NOVEL WEB Chapter 40: 40
Yongsin Land. It was a name he had heard before.
He vaguely remembered a news report about how the amusement park had faced a series of minor issues with its facilities and had eventually lost its license two years ago, resulting in closure.
"A project with a park that shut down two years ago... It went under due to shoddy construction, so reopening it probably isn't an option."
Seol Yeo-jin rolled a candy in her mouth and glanced at Kim Yoon-seo.
"From what I've found out, it's now privately owned. Apparently, it was being used as a filming location until recently."
"A filming location…?"
"Yes. Like a rental studio for concept shoots or as a location for hire. I heard they managed to keep it going that way until a few months ago when operations finally ended. I suspect that's when the government bought the land from the private owner."
Kim Yoon-seo also looked unconvinced as she spoke. Seol Yeo-jin twirled her candy stick while watching her.
"Well. Maybe they had to use up some government budget or something. Yongsin Land isn't even that large. Anyway, Mr. Kang-seok. I'm getting off track, but it seems the Department of Culture and Arts is planning a large-scale public art project using that Yongsin Land."
She leaned forward and tapped a file with her well-manicured nails.
"And this is the proposal for that project. I'm not entirely sure, but there's a rumor that Administrative Officer Ryu Soo-heon is really good at securing budgets. That probably means it's going to be a sizable project, and quite profitable, too."
Though only a Grade 4 official, Ryu Soo-heon was considered the new blood of the Ministry of Culture, Sports, and Tourism.
Though "new blood" might not be the right word, considering his dark circles looked like bruises and he constantly clutched a high-caffeine energy drink like it was a blood transfusion. He looked utterly exhausted — the epitome of a government employee consumed by overtime.
"Maybe the reason he's so good at getting budgets is because he works himself into the ground 24/7..."
Ryu Soo-heon, exiting the entrance of the Peony Gallery while taking a call and rubbing his face dry, looked like a literal zombie. Seol Yeo-jin shook her head as his image flashed through her mind.
What does it matter?
"Anyway, since you and artist Go Doo-han weren't around at the time, he left it with me in a rush."
Kang-seok nodded, having a sense of what time this had happened. He was likely chatting with teacher Jung Byung-kwon at a café around then.
"He wanted to wait for you, but he was swamped with phone calls. That's how civil servants are, right?"
Kang-seok gave a vague nod, still staring at the document. He was intrigued. What exactly were they planning to do with this desolate place called Yongsin Land? But the file was too thick to start reading now — he wouldn't get through it. Better to read it later.
Whoever this person was, if they were walking around carrying a proposal this thick, they were definitely a workaholic.
"He said he'd contact you formally soon. Here's his card."
Without opening the file, Seol Yeo-jin handed him a business card. She added a tip: if a call comes from that number, he should pick up. Ryu Soo-heon was currently the most promising civil servant out there.
If Seol Yeo-jin was praising him like this, he clearly wasn't stingy when it came to money.
Kang-seok glanced one more time at the file before decisively flipping the cover sheet, which read [Yongsin Land Public Art Project Proposal].
"Thanks. I'll read it later."
Right now, that document wasn't the most important thing.
Kang-seok looked at Seol Yeo-jin and Kim Yoon-seo. Behind them, through the closed curtains, the orange glow of sunset peeked through.
Today was the opening ceremony of a solo exhibition by one of the few true blue-chip artists in Korea, Go Doo-han.
As expected of such a prominent figure in Korean contemporary art, the exhibition hall was crowded with renowned rising stars. It was a gathering of stars drawn to another star.
For gallery director Seol Yeo-jin, this was one of the rare few days in a year that truly mattered. And yet, she had declined to attend that event and instead called Kang-seok into the director's office.
Which meant — she had a reason.
Time is money, and today, it was money of the highest value. She wouldn't have summoned him to the back office just to hand him a proposal titled [Yongsin Land Public Art Project].
"Why did you call me here?"
To that, Seol Yeo-jin smiled faintly.
"As expected, you're sharp, Kang-seok."
She had felt it before when selling exhibition rights — Kang-seok might be a high school student, but sometimes he was harder to deal with than Go Doo-han. Like a solid rock shaped by all life's trials.
That confidence must have come from knowing exactly how much he was worth.
What must it feel like to know your own value so well? What was I thinking at that age? Seol Yeo-jin gazed at Kang-seok, envious of his unknown emotions and youthful clarity.
"You probably already guessed, right?"
Still holding the candy, Seol Yeo-jin glanced at Kim Yoon-seo, who had been standing behind the sofa. Kim stepped forward with a document in hand — the contract they had signed when he agreed to the mural project.
"We wanted to talk about the piece
Specifically, about the additional payment for the 3D mural
"We paid you 20 million won upfront, but we thought it was time to discuss the plus-alpha."
The plus-alpha. That was the wording used in the contract regarding additional compensation.
Twenty million won had been paid before completion. The "plus-alpha" would be paid based on the actual value the mural brought afterward.
"...As the contract says, the plus-alpha will be paid depending on the value gained from the mural after its installation. So, we held an internal meeting on how to quantify that gain…"
Kang-seok had been wondering about that as well.
"So that's why they called me."
In other words, Seol Yeo-jin — or more precisely, the Peony Gallery — had judged that discussing this matter with him would bring more benefit than mingling with the VIPs outside.
Kang-seok's lips twitched. He couldn't deny he felt a little pleased.
At that moment—
"This is the average number of visitors to our gallery over the past six months. We calculated the daily average up to the day before
Kim Yoon-seo slid over a new document. It contained graphs summarizing the data. As Kang-seok flipped through the pages, she gave him the conclusion.
"An average of 62 visitors per day. That's our benchmark."
Kang-seok raised an eyebrow. That was quite a lot. Even for a gallery-rich area like Gwanhun-dong.
Peony Gallery wasn't open all year round. It mostly exhibited works by its contracted artists and held occasional solo shows. Considering that, 62 visitors was impressive.
"Maybe Go Doo-han's exhibition raised the average."
It was clear his regular exhibitions had significantly influenced those numbers.
"We don't plan to change our operations drastically or remodel anything aside from
Kim Yoon-seo placed a new contract on the table — the fourth document already.
Leaning in, she flipped through the contract and gave him a brief summary.
"Since the increased visitor count will likely lead to more art sales, we propose to quantify the benefit this way: Peony Gallery will retain the rights to display
10,000 won per person.
As Kang-seok read the contract, he was genuinely surprised. His tightly closed lips showed no expression, but it was clear he was impressed.
10,000 won per person was a large amount.
And they were offering to calculate and pay it monthly.
Of course, the contract had clauses — for example, if the same person visited repeatedly, it would only be counted once every three days. But still, it was a significant sum.
Peony Gallery wasn't some obscure venue. On days like today, with a Go Doo-han exhibition, the guestbook could easily surpass 200 names. This would be a hefty payout.
Why would the gallery offer such a generous proposal first?
What was their benefit in this?
Then Kim Yoon-seo flipped the page once more.
"However, both the baseline average of 62 visitors and the 10,000-won incentive can be renegotiated later. This agreement would hold until the renewal period, at which point we can meet again and update the terms for a semi-permanent contract."
Without a trace of hesitation, Yoonseo Kim fired off her words like a rapid-fire gun. Then she raised the head she had been bowing.
Kangseok grasped the pen lying at the end of the contract.
"Face-to-face renewal through mutual agreement?"
"Yes."
"And the renewal period?"
"...I'm thinking two years."
"Does a video call count as face-to-face?"
"I was thinking in-person."
Face-to-face. Mutual agreement. Renewal period: two years.
Kangseok twirled the pen. This was it. This—exactly this—is what JakYak Gallery wanted in the contract.
'A face-to-face meeting every two years for mutual renegotiation.'
Kangseok looked up. Seol Yeo-jin's kind-looking eyes were burning cold. They were the eyes of a businesswoman. A hot heart, but a cold head. She was trying to buy the right to a future dinner with Kangseok two years down the line—using money.
She clearly believed Kangseok would become even more successful in the future.
In short, this was an investment. An investment expected to yield a bigger return later. The two-year renewal, combined with the semi-permanent nature of the contract, made that clear.
Having understood their intent, Kangseok relaxed his shoulders and leaned back into the sofa, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.
"I'd like to extend the renewal period to three years."
Time is money. And without question, Kangseok's time a year or two from now would be more valuable than it was now. Whether it was a few hours or days, you shouldn't casually mortgage the future—especially not when you're the one in demand.
Kangseok grit his teeth, recalling the time he had helped build Julius II's tomb in a past life.
And as Kangseok played hardball, it was Yoonseo Kim who looked flustered. While Seol Yeo-jin silently crunched down on her candy, Yoonseo responded with slight panic.
"If the renewal period is extended to three years, there's a risk of losing incentives due to inflation. If our average visitor count goes well over 62, that would be a significant loss for us."
"Then how about four years?"
The more famous one becomes, the harder they are to book.
Kangseok's lips curved into a crescent smile. Once JakYak Gallery showed that they were willing to continue paying indefinitely to stay connected with him, the negotiation was essentially over.
Yoonseo shook her head, pushing back again.
"Four years is too long. The loss would be too severe. Let's go with three years."
"Five years."
"That would be a loss for you too, Mr. Kang. Considering the rising inflation and weakening won—"
"Six years."
Kangseok didn't care how much money came from a finished work. He could always create a new piece and earn dozens of times more. He smiled calmly.
Yoonseo, growing more flustered, turned to the side.
"...Director."
Crunch. Seol Yeo-jin bit down hard on the candy at Yoonseo's surrender. Though Yoonseo had done all the talking, nearly everything said so far had come from Yeo-jin's head.
She had pushed hard, persuading staff and Yoonseo inside JakYak Gallery to go forward—but never expected the artist himself would be the sticking point. Yeo-jin sighed deeply as the strawberry flavor spread from her molars.
They might have to pay tens or hundreds of millions to buy just a few hours in the future. A loss. Yet also, satisfying. If it meant keeping the connection with Kangseok, then so be it.
And
Yeo-jin's pink lips moved weakly.
"...Let's make it four years."
It was a surrender.
Only then did Kangseok slowly pick up the pen and sign the contract. As he did, Yeo-jin looked down at the top of his head, then scanned the table.
Perhaps the rush to prepare the space was to blame—there wasn't a single piece of chocolate or snack on the table. Maybe that was it. Compared to the last negotiation, which had left them satisfied, this one tilted far too much in Kangseok's favor.
"Go easy on us. Seeing you only once every four years is too much, don't you think?"
What kind of high schooler acts like this? Yeo-jin bit down on the now-empty candy stick, fed up. Weren't they on fairly friendly terms? She felt a bit wronged.
"Meeting for a contract and meeting just to meet are different things."
Kangseok smiled. As if saying they could grab a meal with Professor Goduhan some other time, he flashed a sly look. Yeo-jin, annoyed, tossed the candy stick into the trash.
If she ever had to sit Kangseok down at this table again, she would pile the desk high with chocolates and sweets. Yeo-jin made a silent vow.
. . .
━ Please select a service to use...
Kangseok pulled out his bankbook. He could've checked his phone or Chaeyeong's laptop, but there was something deeply satisfying about seeing numbers printed on paper.
He gently swept his hand over the large digits.
₩5,000,000 from winning the high school mural competition and receiving it from Teacher Ju Sarang.
₩5,000,000 down payment from Professor Lee Min-hyuk for the wild grape owl sculpture.
₩3,000,000 from renting out his work
₩4,500,000 from renting
And ₩20,000,000 for producing the 3D mural
Even after paying for a comprehensive health checkup, Sesco pest control, and various small expenses, he still had ₩33,100,000 left.
That's a lot. Kangseok smiled as he ran his hand over the numbers again.
'What kind of wallets should I get for Mom and Dad?'
He could afford to buy them something really nice. Maybe even one for Chaeyeong too while he was at it. Kangseok stood there for a while, repeatedly brushing over the bankbook.
In the dark of night, unnoticed by anyone—this had all happened.
The next day.
The sky was ash gray tinged with blue. As he looked up at the mysteriously blended sky, Kangseok took a step forward. The moment he stepped into the hospital, the unique hospital scent pricked his nose.
Seoul Sangan Hospital.
That was the destination for today's appointment.
[Sangan Medical Center – Partnership with Hanyang Arts General School, College of Fine Arts!]
Passing under the large banner in front of the hospital, Kangseok entered the main entrance.
"A minor going alone without a guardian? I told you I'd come with you!"
Goduhan had insisted on tagging along in place of his busy parents, but someone who had just opened their solo exhibition two days ago couldn't possibly leave their post.
'It's not like I'm here because something's wrong anyway.'
Returning not long after having come here for a full health screening felt oddly sentimental. Kangseok recalled the test results he'd recently seen.
There had been some values flagged as watchpoints by family, but overall, all results were within the normal range. Nothing required re-testing. Everyone was healthy.
'That's a relief.'
Nodding to himself, Kangseok quickened his pace. Before long, he saw a familiar face walking toward him—one he had seen several times now.
"Noh Min-hyung."
"...Oh, Seok!"
Today was finally the day of the first orientation for Professor Park Ji-yeop's human anatomy project.