New Normal - Chapter 10

Lately, it felt like every other week. The art world was hit with some new forgery scandal. Big-name artists, massive exhibitions, record-breaking auctions — the bigger the name, the louder the rumors. Even pieces that everyone used to trust without question were suddenly under a microscope.

Last year, one of Kang Susan’s early works had popped up at an auction out of nowhere. A few critics had raised their eyebrows back then too, but nothing came of it — the whole thing just fizzled out.

After all, Kang Susan was practically a living legend in Korean art. His name alone carried weight. His paintings had this aura, this timelessness, like no one could touch them. A forgery scandal? With him? Didn’t seem possible.

But then a line from that trip replayed in Jisoo’s head.

“Did you finish these pieces recently?”

“Yeah. I’ve been trying some new things lately. That one over there — I wrapped it up not too long ago. I’m really fond of it.”

Sure, Kang Susan had always been the type to push boundaries — but this much, this fast? It was strange. The new works were so bright, so flashy, so different from what he’d spent years building. Too different. It almost felt wrong.

No way… right?

“Kang Susan has denied all allegations, saying there’s absolutely no problem with the authenticity of his work. But as the rumors spread, people are starting to look sideways at his other pieces too. Galleries and museums that own his work now find themselves in an awkward position.” The anchor kept talking.

Jisoo sat there, half in a trance, before her hand moved on its own to grab her phone. She forced herself to breathe, steadying the thud in her chest — but when she turned the screen on, it was a mess. Dozens of missed calls, messages stacked up like dominoes. She’d left it on silent, of course.

She flipped the switch back to sound and was just about to tap one of the messages — but her thumb stopped midair.

A weird chill prickled the back of her neck. For some reason, she had the gut feeling she didn’t even want to know.

Too late. The phone vibrated in her palm — a sharp, stubborn buzz.

———

Assistant Manager Yoo In-hye

———

And Jisoo knew it then — her gut never lied. Not about things like this.

***

Hansong Cultural Foundation’s ‘OOM’ Art Museum — run by the giant Hansong Group — was anything but calm that day. Inside the modern, glass-walled conference room, the air felt heavier than ever. Outside, the city skyline spread wide under a clear summer sky, pretending nothing was wrong. But inside, the people gathered for this emergency board meeting looked like they were sitting under a thundercloud.

The long table was a mess — papers everywhere: news clippings, statements, thick folders stuffed with the scandal that had turned the entire art scene upside down overnight. The tension showed in little ways — someone tapped their fingers on the table like a ticking clock, someone else flipped through documents with a helpless frown.

And the one person who should have been at the head of this storm — the museum director, Joo Won-kyung — had been out of reach for two days straight.

The museum’s director, Joo Won-kyung — once the wife of Hansong Group’s founder and chairman, Hong Gi-jun — had never really been more than a figurehead. She was there to lend her name and social status, not to run day-to-day operations. Even on normal days, she found any excuse to disappear. And when something big blew up? She’d vanish overseas, claiming urgent ‘health treatments’ or ‘international art collaboration trips’.

This time was no different. The second the scandal hit, she’d hopped on a plane to Europe, officially to ‘benchmark leading museums and build global partnerships’. 

Which meant the mess — every last bit of it — landed squarely on the shoulders of Jin Gi-ryang, the Foundation’s managing director.

Gi-ryang was a corporate man, sent straight from the chairman’s office to ‘oversee things’. He’d never intended to get so deep into the weeds of the museum’s internal affairs — and he certainly hadn’t expected anything like this. The past few days, he’d been running on fumes, hoping against hope the mess would blow over before the press embargo lifted. It hadn’t. Not even close.

Pressing his fingertips to his throbbing temple, Jin let out a silent sigh. Around the long table, no one dared to speak first — the silence broken only by a series of tense, helpless exhalations. Finally, it was Jung Seung-jo, the museum’s head curator, who cleared his throat and tried to sound reassuring.

“Still… the work itself isn’t fake — that much we confirmed early on. We have the provenance and transaction records to back it up. So, at least the authenticity isn’t the real issue…”

Gi-ryang cut him off, his voice flat with fatigue.

“No. That’s not the point anymore.”

Jung Seung-jo looked puzzled — until Kwon So-young, the planning director, spoke up softly from across the table.

“NW.”

A small, strangled sound escaped Jung Seung-jo’s throat. He let out a short, resigned sigh.

For the Hansong Cultural Foundation, maintaining clear, legal financial flows through official external sponsorships and partnerships had always been essential — not least because of internal compliance and tax regulations. That’s why they’d spent years carefully cultivating their ties with NW, one of the art world’s biggest backers and a heavyweight player in the business sector too.

And now, of all times, a major exhibition put together in collaboration with NW had ended up tangled in a forgery scandal — at the worst possible moment. If things got any worse, the plan to build the new second museum in Jeju could fall through.

To make matters worse, a few news outlets had already run stories about the forgery rumors, threatening to drag the entire Hansong Group’s image through the mud.

Jin Gi-ryang drew in a long breath, then fixed his eyes squarely on Seung-jo.

“Director Jung, NW sent us an official letter of complaint. They’re basically saying they no longer trust our museum’s internal management or our operational processes. They made it very clear this will affect our future relationship. Whether the artwork is real or not is secondary at this point.”

The moment Gi-ryang finished speaking, one of the board members sitting to the side leaned forward, worry written all over his face.

“NW is our main backer for the new Jeju museum, isn’t it? So you’re saying if we don’t fix this immediately, the partnership could fall apart — or worse, be canceled altogether…?”

“That’s right. If the second museum project takes a hit, our international exchange programs could get frozen too. And on top of that…” Jin paused, lowering his voice slightly. “There are rumors that NW’s sponsorship funds might be tied up in money laundering.”

At that, the whole room fell silent. The air turned even heavier than before. Gi-ryang pressed his lips together, frowning, and continued slowly.

“The prosecutors are already sniffing around the funds we used to purchase these works. If we make one wrong move now, this could blow back on the entire group.”

Jung Seung-jo bit his lip and dropped his gaze to the table. Across from him, Kwon So-young — who’d stayed quiet all this time — adjusted her thick-rimmed glasses and chose her next words with care.

“Um, Director Jin. We just got word that a lawmaker’s office from the National Assembly’s Culture, Sports and Tourism Committee has reached out. They’re apparently starting to request documents, too.”

The mere mention of the National Assembly sent another cold chill through the meeting room. A few board members let out weary sighs, while others exchanged uneasy glances in stiff silence.

Jin Gi-ryang turned sharply to look at Kwon So-young. “Are you sure about that?”

She gave a small nod and lowered her voice. “If the politicians are already circling, it means this could blow up way bigger than we expect.”

Jin Gi-ryang hunched over slightly, rubbing his forehead in silence. The weighty hush in the room only deepened — until the sudden, crisp click of high heels echoed down the hallway outside. A moment later, the conference room doors swung open and a woman stepped in, her signature graceful smile firmly in place.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m a bit late, aren’t I?” Her bright tone clashed sharply with the suffocating mood in the room. Jin Gi-ryang lowered his hand from his temple and slowly opened his eyes.

There she was — dressed head-to-toe in a flawless Dior look, a middle-aged woman who radiated an elegance that seemed almost out of place in this heavy atmosphere.

“Oh — Professor Jin!” Gi-ryang quickly stood up and bowed his head in a hurry.

This was Jin Jung-eun, a core figure on the board and a respected professor in A University’s Fine Arts Education Department. She was part of the powerful GK Educational Foundation and held connections that spanned politics, business, and the entire art scene — no one inside Hansong dared treat her lightly.

“I didn’t expect you here today… Please, over here — have a seat,” Gi-ryang stammered, motioning her toward the table. But before he could even finish, Kwon So-young and Chief Curator Jung Seung-jo had already jumped up from their seats and stepped aside.

Returning their polite nod with a faint smile, Jung-eun set her designer handbag down beside her and crossed her legs with practiced poise.

“Shall I, um… have some tea brought in for you?” Jin Gi-ryang asked, shuffling nervously as he watched her expression. Jung-eun answered him with a pleasant smile — that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Do you really think I came all the way here for tea? Let’s skip the niceties and get straight to it.”

Her voice was soft, but there was no warmth in it whatsoever. She was someone long accustomed to putting people in their place with just a few words. Suppressing a flicker of discomfort, Jin Gi-ryang, who was nearing his sixties, carefully sat back down, his polite smile strained. 

“Ah, yes, of course—”

“Now, the one in charge of this mess… who was it again? Shin Jisoo, right?”

Cutting Gi-ryang off, Jung-eun glanced over the papers on the table, then asked coldly. Director Jin didn’t answer right away and just looked at Seung-jo instead, like he was telling him to speak up. Guessing why Jung-eun was suddenly asking about one employee, Seung-jo finally spoke up, though he looked reluctant.

“Ah… Yes, Shin Jisoo. Originally, the planning and exhibition execution was handled by Lee Sunhee, but it was recently reassigned to her, so—”

“Good. Then let’s deal with that person first.”