"Aaaargh, stupid cat! My drawing is ruined!" Art shouted in frustration as he chased the cat out of his room.
The cat then hid under Art's wardrobe. But Art didn't give up easily; despite the mishap, he immediately began to redraw his sketch until late at night and fell asleep soundly.
Knock-knock-knock! came the sound of his mother knocking on the door.
"Wake up, Art! It's already 7 o'clock. You have to head to the competition and register!" his mother called out.
Art woke up instantly, took a quick shower, and left for the competition.
When he arrived at the city center of Venice…
"Yes, yes, please come and get your registration number here!" shouted one of the competition staff, who was already surrounded by many participants from various countries.
"Me! Me!" shouted Art from the middle of the line, pushing his way to the front until he caught the staff's attention.
"Alright, kid! You want to enter the competition? The fee is around 50,000 dollars per person," the staff said. "This is the biggest competition in all of Venice, with participants from other countries as well."
"Whaaaat? That's so expensive! I don't have that kind of money!" Art replied.
The ticket seller then turned his attention to a woman stepping out of a luxurious car.
She was picked up by her uncle's friend from the train station, also arriving to register.
"Hey you, come here! Want to enter the competition? Please, the registration fee is 50,000 dollars!" said the staff.
"Alright," the woman replied, then pulled out exactly 50,000 dollars.
"Here's your number, miss. You got number 7. The competition starts tomorrow at 8:00 a.m. sharp!" said the staff.
"Alright." As the woman turned to leave, she accidentally bumped into Art.
"Ouch!"
"Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to!" she said.
Art, who had fallen, stood up and their eyes met.
"Umm… please forgive me," said the woman, whose name was Angela.
Art stared at her, captivated by her beauty that reminded him of an angel.
"It's okay," Art replied, quickly looking away.
"By the way, are you here to register too?" the woman continued.
"Hehehe… yes, miss." Art blushed.
"Have you registered yet?" she asked.
"Hmm, not yet, miss. I don't have that much money. And my parents don't even know there's a fee that high," Art replied.
"And what's your name, miss?" Art asked, and they introduced themselves.
"Oh, my name is Angela Fiona. And you are?"
"I'm Art," he replied as they shook hands.
Angela was mesmerized by Art's charming gaze.
"Oh, Art… that's a nice name."
"So, where are you from?" Art continued.
"Oh, I'm from Toronto, Canada," Angela answered.
"Wow, that's far away! Who are you here with?" Art asked in surprise.
"With my uncle, the one who picked me up earlier," Angela replied.
"And where are you from, Art?" she asked back.
"I'm from Tokoh Guru, the art city of Venice. I usually work at the shop—selling paintings, sculptures, and musical instruments," Art said.
"Wow, I'm impressed! Nice to meet you," Angela said.
Art blushed again.
"Well then, I have 50,000 dollars from my uncle. But on one condition—you must pay it back later! Deal?" Angela offered him the money for registration and gave him her phone number.
"Of course! Gladly," Art replied.
"I'll call you after I register, okay?" Art added. After receiving the money, he ran to the ticket booth.
The staff were still busy managing the ticket registrations.
"Yes, yes, young people! Only one more registration number left before we close!" one of them shouted.
"Waaait!!" Art shouted from afar, running in a hurry.
"Hey, it's you again! Did you get the money? Only one number left," the staff said.
"Yes, here's the money!" said Art.
"Alright, here's your number, kid. You got number 8," the staff announced.
"Yes! Woohoooo!" Art cheered, jumping with joy.
"I'm in! I'm going to the competition tomorrow!"
After returning home from the city center, Art showed his registration number to Guru and his mother, and told them everything that happened.
Guru responded positively to Art's story.
"Well done! But you must win this competition, so you can pay back that girl's money. We don't have that kind of money—our shop's income doesn't even reach that amount," said Guru.
With an optimistic spirit, Art replied,
"Don't worry, Guru and Mother! I'll give my all—my mind and strength tonight—to train and become the champion artist of our beloved Venice!"
Back in his room, Art was still thinking about Angela's beauty and kindness, and felt butterflies in his stomach.
"Oh right, I should call Angela first!" Art muttered.
Then Art called her using the number she gave him.
Ring, ring, ring...
Angela answered the phone.
"Hello? Who's this?" she asked.
"Oh, good evening, Angela! It's me, Art," he replied (a little nervously).
Angela blushed slightly upon hearing his voice.
"Oh, Art! Yes, what is it? Why are you calling me this late?" she asked.
"Umm… I've completed the registration, and I got number 8," Art said.
"Oh great! Our numbers are right next to each other," Angela said.
"Maybe it's fate!" Art added.
"You're so silly, Art," Angela laughed—though she felt the same way.
"Hehe, just kidding," (though deep inside, Art wanted to confess his feelings, but he wasn't ready yet. Maybe it wasn't the right time.)
"Alright then, see you tomorrow at the competition?" Angela said.
"Yes, Angela. Bye!" Art replied.
"Huuuhh, oh my gosh… I really like that girl!" Art muttered, ending the call.
Art went to his room and began practicing. He worked on a piece he intended to use the next day—a painting of a city where an angel descended, singing in the night, surrounded by trumpets and pianos. In the painting, there was also a beautiful woman in royal attire and a prince beside her.
The painting seemed alive. Art's deep imagination created a masterpiece so enchanting that it kept him from sleeping.
"Art, go to sleep!" his mother shouted from outside. "It's already 11 PM! Don't be late for the competition tomorrow," she added.
"Yes, yes, Mom," Art replied, and finally fell into a deep sleep.
The next morning, the sun began to rise, and roosters crowed while the sparrows chirped in the trees, signaling the start of a new day.
Art's mother went to the kitchen to cook. Meanwhile, Guru prepared the painting and sculpture tools.
"Where's Art, dear? Why hasn't he gotten up yet? It's already 7 o'clock," Guru asked.
"I'll wake him up now!" she replied.
Knock-knock-knock!
"Art, Art, wake up! It's 7 a.m.! Hurry up or you'll be late for the competition!" his mother shouted.
Art slowly got up from his bed.
"Yaaawwn… wow, I slept so well…"
He glanced at the clock—it was already 7:30!
"Oh no, I'm going to be late!" he cried.
Crash! He scrambled out of bed, knocking over everything on his desk. He showered quickly, changed clothes, and grabbed the artwork he made the night before.
He said goodbye to his mother and Guru. But since Guru saw that Art was running late, he lent him his favorite bicycle.
"Here, Art! Use my bicycle so you won't be late!" Guru said.
"Oh, thank you, Guru!" Art replied, then pedaled quickly toward the competition venue.
When he arrived, the participants were already gathered, entering the arena at the city center of Venice.
The sounds of fireworks and firecrackers filled the air.
"Uncle, Uncle!" cried a small child in his mother's arms.
"I want that blue balloon!" the child said.
"Oh, okay sweetheart. Uncle will get it for you," said the man.
"How much is it, sir?" the mother asked.
"This one's 2 dollars, ma'am," the balloon vendor replied.
"Here you go. Thank you," the mother said.
Before the balloon reached the boy's hand, it slipped away and floated into the air.
The child cried, and his mother scolded him.
Pop! The balloon hit the face of a young man—his name was Rojan.
Rojan caught the balloon and gave it back to the crying child.
"Thank you, big brother," the child said happily.
"Thank you so much! You're very kind," the mother added.
"You're welcome, ma'am," Rojan replied.
"Are you participating in the competition too?" the mother asked.
"Yes, I am," Rojan answered.
"Where are you from, young man?" she asked.
"Oh, I'm from the Kingdom of Arial. I came here with my friends on a cruise ship, and I'm the son of Captain Arial!" Rojan said.
"Oh, that's wonderful! Hurry now, the competition is about to start!" the mother urged.
Rojan ran toward the competition hall.
As he ran…
BAM!! He collided with someone…
It was Art, who was also rushing into the competition hall...