Chapter 83: (2) - The Mysterious Art Museum
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Chapter 83 (2) - The Mysterious Art Museum
I stepped out of the alley, slightly bowed my head, and walked briskly towards the entrance of the club. Suddenly, I noticed a woman with a fan and a dress smoking at the entrance and sidestepped her. Just then, I heard her voice.
C'est ma faute.
Wait, did she just say 'c'est ma faute'?
That's a phrase I learned in high school French class. It means 'It's my fault.'
I looked up at the woman. She was stepping back, flicking off cigarette ash. I looked around, but at this moment, I was the only one near the club entrance.
'Was she talking to herself?'
Of course, she must have been.
I shook my head in disbelief and turned back towards the club.
Just then, a loud voice was heard.
"Oh! Is that a Japanese person?"
What? Why would there be a Japanese in Paris in 1892?
Japan might have been leading the way in modernization since the Meiji era, but they had little interaction with France, hadn't they?
I was surprised to think that a Japanese person would be in Paris at this time and looked around curiously.
'What? There's nobody here?'
The club entrance was empty.
Only a woman I had passed earlier, smoking a cigarette, stood by the street.
"Hey, over here."
What? A voice from the ground... huh?
I looked down and gasped, discovering a dwarf standing in front of me.
A small dwarf, about 152cm tall.
He was Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec.
Actually, he was quite tall for a dwarf.
Even in our country, it's not too difficult to find women of that height.
But most of them have body proportions suitable for their height. However, the man in front of me had a large upper body and abnormally short lower body, making his proportions mismatched.
Yet, his dark brown eyes and stylish beard.
His handsome face and his sly, charming smile were quite appealing.
'But is he talking to me?'
Surely not.
I'm invisible to people.
At that moment, men drinking nearby laughed at us.
"Look there! A dwarf has brought a monkey! Must be a circus act!"
"Ha ha ha! Indeed!"
What, you bastard. Did you just call me a monkey?
In our era, you'd be branded a racist on social media, shamed and pointed at for life. Remember your face, you drunk fool.
I felt anger rising but it quickly subsided.
Because the women occupying half of the bar were casting curious glances at me. Their clearly interested gazes made the mockery from those men feel like jealousy.
'Hmph, ugly things.'
The racist joker had a punched nose, half-bald head, red face from intoxication, and a protruding belly. It's clear he won't even get a whiff of women's perfume after a night here.
"A dwarf and monkey circus troupe, what a funny joke! Ha ha!"
Lautrec, leading me, laughed heartily. Hey, that wasn't a funny joke; it was demeaning. Why are you laughing?
Lautrec led me to a relatively quiet spot, away from the loud music. But why does this place look like VIP seating? What's with this luxurious, large sofa?
Most club guests are standing.
The club is designed with high tables for standing and drinking. Only a few spots in the corners have such sofas, and this green velvet sofa looks very luxurious.
'Ah, he's a noble.'
I had forgotten that, despite his disability, he was born into a French comital family.
He seated me and asked with a broad smile.
So, monkey! What's your name?"
Seriously, I'm not a monkey.
My name is Ban Jeong-hoon.
Lautrec's eyebrows twitched.
Ban!? Oh! That's the same name as my closest friend!
.
I thought of someone upon hearing his words. The great master Vincent van Gogh, who shared a friendship with Lautrec beyond the boundaries of age. [T/N: Korean doesn't have a V sound so they tend to replace them with B, So MCs name might have been Van/Ban].
He must have remembered him upon hearing my name.
Lautrec, with an exaggerated and comical bow like a circus dwarf, introduced himself.
"Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec Montparnasse is my name. It's too long, isn't it? Just call me Henri."
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Chapter 83 (2) - The Mysterious Art Museum
I stepped out of the alley, slightly bowed my head, and walked briskly towards the entrance of the club. Suddenly, I noticed a woman with a fan and a dress smoking at the entrance and sidestepped her. Just then, I heard her voice.
C'est ma faute.
Wait, did she just say 'c'est ma faute'?
That's a phrase I learned in high school French class. It means 'It's my fault.'
I looked up at the woman. She was stepping back, flicking off cigarette ash. I looked around, but at this moment, I was the only one near the club entrance.
'Was she talking to herself?'
Of course, she must have been.
I shook my head in disbelief and turned back towards the club.
Just then, a loud voice was heard.
"Oh! Is that a Japanese person?"
What? Why would there be a Japanese in Paris in 1892?
Japan might have been leading the way in modernization since the Meiji era, but they had little interaction with France, hadn't they?
I was surprised to think that a Japanese person would be in Paris at this time and looked around curiously.
'What? There's nobody here?'
The club entrance was empty.
Only a woman I had passed earlier, smoking a cigarette, stood by the street.
"Hey, over here."
What? A voice from the ground... huh?
I looked down and gasped, discovering a dwarf standing in front of me.
A small dwarf, about 152cm tall.
He was Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec.
Actually, he was quite tall for a dwarf.
Even in our country, it's not too difficult to find women of that height.
But most of them have body proportions suitable for their height. However, the man in front of me had a large upper body and abnormally short lower body, making his proportions mismatched.
Yet, his dark brown eyes and stylish beard.
His handsome face and his sly, charming smile were quite appealing.
'But is he talking to me?'
Surely not.
I'm invisible to people.
At that moment, men drinking nearby laughed at us.
"Look there! A dwarf has brought a monkey! Must be a circus act!"
"Ha ha ha! Indeed!"
What, you bastard. Did you just call me a monkey?
In our era, you'd be branded a racist on social media, shamed and pointed at for life. Remember your face, you drunk fool.
I felt anger rising but it quickly subsided.
Because the women occupying half of the bar were casting curious glances at me. Their clearly interested gazes made the mockery from those men feel like jealousy.
'Hmph, ugly things.'
The racist joker had a punched nose, half-bald head, red face from intoxication, and a protruding belly. It's clear he won't even get a whiff of women's perfume after a night here.
"A dwarf and monkey circus troupe, what a funny joke! Ha ha!"
Lautrec, leading me, laughed heartily. Hey, that wasn't a funny joke; it was demeaning. Why are you laughing?
Lautrec led me to a relatively quiet spot, away from the loud music. But why does this place look like VIP seating? What's with this luxurious, large sofa?
Most club guests are standing.
The club is designed with high tables for standing and drinking. Only a few spots in the corners have such sofas, and this green velvet sofa looks very luxurious.
'Ah, he's a noble.'
I had forgotten that, despite his disability, he was born into a French comital family.
He seated me and asked with a broad smile.
So, monkey! What's your name?"
Seriously, I'm not a monkey.
My name is Ban Jeong-hoon.
Lautrec's eyebrows twitched.
Ban!? Oh! That's the same name as my closest friend!
.
I thought of someone upon hearing his words. The great master Vincent van Gogh, who shared a friendship with Lautrec beyond the boundaries of age. [T/N: Korean doesn't have a V sound so they tend to replace them with B, So MCs name might have been Van/Ban].
He must have remembered him upon hearing my name.
Lautrec, with an exaggerated and comical bow like a circus dwarf, introduced himself.
"Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec Montparnasse is my name. It's too long, isn't it? Just call me Henri."
Read ahead by supporting me on Ko-fi
.
Chapter 83 2 - The Mysterious Art MuseumI stepped out of the alley, slightly bowed my head, and walked briskly towards the entrance of the club. Suddenly, I noticed a woman with a fan and a dress smoking at the entrance and sidestepped her. Just then, I heard her voice.C'est ma faute.Wait, did she just say 'c'est ma faute'?That's a phrase I learned in high school French class. It means 'It's my fault.'I looked up at the woman. She was stepping back, flicking off cigarette ash. I looked around, but at this moment, I was the only one near the club entrance.'Was she talking to herself?'Of course, she must have been.I shook my head in disbelief and turned back towards the club.Just then, a loud voice was heard."Oh! Is that a Japanese person?"What? Why would there be a Japanese in Paris in 1892?Japan might have been leading the way in modernization since the Meiji era, but they had little interaction with France, hadn't they?I was surprised to think that a Japanese person would be in Paris at this time and looked around curiously.'What? There's nobody here?'The club entrance was empty.Only a woman I had passed earlier, smoking a cigarette, stood by the street."Hey, over here."What? A voice from the ground... huh?I looked down and gasped, discovering a dwarf standing in front of me.A small dwarf, about 152cm tall.He was Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec.Actually, he was quite tall for a dwarf.Even in our country, it's not too difficult to find women of that height.But most of them have body proportions suitable for their height. However, the man in front of me had a large upper body and abnormally short lower body, making his proportions mismatched.Yet, his dark brown eyes and stylish beard.His handsome face and his sly, charming smile were quite appealing.'But is he talking to me?'Surely not.I'm invisible to people.At that moment, men drinking nearby laughed at us."Look there! A dwarf has brought a monkey! Must be a circus act!""Ha ha ha! Indeed!"What, you bastard. Did you just call me a monkey?In our era, you'd be branded a racist on social media, shamed and pointed at for life. Remember your face, you drunk fool.I felt anger rising but it quickly subsided.Because the women occupying half of the bar were casting curious glances at me. Their clearly interested gazes made the mockery from those men feel like jealousy.'Hmph, ugly things.'The racist joker had a punched nose, half-bald head, red face from intoxication, and a protruding belly. It's clear he won't even get a whiff of women's perfume after a night here."A dwarf and monkey circus troupe, what a funny joke! Ha ha!"Lautrec, leading me, laughed heartily. Hey, that wasn't a funny joke; it was demeaning. Why are you laughing?Lautrec led me to a relatively quiet spot, away from the loud music. But why does this place look like VIP seating? What's with this luxurious, large sofa?Most club guests are standing.The club is designed with high tables for standing and drinking. Only a few spots in the corners have such sofas, and this green velvet sofa looks very luxurious.'Ah, he's a noble.'I had forgotten that, despite his disability, he was born into a French comital family.He seated me and asked with a broad smile.So, monkey! What's your name?"Seriously, I'm not a monkey.My name is Ban Jeong-hoon.Lautrec's eyebrows twitched.Ban!? Oh! That's the same name as my closest friend!.I thought of someone upon hearing his words. The great master Vincent van Gogh, who shared a friendship with Lautrec beyond the boundaries of age. T/N: Korean doesn't have a V sound so they tend to replace them with B, So MCs name might have been Van/Ban.He must have remembered him upon hearing my name.Lautrec, with an exaggerated and comical bow like a circus dwarf, introduced himself."Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec Montparnasse is my name. It's too long, isn't it? Just call me Henri."Read ahead by supporting me on Ko-fi.
