I turned my head.

A blond beauty.

She stood there in a neat black suit.

She had the high, straight nose every beauty seems to come with.

The blond beauty who'd appeared out of nowhere was definitely talking to me.

"Van Gogh's inner self, imagining his own death, is projected straight onto the canvas. People say this painting depicts a pure dream, but to me... it looks like the struggle of a soul that wants to be saved. Maybe that's why he went through with suicide."

The woman spoke almost in a whisper, without taking her eyes off the painting.

It was a pretty deep reading.

I knew van Gogh's memories, so I nodded at what she said.

It's true that van Gogh was dreaming of suicide from this point on.

He thought suicide was life's final salvation.

A better title than The Starry Night would have been The Star Awaiting Death.

"You're wrong."

Close, but not the right answer.

"Excuse me?"

Only then did the beauty turn her head and look at me.

Her clear, fine skin shone.

There wasn't a single blemish—no freckles, no age spots, no discoloration.

She was about 175 centimeters tall, too.

Man... an absolute knockout!

Her short blond hair was pulled back neatly, a little like the pinned-back bangs Korean schoolgirls wear.

But nothing like the homegrown version.

It suited her.

Her pale, bare forehead, full red lips and light blue eyes were charm itself.

She looked like she'd just stepped off the cover of Vogue.

Above all, she looked classy.

"Van Gogh didn't kill himself. Suicide was just another source of inspiration for van Gogh. He struggled for salvation, but that was only the mental turmoil every creator goes through. You could call it madness, in other words."

"Van Gogh killed himself. That's why he could paint death so closely. You could even say van Gogh's work was completed by his suicide."

What is this woman saying right now?

She can say that because she's never died.

"I heard he didn't kill himself."

"What? Now what are you..."

Ugh! I heard it from…