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Chapter 5: The First Sign of Stubbornness
TL: Enuma ID
It was already late evening by the time they got home.
Downstairs on the first floor, Dad was slicing sashimi for the last customer.
Mom was coming down from the second floor when she ran into So-young.
“Where were you?”
Е ń ù m̃а̂ . і̊ ď
“I took Jun to an exhibition at BEXCO.”
“An exhibition?”
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Mom looked at Lee Jun.
Even as he took off his shoes at the door, Lee Jun had the look of someone lost in something.
His eyes were somewhere far away. Further than usual.
“......What did he see to end up like that?”
En umа̌
Instead of answering, So-young said,
“Sis, before I head up to Seoul tomorrow, there's something I want to say.”
“Is this that again?”
“Yeah. That again.”
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Lee Jun went up to the second floor and grabbed his pastels right away.
He opened his sketchbook.
Ѐnum̄ ӓ .іd
It wasn't a swirl.
Water.
Something floating on the water.
Round leaves.
Light was scattering across the water.
[Water Lilies. You saw it as a knockoff, and you still want to paint it?]
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The Shadow said it as if pained.
Lee Jun didn't answer. The pastel was moving fast.
He laid down the water in Cobalt Blue.
Over it he set green. The water-lily leaves.
A little white. Where the light settled on the water.
As the soft pastel dust blended together, the boundaries vanished.
Е̄ n̄ ů m̃а́
Like watercolor, but different. It wasn't water spreading, but powder.
[......Pastel. The right tool for Water Lilies.]
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
The Shadow spoke, as if conceding the point.
[If watercolor was about letting water flow, pastel is about rubbing in light.
Light on water has to be painted with this.]
Lee Jun's hand rubbed the color across the paper.
Ẁ еb́ nо v ë l̀ Ê.n ŭm̊ а
As the pastel dust blended, it became water, became light, became Water Lilies.
This was a painting of what he'd seen today.
Something seen through a reproduction. But something seen again through Lee Jun's own eyes.
[Don't hide it this time. Please.]
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The Shadow's voice was pleading.
*
Еnuḿ á._і̊ d̀
The next morning.
So-young was packing. She had to catch the afternoon KTX to Seoul.
She sat down across from Mom in the second-floor kitchen.
Dad was downstairs on the first floor.
“Sis.”
“Yeah.”
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
“I want to take Jun to Seoul with me.”
Mom sighed.
“We talked about this yesterday.”
“Yesterday it was just a vague idea. Today it's different.”
So-young took out her phone.
She showed a photo she'd taken at the exhibition. A photo of Lee Jun sunk down in front of the reproduction.
Еnû m ã . і̃ ď_
“This is a reproduction. A knockoff for the exhibition. Not a real painting.”
Mom looked at the photo.
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“He sat like this in front of a knockoff. For a whole hour. Without moving.”
“.......”
“He's a child who's never seen a real painting, Sis. In his whole five years, he saw one finger-sized picture in a magazine and drew from it for two years.
Yesterday he saw a big painting for the first time, and even though it was a knockoff, that's what it did to him.”
Wеb̄.n о̌.v̂ е̃ l Е̂n u̇ mа
Mom was looking down at the photo.
“Busan only has things like this. Interactive exhibits, video screenings, reproductions.
In Seoul there's the real thing. Real paintings hanging in museums. That's what this kid needs.”
“So-young.”
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“And it's not just about the painting.”
So-young lowered her voice.
Е̄num̆å . ĭ ḋ
“This kid isn't even in daycare right now.
He's up on the second floor alone. He draws all day, every day.
He has no friends. He's hardly ever been outside.
Taking him to that exhibition yesterday was probably almost his first time out.”
Mom's expression changed.
Because So-young's words stung.
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They'd been busy. The Sashimi Restaurant kept them busy.
There'd been no room to send the boy to daycare.
But that was an excuse.
Jun hated going anywhere, and as if that settled it, they'd left him to himself at home.
She'd told herself it was a blessing that he played quietly on his own.
“I can raise him. I do my webtoon work from home, so I can watch him.
Wе̄ b n̂ о̆.v̂е̃ l Е̌ n̆ ū m̃а̂
I'll get him into school. I'll look into art lessons too.
I'll cover the costs. I'm not asking you and your husband for money.”
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Mom didn't answer.
Then the door opened.
Lee Jun was standing there.
Pastel dust on his hands.
Е ňù m̄ а́
He held a sketchbook in them.
Emotion showed on his small face.
An expression that wasn't usually there.
“Aunt.”
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So-young looked at Lee Jun.
“I want to go see paintings.”
E̊.nùmа̌
So-young's breath caught.
Mom looked at Lee Jun too.
“I want to see it again. The one from yesterday. A bigger one. A real painting.”
Lee Jun was a slow-spoken child.
A child of few words.
A child who never said what he wanted.
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And now that child was saying what he wanted.
[Ahh......!]
The Shadow shuddered.
It was the first time. The first time this child had said he wanted to do something on his own.
Mom was watching her son.
The small hands dusted with pastel.
Еn u m̂ă. і d̊
Eyes that wanted to see the 'real thing'.
“Mom.”
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Lee Jun held the sketchbook out to Mom.
There was a drawing on it, done in pastel.
“Oh.......”
It was water lilies.
Е ń ü m̌ а.і̊d̂
It had the same mood as the painting in the photo So-young had shown a moment ago.
It was the first drawing her son, who'd been secretly drawing every day, had ever shown his mother.
Beautiful water lilies rendered in warm-hued pastel.
There was a resonance in that drawing that even Mom, who knew nothing about art, could feel.
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“......If I go to Seoul, can I see real paintings?”
Lee Jun asked.
W̊е̄ b̊n̈_о v e l̇ Е̌ n u ṁа́
So-young nodded.
“Yeah. They're in Seoul.”
Lee Jun looked at Mom.
“Mom. I want to go to Seoul.”
The five-year-old's voice was small.
But it didn't waver.
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Mom's eyes reddened.
For the first time, her son wanted something.
For the first time, he was saying ‘I want to go.’
Mom looked at Lee Jun for a long while, then turned her head away.
“......Go tell your dad downstairs.”
So-young froze.
Е n̊ u mа.їd̈
“Sis?”
“You've got to tell your dad, don't you. Go on, tell him.”
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It was permission.
Not full permission.
But a door had opened.
So-young took Lee Jun's hand and went down the stairs.
Е ńumӑ
Downstairs in the Sashimi Restaurant, Dad was washing his knife.
He'd just finished the morning prep.
So-young stood in front of her brother-in-law and was about to speak.
But Lee Jun spoke first.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
“Dad.”
Dad looked down at him.
W ė b_ń о̊v̌ е l Ẽn̂ŭ m а̀
Fish scales clung to his apron.
“I want to paint in Seoul.”
It was the very first time this son had ever asked his father for anything.
Dad looked at his son.
The small hands dusted with pastel.
Hands different from his own, which reeked of fish.
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“Jun...... you mean it?”
“Yeah.”
Behind them, his aunt had her hands clasped together too.
He set down the knife and wiped his hands.
“......Your dad knew, ever since you were smearing lipstick on the walls.”
With a big, rough hand he smoothed back his son's hair.
W еb n̈ ӧ ve l Е̇n̆.ū m̃а́
The bright, clever eyes were shining.
This wasn't a little kid's whining.
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There was the stubbornness of a Busan man in it.
“Alright...... good thinking.
I'll talk to your mom.”
* * *
Е̌ n u ḿ а̃ . і̂d̂
Seoul.
Stepping off the KTX, he could feel that the air was different from Busan's.
Cold, dry, crowded with people.
Lee Jun held his aunt's hand and made his way out of Seoul Station.
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People were hurrying in every direction.
It was a completely different world from the alley in front of the Sashimi Restaurant in Busan.
W е́ b ṅ оv е̃l̈ E n.ú m̄а
So-young's place was a small officetel in Mapo-gu.
It had two rooms. A studio with a single desk, a bedroom with a single bed, and a combined kitchen and living room.
A few of So-young's webtoon character sketches were tacked to the wall. There was also the cat drawing she'd made for him a while back.
“This is Auntie's place. Cramped, isn't it?”
The studio was hers; the bedroom would be Jun's.
Lee Jun looked around the room.
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It was smaller than the second floor over the Sashimi Restaurant.
But that didn't matter. It was plenty for painting.
On the studio desk sat a tablet and a pen. These are So-young's work tools.
Beside them stood a cup full of pencils.
A few sketchbooks were stacked there too.
Lee Jun's eyes fixed on them.
Ẃ е̇ b ňо̂.v̊ е l Ёn̆u mа̊
“Let's unpack first, then go get something good to eat, hm? There's so much you have to try now that you're in Seoul. Tteokbokki, fried chicken, pork cutlets.......”
“.......”
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Lee Jun just stood there looking at So-young's cup of pencils.
“Jun?”
“Can I draw?”
So-young laughed.
Е̌ n̊ ù m̂ а
“Let's eat first. We just got to Seoul.”
Lee Jun wasn't much interested.
Not in tteokbokki, not in fried chicken, not in this city called Seoul.
He was hungry, sure, but more than that he wanted his pastels in his hand.
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[Food's food and painting's painting. You can just paint while you eat.]
The Shadow took Lee Jun's side. As if it were obvious.
Ẽ n̈ ú m а . і d
So-young looked at Lee Jun's face and sighed.
The idea of sightseeing in Seoul seemed not to exist for this child.
“Okay. We'll take our time with food, then. But.......”
As if something had come to her, So-young looked at Lee Jun.
“Want to go buy art supplies?”
Lee Jun's eyes changed.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
Not the indifferent eyes of a moment ago.
“There's a huge art supply store near here. I used to go there a lot, and it has tons of art supplies. Let's pick out some things for you.”
[An art supply store?! Art supplies?!]
The Shadow leaped up.
[Let's go! Let's go right now!]
Lee Jun nodded. Faster than usual.
Е́ň ú m̄ ӓ. і ď
For once, it was a moment when he and the Shadow were of one mind.
The art supply store was two bus stops from his aunt's place.
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The store took up the entire third floor of the building.
When he opened the door and stepped in, Lee Jun stopped.
It was vast. Bigger than the first and second floors of the Sashimi Restaurant combined.
Shelves lined every wall.
Е̂n um̆.а. і̃ ď
Colored pencils, crayons, pastels, watercolor paint, acrylic paint.
Dozens of brushes in every size. Sketchbooks for every kind of paper.
Canvases stood in every size. Easels. Palettes. Palette knives.
There was too much to take in at a glance.
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Lee Jun walked slowly inside.
His eyes were darting everywhere.
Е n̈ u̇ ṁ а̂
So-young, following behind, said,
“I'll spring for up to a hundred thousand won. Pick out whatever you like.”
Lee Jun looked at the familiar things first.
The pastel section. The colored-pencil section. The watercolor section.
Things he'd used back in Busan.
More brands, more colors.
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But tools he knew.
When he rounded the aisle, a new section appeared.
The oil painting section.
Tubes of paint stood on the shelves, sorted by color.
[Oh.]
They were a different size. Bigger than watercolor tubes.
E.n̄ u ṁа̌
The caps were painted with their colors. Cadmium Yellow, Ultramarine Blue, Burnt Sienna, Titanium White.
Beside them stood rows of bottles, linseed oil, turpentine, medium, and the like.
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There was a smell. Heavy and oily. A smell watercolor paint never had.
Lee Jun picked up a tube of oil paint.
Ultramarine Blue. The color he'd used most.
[Ahh.......]
Е̇ n ū m̆ а_. i d̈
The Shadow lost its words.
This wasn't the usual Shadow.
Not ‘Let's buy it!’ or ‘Let's go!’
It seemed to be holding its breath.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
Lee Jun opened the cap of the tube.
A deep blue showed inside. Thick.
E nù mа̀
It didn't run like watercolor; it held together like cream.
“That's oil paint.”
So-young explained from beside him.
“It doesn't wash off with water. You mix it with oil to paint. I've never used it myself, but it's what people doing fine art use.”
Lee Jun held the tube of paint in his hand.
It had weight to it. Different from watercolor.
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[This is it.]
the Shadow said.
Its voice was trembling.
[This. We have to buy this, no question.]
Not its playful tone.
Not the giddy voice it used when it said ‘Let's show them!’
Ẁ eb́ ńоv̀еl Ĕ num ă
It was serious. Desperate.
Lee Jun pressed the tube with his fingers and asked,
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“What happens if you paint with this?”
[It gets thick. The color rises up off the paper.
Pastel is dust settling on, watercolor is water soaking in, and this is color piling up.
Layer it on and on, and...... the paint rises up.]
E ñu m а.і́d̆
The paint rises up.
Touch it and it's all ridges.
Something the Shadow had said before.
The true form of the painting in the magazine.
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The texture of the swirl he'd seen in his dream.
Lee Jun didn't put the tube down.
Е̇ n um̊ á . іd
“Aunt, this one.”
“Oil paint? It might still be a little hard for you.......”
“I want this one.”
So-young looked at Lee Jun's expression.
Not the indifference from when they'd talked about tteokbokki.
It was the look he'd had when he sank down in front of the Monet reproduction.
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“......Okay. Let's find a basic set.”
So-young started looking for an oil painting starter set.
Paint, brushes, a palette, a palette knife, linseed oil, turpentine.
Lee Jun left the oil painting section and wandered slowly around the store.
The Shadow studied everything alongside him.
It was always talkative and lively, but today it was over the top.
Еn ũm а̊ .ї d
At the drawing section, Lee Jun's feet stopped.
Because the Shadow stopped there.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
Pencils of every kind were on display.
Graphite pencils, carbon pencils, Conté.
Lee Jun picked up a graphite pencil.
Staedtler.
E nu m а̀_
A soft pencil he'd never used in Busan.
“I've got pencils at home. I'll give you those.”
So-young said.
[No.]
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
the Shadow said.
[That one. That black one.]
Е n̈ǔ mа̂
It was the Conté section.
Black sticks were set in a wooden case.
It read ‘Conté à Paris - Pierre Noire.’
[That's what you have to draw with.]
It was firm.
Lee Jun picked up a Conté.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
Heavier than a graphite pencil. A slightly oily feel came through his fingertips.
“This is Conté. Made in France. Softer and darker than an ordinary pencil.”
So-young explained.
Lee Jun cut in, almost interrupting,
“Yeah. When you draw people, you have to use this.”
He was repeating exactly what the Shadow had said.
Е ńu m̂а̄ . ì d̆
“People? You want to draw people, Jun?”
“......Yeah. So, this one.”
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Lee Jun didn't put the Conté down.
So-young tilted her head.
Up to now Lee Jun had drawn scenery, swirls, ‘Aquarium,’ and ‘Alley,’ but never people.
So why had he suddenly said ‘when you draw people’?
W̌е̄ b̃ ṅ о.v̈ е̌l̄ Е n̈ u̇ mа̊
It was odd, but she let it go. He'd always been a peculiar child.
“Want that one too?”
Lee Jun nodded.
Canvases stood along one side of the store.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
In every size. The small ones were about the size of a sketchbook; the big ones were taller than Lee Jun.
Lee Jun stopped in front of the canvases.
W еb̄n̆ ò v e l Еn̈ ùm̂ӑ
Again, because the Shadow had stopped there.
He touched the surface with his hand.
It was cloth. Not paper, cloth.
Something white was spread over it. Gesso.
“This is canvas. Oil paint usually goes on top of this.”
Lee Jun couldn't take his hand off the canvas.
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The texture of the cloth.
What happens when oil paint goes on top of this?
[The paint sinks into the weave of the canvas. Completely different from paper.
Paper drinks the paint in, but on canvas the paint sits on top.
That's why it can build up thick.]
At the Shadow's explanation, Lee Jun's eyes lit up.
Е̊ṅ ũm̃ а̀
“Aunt, this too.”
“Canvas? Really? Oil paint and canvas on top of that?”
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So-young opened her wallet and checked.
“......That's over a hundred thousand won.”
Lee Jun looked up at So-young.
So-young looked into Lee Jun's eyes.
Ē n.ú m̂ а̊ .і̌ d̀
They were shining brighter than ever.
“Ugh.”
Looking at those eyes, she couldn't bring herself to say no.
Had this child ever once asked her to buy him anything?
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
His art supplies had always been things his aunt sent on her own, unasked.
This was the first time Lee Jun had picked something out himself and said ‘this one.’
Ӗ ń u m a
“......Fine. I'll just have to scrape by this month. But no fried chicken, then.”
So-young took out her card.
A basic twelve-color oil paint set.
Three brushes.
A palette. A palette knife.
A small bottle of linseed oil.
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A small bottle of turpentine.
Three Conté Pierre Noire sticks.
Three size-4 canvases.
The total rang up at the register.
It was dizzying.
So-young's eyes wavered a little, but she handed over the card.
Е̊n ú mа . і d
Lee Jun hugged the store's bag with both arms, his eyes shining.
On the bus back to his aunt's place.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
Lee Jun sat with the bag in his arms, looking out the window.
The streets of Seoul slid by.
An unfamiliar city. Unfamiliar buildings. Unfamiliar people.
But there was no city in Lee Jun's head.
Е̃n_ú.ṁ ӑ .ї d̂
The smell of oil paint was rising from the bag.
The heavy, oily smell of linseed oil.
Each time it reached the tip of his nose, something stirred in him.
[......Good smell, isn't it?]
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the Shadow said quietly.
A different voice from usual.
Е̇ñ ù m̃ а́ . і d
Like the voice of someone reunited with something long missed.
Lee Jun nodded.
He doesn't know whether it's a good smell.
It was an oily smell. An oily smell different from the fish-oil smell of the Sashimi Restaurant.
But there was something in this smell.
Something like the possibility of a painting not yet painted.
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Lee Jun hugged the bag tighter.
When he got back to his aunt's place, he would set up the canvas.
He would squeeze out the paint.
He would pick up the brush. He would paint.
[......Finally.]
the Shadow whispered.
Е̇n̄úm̈ а_
In Lee Jun's hands, the bag rustled.
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