Van Gogh Reborn!

250

Playground (2)

An employee who came out with Team Leader Giovanna Piaf handed me a document.

“This is the data that summarizes the outsourcing contracts for the past two years.”

I checked the data that Bugrenelli had presented.

I could see how the interior contracts, including murals and installation art, were settled at a certain level.

Some of the cases were well-known enough for me to remember.

‘So this is how they approached it.’

I nodded inwardly, wanting to know how they had offered such a large amount of one million euros.

Although they had only organized the information that was announced through the media, they also presented the internal reference materials, which seemed to indicate that they were actively engaged in the negotiation.

‘I hope you think so too.’

Although the information was outdated, Team Leader Giovanna Piaf showed a firm intention to contract, and I was aware of that too.

I, the representative of Bang Tae-ho, opened my mouth.

“First of all, thank you for offering me such a good condition.”

“Please tell me.”

Team Leader Giovanna Piaf opened her ears, staring at me.

She had to secure Ko Hun, who had established a positive image by creating various incidents since the year before last.

Therefore, she offered the highest level of compensation in the industry, and left some room for possibility.

However, as a company, they couldn’t blindly raise the amount of compensation, so her goal was to find a fair line that both Bugrenelli and Ko Hun would be satisfied with.

“What Ko Hun wants is clear. A safe and sustainable space.”

It was an unexpected proposal for Team Leader Giovanna Piaf, who had expected up to 1.2 million euros.

I continued to convey Ko Hun’s wishes.

“There are not many places in Paris where children can relax. It’s such a scary world.”

There was a lack of space for children to play comfortably due to hygiene, safety, crime, etc.

“Ko Hun thought that this work with Bugrenelli could be a good example. At least for a month while doing this work, the children living in Montmartre could play comfortably.”

Although the negotiation went in a completely different direction from what was expected, Team Leader Giovanna Piaf understood what Ko Hun wanted.

“Do you mean that you don’t want it to end as a one-time event?”

“Yes.”

I nodded.

Now that we understood each other’s thoughts, it was time for Ko Hun to step in.

“This work might be helpful for Bugrenelli this year. The children will also cherish it as a good memory.”

Team Leader Giovanna Piaf agreed.

“But I don’t think it will be the same next year or the year after. I want this work to be not a simple event, but a daily life. I think that would be the same for Bugrenelli too.”

It was as Ko Hun said.

Improving the company’s image in a short period of time was not the only result.

Bugrenelli’s shopping mall had to be a resting place and a playground for all 10 million people living in the Paris metropolitan area.

Such an image could not be created in a moment.

‘I know.’

Team Leader Giovanna Piaf recognized that Ko Hun had accurately grasped the purpose of this work.

Since both sides wanted the same thing, there was no more reason to worry.

“I understood your intentions, sir. I think we can make more progress at the next meeting.”

Ko Hun smiled brightly.

I was glad that the story went well.

I didn’t know about the management, but at least Team Leader Giovanna Piaf who came to the negotiation seemed to see the same future as me.

It’s good to make a lot of money at once, but securing a stable source of income is more important to me now.

I’m preparing a new business and a gallery, so I need to prepare several holes for money to come in.

It will be a good opportunity for the children who have no place to play.

But this is not enough.

Bugrenelli’s shopping mall might provide a place for me a few more times, but I can’t rely on it alone.

They won’t spend more than a billion won every month, and there are always unexpected variables.

It might be a way to get work from other companies or district offices, but I want to operate more stably.

“I wonder what it would be like to make such a space in the gallery.”

“What kind?”

Bang Tae-ho asked.

“Drawing with the kids. They can come and play after school.”

“It sounds like a tutoring center.”

“It would be nice to teach them something, but I’d rather have a playground-like feeling.”

“Hmm. Then you have to think about the maintenance cost. You don’t want to charge the parents, do you?”

“Yes.”

I don’t want to limit their financial situation.

“I wonder if we can keep getting jobs like this one.”

“It pays well, sure. But it’s not a normal job. It’s fine now that the parents are here with their kids. But we can’t handle them all by ourselves.”

“That’s true. The leader knows best.”

Grandpa nodded his head slowly. He loved kids and had a lot of energy, but he seemed to have a hard time keeping up with their stamina.

“Then why don’t we invite the parents too?”

“Huh?”

“Even on weekends. They don’t have much time to spend with their children, do they?”

“That sounds like something the Ministry of Culture and Tourism should do.”

Grandpa and I laughed at Tae-ho’s remark.

“I saw you getting along well with Fabre and Rabbani yesterday. You have a lot in common with them, since you’re older than most of your peers.”

Grandpa had a point.

If more people joined the ‘Potatoes’, we could ask them for help. So I didn’t need to worry about this job too much.

“But what are you going to name it?”

“I’ll talk to Marso again tomorrow. Fabre wants to join too, so maybe we can figure it out together.”

We chatted about this and that until we got home.

We kept talking about the Dali Plaza, the Bugrenelli Mall, and the artists’ community while we ate dinner.

There was a lot to think about and a lot to do, but I felt more fulfilled than ever.

The next day.

I loaded up on bread, chocolate, and snacks and headed to the Dali Plaza.

When I got there, I saw four food trucks parked in the plaza.

There were crepes filled with whipped cream and strawberries, and baguettes stuffed with sausages and vegetables.

Could it be from Henri Marso?

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know. Leader?”

“I didn’t get any messages. I’ll go ask.”

Tae-ho went to one of the food trucks and talked to someone. Then he came back with a big smile and a wave.

“What did they say?”

“They’re vendors from nearby who thought it would be nice to do something for the kids. They must have known it was our last day.”

“They’re giving it away for free?”

“Yes. Only to the kids.”

I was grateful, but also a bit flustered. I turned my head and saw them waving and smiling.

I had met a lot of bad people lately, but I didn’t know there were so many good ones too.

“Do you want a crepe?”

The crepe truck owner asked Ollivier and Audley, who were staring blankly.

The two kids nodded and he quickly made them two crepes.

“Can we really eat this?”

“…”

“We don’t have any money.”

Ollivier asked for Audley, who was too shy to speak.

“Ha ha! Sure. You just have to be friends with Levan, okay?”

“Huh? Are you Levan’s dad? Where’s Levan?”

“He’s at school. He’ll be back for lunch.”

Now I realized he was the parent of one of the kids who played here.

“Kids, try this too.”

A woman offered them something and I went over. I smelled kimchi fried rice. She was too short to see over the truck, but she spoke Korean.

“Welcome.”

“Are you Korean?”

“Yes. Do you want one?”

“Yes.”

I used to eat a lot of kimchi fried rice when my dad was alive.

He wasn’t good at cooking anything else, but he made delicious kimchi fried rice. My mom and I loved it.

Grandpa sometimes made it for us too, and I ordered it at snack bars a few times. But it never tasted like my dad’s. I missed it.

I doubted hers would taste the same either.

“Here.”

“…?”

The food truck owner gave me a paper box with eight round fritters.

“Isn’t this kimchi fried rice?”

“It is. But fried. Be careful, it’s hot.”

She had made balls of kimchi fried rice and fried them.

“Thank you.”

I blew on it to cool it down and put it in my mouth.

I can taste the sour and deep flavor of the kimchi fried rice under the crispy fried coating, and the cheese inside emits a savory smell.

“…It’s delicious.”

“Right? Eat a lot.”

“Grandpa! Mister!”

I approached Grandpa and Bantaeho, who were unloading their luggage, and put one in their mouths.

At first, both of them widened their eyes as if they were surprised.

“Kimchi fried rice?”

“It’s good, right?”

“Yeah.”

The texture of the fried rice, cheese, and fried batter blends exquisitely, enhancing the aroma of the stir-fried kimchi.

“I like the anchovies in it.”

“Anchovies? Not cheese?”

“Anchovies.”

“Grandpa ate the one with tuna in it.”

The ingredients inside are different, too. This should be widely known.

“Bro, what are you eating?”

The kids came over and showed interest.

“Kimchi fried rice.”

They tilted their heads at the unfamiliar word, but they liked it when I put one in their mouths.

“Spicy!”

“What is this? It’s good.”

“Heheheheh.”

They sometimes stuck out their tongues because it was spicy, but they mostly liked it.

Just like I did, plain kimchi might not suit their taste, but stir-fried kimchi is different.

“I want water.”

“Where do you drink it?”

“It smells weird.”

“Wow! There’s a baby fish in it.”

“I had cheese.”

“Bro, where do you eat this?”

“I want to eat more.”

Their reactions are cute and varied.

Henri Matisse frowned as he found the square while running.

Dozens of kids in bee costumes were running, eating, or waving brushes around.

“It’s Henri!”

One kid spotted Henri Matisse and shouted, and they all ran to him without anything to do.

Henri Matisse, known as a hero of the French art world through numerous media, was no different from a celebrity to the children.

“Wow!”

“I can see your nostrils! Hehehe!”

“Mister! Did you come to draw too?”

“Do you want to eat this?”

Henri Matisse was rarely flustered by the excessive interest of the young fans.

“Get out of here? Where’s the kid?”

“Ahhaha. He told us to go away.”

“Who’s the kid?”

“We’re the kids.”

“No? I’m the older brother.”

“Henri, don’t you wear this? They told us to wear this.”

One kid pointed to the bee-striped tee he was wearing.

“Why do you want me to wear that? You, don’t call me Henri, call me Matisse the artist.”

Henri Matisse pursed his lips and the kids quickly became sad.

“Isn’t this pretty?”

“It’s pretty.”

“…My mom said it was cute.”

“Henri would look pretty if he wore this too.”

The kids sobbed and everyone in the square turned their attention to them.

“Are you here?”

Then, Ko Hun, who was wearing a bee costume, came over.

“You, do something about these kids. They’re about to cry.”

“Why do you say bad things about what the kids like? They all like Matisse. Right?”

“Yeah.”

“But Henri doesn’t like it.”

“Mister doesn’t like us.”

“He said it was weird.”

“They say I’m ugly.”

Dozens of kids were talking at once, making it impossible to think.

“When did I ever say I was weird and ugly? I just don’t like this outfit! Stop saying my name so casually!”

The kids flinched again as Ko Hun pushed the clothes at me.

“Since we’re here, let’s have some fun.”