I Became a Scoundrel of a Chaebol Family-Chapter 367

“We’ve arrived, Master.”

“Oh, yeah.”

I cracked my stiff eyes open and let out a huge yawn.

Falling asleep inside an AV... How long had it been since I last did that?

“Huaaaah...”

Any messages? I opened Tok, and sure enough, there were nearly twenty unread texts.

Of course, they were all from Go Seonyul.

I replied that I had been sleeping and missed them, then turned to look outside the AV, which was descending slowly.

The sheer scale of the building was outrageous—it filled an entire island, and even that wasn’t enough. They had stretched artificial structures out across the sea and stacked more facilities on top of those.

“...It’s fucking massive.”

No wonder they call it the largest art museum in Asia. Honestly, it probably ranks in the global top three, even without checking.

To be frank, as someone who’s never really cared about art or fine aesthetics...

It just felt like a waste.

How much did all of that cost?

The only real use for it, if I’m being generous, would be for item display?

I got an absurd haul at the Namdong Industrial Complex. Problem is, 99% of it is junk.

And let’s be real—being the first-born heir of the megacorp that rules Asia, and the only direct male descendant, I don’t even need any more items.

It’s more like a hobby now—collecting anything interesting.

So unless we’re talking about gathering all those for an item wing to exhibit here... this whole place doesn’t really serve much purpose for me.

Still, it was a gift from my sister. I can’t sell it.

Judging by the arguments she had with Go Minji, Go Seonyul was probably extremely attached to this museum.

And she gave it to me as a present... I ought to honor that gesture and manage the place properly.

As the AV zeroed in on the pad, the tiny people below gradually grew larger.

Naturally, my sister and the staff, along with museum personnel, had come out to greet me.

I could see the staff bustling around, moving about in a flurry.

Compared to that, Seonyul noona...

“...”

She gave a very different impression from the person who had sent all those long-winded texts.

Her long, straight hair draped forward as she hunched to look at her phone, both hands busily tapping away at the screen.

Late May meant the weather was starting to heat up, so she was dressed on the lighter side—half out of her sheer outerwear, a sleeveless shirt underneath.

Even as my AV descended nearly to ground level, she didn’t lift her head.

People around her were scattering and scrambling like a bomb had gone off, lining up with military precision.

But she? Still staring at her phone, tapping away.

Is she... different in real life?

Online, she’s a total tyrant, always talking in endless walls of text, but in person... not much of a talker, huh?

Come to think of it, even back when we saw each other in Pyongyang, we never had a real conversation.

And she gave me a whole damn art museum.

She did say she’d explain it all to me in five minutes or whatever, though... hmm.

She’s not seriously planning to explain it all via Tok, is she?

Chiiiik.

The door finally opened, and the staff gave me a thunderous welcome.

My personal secretary team stepped out first to form a path. When I followed, every person present bowed at a perfect ninety-degree angle.

All except one.

“You really didn’t have to come out here for this. It’s been a while, noona.”

“Yeah. Good to see you, Muyeol.”

Even with the neckline of her sleeveless shirt exposing a generous view of her chest up close, Go Seonyul didn’t take her eyes off her phone.

She gave me a curt verbal greeting and—

Zzzzing.

“?”

I opened Tok, half-dreading what I’d find.

Did you get here safe? It was a little chilly this morning, but the weather’s nice now. I had a jacket on but took it off a bit ago. Hope it doesn’t look too weird? I’m not really good at dressing myself, haha

“...”

The message ends with a “haha” smile, but her face is totally expressionless.

“Yes. As you can see, I got here just fine. Anyway, judging by your messages, it seems like you got here quite early... You weren’t seriously standing here for hours, right? You were inside?”

Go Seonyul’s mouth and fingers started moving at the same time.

And yes, she was still staring at her phone screen.

“Of course. I’m not an idiot who doesn’t know how long it takes to fly from Incheon to Jeju.”

I spent time inside the museum looking at some of my favorite pieces. I also picked out a few I want to recommend to you. You said you wanted to go in without knowing anything first, right? So I figured we’d do a full walkthrough once, then re-view them in historical order based on my suggestions.

...Wow.

How the hell is she doing that?

She’s saying one thing out loud and texting a completely different thing simultaneously. And neither of them overlaps.

I can’t even imagine pulling that off.

But seriously, why the hell go through all this trouble? She could just say it out loud.

Curious, I tried talking to her a few more times.

Each time, she would reply—both with her voice and through Tok, simultaneously.

The strange part was... her spoken replies were always shorter.

And her face remained almost completely blank.

“Should we head inside now? Standing around outside like this is a bit much.”

“Yeah. Let’s.”

You’re right. Let’s head in. I’ve got so much I want to show you!

“Before that...”

I smoothly reached over and snatched her phone out of her hands.

“!!”

She stared up at me, horrified.

“W-What are you—”

“When you’re talking to someone, you should look them in the eye, right? This is going into temporary confiscation.”

“M-M-Muyeol, y-you...!”

Whether to get angry or how to react at all—

Go Seonyul’s confusion was written all over her face.

Judging by the tension rippling through the surrounding staff, I must’ve just poked a nerve.

If it had been a regular secretary or employee who did that, they probably would've gotten obliterated.

But I’m fine.

Because I’m the only male direct descendant.

I slipped her phone into my pants pocket and casually wrapped an arm around her waist.

She gasped, mouth flapping like a startled goldfish.

“H-Hawawa...”

“Shall we go inside?”

++++

“Lee Ufan, From Point.”

“Lee Kang-so, Untitled.”

“Jean-Michel Basquiat, Boy and Dog in a Johnnypump.”

Now that her phone had been taken, Go Seonyul had reverted to nearly monosyllabic answers.

Even when viewing the artwork, she’d just state the name and artist and stop there.

“You’re supposed to explain, too, noona.”

“...”

If I pushed for explanation, she’d roll her eyes around for a moment and then force out a few short sentences.

Even those were brief, though.

Took her phone and now she’s just a regular normie, huh.

It’s not like she can’t speak.

Her pronunciation is clear—no mumbling or fumbling.

She just doesn’t say much.

Whether she won’t or can’t, I’m not sure.

At least I won’t have to worry about losing a whole day to one of her massive text-dump lectures.

It was kind of disappointing but also a relief.

Better this than getting hit with another thousand-word info-nuke.

With how little she talks, I might even get to lead things for once.

I figured I’d keep things casual, appreciate the art with her for a bit, and slowly increase the skinship at just the right moments.

++++

“This one. This was the first time I ever felt like I wasn’t looking at the artwork—it was looking at me.

It’s the work of Marta Minujín, a genius curator born in Argentina.

But this isn’t just an installation piece. You have to go through it with your whole body to understand it—it’s a sensorial narrative structure. So it’s not something you see, it’s something you experience.

You’re not a viewer; you’re a participant. And through that participation, you end up seeing yourself. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

Do you get it?

You’re the viewer, the participant, and ultimately, the artwork itself. I become the piece.”

Ah...

“There are eight sections inside. One room is cold like a refrigerator. Another smells heavily of perfume.

One person shines lights all over your body; another seats you on a sofa and turns on the TV. But all these acts reflect back at you like a mirror.

It’s a piece that re-asks, in the most visceral way, the question: Who am I?

Think about it, Muyeol. Have you ever seen a piece that spoke to you like this one? Here, who you are, what you feel, how you walk, even your expressions—everything becomes part of the work.

Minujín didn’t just create a space; she crafted a structure for emotion.

Here, even the smell is a component. Humidity is a mechanism. Even the distance between people can carry meaning.”

Ah... Seonyul...

“When I first saw this, I was still a student. I just walked into the exhibit in Buenos Aires, not knowing ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) anything, and experienced it... later I found out—(abridged).”

So yeah.

Thinking she turned into a normie just because I took her phone—that was total nonsense.

As time went on, Go Seonyul started warming up again. Her sentences got longer... and now here we are.

Go Seonyul, verbally bricking me with long-winded monologues...

Ah...

“...Now, the final section I want to explain—”

“Noona.”

“Yeah?”

“Can we go in there and take a short break?”

“Huh? A break?”

“Yes.”