their cheeks brushed, and a kissing sound echoed near his ear. It was a common cheek kiss, a gesture of camaraderie around here. Dojin hoped it meant she’d be just as friendly.“Yeah, thanks. I look forward to working with you, too.”Nothing unusual at all, just a normal first day. Two cheek kisses, as usual, and a little compliment.“But you have such a cute face!”No one had expected that little compliment from Gemma to flip her admirers’ stomachs quite so much. Really.“Do East Asians even do cheek kisses?”The rigid voice belonged to Lorenzo, their manager. That bald jerk with a receding hairline.“Where I’m from, we don’t, but I just—”“What? I can’t understand you, with that accent.”Without waiting to hear the rest, Lorenzo turned and walked back to his place.“Oh…”His face flushed with embarrassment. Being criticized for his accent as a foreign worker was anything but pleasant. Gemma muttered under her breath, “Is he insane?” and Lorenzo’s back visibly flinched. At that moment, Dojin had unknowingly made an enemy for life.“My major and field of restoration are both oil paintings.”“So?”“Um, I heard earlier that Gemma is in charge of Oriental paintings, and I’m—”“Gemma?”Yes. She had said so during introductions. As Dojin nodded, Lorenzo shot him a sharp look.“Why do you need to talk while working?”“No, it wasn’t really, uh, casual chit-chat or anything.”“Aren’t I the manager? Not Gemma. Even if you’re clueless, you’ve lived in Korea your whole life, right? Folk paintings like that should be easier for you, shouldn’t they? They’re your thing, after all.”“No, I mean…”He really had picked the wrong battle. In Europe, encountering people who couldn’t distinguish between Korea, Japan, and China was all too common, so this wasn’t even surprising to Dojin. He had long since stopped letting it get to him, but this situation was on a different level.Even if one generously assumed that being East Asian might offer some intuitive understanding of Oriental paintings, how could someone who mended canvas and layered oil paint possibly restore fragile, thin paper?“Excuse me, I—”“If you don’t know, then learn as you go. That painting’s urgent, and there isn’t much oil painting work that needs immediate attention.”“Lorenzo, at least make sense.”It was Gemma who interjected, unable to hold back any longer. But that wasn’t a wise choice. The moment she stood up for Dojin, a vein visibly pulsed on Lorenzo’s forehead.“Don’t bother trying to help him, Gemma. You know we’re short-staffed.”“When has the restoration lab ever not been short-staffed!”Gemma’s support was appreciated, but it didn’t help Dojin. He looked over at her and quickly shook his head, but what followed was a disaster.Appeals, pleas, complaints, objections, persuasion—all useless.Nothing got through to that bald bastard. Love-struck and jealous Italians just wouldn’t listen to reason. It was only then that Dojin understood why so many characters in old Italian operas, written in their language, were stabbing and killing each other.“Bald-headed jerk.”Every day felt like walking on thin ice. Gemma felt bad for Dojin, and the more she tried to look out for him, the more Lorenzo flew into a rage. Meanwhile, all the restoration work for Oriental paintings continued to land squarely on Dojin’s desk.At first, Dojin tried to keep his distance from Gemma. But the work assignments were structured in such a way that it became impossible.If Dojin had been assigned oil paintings and Gemma the Oriental paintings, they would have been too busy to exchange even a single word. Instead, Lorenzo’s jealousy had escalated matters beyond repair.Consequently, it was Gemma who handed him a private party ticket.“Go, have some fun, and let’s take a picture to show him.”“Huh?”“He spies on my social media, you know. I also feel bad for you.”Honestly, if Lorenzo had been even a little less insufferable, Dojin wouldn’t have bothered going to a private party with Gemma. But their relationship had already reached a point of no return, and by the middle of next week, he was planning to ask their supervisor, Angelo, to settle this mess.“Just try and stay mad, you bald jerk.”For now, the plan was to upload selfies of the two of them enjoying the private party.“Do I cross here?”How, exactly? By swimming?The real obstacle wasn’t Lorenzo but the map app. He only needed to cross a canal, but there was no bridge. Just as he started circling around to find one, a message from Gemma popped up.Gemma: [Where are you? Are you close?][I’m almost there! Go on ahead; I’ll let you know when I arrive.]Gemma: [Got it. You have the ticket, right? Contact me when you’re in.]Venice was teeming with people for Carnival, and Dojin made his way through the crowds. Just one small canal away, but that elusive bridge was nowhere in sight. After wandering for what felt like ages, he finally got inside, a full twenty minutes after her last message.[I’m in now.][Gemma, what are you wearing?]Now in the party venue, Dojin hastily sent the message, then looked up to scan for Gemma. His eyes widened in astonishment.“Am I… dreaming?”The venue was, quite literally, a world apart.It was like stepping into a ballroom from 18th-century Rococo Europe.The space was illuminated by candlelit chandeliers. Women with towering white hairdos wore dresses with impossibly wide skirts. There were grand feathered hats, white gloves, delicate lace fans, animal-shaped masks, black hats, and long-beaked masks.Everything was so dazzling that his gaze kept flitting from one spectacle to the next. An orchestra dressed in matching period attire filled a corner of the room, playing all kinds of music.“You can show off your dress-up while hiding your embarrassment, just enough for the candlelight to light the surroundings.It was a world unlike anything outside the door.Only the staff walking around with drinks were unmasked. Even they were dressed up far more extravagantly than Dojin.“Uh, just a drink, please.”Dojin hastily picked up a glass from the tray and downed it. It was sweet and strong. None of this felt real. People, men and women alike, were inviting each other to dance and laughing giddily.‘What on earth is all this?’Lost in the whirlwind, Dojin seemed to be the only one standing there dazedly. He kept switching drinks, worried someone might ask him to dance.Gemma: [I’m in the hall near the bar]After a few drinks, feeling a bit tipsy, Gemma’s reply finally arrived. From where Dojin stood, he couldn’t see the bar, and Gemma didn’t pick up after several calls.‘Is there another hall?’Dojin pushed his way through the crowd, heading vaguely toward what looked like a door. He held back his urge to cross the central dance floor, resisted the playful tugs on his waist and clothes, and dodged people as he moved. Each hall seemed to be its own surreal world.‘Everyone’s got hats.’The world swayed, and there were too many hats. Peacock-feathered hats, jester hats, even old naval admiral hats.And the piled-up hair! It was all cluttering his view. Surrounded by masked people, Dojin’s tipsy eyes blurred, making it impossible to spot Gemma.‘Isn’t this the same hall as before?’He’d gone in and out of what seemed like the same hall three times when he finally noticed a fairly long staircase he hadn’t seen before.A red rope, once tied on one side of the banister, now lay loosely halfway up the steps.‘Could she be upstairs?’[Gemma, are you upstairs?]With his vision swimming in infinity loops, Dojin managed to send the message. There was no response even after a long wait. The corridor was cold, as if it hadn’t been heated, but he had no desire to re-enter the hall.‘I might as well go up and look rather than keep waiting.’It seemed like the most reasonable choice, though the red rope made him hesitate.“Is it okay to just go up?”If it weren’t, wouldn’t the rope be properly secured on both sides? Just as Dojin pondered, a low voice spoke behind him.“Planning to go upstairs?”He turned to see a tall man with a black tricorn hat, red waistcoat and breeches, a black cape, white gloves, and a white bauta mask covering his face.‘Tall.’Dojin, who was 178 cm, had to look up. The difference in height seemed more than ten centimeters.In Venice’s cold, damp winter, under the white mask, the man’s green eyes gleamed like summer leaves. Dojin snapped out of his trance after a brief stare.“Yes.”“Are you going up alone?”The man’s voice resonated, though whether it was naturally deep or an effect of the mask was unclear.“I am.”“How about going up with me?”“Oh.”The staircase was long; it seemed better than climbing up out of breath alone.‘Maybe I can ask him to help me find Gemma.’With that height, he’d surely have a better view than Dojin.“Well, yes, sure.”“…Really?”The man’s tone sounded doubtful, and Dojin looked up at him.‘Why does he ask?’Even as he nodded in affirmation, Dojin mulled over whether he had given a wrong answer. It was such a simple, ordinary conversation that he chalked up the man’s odd tone to his own imagination.“But, there is a bar upstairs, right?”“Supposedly.”Though the answer lacked conviction, there was no other way.The sight of the long, drawn-out staircase made Dojin sigh. Muttering under his breath about the lack of an elevator, he was about to start climbing when a knight in metal armor, spear in hand, clanked towards them. Despite the heavy metal, he approached with impressive speed.“Uh, you two there, I’ll need to see your tickets.”Dojin started rummaging under his cloak for his ticket, but the tall man beside him was quicker, presenting his ticket first.“This one is my companion.”The knight, peering through his helmet, swiftly checked the ticket and nodded. The man’s ticket looked slightly different from Dojin’s.‘Is it a more expensive ticket?’This fleeting thought vanished as they climbed the stairs. The stairs were perilously steep, and just as Dojin reached for the railing, a white-gloved hand appeared before him.“If you need, take my hand.”“Sorry?”Dojin stared at the white mask, unsure if he’d heard right, then looked down. The man’s hand was still extended, and it felt strangely unsettling.“No, it’s fine. I can hold onto this.”Dojin chose to grab the railing instead. He wasn’t a child of six—he appreciated the gesture but felt it was a bit excessive.While the stairs were steep, they weren’t narrow, but the masked man moved closer to Dojin nonetheless. A low sound rumbled from behind the mask, like laughter.“Why are you laughing?”“Do you enjoy things like this?”He didn’t even tell me why he was laughing, and his sudden question seemed to have been asked with a lot left unsaid.“What do you mean, the carnival?”The man didn’t answer again. Since his expression was hidden, it felt strangely like being put on edge.Is my Italian strange?I wasn’t worried about communication anymore, even if my accent might be off. Dojin glanced over at the man.The man was looking at him. They didn’t make eye contact, though. Rather, Dojin felt the gaze lower, grazing his cheek. It was a familiar feeling for him. Not long after, the man reached out and gently cupped Dojin’s chin with a gloved hand.“Wait, on your cheek.”“It’s a mole.”At the same time as Dojin’s response, the man’s index finger softly traced his cheek. It wasn’t a large mole, and it could be seen better from the side than from the front, but there were always people who did this. Before Dojin could swat his hand away, the man withdrew it gracefully, as if he had committed some great offense.“My apologies.”“It’s fine. Just don’t do it again, please.”Dojin rubbed his cheek. He would have liked at least an apology or some sort of acknowledgment, but there was nothing. All he could see was the smooth white surface of the mask and the man’s eyes. The two of them locked gazes briefly.“Is it better to wear a mask?”“They say you can’t come in without one. Since it’s a carnival.”“Aren’t you curious? What I look like?”The man’s question came out of nowhere. They had exchanged only a few words, and there was no sense of context.Why should I be curious?Having climbed the stairs together and exchanged small talk, Bae Dojin had no interest in knowing anything more about this person.Honestly, I don’t care what your face looks like.He could hide this feeling somewhat with the mask, so in a way, it was a relief.“Or maybe you don’t care at all?”“No… Are you curious about me?”“A little.”“Why?”“Because we’re going up together.”So?It was such a poetic answer, but Dojin, who had lived in Seoul for over twenty years—a city where people would steal from you even if you closed your eyes—couldn’t adapt to this.I’ve lived here for so many years, and I still can’t understand these Italians.Dojin opened his mouth for a moment but stopped himself, unsure of what to say. Then his gaze met the man’s again.“Your lips are really round.”“I know. It’s my face.”“Your eyes stand out.”It was getting absurd. The man’s comments, which seemed to be observations, were so bizarre that Dojin had to clench his teeth to stop himself from saying, Sorry, but so what?The man kept commenting on every feature of Dojin’s face as if he would die if he didn’t.Dojin felt regret creep up as he wondered how much longer he would have to endure these pointless comments. Gripping the railing tightly, he quickly ascended the stairs. It wasn’t easy in his drunken state.Once they reached the top floor, they were faced with a long bar. Nearby, several large doors stood. Dojin briefly wondered which door would lead to Gemma, when the man spoke up.“Shall I get you a drink first? Do you like Bellinis?”“Yes.”There was no reason to refuse free drinks. The man walked toward the bar, and Dojin moved toward the closest door.“Find Gemma, take a picture, and then go home.”Dojin murmured his plan mechanically before pushing open the heavy door.“Hmm?”He froze in place.What lay before him could be best described as a scene from Hieronymus Bosch’s famous painting, The Garden of Earthly Delights.Under a sparkling crystal chandelier, the first thing Dojin noticed in the golden room was an exposed backside.Yes, it was someone’s pale white backside.Not just one, but dozens of them.Dojin quickly realized that these people were all naked, tangled together as they explored each other, and that they were at least all wearing masks.“Come here, marshmallow.”Near the door, a few people panting and entangled together reached out toward Dojin.The backward step he took was unconscious. The stimulus was sudden and as overwhelming as the number of people in the room. If he hadn’t bumped into someone behind him, he might have collapsed.“Is this your kind of thing?”It was the man with the white bauta mask. He offered Dojin a champagne flute filled with a Bellini.“If you came up here intending to come in from the start…”“No! No, that’s not it.”Listening to his own words, Dojin was sure that his tipsiness hadn’t conjured up hallucinations.Suddenly, his throat was dry, and he laughed oddly. Maybe he laughed like this when things were beyond ridiculous. He threw back the pink Bellini in one gulp.‘No way.’There was no way all the rooms were like this.Dojin, feeling his energy drain, struggled to open the door of another nearby room. The dimly lit interior looked lavish but appeared reasonably ordinary, except for the swing dominating the center of the room.A massive swing.“Haa, ah. Ah!”Someone was riding it, and it wasn’t just one person. With each swing, he could hear voices nearly tearing from the intensity.His heart raced, pounding hard enough to feel as if it might explode. Dojin’s hand on the doorknob slipped as the man behind him caught the door, stopping it from closing.“Are you going in?”“No, no! Are you crazy? No. Why would I, no, no.”“I also prefer a pair.”The man let go of the door, and Dojin heard something difficult to ignore.I also. Prefer a pair.‘You too?’With whom are you pairing yourself up with? And for what?There was no need for long thought. On this long hallway, the only one in front of the man was Dojin, and in the two rooms he had peeked into, he found a boiling cauldron of debauchery and desire.‘I’m screwed.’His alcohol-laden mind, functioning slower than usual, declared an emergency.The armored knight checking his ticket, the man persistently asking if he had a companion to join him, the red cloth tied on one side of the railing as if to restrict entry—all the seemingly insignificant details fell into place like puzzle pieces.‘So, this floor is… for that kind of… purpose.’Dojin’s mind blared like a siren as he pieced it together.“There’s a smaller salon inside.”The man in front of him was polite, a contrast between a dark interior and a light, elegant demeanor. Dojin stared blankly at the tall man who might have expected to engage in… those activities with him.You don’t even know my face. Really, for something like that…The words that sprang to his mind didn’t feel valid even to himself, especially since he’d already asked why the man wanted to know his face.Dojin genuinely hadn’t known this place was like this, and he couldn’t be certain if saying he came here to take selfies with a friend would be believed.“But, um, I’m a man.”“Did you really think I wouldn’t know that?”So, he knew. And it didn’t matter… I see. I suppose it wouldn’t.He felt he could probably just explain that he didn’t know what kind of place this was, and after talking things over, maybe part ways with a polite handshake.“Could I get… another drink?”However, between resolving the misunderstanding with maturity and evading the immediate situation, Dojin’s tongue, soaked in sweet Bellini, unconsciously chose the less honorable path.The man nodded and turned toward the bar.And seeing that, Dojin headed for the stairs as fast as he could. He knew better than anyone it was a cowardly move, but strangely, he didn’t feel guilty.Did the anonymity of the mask really blow away his conscience this easily?A strange sense of liberation washed over his back.‘Huh?’But then he realized the feeling wasn’t liberation but goosebumps, and the chill came from the absence of stairs beneath his feet. It was already too late.His body suddenly lifted.The long staircase he had climbed was now swirling dizzyingly before his eyes. Dojin clenched his eyes shut.‘I’m dead.’Just don’t let my neck break. Better yet, not my arms or hands either… A broken leg in Venice would be a real hassle… his thoughts ran strangely long.And the next moment, his body was suddenly pulled back by a massive form that felt like a wall.“Were you trying to run away?”“Huh? I, uh, no.”Turning around, he found, predictably, the man again. Even though he was now in the man’s embrace, he had neither the sense nor the time to say thank you for saving him.“If you weren’t running?”“Um, well…”Dojin racked his brain, wondering how to explain away his blatant attempt to escape. Opening and closing his mouth several times, he ultimately chose silence. The man’s green eyes were uncomfortably close.“Do I look like someone who would force himself on someone who doesn’t want him?”How could he possibly know what kind of person you are without even seeing your face? And honestly, does it matter?An inappropriate reply came to mind, but Dojin swallowed it and managed to finally pull away from the man.“I’m glad if that’s the case, and of course, I think that’s a fine stance.”“You…”A deep, pleasant baritone voice lowered. Dojin took a sharp breath. He had said all he needed to, and there was nothing more to hear. The only thing moving him now was a desire to escape.“Th-thank you.”Dojin turned around and, this time holding onto the railing, quickly descended the stairs two steps at a time. The man’s faint chuckle followed him.As he exited the party, he called Gemma about five times, but it was useless.[I’m heading out first.]He almost added some excuses, like being tired, but stopped himself. It felt like everything that happened at this cursed party was Gemma’s fault. If there was some kind of gathering, party, or whatever you’d call that thing upstairs, she should have told him in advance.“Ugh.”As he stepped out of the palazzo, a cool breeze brushed his cheek. Only then did he start to feel a bit more grounded. Turning on his almost-dead phone, Dojin checked the route back. The nearest waterbus stop wasn’t too far.“Ah.”It was late, and there was no one at the wooden dock.Dojin took off his shoes. New as they were, they’d given him blisters on his heels. Sitting at the edge of the dock, he dangled his legs over the canal.‘It was a whole new world.’Scenes from the party he had just seen flashed through his mind like a fast reel.‘A twisted, perverted Wonderland?’Would anyone even believe him if he told them what he saw? Dojin chuckled to himself. He’d be lucky if people didn’t just dismiss him as some pervert’s fantasy.‘Today’s a bust.’The plan with Gemma hadn’t been anything special, yet he hadn’t managed to accomplish even that and ended up seeing a lot he’d rather not have seen.And then there was that man in the white mask.“Nothing goes right for me here.”The words slipped out on their own.Looking back, they weren’t entirely wrong. From the moment he’d arrived, he’d been stuck doing things he never planned for—restoring an oriental painting, encountering a world he never wanted to know, repeatedly getting lost in a labyrinthine place he couldn’t get used to.‘Florence wasn’t like this.’It was always a bit disorienting and challenging when he first arrived somewhere. But usually, it was just an issue of language or local adaptation.In other words, things he could somewhat handle with effort.It was difficult, but not this hopeless.‘It doesn’t suit me. Not at all.’Could a city he’d barely been in not suit him this much?This was a city where people spent time and money to come as tourists, the stunning setting of countless films. Yet, it felt as though it was slapping him in the face.“Ugh.”Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t had fond memories of Venice even during a family trip to Europe around the time he was in elementary school.It was ages ago, but he remembered the parched Italian summer, the rain that fell that day. He’d been told that he got lost and caused a bit of a scene.Realizing that Venice had always been incompatible with him stirred up a rush of unexpected bitterness.The night was pitch-black and silent. No boats drifted along the canal. The orange streetlights glowed sporadically, their reflections stretching out over the dark, rippling water like long streaks.“Do you hate me?”It was half the alcohol speaking. That silly shout was the only way to vent his frustration.His voice was quiet, almost timid, not wanting to be too loud, and he shouted in Korean, just in case someone understood. Saying it out loud made him feel a tiny bit better.“Hey there.”Then, when a low voice responded, his heart nearly stopped.Embarrassment at being overheard was one thing, but the voice sounded oddly familiar.‘I’d rather it was some racist punk.’He could handle guys like that. He had plenty of experience.“I wasn’t sure what to call you.”But it wasn’t.Turning around like a creaky robot, Dojin saw the man at the end of the dock, looking as though he’d stepped out of a Rococo painting with his white mask.The man approached Dojin.It felt ghostly. No, a ghost might have been preferable.When he was about five steps away, the man reached up and swiftly removed his white mask.The "Taglio della Testa del Toro" is a traditional celebration in an Italian city, originating from a historical tribute owed by Patriarch Ulrico di Aquileia to Duke Vitali Michel II. Following the Duke’s victory, Ulrico was required to deliver 12 loaves of bread, 12 pigs, and a bull annually as a symbol of respect and submission. In gratitude, Duke Vitali Michel II established an annual feast featuring the ritual beheading of the bull and pigs. Today, this act is symbolically preserved through a ceremonial, faux beheading of a bull, maintaining the festival's historical roots in a safer, more symbolic form.