Van Gogh Reborn! - Chapter 43
This time, they made a silly face.
“You think you know?”
The researchers, who were discussing fiercely with their voices raised, blinked and asked.
“Yes.”
I thought they would find it in a day or two and I can go back, but if this continues, it would be useless and they won’t come to a conclusion even if I wait for days or weeks.
I put on a coat, fur hat, and fur gloves with the intention of guiding them in person and sending them quickly.
Grandpa, who just came into the meeting room, found me.
“Hun, where are you going?”
“ Grandpa, I will take these guys to Doubigni and will be back.”
“It’s cold outside. Come here.”
I can do it alone, but my grandpa took me to the room he was using in this building and dressed me.
“ Grandpa, it’s hard to move with another layer of pants, coat and scarf around.”
“ It’s better than cold.”
I had to wear a hat, but my arm didn’t go up because of my thick clothes, so grandpa put it on me.
“ Grandpa, let’s go together.”
“We’re going to have an interview later. Can you go with Grandpa Martin?”
“ Okay.”
I put on the gloves and waddled to open the meeting room.
Unlike Martin, who was wearing a coat and ready, the researchers looked at him with surprise.
“What are you doing? Hurry up.”
After hesitating for a while, the researchers opened their mouth.
“Are you going to come too, Chairman.?”
“ Yes. I have to. After all I’m the Chairman.”
“Yes. But do you really think that the kid might knew something.”
“Do we have any other choices. He found the location of the painting as soon as he came. Rather than moving recklessly, I think it’s better to trust the young fellow. Our main priority now, is to prepare a story to refute conspiracy theorists. If you guys don’t want to go, stay here.”
Martin Janssens grabbed my hand and started walking.
As we came down the stairs, the researchers were also forced to follow.
As soon as we opened the door, camera lights poured out.
“Chairman! How far have you progressed in your investigation?”
“ Is Vincent van Gogh’s death suicide or murder?”
Reporters rushed to grandpa Martin as if they had been waiting.
“Where are you going?”
“Can you give us an interview ?”
Grandpa Martin lifted me in his hands, blocking reporters, spoke loudly.
“We’re going to the place where Van Gogh worked last.”
At grandpa Martin’s words, reporters glowed their eyes and poured out questions.
“Did you find it?”
“Did you solve the question about Van Gogh’s death?”
“Okay, okay. We’re trying to find out, so don’t block the way, and let us go together there.”
Reporters hurriedly opened the way.
As a person who runs a company and collects donations, he handles people very well.
On another note, I felt a little disappointed in me for getting used to people holding my hand and carrying me.
⏩⏩⏩⏩⏩⏩
We headed to 37 Rue Daubigni.
Because of the thick clothes, my legs couldn’t be lifted properly, so I walked wobbling sideways.
“Hahahahah.”
I heard laughter behind me, so I turned and looked back.
There I saw the reporters taking pictures of me walking, while grandpa Martin and the researchers were laughing.
“What?”
When I asked with a serious face, grandpa Martin answered
“No. It’s because it’s so adorable.”
“I’ve never seen it before. You really walk like a penguin.”
“What’s a penguin?”
“Don’t you know penguins? Birds living in Antarctica, that walks while wobbling”
When it comes to Antarctica, it is known as a place made of ice, but it seems like birds live there.
“Does the bird wobble while flying?”
“No…it’s a bird that doesn’t fly?”
“ It’s called a bird even though it can’t fly.”
“ Yes, Instead it swims.”
I don’t understand why they are calling a creature that can swim and not fly as a bird.
“Then isn’t it fish.”
“It’s not fish. Because it has wings.”
“Fish also has wings.”
“Ah, those are fins. Fins and wings are different.”
“ Just because I’m a kid, don’t think I’ll believe anything grandpa Martin says. Creatures that swim in water is fish and creatures that fly are called Birds.”
“ Come on, it’s a bird. It lays eggs, too.”
“Fish also lays eggs.”
“…… Hmm?”
Grandpa Martin tilted his head and scratched his chin.
“Oh yes. Penguins have fur. Have you seen a fish with fur?”
I haven’t seen it for sure.
When I took out my smartphone and searched hairy fish, I found a fish called Lophiodes fimbriatus.
It is characterized by having hair all over the body.
“ Here, It’s a fish, but it has fur.”
“There’s a fish with fur?”
Grandpa Martin, who had been staring at it for a long time, groaned when I showed the smartphone.
“Hey, do you know why penguins are birds?”
Grandpa Martin threw my question to the person next to him.
The researcher who was asked shook his head in embarrassment.
“You said you were a doctor, don’t you know that?”
“I have a doctorate in Art history, not in Biology “
It seems like in this era, people who doesn’t prescribe medicine can also be called a Doctor.
Neither grandpa Martin nor the researchers can be trusted, so I searched for penguin photos on internet.
I found that they are creatures that has a webbed feet.
They don’t seem to be a fish and at the same time, they don’t seem to be a bird either.
As I was walking while looking at the pictures of penguin, grandpa Martin cautioned me that walking while looking at smartphone was dangerous.
Soon we arrived at the destination, so I put my smartphone in my pocket.
The tree roots, which have been the model of [Tree Roots] has a barrier installed to prevent people from approaching it.
“Hi, everyone. The chairman has arrived. We hope that suspect in murdering Vincent van Gogh will be revealed soon!”
“Excuse me chairman How the hell was Van Gogh killed?”
People were holding and mic and talking to cameras and smartphones.
I think maybe they’re doing a video call.
“Tsk.”
Grandpa Martin clicked his tongue.
Turning my head, not only grandpa Martin but also researchers didn’t seem to like those who believe that I’ve been murdered.
A researcher opened his mouth and said
“There is no evidence of Van Gogh being killed. Please step down since it interferes with the investigation.”
“ Stop spouting nonsense. There are 800 viewers watching right now. Are you trying to cover up Van Gogh’s murder?”
“I’m asking you to step down because it interferes with the investigation, not concealment.”
“Then why can’t you disclose the investigation process?”
“I told you. You’re disturbing the investigation.”
I don’t understand what’s wrong with them.
It looks like they really want me to be murdered by someone.
After a bit of arguing, the security staff managed to drive them out.
“Damn b*stards.”
Grandpa Martin cursed at those who were moving away, while insisting on answering some peoples called viewers inside their smartphone.
“What’s wrong with them grandpa Martin ?”
“They’re trying to become famous by presenting a conspiracy theory. They’re trying to use people who like Van Gogh.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s money. Sponsors and donations comes in when you do a broadcast like that.”
If they say I was murdered, they make money.
I really don’t really understand how that can be done.
Anyway, I stood across the street from where I drew Tree Roots.
“It was here.”
It’s not accurate because there’s no clear standard, but it seems they have found where I stood when I drew the painting.
“This is where Van Gogh drew the picture.”
A researcher stepped up.
He pointed to a place about two steps away from where I stood.
He didn’t know why penguins are fish, but he seems to be able to deduce my perspective from just looking at my painting.
There’s a reason why he is called doctor.
He must have studied me for a long time, and he must know me better than I do.
Grandpa Martin stepped up and said.
“The question is where he attempted suicide. And why would the pistol fell on a wheat field? If he didn’t try to commit suicide while painting, we should think that he tried it do it on his way back.”
The place where the pistol was found seemed to be on a wheat field, so people have been searching around Auverts’ wheat field.
For this reason, they seems they seem to have searched for evidence like bloodstains in the wheat field rather than the place where I painted.
But the truth was I shot myself here, where I was drawing.
A researcher gave his opinion.
“As Hun said, it’s not impossible for Van Gogh to pull the trigger here.”
I still remember it like it was yesterday.
When I pulled the trigger I thought I was really dead, but when I came to my senses, it was dark around me and it was my body that hurt like death.
While I was thinking about that day, the researchers continued their arguments.
“ Since he decided to commit suicide, he must have found the pistol again after waking up, right?
“I guess so?”
“Then why didn’t he shoot again and instead went back to the Lodger?”
“Maybe he lost it. Yes, he lost it. Van Gogh was said to have returned to the Ravoux Lodger at night, so it’s possible that he lost the pistol after shooting him.
“ Maybe, when he woke up, it became dark, and he wasn’t able to find where the pistol was.”
I admired the researchers who were able to deduce as if they saw everything with their own eyes.
It seems like they really studied a lot about me.
While I was admiring them, another researcher said.
“ That’s possible. In the first place, the pistol, stating to be used by Van Gogh was discovered a hundred years later. There is no guarantee that it was there from the beginning.”
“Hmm.”
As the researcher said, the pistol I used seemed to have been found in the wheat field, so everyone presumed that the place where the suicide was the wheat field.
For the same reason [Wheat Field with crows] was misunderstood as my last work.
But I don’t know why the pistol was found in the wheat field.
I thought it would be solved if I just told them where I drew the picture and told where I attempted suicide, but it doesn’t seem to be an easy problem.
While the researchers were talking among themselves, a reporter stepped up.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Grandpa Martin nodded his head.
“Isn’t there a possibility that he was murdered on the way back while drawing here?”
It’s a legitimate question, so it made even me feel like I was murdered by someone.
“We can’t completely deny it.”
“If he was murdered, the murderer could have taken a gun from Van Gogh here and thrown it away in the wheat field while running away.”
Researchers shared their opinions in this way throughout yesterday and today.
For those who didn’t know the me at the time, murder seems to be a plausible explanation.
It also explains why the pistol was in the wheat field.
Researchers who wanted to know the truth constantly inferred with all possibilities in mind.
“Then why did Van Gogh had a pistol with him in the first place?”
No one answered the reporter’s question.
“Because he didn’t know when the seizure which causes paralysis would come.”
When I answered the question instead, the reporter asked another question.
“What does that have to do with it?”
“ It’s because of the anxiety and fear that if the seizure continued, one day he won’t be able to move his body.”
Grandpa Martin added to my words,
“Since he can’t draw, Van Gogh thought that he’ll be a burden to his brother Theo.”
“That’s right. He didn’t want to make the only person who loved him, suffer because of him. So he should have thought that he should die if he had paralysis again.”
“Isn’t that just a speculation?”
A reporter questioned the answer of grandpa Martin and the researcher.
“Do you have any evidence?”
This is the place where everyone had a problem.
Researchers tried to solve the mystery in my death using various hypothesis, but they failed to prove it.
There can’t be any evidence left of something happened a hundred years ago.
When everyone stood looking at each other unable to answer the question of the reporter, I opened my mouth
“If you decide to kill yourself, where would you shoot?”
When I asked the question to the reporter, he thought for a while and answered.
“I’ll shoot at the head or temple.”
That’s the common thought of someone trying to commit suicide, since that way, the pain will be lessened. Hearing the answer from the reporter one of the researchers said.
“ But gun shot on Van Gogh was on his left stomach area. Then…….was he murdere…..”
Some researchers nodded their head as if in agreement.
A silence swept the whole area.
Grandpa Martin narrowed his eyebrows in distress.
I broke the silence saying.
“No. That’s why it’s suicide.”
Everyone tilted their heads and looked around as if they didn’t understand.
“It’s true that Van Gogh carried a pistol, but that’s not because he decided to commit suicide that day. He really went out to draw. He was actually drawing the tree roots,”
The researchers nodded.
“But an unexpected thing happened that day, he had a seizure attack.”
Everyone opened their eyes wide.
I walked a little and looked at the empty road.
The image of me lying on this dark lonely road and shaking my twisted body not being able to control them appeared before my eyes.
That day the seizure was longer than the usual seizures.
I felt like the end has come.
I thought I would never be able to draw after today.
When the thought of not being able to draw flashed in my mind……, I mustered all the energy into my right hand and took the pistol that I kept prepared for such an occasion.
“ With the seizure, Van Gogh couldn’t take the pistol up to his head, so he took it here.”
I placed my hands in my chest.
I felt my heart beating fast, remembering the things happened on that day.
“ But he was unlucky even while dying. Because of the seizure, the place he shot was not his chest, but instead his stomach.”
“ He was not a Genius, or a Hero, or a protagonist of a novel. He was just a normal human being like everyone, struggling to find a balance between what he wanted to do and what the world wanted him to do.”
After finishing the story, I lifted my head.
There I saw reporters, researchers and grandpa Martin standing like a statue and looking at me.
