Oil On Canvas

“Go out and if Luca is there, tell him to come in.”The only relief was that he could finally leave this suffocating room. After closing the door, Dojin exhaled deeply.However, Luca Orsini, whom he’d expected to find waiting by the door, wasn’t there.Instead, down the hall, a tall figure was standing, gazing at a landscape of Venice by Guardi that was likely genuine. Dojin walked over to Luca and stood next to him.“I’m done. You can go in now.”A sweet smell of oil and sugar wafted from him. Or rather, from the brown paper bag he was holding. Perhaps noticing Dojin’s stare, a low voice came from above him.“I kept buying them, and now I kind of want to eat them.”Luca Orsini opened the bag slightly. Inside was a fritelle—round, coated with sugar.Having skipped breakfast and mentally drained by Signora, Dojin found himself salivating just at the sight. He must’ve been staring too long, as he heard a small chuckle.“Want some?”“There’s only one left, though.”Dojin was hungry. Any habit of politely declining had already vanished after dealing with the hardships of living abroad.But he still had enough sense to weigh the situation.“If I eat it, wouldn’t that mean Signora doesn’t get any?”“I’m the one who bought it, so don’t I get to choose who to give it to?”“That’s true.”It didn’t seem like Signora and he had the sort of relationship that could be softened over a mere fritelle. With nothing more to say and a grumbling stomach, Dojin nodded.“Well, then, thank you.”He quickly took one and bit into it. Filled with Nutella, it was shockingly sweet—and delicious.‘Should I ask where he got it from?’He considered it briefly, but then noticed Luca Orsini’s expression, a mix of amusement and faint exasperation.“Acting like you wouldn’t eat it.”“Signora should mind her health, you know.”“Thanks for caring about my grandmother’s health.”“No problem.”Responding casually, Dojin kicked the floor lightly.This was a bizarre situation.As of this morning, he hadn’t imagined he’d be having such a trivial conversation with that Luca Orsini in front of Signora’s office, staring together at what was almost certainly an authentic Guardi painting.“So… aren’t you going in? She did call for you.”“What, you think the world will end if my grandmother waits for her grandson a little?”“It’s not that… but if Signora thinks I didn’t deliver the message properly, it could cause me trouble. I’m just a lowly employee.”“If you’re that afraid of her, would you really eat her fritelle?”“Well, she did mention she should be careful with sweets…”Vroo-o-o-m—A heavy siren cut off Dojin’s retort. It wasn’t a single blast, nor did it stop. It was a sound that demanded attention, resembling the blare of a giant ship’s horn. In his seven years in Italy, Dojin had never heard a sound like it.A sudden chill of fear washed over him.‘Is there a war? But why would there be a war in Italy?’Panicked, Dojin looked at Luca, who was calmly checking his phone, seemingly oblivious to the noise.“Um, what is that sound?”“Oh.”“Isn’t it, like, a thief in the museum?”“I wish it were a thief; at least that wouldn’t be so boring.”Luca’s face remained perfectly calm as he spoke.“Do you have any boots?”His tone was more annoyed than fearful. The random question left Dojin wondering if his Italian comprehension had failed him.“Boots?”“Boots. The kind you wear when it rains.”He gestured to about halfway up his shin, indicating tall boots. It seemed the word choice was accurate, but Dojin almost nodded, then caught himself.“No, I don’t have any boots.”“Get two pairs. Keep one here and one at home. Which floor do you live on? Are you on the island?”“Why… are you curious about that?”Instead of answering, Luca just looked at him with eyes that—while not intending to be intimidating—somehow managed to be. He had that same strange, intense look as Signora.“Well… I live on the island, on the third floor.”“That’s a relief. If the water rises too high, everything will be flooded, and you’d have to toss out all your stuff.”‘Rising water?’There was fog, sure, but no rain at all. Still, Luca pointed out the window with a finger.“That’s the Aqua Alta alarm.”“Aqua Alta?”“It means the water’s rising.”Dojin knew Venice was built on a marsh, supported by wooden piles—hence the name “city of water.”‘But why would the water suddenly rise?’

Seeing Dojin’s narrowed eyes, Luca must’ve realized he hadn’t fully understood, so he showed him his phone screen, which displayed a large number: 130.“Up to 130 centimeters, so getting home might be annoying. It’s like this every winter.”A memory surfaced, recalling when he had once attempted to study Italian by reading newspapers. He remembered an article explaining how Venice’s acqua alta had been worsening over time.In winter, during Europe’s rainy season, seawater rises through the ground, engulfing the island during high tide.“It seemed fascinating when it was someone else’s problem.”He hadn’t imagined that it would become a reality in his own neighborhood. Dojin rubbed his forehead.“Damn.”“It’s an annoying place to live, that’s for sure.”Luca’s casual agreement followed his muttered curse. The warning siren was still droning in his ears, like something out of an apocalypse movie. Luca then raised a finger, gesturing toward Signora’s office—a signal that it was time to go in.* * *Still, he didn’t quite believe that he’d need boots.“Oh, it’s Dojin’s first time, huh?”“Yeah.”Dojin answered as he gently cleaned the surface of a painting with a cotton swab dipped in a restoration solution. There was already a pile of used swabs next to him.He and Gemma had been taking turns with restoration work all morning. Since it was Gemma who had studied East Asian art restoration in Japan, they had come to an unspoken agreement to switch tasks when it was more in each other’s expertise. Whenever Lorenzo came near, they’d discreetly switch places.“Can’t you just learn as you go?”Even when Dojin complained, Lorenzo’s response was always the same.Fine. Dojin could admit, he didn’t know anything about East Asian art restoration, but he could learn. For that, he needed to stay close to Gemma.“Why are you always huddled together instead of working?”But when he tried to learn, he’d get scolded for that too. Gemma, who knew nothing about oil painting restoration, was just as lost.It was a clear indication that they were expected to watch out for themselves according to their supervisor’s whims, and knowing that only made him less inclined to go along with it.“An idiot whose jealousy ends up hurting his own reputation.”That was Dojin’s opinion of his clueless boss. In the end, he and Gemma were the ones suffering under Lorenzo. At least, at that moment, Lorenzo was out of the restoration room.“Is your house going to be alright, Gemma?”“How high is it again? 130? That’s high, but it usually doesn’t reach that far. We’re on higher ground.”Gemma answered while cutting some paper, her expression calm, so the man’s warning to buy boots quickly faded from his mind.“Hey, Dojin, let’s grab some lunch. What did you bring?”“Oh, actually, I’ve got something to take care of, so I’ll have to leave a bit early. I don’t think I can join you for lunch today.”Navigating Venice’s narrow, maze-like alleys was tough for someone like Dojin, who wasn’t great with directions. He looked at Gemma, all ready to leave.“Sorry, I couldn’t make more progress. Just say that I only managed to clean the oil painting today.”“That’s fine, but is it because of this morning? You got called away somewhere, right?”“No, no, not at all.”He waved his hand, and Gemma seemed somewhat reassured. Leaving her with an unusually cheerful farewell, Dojin exited the restoration room.Checking the map, he saw the address on the note was a 15-minute walk from Ca’ D’Oro. He was nervous since he hadn’t been to that area before, so he hurried down the main steps of the building. The moment he stepped down, he heard a splash.“Huh?”A chilling realization came over him as he felt his shoes get soaked. Scowling, Dojin looked down.“What the hell is this?”It wasn’t the small puddle he’d expected.“It’s flooded?”The stone steps leading to the museum entrance, which he had just seen that morning, were now blurred under water. The road was completely submerged. Dojin took a full thirty seconds to process the absurdity of the situation.“This is insane.”There was no way around it. He couldn’t get boots immediately, and waiting for the water to recede wasn’t an option either.Dojin let out a long sigh and took another step forward.He carefully chose places where the water seemed shallowest. His shoes were already soaked, and he could hear splashing with every step. Walking unfamiliar streets in this condition was exhausting. Fortunately, on the main streets, there were small bridges made of planks for people to walk on, which was a small consolation.Although it didn’t change the fact that he was still getting wet.The whole city felt like a cup overflowing with water. The view of canals merging with the streets was surreal and precarious.“It really is a bothersome place.”Dojin recalled Luca Orsini’s words and the finger he’d pointed out the window with. He felt strange. The sound of his soggy footsteps echoed behind him with every step.Fortunately, he reached the address without too much trouble.“Looks pretty ordinary.”For a place where the wealthy Signora would call him, it was a modest home. Dojin pressed the buzzer featuring a golden lion, Venice’s emblem, and held it for a long moment. With no response, he pressed it again, holding it longer. Finally, a sharp voice sounded from inside.“Just push it open and come in. I left it unlocked.”Water had seeped even into the thick doorway. Signora looked down at Dojin from the stairs inside.“To the second floor.”With a tap of her cane, she pointed at some slippers on top of the shoe rack. Dojin picked them up, removed his soaked shoes and socks, and slipped into the dry footwear before heading up.This was a town where the entry floor was called the “ground floor,” not the first floor. The second floor was, in Korean terms, the third. Dojin once again marveled at that quirk as he looked around.“Nice house.”It was a polite remark. With not a single light turned on, the house was barely visible. It was neither small nor large.The ground floor was styled like a small bar, with an antique charm and a collection of bottles that looked expensive even at a glance. A tiny garden connected to the back was visible.“Just come on up.”Feeling slightly awkward, Dojin followed Signora to the first floor. The floor had a luxurious look, as if it were a meticulously recreated theme park replica of a European artist’s home from two centuries ago.But Signora didn’t stop there. She climbed one more flight and confidently pushed open a rather odd-looking bronze door at the top of the stairs.“Uh.”The first thing he noticed through the doorway was the sudden feeling that the space had shrunk.“What are you doing, not coming in?”Prompted by the urging, Dojin hesitantly stepped inside. Only then did he understand the source of the suffocating sensation.A fresco took up nearly half of one wall.“Because of that…”On the wall immediately visible when the door opened was an image of a sky, surrounded by a gold frame, faded and worn.Sky and clouds, with people and flying angels floating above. Light, and in one corner, a falling demon.It was a painting better suited to the ceiling of a church than the wall of a private home, but it was overwhelming nonetheless.“All of this…”He turned his head and found himself speechless for another reason.It wasn’t only the fresco that was astonishing. The other walls were so densely covered in paintings that the original wall color was indiscernible, and it was hard to count them all due to the high ceiling. Although there were windows, blackout curtains blocked out the light, and the room was lit with cool-toned artificial lights.“Is this a studio?”A desk, a folded easel, and some simple art supplies were tucked away in a corner. Even without that, the whole atmosphere felt like an actual artist’s working studio. Signora responded nonchalantly.“It used to be.”The humidity was perfect.It was winter, Europe’s rainy season, and outside was chaos with fog and the Aqua Alta. The ground floor was already flooded, but somehow, this private home was maintaining the humidity and temperature of a museum.“The wall is filled with oil paintings.”Perhaps due to his professional instincts, that’s what he noticed first. The paintings, all oil on canvas, were so mixed in time periods and subjects that finding a common theme was nearly impossible, and a few were even leaning against the wall.“Amazing.”“It’s not insignificant.”“Is all of this just here, not in storage?”“It’s not for a gallery, and there’s no need to keep it stored.”Signora tapped Dojin, who was still in awe of the space, with her cane.“Take a closer look. See what condition they’re in.”“Just the oil paintings? Or the fresco too?”“Only the oil paintings.”He had somewhat expected this the moment he saw the room filled with paintings. Dojin took out gloves from his bag. Carefully inspecting each painting and checking the canvas edges and backs, he then removed his gloves.“Well, a thorough cleaning might be good for them. The canvas has lost a bit of its elasticity, and there’s some pigment lifting and cracking, so a few need stabilization work. It’s not that they were poorly maintained, though.”The paintings weren’t in terrible condition. They bore the marks of time rather than neglect. They didn’t need major restoration, just a little upkeep, like a person going for a routine checkup.Signora’s face was impassive, as if she had expected this.“You take care of them.”“Pardon?”“All of them.”All of them… Dojin gaped at the studio filled with paintings, easily counting over fifty pieces.“All of them? By myself?”“Is there anyone else here besides you?”“Well, no one, but when should I…?”“How long do you think it’ll take?”“I haven’t examined each piece individually, so I can’t give an exact answer yet.”“Let’s say three months and see how much you can get done. It’s not urgent, so handle the museum work in the morning and come here in the afternoons.”The conversation passed by like a storm. Dojin forced himself to close his mouth.“Could this be… an opportunity?”In one way, it was. After all, this was a personal request from the Signora Orsini. And cleaning was not overly burdensome for a conservator.“All these paintings are in pretty good shape, though.”In truth, it was a bit disappointing. Cleaning wasn’t difficult, so it didn’t exactly pique Dojin’s interest.Still, it was not a bad opportunity for him. It meant less time around Lorenzo, and the house itself—with its art and storage—was quite intriguing. Thinking that way, his slight dissatisfaction felt like a luxury.“Then I’ll start coming here from the day after tomorrow in the afternoons.”“Not tomorrow but the day after. Tomorrow, I’ll prepare the supplies you’ll need for the restoration. By the way, bambino…”He thought he’d answered rather agreeably, but Signora leaned on her cane, giving him a scrutinizing look.“You’re good at keeping secrets, right?”“Oh…”Bae Dojin, age twenty-eight.Not a particularly old age, but he’d lived abroad for quite a while, and his naïve days were behind him. Because of that, Dojin knew from experience what he had to do when he heard such a statement.Dojin put his hand in his pocket and pressed the record button on his phone. It was effortless. Recording and documenting—these were the most used functions as a conservator. He even had them set to shortcut keys.“What… do you mean?”“You’re not bad at your work, but that’s not the only reason I’m giving you this job.”It was clear beyond misinterpretation. Don’t talk about working here. He understood, but there were still some issues that troubled him.“If I come to this room to work every afternoon, it’s only natural that my colleagues would…”“You could say you lost some work because you were disrespectful to Signora Orsini. There are plenty of ways to spin it. Shall I just fire you then?”“Oh, no. I’d still like to do the museum work in the mornings.”Cleaning every afternoon sounded tedious, and besides, something interesting might happen at the museum. Plus, it would look better on his resume if Cà D’oro was still listed.“Of course, I could go along with what Signora said, but…”One thing still weighed on him.“Signora.”“What is it now?”“It’s… well…”His voice shook, and he swallowed dryly before speaking.“I am… discreet, yes. But I don’t fully trust verbal contracts, and being a foreigner, I could end up in real trouble if I don’t get paid properly for restoring all these paintings.”“So, you’re asking for a written contract in exchange for keeping quiet?”“Yes.”“You’re not as foolish as you look, with that soft face of yours.”Dojin wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or an insult and just rolled his eyes. Signora looked him over carefully. It was a scrutinizing, borderline chilling gaze.“Take this.”Signora removed a ring from her index finger and handed it to him. Caught off guard, Dojin felt its weight in his hand.“If you think you won’t get paid, go ahead and sell it. It’s gold.”It was the signet ring of the Orsini family, the one that had even produced a pope.Two lions crowned, an escutcheon adorned with slashes and flowers, and the family name “Orsini” engraved below. A meticulously crafted ring.If he actually sold it, it would probably fetch tens of times more than his salary—a ring more suited for a museum display than someone’s finger.“Don’t worry about your salary. I’ve arranged to keep it as is, and once the restoration is complete, I’ll also give you plenty to cover the restoration fee. Just hold onto the ring until then and return it to me afterward.”‘He could’ve just given me a contract.’If he didn’t get paid later, selling it might end up looking like stolen goods. This wasn’t a contract that would benefit Dojin in any way, but it was better than nothing.“I’ll do my best.”In the end, that was all he could say.Signora, barely listening to Dojin, set a bunch of keys on the desk and walked out. Only after she left did Dojin sink to the middle of that large room. His legs felt like jelly.* * *“Dojin, want to go out for lunch? My treat.”Gemma tapped Dojin’s back. He understood the intention but had no reason to decline. Signora’s work would start from tomorrow.“Sure.”The news that Dojin would be working only in the mornings caused a stir within the restoration room. According to Gemma, it was more than just the restoration room—it seemed the entire museum was buzzing a bit.‘Must be a boring place, I guess.’The restoration room was typically the first to face restructuring whenever the museum’s situation worsened. There were all sorts of rumors, from financial trouble to stories of Dojin narrowly avoiding dismissal, with Signora graciously allowing him to work at least in the mornings. The spectrum of rumors was broad.‘It’s really nothing, Gemma. I just took on a project from Korea, and Signora kindly accommodated me.’Dojin’s weak attempt at an excuse spread around, but no one believed it. Still, thanks to that flimsy explanation, no one probed further. People seemed to have decided to respect Dojin’s stance of ‘having stood up to Signora, lost work, but keeping his pride.’“Gemma, I’ll head out with Dojin first.”Even Lorenzo, who usually had something to say, was silent as they left well before the usual lunch hour. Once they sat down on a restaurant terrace near the museum, Gemma made a suggestion.“Let’s have a drink.”“What about your afternoon shift?”“Work matters now? Two spritzes, please. One with Aperol. What about you, Dojin?”“Aperol’s fine for me too.”Soon, orange-hued cocktails with ice were served. They clinked glasses lightly and sipped the low-alcohol drinks. Unlike yesterday, when Aqua Alta filled the streets, only small puddles remained as the island dried up leisurely.They chatted about the weather and Aqua Alta until the food arrived. Then Dojin finally spoke.“Gemma, you’ve known the people here a long time, right?”“With Lorenzo and the museum staff? Of course.”Gemma seemed almost weary as she stabbed her fork into her salad.“This town is small. You can tell just by looking who’s a local and who’s a tourist. It’s flashy on the surface, but it’s really just a small town. Word spreads fast.”“Who’s calling this place a small town?”“It’s been a small town for about 500 years now. Objectively, it really is. I know because I’ve studied abroad. You gain some objectivity once you step out.”“Then, Gemma.”Dojin hesitated for a moment. What he really wanted to ask had been on his mind since earlier.Since Signora left the room yesterday, he’d been checking as many paintings as possible, wearing gloves.Though he didn’t have appraisal training, he felt certain that all these works were by a single artist, likely the studio’s owner.As far as Dojin knew, there was only one artist Signora would keep studio keys for.“Do you know much about Marisa Orsini?”“That crazy woman?”Her reflexive response was harsh.It was, after all, the general opinion of Marisa Orsini.“I know as much as anyone. I’ve got ears, and I work in art here. Don’t you know about her, Dojin?”“I really admire her paintings. I think she’s a great artist.”“Really?”Gemma sipped her spritz, clearly not sharing his sentiment.“What do you want to know?”Not every Italian was talkative, but Gemma certainly was. She wasn’t about to pass up the chance to lead a conversation once it started.“Orsini was Signora’s second marriage, wasn’t it? Signora, well… Before marriage, you might’ve heard rumors. It was a terrible time too. She mingled with artists, like, you know, a kind of wild muse.”She didn’t go into detail, but Dojin wasn’t entirely unfamiliar.Signora Orsini’s youthful nickname was still all over the internet, even decades later. “Wild Muse” was one of the milder nicknames.Debauched noble sow addicted to sex and art, a groupie for painters.It was almost laughable how the magazines and newspapers that once mocked her now praised her taste and hailed her as the Orsini family’s tigress.“Anyway, Signora had two Orsini children, Marisa being one of them, with a son below her.”“Is that Luca Orsini’s father?”“Yes. How’d you know?”He’d done his research, though he’d met the person too.“I saw Luca Orsini yesterday. At the museum.”“You did?”“Yeah.”“You saw Luca Orsini?”“Yes.”“He really did come, then.”Gemma’s already large eyes widened further. She glanced around and lowered her voice.“There were rumors. That Orsini heir was supposedly coming back from England after being humiliated, planning to start a new auction house here. But it’s easier said than done. Even with the Biennale every two years.”“Does he have any pride left to crush? He’s a renowned head auctioneer.”“Was. He was renowned.”Gemma shifted to past tense and spoke even more quietly.“I heard he recently auctioned a forgery—a Marisa piece, no less. The company shares some blame, but… With a family member in charge, could they have authenticated it properly? It was a scandal, bringing shame to the family, and Signora had to step in and cover it up. The Marisa Foundation was also in an uproar with those other Orsinis.”“More Orsinis?”“Signora’s first wife had two sons with Orsini. The second son’s family now runs the Marisa Foundation. They weren’t close, but Marisa’s work is profitable.”Marisa was profitable.There were several who wanted to make a movie about her life, so it wasn’t wrong. Despite criticism of overvaluation, people eagerly opened their wallets for her work.“I don’t get what makes Marisa Orsini so amazing. Do you like her, Dojin?”“Her color sense, the power, the unique style—I don’t see a reason not to like it.”While he managed to keep his composure and respond, Marisa was, in fact, Dojin’s favorite artist.He loved the vibrant energy of her work, tinged with a sense of unease. Expressing that often made people think he was too young to appreciate art, so he kept it to himself.“She’s only praised because of her suicide. Dying young is all that matters for artists.”Gemma’s view was overly harsh, though. Dojin could think of countless rebuttals, but past experience told him most would fall flat. He sipped his spritz.“It’s probably because of Water Play. A multi-billion piece ruined so dramatically, then she dies—that might lead people to believe her other works are worth as much.”‘Is that the story again?’It was a story that every fan of Marisa inevitably encountered.The most prominent rumor was that, just before her suicide, she had torn up her artwork out of jealousy and thrown the pieces into the canal. Fragments of canvas were said to have been found beneath her feet, swaying in the air—only such urban legends circulated in whispers.But it couldn’t be dismissed as mere gossip. In fact, dozens of divers had gone down into the canal just to retrieve those torn canvas pieces. They managed to salvage only a few uncertain blue canvas scraps, but it wasn’t without effort.“Still, she really had some guts. To destroy a painting by Batista Soroya, especially one she had given to her own mother as a gift.”The Play of Water.It was the name of the portrait that the greatest painter of the 20th century, Batista Soroya, had gifted to Signora Orsini during their time together.When Signora Orsini, known as Eleonora Borgia, met the 58-year-old Batista Soroya at 18, their strange relationship was barely recognizable as a ‘romance.’ Still, the affair between the two stars of wartime Europe was a scandal, one that, according to rumors, was never displayed at any exhibition, even at Cà D’oro, possibly due to their public notoriety.“I heard it was even better than Pleasure and Bubbles. They said it was Batista Soroya’s best work.”Gemma murmured with a hint of regret.It was a painting more famous through word-of-mouth than anything else. Marisa destroyed it in her dramatic fashion before her death, cementing her reputation as the “crazy woman of Venice.” Fans might find this unfair, but the nickname wasn’t entirely unearned.“Artists always have to be a little incomprehensible, right?”“I’d kill someone who claimed to be an artist twice.”Gemma sharply rebuffed Dojin’s defense, and he was silent, unable to deny her words.* * *In the innermost part of the Cà D’oro Signori’s first-floor gallery, large paintings by Jackson Pollock and Salvador Dalí hung side by side. Behind them was a small room with a narrow entrance, often overlooked by visitors. This room was dedicated solely to Marisa Orsini’s works, and Dojin, finishing lunch early with Gemma, visited it right after.‘The studio’s owner must be Marisa, right?’He couldn’t ask, but he was sure of it. And that’s why he wanted to see her other paintings again.Dojin stood in front of his favorite painting. Despite Marisa not being a particularly obscure artist, the room felt so isolated—perhaps because of its location or the time—that he was the only one there.“How do you like the painting?”No, it seemed there was one other person.“You seem to be here often, Dojin.”Turning his head, Dojin found the Orsini heir, Luca, smiling gracefully at him.“You always look so surprised when you see me.”A rabbit? What was with the rabbit?“You never told me your name.”There was no reply to his complaint. Instead, Luca gave him a dignified glance, as if to say, “Why are you asking such trivial questions?”‘What is this, a monarchy? You’re the noble, and I’m the servant?’Dojin felt a little offended, but there was no other option. He reflexively smiled politely, even though his face didn’t quite match the expression.After all, he did work for them, so in a broad sense, his position wasn’t much different from that of a servant.“Dojin, what do you think of the painting?”Luca ignored the question entirely and coaxed Dojin like he was a child, his voice soft and persistent.‘Well, it’s not hard to find out his name from the staff list in a minute.’Even though he was called Dojin instead of Doin, the fact that Luca pronounced it correctly gave him a reason to treat him kindly. It was a humble, almost careless kind of kindness, but what could Dojin do? He was the one in the subordinate position.“This painting…”Dojin looked at the painting in front of him.My Beloved DaughterIt was one of Marisa Orsini’s more famous works and Dojin’s personal favorite.The child in the painting had short hair tied into two braids. With cheeks flushed, it appeared as though the child was about to cry, as if something precious had been stolen. There was more than just simple dissatisfaction in the eyes; it was a deeper sense of fear, a trait seen in many of Marisa’s works.The skin was painted with several layers of brushstrokes, mixing ochre and ash gray, and the light green eyes typical of the Orsini family stood in stark contrast to the white linen dress.The painting, which captured a child’s age without understanding, also conveyed fear, anxiety, and tenderness—a rather twisted yet endearing taste.“It’s one of my favorite paintings.”“Really? You don’t have to lie just because you’re in front of family.”‘Oh, so you were family, huh?’Dojin clicked his tongue inwardly, amazed at the audacity.Luca’s words had a light, almost teasing tone, but there was no denying that he was insistent.“Hmm?”Dojin understood why Luca might think his praise was insincere, but it was true that many people had strange expressions when he said he liked Marisa Orsini’s work.Why not praise greater artists instead of supporting someone so overrated? Especially when you’re supposed to be working in the art world, like Dojin.Dojin hated those kinds of prejudices. Marisa was as flawed as she was magnificent, and she was one of the reasons he had moved from the Uffizi to Cà D’oro—he hoped to one day have the opportunity to touch her works.“You think I came all the way here just to take advantage of such a great coincidence to flatter you?”Dojin added a touch of irritation to his words, trying to convey that Luca should stop bothering him.“Why do you like it?”Once again, Luca persisted. Dojin sighed audibly.“Aren’t auctioneers supposed to be busy?”“I came to Venice for vacation. So, why do you like the painting?”“It’s pleasant to look at. The child’s cute, and I can’t stop looking at it. The colors are nice, the composition is good. I like everything about it.”Dojin deliberately spouted off a rather shallow critique. It was true, but he didn’t want to delve deeper.‘So what if I think it looks nice?’Besides, when art professionals heard such unrefined opinions, they usually reacted with a mix of surprise, not offering further comments. Luca Orsini merely tilted his head.“Do you think it’s cute?”