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Chapter 47: Congratulations, and Gratitude, and
TL: Enuma ID
Lee Jun ran out through the front gate.
"Jun!"
His mom spotted him first.
A small child in a suit and a blue beret came running toward them.
Enu m̌ӓ
"Mom!"
Lee Jun nestled into his mom's arms.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
Han Su-jin hugged him tight.
"Oh, my boy. How long's it been."
Lee Jun stayed still in his mom's arms.
It was warm. A familiar smell. The smell of Busan.
W е b ńоv̌el Е̌ǹ_um̄а̂
"Oh, Jun, look at you, winning a prize and all. Did your aunt feed you all right?"
"Mm-hm."
"You been brushing your teeth?"
"Mm-hm."
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"There, there, my boy. You did so good, really."
Han Su-jin laughed and pinched his cheek.
W.ёbñ ó.v̈ӗ l Е n̊ u m̆ ā
Lee Jeong-su stood behind her.
A ten-year-old suit and stiff trousers. An awkward tie.
In one hand he held a bag of side dishes.
Lee Jun slipped out of his mom's arms and looked up at his dad.
"Dad."
"...Yeah. Good job, son."
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"Mm."
Lee Jeong-su set the beret straight on his head.
"Look at you in a suit. I hardly recognized you."
"You too, Dad."
"What?"
"You look like someone else in a suit."
Е̄ n ûm̌а. і d.
"That so."
Lee Jeong-su let out a dry chuckle.
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So-young came up from behind.
"Sis, brother-in-law. Come on in."
"Oh, So-young!"
Han Su-jin took her hands.
Е̇ńum̂а̊ . і̃ d
"Thank you. Truly, thank you. What would we have done without you?"
"It was nothing. Jun did it himself."
"Oh, still. If it weren't for you, So-young, how would Jun ever have gotten to paint in Seoul?"
Han Su-jin's eyes went red again. So-young's did too.
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Lee Jeong-su spoke to So-young as well.
"You've had it rough, So-young."
Еnu ṁа̌ ..і d́
"Not at all, brother-in-law."
"Thank you. I mean it. I owe you a debt I can never repay, So-young."
It was short. But for Lee Jeong-su, that counted as a long speech.
So-young looked at the bag of side dishes.
"What's that?"
"Oh, side dishes. Packed 'em for Jun. Seaweed soup, soy-braised beef..."
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"Sis, why'd you bring all that? It's such a long way here."
"I brought it 'cause I wanted to feed Jun, that's why."
Han Su-jin opened the bag to show her. It was packed full.
"There's dried filefish too."
Lee Jun turned his head.
"Filefish?"
Ĕ n̆ûmа̃.і̂d̈
"Yeah. Our own filefish. You remember it, Jun?"
Lee Jun's eyes widened a little. Back when he lived in Busan, it had been his snack.
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"I'll leave this at the front desk for now. We'll get it after the ceremony."
"Right. Ought to get it in a fridge quick, though."
"It's cold out, it'll keep. Let's head in for now. It's on the second floor."
Lee Jeong-su scooped Lee Jun up in one arm.
Е n u m̃ a. і̀ d
"Let's go, Jun."
Lee Jun clung to his dad's neck.
All at once his view rose higher. Up to an adult's height.
It was a sense of height he hadn't felt in a while.
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They went into the building.
So-young left the bag of side dishes at the front desk and headed up to the second floor.
En̈ um̀а . id̀
The second-floor ceremony hall.
Still cradled in his dad's arm, Lee Jun looked around.
There were a lot of people. From up high they looked like even more.
Children in suits. Parents dressed in every color. Reporters. Cameras.
Chairs lined up in rows, a microphone on the stage, a banner hanging.
Lee Jun took in the whole sight from his dad's arm.
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Everything looked fascinating.
All different faces. All different colors. All different features.
His hands itched.
He wanted to paint this scene.
People seen from up high. The lights. The stage.
A dazzling scene he'd never seen before.
Еňúm̀_а̄
He wanted to try painting it.
[Hold off for now.]
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The Shadow said.
Lee Jun clenched his hands tight, then opened them.
"Seonsaengnim."
So-young led them toward where Kim Yo-han and Park Sang-hoon were standing.
En̄u m а̃
Park Sang-hoon came over first.
"Ah, Jun's father?"
Lee Jeong-su bowed his head, still holding Lee Jun.
"Yes. I'm Lee Jeong-su. Thank you for coming all the way to Busan back then, Park seonsaengnim."
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"Oh, please, no need for thanks. I ate so well that day. The sashimi was wonderful. If you were just a little closer, I'd have gone every day."
Han Su-jin bowed too.
Е nu m̌ а.і d
"Thank you so much. For going to all this trouble over Jun."
"No, no, not at all. It's only because Jun is so gifted. I just lent a hand from the sidelines."
Kim Yo-han came over and bowed at the waist.
"Hello. I'm Kim Yo-han. I'm Jun's art teacher."
"Sis, brother-in-law, this is Professor Kim Yo-han, the one who teaches Jun."
Lee Jeong-su's back bent low.
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"I'm Lee Jun's father, Lee Jeong-su. Thanks to you, Professor, our Jun..."
"Not at all. Jun did it on his own. I only pointed him in the right direction."
"Oh, Professor. It must have been such hard work, teaching a peculiar child like Jun. I can't tell you how grateful we are."
Han Su-jin took Kim Yo-han's hand.
"Professor. Thank you, truly. There was nothing we could do for him ourselves..."
Su-jin's throat tightened as she spoke.
En̆ um á . i̇ ď
"You raised him well. Healthy and good."
Kim Yo-han said it calmly.
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Lee Jeong-su kept his head bowed and said nothing for a long while.
He was grateful, but he didn't know how to put it into words.
Cradled in his dad's arm, Lee Jun listened to the grown-ups talk.
His dad's warmth, felt after so long. The solid arm. A sense of safety.
Еn̂ um̆ а́
Lee Jun propped his chin on his dad's shoulder and looked down over the ceremony hall.
Even the grown-ups' boring talk didn't feel boring.
*
The ceremony began.
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The host stepped up to the platform and greeted everyone.
He said he was the Korean Art Association's secretary-general.
Еn̄um̊ а̇ . і_d
"We will now begin the award ceremony for the 47th National Children's Art Competition."
First, the congratulatory speech.
A vice-minister of education went up to the platform and read from a script.
Children's dreams, the value of art, the talents of the future. Words like that went on and on.
Lee Jun wasn't listening.
He sat in his chair, swinging the legs that didn't reach the floor.
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[Why's he talking for so long?]
The Shadow grumbled too.
The long speech ended. Applause followed.
The Korean Art Association president took the platform.
He was a middle-aged man with a gentle face.
"This year again, many children sent us wonderful works. Every one of the judges was moved."
Е nū m̂_а̃. іd̆
After a brief greeting, the awards themselves finally got underway.
Starting with the Excellence Awards.
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Names were called in turn, upper-elementary division, then lower-elementary, then the kindergarten division, and the children went up to the platform one by one.
In order, they received their certificates and trophies, shook the president's hand, and lined up along the back of the platform.
Next, the Best Excellence Awards.
More children went up. The line at the back of the platform grew longer.
Ẽ n um̈ а̌
Lee Jun kept swinging his legs.
Han Su-jin pressed lightly on his knee.
"Jun, stop swinging your legs."
"When's it over?"
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"Just hold on a little. Okay? When it's done, we'll go get something good to eat."
Next, the Grand Prizes.
Ŵ е̃b nо̀ v̌ е̄ l̇ Е nu m а̊
"Upper-elementary division Grand Prize. Yu Ha-na."
Yu Ha-na went up.
Composed steps. She took her certificate, gave a light bow, and went to the back.
Clean and neat. Two years running as Grand Prize winner, she was used to it.
Byeon Jin-hyeok was snapping photos with his phone from the audience.
Yu Seo-jin whispered beside him.
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"The lighting's just awful. Ha-na's face looks so dark."
"...Dear."
"Lower-elementary division Grand Prize. Kim Min-jun."
Kim Min-jun rose from his seat.
He swept his hair back once, re-fastened a button on his suit, and walked up.
A confident walk. Far too confident for a nine-year-old.
E n̈u_m̊ а
He took the certificate and trophy and lifted his chin slightly toward the cameras.
An arrogant pose, as if he'd merely collected an award that was rightfully his. Down in the audience, Min-jun's mother buried her face in her hands.
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"Kindergarten division Grand Prize. Lee Jun."
At the sound of his name, Lee Jun looked up.
Lee Jeong-su looked down at him. Han Su-jin nudged his back.
"Go on, Jun."
Е̂.n̂ uḿ а .і̆_d́
Lee Jun rose from his seat.
From the front row to the platform. Not far.
"So-young, you getting this?"
"Shh, I'm getting it."
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He walked slowly. A staff member showed him the way up.
The front of the platform. Three steps.
Е̃_n ǔ ṁ а̌
Lee Jun looked up. They were tall. Each step came up to his knee.
The first step. He climbed it with gusto.
The second step. His foot caught. He wobbled slightly. The audience held its breath.
The third step. He made it up with effort.
On the platform.
Lee Jun stood there.
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A staff member gently nudged his back to send him forward.
Lee Jun stood before the Korean Art Association president.
The president bent deeply at the waist to meet Lee Jun at eye level.
"Lee Jun. Congratulations."
He held out the certificate. Lee Jun took it in both hands.
The trophy too. It was big compared to his two arms. He grabbed it like a whole armful.
Еñů mа̀
"Thank you."
A small voice.
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The microphone barely caught it.
He tried to bow, but the trophy was too big for it.
Applause burst from the audience.
Lee Jun withdrew to the back of the platform as well.
Ёñ û mӓ
He stood among the other winners. He was the smallest.
Between the elementary schoolers on either side, only the blue beret showed.
Ha-na glanced down.
Lee Jun looked up.
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"Ha-na, it's high up here."
"Obviously. We're up on the platform."
W е̇ bn̆ о vél Еńũ m̂ á
"There's lots of people."
"Shh."
The host took the microphone.
"And finally, the overall Grand Prize. The Grand Prix."
The platform went silent. The children turned their heads.
"This year's overall Grand Prize goes to Lee Jun of the kindergarten division. Congratulations. Lee Jun, please come forward."
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"Go on, quick."
Ha-na nudged Lee Jun's back as he stood there frozen.
Lee Jun slipped out from among the winners and walked forward.
As Lee Jun passed in front of him, Min-jun gave a small thumbs-up.
Again, he stood at the very center of the platform.
The president handed him a separate trophy. The Grand Prix trophy.
W̊ еb ň о̄_v̆ě l̀ Е̌ nu m_а̄
It was a large trophy gleaming platinum.
Lee Jun already had a certificate and a trophy in both hands. He had no hand free to take it.
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The president laughed.
"You can set those down on the floor."
Laughter burst from the audience.
A staff member rushed over and took the certificate and trophy from him.
Е ṅ ũ mӑ .і d̈
With empty hands, Lee Jun took the new trophy.
Han Su-jin laughed through her tears. Lee Jeong-su laughed too.
So-young captured the moment on her phone video. She was crying too, so the phone shook.
Camera shutters clattered in a downpour. Flashes flared, blinding.
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A blue beret. A black suit. A bow tie.
A tiny six-year-old stood in the middle of the platform, holding the Grand Prix trophy.
Еnum̀ а
"Winners, we'll now take a group photo. Grand Prix winner in the center, everyone else to either side, please."
At the host's direction, the children shifted around.
Lee Jun in the middle. Ha-na and Min-jun on either side.
The rest of the winners lined up along the sides.
Lee Jun was the smallest. By far.
The children around him kept sneaking glances down at him.
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"All right, here we go. One, two, three, smile!"
Flash.
Lee Jun scrunched his eyes shut.
Ha-na looked straight ahead.
Min-jun jutted out his chin.
One more.
W еb̃ n̄о v́ ě l Е́n ǔm̊ а
This time he kept his eyes open for it.
Even the group photo was done.
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Applause came again from the audience.
From the platform, Lee Jun looked down at the audience.
People were applauding. Cameras were still flashing.
Mom. Dad. Aunt. Seonsaengnim. Park seonsaengnim.
W̊ еb̄nоv̌ êl .Е̌n̆ u̇_m̄а
People he didn't know. Reporters.
Every one of them was looking his way.
His chest swelled full.
He wanted to leave this scene behind as a painting—he was overflowing with that feeling.
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The applause died down.
The host took the microphone.
Wёḃ ńо̌ v́е̄ l̇ E n̆ ŭ m̈ă
"This concludes the awards. Congratulations to all our winners. In a few moments, there will be a Q&A session with the press."
The winners came down off the platform one after another.
The children returned to their parents' arms.
Lee Jun came down the steps too. This time he didn't wobble.
Han Su-jin caught him in her arms.
"My Jun, you did so good. So, so good."
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"Mm."
Mom and Dad each took a trophy. Aunt held the certificate.
Up on the platform, the host went on.
"Now we'll take questions from the press. The Korean Art Association's president and vice president will be answering."
A table was set up on the platform.
Two microphones. Nameplates set in place.
Ѐn u̇m á .id̊
The president and Vice President Kang Ji-won took their seats.
One reporter raised a hand.
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"This year's Grand Prix winner is five years old. The youngest ever. Were there no dissenting opinions during the judging?"
The president took the microphone first.
"The judging was conducted fairly, on the basis of the works themselves. Age is not a criterion."
Another reporter spoke.
Eň_üm â . ĭ d
"Suspicions of ghost-painting keep coming up online. The claim is that it defies common sense for a five-year-old to have produced such an outstanding oil painting. What is the Association's position on this?"
Every camera and microphone was aimed at the platform.
The president hesitated a moment.
"The details of the judging will be answered by our vice president, who served as head judge on-site."
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The microphone passed to Kang Ji-won.
Kang Ji-won. Vice president of the Korean Art Association. Head judge of this competition.
W̃ ĕ b ñ о́ v̀ е̄ l̆ Е̂n̊ ū ṁа̂
An expensive suit. A soft smile.
But his eyes, only his eyes, weren't smiling.
"The judging proceeded without any problems. The entry was received in accordance with the rules, and submitted together with a recommender's recommendation letter. The award was decided by the unanimous agreement of all the judges."
The reporter pressed again.
"You say unanimous, but during the judging, was there no discussion of the possibility of ghost-painting?"
"I couldn't tell you there was none."
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The audience stirred.
"It is true that some of the judges raised questions about the level of technique. That said, the final decision was reached out of respect for the recommender's assurance and the special judge's judgment."
"Slick as hell. It's infuriating."
Standing at the back and listening, Park Sang-hoon grumbled.
"He says it 'proceeded without any problems', then lets slip that 'questions were raised', and shoves the responsibility onto the recommender and the special judge. As if none of it's on him."
"He's not wrong, exactly. Only..."
Ė ń um̊ а̌
Kim Yo-han couldn't hide the bitterness.
Even if it were true, it was the kind of talk that seemed to pin the blame on Seo Jeong-hwan seonsaengnim.
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For a disciple who owed him the very same debt of gratitude, it was something that should never be said.
The reporters raised their hands all at once.
"Who is the special judge?"
"The list of judges is not disclosed."
W̄е̊ b̄_n̂о̊v е l Е n̂ ŭm̆а̃
"How can you prove it wasn't ghost-painted?"
"We made our judgment based on the materials the recommender submitted."
"Are materials alone enough? You didn't verify it directly, then?"
The questions grew fiercer. Kang Ji-won had deliberately let out a scent, and the reporters caught it. And they began to bark.
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Kang Ji-won put on a troubled face. Pretending to be troubled. Pretending to be flustered.
But everything was flowing according to plan.
Ê ñ u̇m̀а̃ . ĩd.
He let a beat pass.
And then he spoke.
"If you're that suspicious."
Kang Ji-won looked around the audience.
"Why not verify it right here, for yourselves?"
The audience went quiet.
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"As it happens, the winner himself is here with us. This is the Korean Art Association's exhibition hall, so we can prepare a canvas and paints too. If we watch him paint with our own eyes, in front of everyone, wouldn't that put the suspicions to rest?"
A murmur spread.
"That, right now..."
Standing at the very back of the hall, Park Sang-hoon was thrown.
Kim Yo-han, beside him, ran out toward the front of the platform.
It was Kang Ji-won's trap.
W e b̃n ov e l̊ Ѐ ñǔ m̊а
Even someone who normally paints just fine can't paint properly in conditions like these.
In front of hundreds of onlookers, an unfamiliar setting, unfamiliar tools.
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Even an adult struggles to show their true skill. Let alone a six-year-old child.
If nerves get the better of him and he can't paint, it's Kang Ji-won's win.
Even if he does paint, if it falls short of his entry, it becomes fresh grounds for suspicion.
If he backs out saying he can't, the same.
Ŵ е̃ b ň оv̇ е l̄_ Е n ŭ m̂а
Kang Ji-won had come here meaning to do exactly this from the very start.
Yu Ha-na knit her brow.
"What is he even doing? Why won't they just end it already."
At the back, Kim Min-jun muttered flatly.
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"Adults ruled by their desires. How truly hideous."
"That's the first time I've agreed with you."
Ѐ n û ṁ ӑ.і̀d̀
And the last Grand Prize winner, the one at the very heart of it all, Lee Jun.
"I can really paint?"
He asked in a small voice from the audience.
Every gaze swung toward him.
Even Kim Yo-han, mid-run, stopped.
The child in the blue beret.
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His eyes were shining.
Lee Jun looked up at Kang Ji-won on the platform.
It had been itching for a while now. It kept itching.
More people than he'd ever seen in his life.
All those people were congratulating him.
Smiling brightly, cameras flashing.
W е̄b̂ n̄ о̂v̂ ё l _E_n̆ u ṁ а
Even the gazes of the adults who suspected ghost-painting looked that way to Lee Jun's eyes.
These people. This scene, he wanted to paint them.
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He'd been holding that urge back the whole time.
And now, right here, they'd said he could paint.
"Can I really paint, right here?"
Lee Jun asked again, his face full of expectation.
W ёbň o v̊_ẽl̀ Е̊n̄ ũ ṁa
*****
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