I Became an Artist in a Romantic Comedy

Chapter 34: Entrance Ceremony (3)

“What are you talking about? Why would I go to your house?”

“…You won’t?”

“It’s not that I won’t. Just explain why you want me to.”

Hong Yehwa hesitated briefly, then spoke.

“I’ve seen your painting, Peach Blossom Village. There’s a similar painting at my place.”

A painting like Peach Blossom Village? There’s no way.

I’d intentionally made it challenging to imitate. Even if someone wanted to copy it, producing something similar would be difficult.

It was a painting teetering on the boundary of a masterpiece—a rare quality, at least by my standards.

“Why would I need to see it?”

“I’m just asking… it’s not yours, but it has a similar feel.”

“And you think the artist might be me?”

“Yes, that’s exactly it.”

Then she could have said that right from the start… it would’ve saved some trouble.

“Do you have a photo of it?”

Yehwa shook her head.

“The painting’s in my father’s study, and no one’s allowed in.”

“So, what’s the point of me going?”

“I want to meet the artist. I want to learn from them.”

So the “hand of God” herself wanted to learn to paint?

Still, it wasn’t insincerity. In her eyes, I could see real passion, a hint of anxiety, and a desire for recognition.

‘Reminds me of my past life.’

She seemed a bit like my past self—longing for even a single word of praise from someone they admired. Her parents were probably prominent figures in the art world, I figured.

“But even if I go, I can’t enter the study.”

“That’s not an issue. My father acknowledged you as a rising star. If I bring you, he’ll let you study.”

The pieces finally started coming together. But could she stop with the “rising star” thing? It was embarrassing.

“I’ll think about it. But not anytime soon—I’ve got work to do.”

“Oh… the World Art Prize? You’re already preparing?”

“‘Already’? It’s only four months away. For most people, that’s barely enough time.”

She could ask Ms. Lee A-reum about that.

“Then let me know when you’re free. I’ll clear my schedule.”

I hadn’t agreed to go yet.

As I was about to say so, we arrived at the distribution area for our textbooks.

“Line up by number!”

I’d received my student ID when we got our uniforms, so I knew my class and number.

I was number 17 out of 23 in Class 1, so fifth from the back.

And Hong Yehwa was right behind me at number 18.

‘Guess I missed my chance to tell her no.’

Then again, it might be worth a look. The painting called Echo that supposedly resembled Peach Blossom Village had piqued my curiosity. I couldn’t help it—that’s what being an artist does to you.

After everyone received their textbooks, we headed back to the classroom, where we ran into the Class 3 students in the hallway.

Lee Doyoon’s class.

He noticed me and flashed a cheerful smile, the awkwardness from before seemingly gone. But I couldn’t shake the discomfort—though it wasn’t because he was the protagonist of the original story.

‘He’s a childhood friend I’ve known for ten years.’

I needed to figure out what had caused his personality shift.

As I passed Doyoon, I whispered quietly.

“Let’s talk later today.”

He flinched slightly, then gave a bittersweet smile.

“Yeah. I’ll come find you after school, Ha-eun.”

And with that, Class 3 continued down the hall.

“Ha-eun, do you know Lee Doyoon?”

Behind me, Yehwa asked, and I nodded.

“We’ve been friends for seven years. He’s been acting strange lately, so we’ll be having a ‘guys’ talk later.”

“…Gross.”

Don’t girls have those? They go to the restroom together at every opportunity.

Women are a mystery to men, and vice versa.

It looked like she and Doyoon had met, so perhaps some parts of the original plot were still on track.

Once back in the classroom, I shoved my textbooks haphazardly into my locker and took my seat.

The room quickly filled with noise.

“Miss! What do we do next?”

“Hm… that’s all for today. But we’ll stay for lunch and wrap up afterward. The rest is free time!”

With that, Lee A-reum left the room.

When our eyes met just before she left, I immediately got up.

This woman was going to be a handful.

Creak.

“Where are you going?”

Yehwa tilted her head, looking at me curiously. I didn’t think she’d care about other people.

“To the restroom. Want to come?”

“…No, perv.”

Please spare me the disdain. You’re the one who asked.

Following Ms. Lee out the door, I caught sight of her just outside.

“Oh, Ha-eun, come with me for a bit?”

I felt uncomfortable seeing her cheerful smile. Why was she acting like this?

“You were just thinking something bad, weren’t you?”

“This ‘woman’s intuition’ thing is a nuisance…”

Grumbling, I trailed behind Ms. Lee until we arrived at the back of the school, in a secluded spot.

A single, decrepit building stood before us.

“Now, where did I put that key…”

Watching her rummage through her pockets, I asked, “You’re planning to go in there?”

Did she have a death wish? I’d be surprised if there was breathable air inside.

“Don’t worry; it may look run-down, but it’s cleaned weekly.”

“This dump…?”

“There’s a reason for it. Ah, here it is!”

She held up a rusty key and opened the door.

“And this is an old art building. A decade ago, we used it for sculpture and clay-based art classes.”

I’d never seen it before, as it had been abandoned long before my time.

She murmured, a bit wistfully, as she continued, “My brother used to work here. He created some incredible sculptures.”

…Can we get to the point, please? I wasn’t interested in this personal history.

Noticing my impatience, she smiled and stepped inside.

“Ta-da! What do you think? Pretty clean and cozy, huh?”

“It is, actually. So, why did you bring me here?”

“Such impatience~. How about working on that, Ha-eun?”

This felt oddly familiar, like someone back home.

“The first floor’s empty. Let’s head up to the second.”

Without a word, I followed her to a classroom on the second floor.

Surprisingly, the place felt warm and inviting, perfect for a nap.

The classroom seemed empty until… Wait, what’s that?

My gaze fell on a green chalkboard spanning an entire wall, covered in a painted image.

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

“…Much as I hate to admit it, coming here was worth it.”

It was a lifelike painting of a single plum tree in bloom, standing tall.

But if it were just a nice painting, it wouldn’t have impressed me this much.

“I was wondering where this warmth came from.”

The tree heralded the arrival of spring, a symbol of warmth.

“So, Ha-eun… do you like me a bit more now?”

“Not really. But thanks for showing me this.”

“…Wow, you actually feel gratitude?”

“Of course. I do have manners, you know.”

Ms. Lee chuckled, seeming more like someone my age than an adult. She was eight years older than me, though.

‘I didn’t expect to find a masterpiece here.’

This building was supposed to have been used for sculpture.

When had they painted this? It didn’t seem that old.

“This was painted by none other than Ms. Seol Yoon from Korea Drawing.”

“…Excuse me?”

Her? The one who always seemed a little spaced out?

“Seol Yoon may look a bit clueless, but she’s already a department head at her age. Her painting skills are top-notch, even if she’s not the best with paperwork.”

So that’s why she was in the Ideas Department? She always seemed so… aimless.

“Are you close with Ms. Seol?”

“She’s my junior. We both graduated from here.”

The endless chain of personal connections was getting ridiculous. It really was a small world.

So Seol Yoon must’ve landed a job right out of college. Impressive.

And the evidence was right in front of me, proving her skill.

“Still… there are a few details that don’t feel right.”

“…Really?”

As I’d mentioned this morning, masterpieces require constant care and meticulous observation, or they deteriorate.

The plum tree in front of me was fading in spots.

A masterpiece must be completed with finesse to prevent it from losing its vitality.

“I don’t see anything wrong with it.”

Ms. Lee squinted, scrutinizing the painting closely.

“Do you have any spare chalk?”

“If you check by the door, there should be some.”

Even though the classroom was mostly empty, a small storage area remained, stocked with supplies.

A chalk container sat by the door, so I grabbed a brown and a pink stick.

“There’s a saying that things look beautiful up close. It’s the same with art.”

I used the chalk to adjust the mismatched parts.

“No matter how meticulously you examine a painting, there’ll always be parts that go unnoticed.”

This area’s faded slightly. Maybe I’ll lower the plum blossom a bit.

“But if you apply a soft touch rather than striving for precision, you’ll find the unnoticed flaws.”

This branch’s position seems slightly off. It could clash with the others.

“Then, the little disturbances become apparent. That’s how you really look at a painting.”

No piece of art is perfect. Perfection is a subjective concept, after all.

Even if I find a piece perfect, someone else might see it as lacking.

Tap tap.

I brushed the chalk dust off my hands and put the sticks back.

“And it’s an artist’s job to bring a painting as close to perfection as possible.”

But even the greatest artist’s fire eventually wanes, though the timing is uncertain.

After that, all that’s left are painters, who draw simply for the joy of it.

“Notice how the warmth comes through a bit more now?”

“……”

Ms. Lee didn’t answer my question.

Maybe she couldn’t.