Reset Life with Infinite Talents - Chapter 222

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Infinite Talent Reset Life Episode 222

Walking down the street at night, I suddenly looked up at the sky and had this thought.

“How shameful.”

The night sky embroidered with stars large and small across the continent.

God never put His signature anywhere on His works, yet I arrogantly signed my name on just one sculpture.

It was the day I left my signature on the sculpture Pietà and turned away.

* * *

“…Good Lord.”

I want to smack my head for thinking this was a waste storage warehouse.

‘Is this heaven?’

Johann touches the marble nearby.

He presses firmly and brings the stone powder to his mouth.

Ptui.

“Spain. Alicante.”

This hardness, smell, taste, color, and so on.

This is marble produced in Alicante.

Next to it is marble from Afyon, Turkey.

Stones from all over the world are gathered here.

And what about these timbers?

My eyes spin round and round, my head grows dizzy.

But I remain silent.

‘Michelangelo’ keeps his mouth firmly shut, not revealing himself, apparently displeased about something.

The talent, the inspiration won’t move.

As if something is completely blocked, only fragments left by those I’ve absorption read flow through my body.

Johann’s face crumples.

“Tch. I have no intention of receiving help while coaxing someone who doesn’t want to.”

It was the moment Johann was about to enter the library again.

-Puhaha!

Laughter bursts out from within his body.

He says he’s pleased.

Especially pleased that I didn’t threaten him by mentioning others like before, like with Rachmaninoff.

“What are you saying?”

‘Was he keeping quiet because he was reading my memories?’

It’s not surprising.

It’s already happened several times before. Past figures I’ve absorption read adapting to modern times by reading Johann’s own memories.

To Johann who nods, Michelangelo says this.

-Endure it.

Kuwoong!

“Ah?!”

It bursts forth.

The life he lived.

All the memories, feelings, emotions, and frustrations he saw and felt throughout his life.

It cruelly crushes and mangles his ego.

His five senses go wild from the talent expanding like a flood.

His focus grows distant then close, his nose becomes dull then sensitive, his ears, mouth, skin – all senses run wild as they please.

Crack! Crack crack!

His brain twists and his territory expands.

“Grrraaahhh!”

Pain worse than when he absorption read ‘the tragic genius William James Sidis’ long ago tears his brain apart and forcibly widens it.

Every muscle from his eyes to his toes twists and writhes.

Crack! Crackle!

“Aaahhh!”

His vision turned pure white.

“I’m back… Kyaaah!?”

The woman who opened the door and entered rushes over urgently.

Johann sprawled on the ground, bleeding from his mouth, nose, and eyes.

“What, what! Why is this happening! No, 911! The 911 number is…!”

Thud!

“Kyaaahhh!”

“I’m fine… No need to call. I was just concentrating for the first time in a while.”

Haven’t you had that experience sometimes?

When you concentrate on something for a long time, your head feels like it’ll explode and you get a nosebleed.

I just did that concentration in compressed form.

“What, what?”

“Could you give me a towel…”

‘What a mess.’

I’m being swept away.

“Could you give me a towel?”

“Uh, yes! Just, just a moment?”

The woman who looked back at Johann wondering if he was really okay eventually ran to one side, and Johann runs his hand through his hair and lets out a long sigh as if he’ll survive.

“So this is why you were reading my memories.”

He was checking if Johann could handle him.

And he must have allowed everything of himself because he thought Johann could handle it.

‘This is… the world that Michelangelo, one of the three great masters of the Renaissance, sees and feels.’

“His perspective.”

A hollow laugh escapes.

Sunlight laden with stone dust.

Wind sweeping over metal shavings scattered on the floor.

Crushed metal shelving.

The amount of information he takes in is different even from things others would just glance at and pass by. The depth of his interpretation is different.

It’s hard to maintain balance against the inspiration and information rushing like a typhoon. One careless moment and I feel like I’ll be swept away and torn apart.

It’s like looking at all phenomena in the world through a microscope, and confidence that he can manipulate all of it according to his will surges through his body.

I’ve absorption read countless geniuses so far, but it wasn’t to this degree.

“If I had to find someone similar… maybe Paganini, Rachmaninoff, or Sidis.”

Great geniuses who turn all things in the world into inspiration and utilize all of it.

“Here, here!”

“Oh, thank you.”

It’s a towel soaked in water. She has good sense.

Johann, who wiped his face several times with the towel, recalls Kisago’s request.

As soon as he does, ‘Michelangelo, Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni’ provides the answer.

He scolds him. Asking if he really needs to think about something so trivial.

‘Yes, yes. You’re so great.’

Johann grumbles and stands before a torso-sized marble.

“Ah, that’s Carrara marble that’s been widely used since ancient Roman times, and those elegant gray veins are incredibly luxurious, right? It’s extremely expensive so be careful…”

“Hup.”

Kuuwoong!

“Kyaaaaaaah!”

Johann ignores the screaming woman and stands in front of another marble slab.

“Th-that’s… W-wait! Wait! I’ll get it down for you-!”

Kuuuung!

“Kyaaaaaaaah!”

Kuuuung! Kuuuung! Kuuuung!

“Hmm. Is this enough?”

Johann nods as he looks at the marble slabs he pulled from the shelf and picks up his mobile phone.

“Yeah, Emily. Could you bring some watercolor paint to the address I’m about to send you? Yeah. Please.”

After giving the address and ending the call, Johann heads to the table where the tools are gathered.

He picks up a chisel and hammer and stands before the marble.

‘Carrara…’

The marble that Michelangelo used when carving the statue of David.

The form needed for Kisago’s request, the animal, is trapped within this stone.

‘Let’s begin.’

“H-how much are you going to use? I’ll cut it for…!”

Johann places the chisel against the marble and raises the hammer high before striking down.

Kaaaaaaang!

“…”

The woman has lost her mind.

* * *

“Is this the place?”

Emily stands in front of Kisago’s Art Studio and picks up her mobile phone.

“Who are you?”

“Hello. I’m Emily Sherman, Johann’s girlfriend. I brought what Johann requested.”

“Oh! Really?”

He must have already started.

“Come in.”

Kisago opens the door and enters, then furrows his brow.

Kiiiiik!

It’s not because of the sound of the carving knife scraping stone.

It’s because of Johann, who continues carving stone without turning around despite clearly hearing the door open, and the black woman standing beside him, staring intently at something.

‘He’s incredibly focused?’

Why is that?

What is he carving, and what is she watching so intently?

Kisago approaches with large steps and his eyes widen.

He hastily covers his mouth to prevent a scream from escaping.

‘A b-bird?’

As the carving knife draws a single line, one barb appears on a feather. Then another appears, and another, until it becomes a complete feather.

As the carving knife dances, a bird is born—no, a bird that was trapped in the very faintly blue-tinted white marble reveals itself.

A small bird the size of a fist tries to flutter its wings.

But what’s truly shocking isn’t that.

‘A fox!’

Below the slender legs stands a blue-white fox looking somewhere. It’s smiling gently, as if warmly or somewhat wistfully.

‘As if seeing someone off!’

Kwaaang!

Lightning strikes in his head.

Was Johann’s talent at this level?

‘No, it’s not just talent!’

This is a realm that can only be reached by those who, despite being born with immense talent, have poured countless hours of effort into their craft.

Someone at that level is concentrating without even breathing. He’s completing his artwork.

‘I mustn’t interfere! Absolutely not!’

He must never disturb this moment.

Kisago, regretting his actions from moments before, holds his breath and cheers on the bird being brought forth.

Come out quickly. Come out and breathe.

But…

“Wow, it’s beautiful! But why is it blue-white?”

“…?!”

The moment Kisago and the black woman glare at Emily in shock, an even more shocking situation unfolds.

“Long ago in a village in Scandinavia, white had several meanings.”

‘He’s not concentrating?!’

“Winter and trials…”

Trials filled with many deaths like freezing and starvation.

Certainly not a good meaning.

“Emily, have you ever seen a snowy field covered in dawn mist?”

“No? But it sounds beautiful.”

“Right. It’s incredibly beautiful and mysterious.”

But from the day this blue-white mist begins to appear, white takes on a different meaning.

“The end of trials. One last remaining wait. Spring approaching soon.”

It’s a signal that spring is not far away.

“That’s when this white fox and white bird approach near the village.”

They come wrapped in blue-white mist.

“They cry ‘kaang kaang’ and chirp ‘cheep cheep.’ They approach risking danger because their food has run out, but how could people know that back then.”

They simply treat them as messengers sent by the gods with utmost care.

And the warriors of Scandinavia prepare to go out to sea.

“Raiding? Fishing?”

“No, more precisely, they prepare to send off.”

The brothers, wives, children, and parents who died during winter.

Winter, which even the gods turn away from.

Now that spring is coming, now that the gods are beginning to look back, they prepare to send their souls to the gods.

Though it’s a long journey with an unknown arrival time, they don’t hesitate to put their family on boats and send them off to sea.

Even when winds rage, even when rain falls.

“The white bird and white fox are messengers sent by the gods, announcing that the path to the gods has opened.”

Messengers who return to the gods to announce who will come to their side.

“Ah!”

It’s not just Emily. Kisago and the woman also cover their gaping mouths.

The animals and story that fit perfectly with Kisago’s artwork.

Kisago and the woman don’t know what to do with the shivers coursing through their entire bodies.

“You brought the paint, right? Give it here.”

“Yeah! Here!”

Johann takes a water container, fills it with water, and squeezes paints onto a palette.

Swish swish swish!

Smooth movements as if mixing carelessly.

‘Wow, look at that color.’

As befitting a masterpiece among masterpieces, exactly the desired color emerges.

Even Michelangelo glares with envy.

Johann dips the brush in water, picks up the mixed paint, and boldly dabs it on the fox’s eyes.

‘Gasp?!’

screams out.

Because this alone was already perfectly complete.

Because adding something to perfection might make it strange.

Praying it won’t become strange, he anxiously holds his breath with a nervous heart.

Tap!

A black dot containing a star in the center is placed, and the surroundings are dyed with a mysterious blue color that holds the winter sea.

And it comes alive.

Life is breathed into the body that had been rigidly hardened until just moments ago. It feels as if it might move at any moment, as if it’s breathing.

“My, my goodness!”

Kisago finally let out a scream.

* * *

“Why on earth…”

Several of the students helping with Kisago’s exhibition scrunch up their faces.

Then several other students throw cold smiles at them.

“You really don’t know?”

“…Damn it.”

They were people who had held carving knives for over ten years. There was no way they truly didn’t know why Kisago chose Johann as a collaborating artist.

Truly overwhelming talent.

It was such a vast difference that they couldn’t even think they could catch up even if they held carving knives for another ten years.

They lose strength. Their motivation disappears.

Though they want to put down their carving knives and leave right now, those who feel sorry for the months of effort they put in watch Johann and Kisago emerging through the door with bleak eyes.

“Careful! Careful!”

“I know! I know!”

Kisago makes a fuss watching Johann and the Black Woman carrying a large wooden box inside.

Johann sighs watching the Black Woman struggling.

“Just let go. I can carry it alone.”

“How can you carry this alone… You can?”

“I said I can carry it alone.”

Swoosh!

Johann, who set the box down in front of the longship sculpture, opens the lid and boldly puts both hands into the cushioning material filling the box.

“What, what are you doing!”

Kisago urgently grabs Johann’s arm.

“It won’t break. It won’t break from this much.”

Is this sculptor disrespecting the stone called marble?

“No!”

If it were an ordinary sculpture, Kisago himself wouldn’t have acted like this.

But the bird placed on top of the fox’s head is the problem.

A white bird standing on the white fox’s head with two legs thinner than a pinky finger.

It could break at any moment. It would break with just a tap.

“Come on, be good? You need to let go of my hand?”

“…Sigh.”

‘It’s all calculated though.’

The strength of marble, weight distribution, balance – Michelangelo calculated it all.

However, seeing Kisago’s expression that seemed unwilling to compromise, Johann sighed once more and stepped back.

As Johann stepped back, Kisago let out a big sigh of relief and took out a knife from his back pocket to cut the packaging string wrapped around the wooden box.

The Black Woman carefully opens her hands holding the box.

Swoosh!

Cushioning material flowing down in all directions.

“Huh! Why all the fuss…”

Professor Paul, who was approaching, closes his mouth.

The assistants and participants swallow their breath.

‘A fox? A bird?!’

They’re living animals. That’s what they brought in a wooden box filled with cushioning material.

Sculptures that looked so much like real animals that such a misunderstanding could occur.

They could do nothing but remain silent in shock.

Professor Paul, who had been blankly watching Johann arrange the sculptures, approaches. He pulls Kisago’s arm and leads him to a corner.

“Will it be okay?”

“…I’m not sure.”

What he had thought was insufficient had been filled to the point of overflowing.

Yes. It had overflowed. The focus could easily shift.

‘No, it will shift!’

Even if Kisago himself were a visitor, he felt he would look for Johann’s animal sculptures first rather than his own sculptures.

‘But… it’s too precious to give up!’

Quality too precious to abandon.

“Let’s do a check first.”

“…Let’s do that.”

The two head toward the exhibition booth with dark expressions, where black basalt is placed and a large book is installed as if floating above it.

He bites his lip and turns on the lighting.

Then…

“Huh?!”

“Ah!”

It disappears. The presence of the crow sitting on the rock looking at the book, the presence and vitality that had been alive and breathing until the lighting was turned on, fades.

It melts into the basalt, the sea rock.

“…?!”

They urgently look at Johann.

To this, Johann smiled.

‘I calculated even this.’

Sculptures carved and calculated to blend 100 percent into Kisago’s work, so that Kisago’s work would be highlighted first.

Michelangelo voices his dissatisfaction.

At not being the main focus himself.

But that’s only for a moment. Johann, Michelangelo looks at the dark sea where the book floats with trembling eyes.

‘Has art developed this far…!’

A shock greater than what he felt while reading Johann’s memories strikes Michelangelo.

Tears well up.

‘What was sculpture!’

What was painting!

Art is what breathes eternity into a moment.

Art and artists are those who implement and express phenomena and imagination through the artist’s inner vision.

‘But no one…’

Neither himself, nor da Vinci, nor Raphael could carve the sea like this.

They couldn’t tear off and show the night sky like this.

They merely captured and expressed frozen moments, but couldn’t make them move alive like this.

It’s breaking apart. His concepts.

It’s shattered. His stubbornness.

It’s expanding. His world.

“Jo, Johann?!”

Ah, art!

Great permission!

Gift of God!

Johann wipes the nosebleed that bursts out as thrills surge through his entire body and rushes outside.

He looks at the cars and people walking on the bleak asphalt.

‘Art wasn’t dead after all!’

Concrete buildings with no aesthetic sense whatsoever, despite being on an art street.

He thought it had regressed.

He thought the art he remembered was dead.

But it wasn’t.

It had evolved.

It had changed.

It had changed and evolved to match the developing world.

Johann stops a young girl passing by in front of him.

“Excuse me, could I trouble you for a moment?”

“I have a boyfriend… Jo, Johann?! Huh? Really?”

The young girl looks around searching for cameras.

“If you don’t mind, could I take a look at your mobile phone?”

“Oh, yes yes. He, here!”

Johann’s stomach churns as he looks at the young girl’s mobile phone.

He sees monsters moving inside the mobile phone.

‘Finally art! Art has finally!’

It had penetrated into the lives of ordinary humans.

An era had come where anyone could freely enjoy art that had once been the exclusive privilege of the wealthy.

A scene he could only dream of.

‘Stop.’

Johann suppressed Michelangelo who was about to burst into laughter of joy and ecstasy.

* * *

A few days later, in front of the building where Kisago’s sculpture exhibition is being held.

A woman with long red curly hair tied back looks at the entrance with dark eyes.

“How many years has it been since his last solo exhibition?”

“Almost 2 years?”

“Johann Jefferson. Johann…”

“Hurry up and come!”

“I’m coming, coming!”

“Aaah. I don’t want to! I said I don’t want to!”

Many people enter the building, each carrying their own expectations.

The woman, Anna, lifts the camera hanging around her neck and takes a picture of the entire scene.

Click!

She moves her lens to the sign next to the entrance where people are taking photos.

Journey- Diana Kisago (Collaborating artists David Paul, Johann Jefferson)

‘Johann… Jefferson?’

A name of a very famous genius that any LA citizen couldn’t help but know, even if they might not know it across all of America.

She blinked her eyes.

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————