I Became an Artist in a Romantic Comedy

Chapter 32: Entrance Ceremony (1)

—

Carols marked the beginning of Christmas.

Snow fell gently on the streets, illuminating the dark night with a bright glow.

“Ugh… My neck hurts.”

I must’ve slept in a bad position during my nap, as my neck wouldn’t move properly, leaving me feeling uncomfortable.

“Oppa, you’re on break, aren’t you going anywhere fun?”

“That’s why I’m out here with you right now, isn’t it, little sister?”

I replied bluntly to Ha-yoon, who was walking beside me, throwing in a comment that stung my heart a little. Introverts generally prefer staying home.

“Not what I meant, Ha-eun…”

Ahead of us, Choi Yeseo turned around, shaking her head.

“Ha-eun is a total homebody.”

On the other side, Ha Soyeol jabbed at me with another dose of reality.

These girls just had no chill.

“Yeah, yeah, guess I’m the bad guy,” I sighed, pouting as I glanced up at the sky.

It was a rare day when I went out with friends. It hadn’t been easy for us to all sync up (mainly because of Yeseo’s schedule).

A snowflake landed on my cheek and melted instantly, sparking an idea. Maybe I could turn this into another masterpiece.

I got started right after that, about a week ago.

Creating something close to a masterpiece and actually finishing a masterpiece took vastly different amounts of time. It was nearly complete, but…

‘Who knows how much more fine-tuning and adjustment it needs?’

If anything seemed even slightly off, my hand would immediately reach for the brush. The frame was finished, but I kept getting hung up on little details, so it was taking forever.

It wasn’t particularly difficult or exhausting—it just took time.

‘That’s the annoying thing about masterpieces. They eat up way too much time.’

Of course, compared to creating a true magnum opus, this was a relatively easy feat. By my standards, anyway.

The distinction between a masterpiece and a true masterpiece isn’t huge. But there’s one crucial difference: a masterpiece contains “life,” while a true masterpiece has “soul.”

The difference? It’s simple.

“Life” means imbuing the painting with a single essence, a living story.

“Soul” means that the painting seems almost alive, as though it could move on its own.

Does that make sense? It’s hard to put into words, sorry.

‘Guess I’ll wrap up this piece quickly tonight.’

I had just been working on that masterpiece when—

—Hey! Let’s go out!

Thanks to Choi Yeseo and Ha Soyeol showing up out of nowhere, I had to put down my brush.

Luckily, my suggestion that we needed a chaperone to be out this late was met with an enthusiastic response from Mom.

—Why don’t I go, too? It’s been a while since we’ve seen Ms. Yoo Ji-hye.

So, the Christmas outing ended up being me, Ha-yoon, Ha Soyeol, Choi Yeseo, Mom, and Ms. Yoo Ji-hye.

I considered why I was the only guy, but oh well.

“Wow… surrounded by ladies…”

“Sweetie, what are you staring at?”

And thus, I managed to attract the attention of practically every person we passed.

‘Huh… this is kinda addictive.’

I didn’t think I’d ever enjoyed the spotlight this much before.

Oh, and there’s something else I forgot to mention—my YouTube channel.

Since the awards ceremony, it had attracted all the attention I could possibly imagine, and my subscribers had skyrocketed in just half a year, growing by one and a half times.

With my face now public, I even started including my face in my videos. Occasionally, I even livestreamed my drawing sessions.

I’d also met with Korea Drawing a few times privately, though that story is still on hold.

So, what’s changed in the meantime? That’s about it.

‘Oh, and one more thing.’

Lee Doyoon and Baek Yuseol, the protagonist and heroine, had stopped contacting me as frequently. In fact, it started after I received the award.

I heard Doyoon had started attending an art academy, so maybe he’d gotten too busy to keep in touch.

And Yuseol? She and I had always been distant anyway.

It didn’t seem like there was much to worry about.

Anyway, I think I’ve filled you in on everything that’s been going on.

“Wow, I’m so jealous…”

A passing couple, with the guy glancing my way as he spoke.

And they were definitely a couple…

Smack!

“Ugh! Oppa, focus on us a bit more, will you?”

Oops, caught already.

The couple moved on, and we stood by the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change.

“So, son, have you decided?”

As I fiddled with my phone, Mom, who was standing behind me, asked quietly.

“What? Oh… I thought I told you already?”

I thought for a moment before realizing she was talking about my plans for high school.

“I told you, I’ll go to the art high school.”

“No change in plans?”

She asked again, and I knew why she was concerned.

“I’m not going to give up painting, Mom. Besides, didn’t I make a promise to you 13 years ago?”

“…That’s true. Has it really been 13 years?”

Mom smiled softly as she patted my head.

“My son has grown up so fast.”

“You know other people are here, right?”

“Are you embarrassed by your mother’s affection?”

“Yeah, a bit embarrassed, honestly.”

“Oh, come on, it’s a heartfelt moment.”

Our conversation made people around us chuckle.

I couldn’t help but laugh, too.

“Oh, the light changed.”

As we crossed the street, our destination came into view: a snack bar.

Perfect for a late-night snack, although it wouldn’t guarantee a fresh face in the morning. Not that I cared much about looks, but for the girls… Well, that’s another story.

But they knew we were coming to a snack bar, so they must’ve been prepared.

Once inside, the warmth melted away the cold we’d been feeling outside.

‘Ah, paradise.’

We cleared the table of food in no time (mostly thanks to Soyeol, Yeseo, and Ha-yoon).

The next day, two of them sent me photos of their faces.

“Pfft!”

I nearly spat out my water from laughing when I saw them.

—

Winter passed, and a warm spring sun began to shine.

‘But it’s still cold.’

On my bed lay a brand-new uniform—my high school uniform.

“This PE outfit is… rough.”

Why was the whole thing spinach green? Made me feel sick just looking at it.

Schools these days were trending towards more stylish designs, so this was a disappointment.

‘But I don’t really care. I don’t do PE anyway.’

Come to think of it, do art schools even have PE? I went to a regular high school in my last life, so I wasn’t sure.

But given there’s a PE uniform, I suppose there must be a PE class.

Come to think of it, “PE” is part of “arts and PE” after all. What was I thinking?

“No need for a belt, right?”

Straightening the uniform pants and shirt, I added a blue tie and black blazer.

Fully dressed, I stood in front of the mirror.

‘Not bad. With a bit more stamina, I could’ve been an idol.’

Then again, probably not. I hate moving around too much.

“Son~ If you don’t hurry, you’ll be late. Starting with a late entrance ceremony?”

Mom opened the door, phone in hand, and started filming.

“Stop, that’s an invasion of privacy.”

“Should I… delete your YouTube channel?”

“Proceed as you wish, ma’am.”

How could she use that as leverage?

“By the way, I need to stop by the studio first.”

“Why? Oh, are you working on that piece?”

“Yeah. If I feel like something’s off, I need to fix it right away.”

“You’re such a perfectionist. It all looks the same to me.”

Ah, the perspective of the ordinary eye. The gap between artists and non-artists is too wide.

“Just don’t be late. Showing up late on the first day would be something, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Taking her words to heart, I headed to the studio.

The equipment was stacked in one corner, with the easel and canvas set in the center, along with a chair, palette, and brush beneath it.

Outside wasn’t too cold, but stepping into the studio, the chill intensified.

It was a different chill from the one that Peach Blossom Village evoked.

I stared at the painting with a cold expression.

Before getting closer, I grabbed the thick coat hanging by the door.

Not exactly a coat for March, but—

“Deep breath…”

It was as if the cold was whispering, telling me the chill wasn’t real.

This was an illusion, a trick of the senses.

It was a high enough level that even ordinary people could sense it. That’s why I had forbidden Ha Soyeol and Choi Yeseo from entering the studio.

The only people allowed in were those who could withstand the illusion: Mom, Dad, and me.

Illusions can disturb the mind more than the body. I couldn’t risk letting younger kids near it.

‘It’s not difficult, just… bothersome.’

The extra factors involved in masterpieces always made them troublesome. Whether it was the time or the lingering illusions, it was a hassle.

Stepping closer to the painting, I felt as if icy winds were buffeting me. But it was nothing more than a mirage.

That’s why even someone as weak as me could approach.

Because mentally, I was like an old man.

‘…Though that’s not exactly comforting.’

Anyway, I inspected the painting for any issues, going over each part thoroughly.

Paintings can discolor at any moment, so I check frequently. That’s what makes them so valuable.

Only those prepared to handle the risk can lay hands on these pieces.

That’s a saying I just made up. Feel free to be impressed.

“No issues here.”

I’d checked it last night, so there shouldn’t have been any changes in half a day.

Leaving the studio, I removed the coat, stepping back into the warm sunlight.

“…Would anyone buy this?”

There was a strange sense of unease in me now.

If someone wanted to buy this painting, I’d want to meet them at least once.

They’d probably be a major figure in the art world.

‘They won’t think it’s cursed… right?’

It would be disappointing if people thought it was cursed after all the effort I put into it.

“What time is it?”

I checked my phone.

8:13 a.m.

17 minutes until the entrance ceremony.

And the school was too far to walk to, at least at my pace.

Seoul Private Arts High School.

And it looked like I was about to be late on my first day.

“…Hello? Mom? Hey, uh, do you think you could give me a ride?”

So, once again, Ha-eun the pyromaniac-son was back.