The Reborn Genius of an Arts High School - Chapter 1

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 1.
Color and light—the most fundamental elements that allow us to perceive the world.
And the sense of sight that lets us see them.
The year 2000, when the new millennium had begun.
Even as photography became commonplace, the authority of painting as an art form capable of satisfying the human eye remained undiminished.
Beneath Catrin’s fingertips, a spectrum of hues flowed across the canvas.
Thick layers of violet paint filled the canvas completely.
The violet of the sky just after sunset, the red glow swallowed by darkness.
Paint accumulated along the texture of waves, as if the sea itself had consumed that fleeting moment of sky.
‘Within all the excessively cold and explanatory conceptual art, Catrin’s paintings reaffirm the value of warm color.’
— ‘Palette Urban’, October 1999
‘Catrin transforms the light she sees into color and layers it upon the canvas. She does not show the world. She makes us feel it.’
— ‘Croisées’, January 2000
Catrin recalled the critics’ words from the art magazines she had recently received.
Between consciousness and concept.
An era where art requiring explanation to be understood flourished.
Yet in that very landscape, Catrin’s paintings—which instead drew forth the beauty of pure painting—were being recognized.
Merely a torrent of violet laid upon a flat surface.
Not the ordinary blue sea that everyone knew, yet people could feel it all the same.
What Catrin had felt in that sea that day—the tenderness toward the setting sun and the anticipation of the approaching night.
Catrin, who had been layering oil paint so thickly it seemed to have dimension, stopped her brush.
“…….”
Her vision felt constricted.
She wiped her paint-covered hands roughly and stepped back from the canvas she’d been working so close to.
She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and applied the prescribed eye drops, but nothing changed.
“Is that doctor a quack?”
In the outskirts of Saint-Denis, a short distance from Paris.
There was nothing but a mediocre hospital in such a place.
“He said things would improve if I used the drops.”
Unable to see her own painting properly.
Catrin retreated to the far end of the cramped studio wall.
“…Tch.”
An enormous canvas filled entirely with blues, reds, and a variety of violets.
The texture of water and wind breathing across it appeared only in fragments.
Even stepping back until her back touched the wall, she couldn’t see the entire work.
‘It may be temporary retinal contraction due to stress, so perhaps you should reduce your workload.’
Catrin recalled the doctor’s words but shook her head.
Now past thirty, Catrin was only just beginning to see light as a painter.
An orphan of the world, with no one to depend on, no family—an empty rear deck.
Her life, which had begun not at rock bottom but far below it, was finally seeing light.
Only a month remained until her solo exhibition.
‘When would there ever be time to rest?’
The highlight of this exhibition.
The work exceeding 200 号 in size had only the final details left before completion.
The pale golden moonlight pouring across the sea.
She needed to layer it at the very top, clustered where it gathered at the tips of waves and clouds.
Without it, it would be merely dark and mysterious.
The true emotion she intended would not be felt.
There was still time before the paint dried.
‘I should at least get proper medicine.’
The moment Catrin made her decision, she moved.
She had only a few coins to her name, but she gathered them all.
Accompanied by the strong smell of oil paint that wouldn’t wash away no matter how much she cleaned, Catrin headed toward the subway station.
“Ah!”
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry.”
“Watch where you’re going!”
A well-dressed businessman who had collided with Catrin scowled with displeasure.
Catrin’s hands were covered in paint stains that had long since dried and refused to come clean.
The businessman, upon seeing her hands, grimaced and checked his own clothes once more before walking away.
Catrin, shabby in appearance, merely smiled awkwardly at the situation.
If she had started to care what others thought, she could never have walked this path.
Catrin possessed a very strong pride as an artist.
“…….”
Yet one thing nagged at her.
Catrin truly hadn’t seen the businessman who’d bumped into her so close their shoulders touched.
Once she realized it, her vision felt even narrower for some reason.
In the dim underground subway station.
Everything ahead felt hazier and more uncomfortable.
‘I must have pushed myself too hard lately.’
Catrin deliberately suppressed the unease with that thought.
Once this exhibition was finished well, she’d rest a little.
It would be fine.
Everything would work out.
“I’m sorry, but it’s already too late.”
But at the university hospital she reached,
the words she heard were completely different from what she had expected.
“Too late? What do you mean by that…?”
“Retinitis Pigmentosa. Have you heard of it?”
What about the retina? What was happening?
Seeing Catrin’s distorted expression, the doctor continued with a sigh.
“Simply put, it’s a disease where you progressively lose sight from the outer edges inward.”
“Then…!”
If someone had the disease, couldn’t you just treat it?
Before Catrin could finish speaking, the doctor spoke firmly.
“Since it’s a genetic disease, there is currently no cure.”
Her heart sank.
Parents she’d never met—those bastards had left her something like this?
“For now, it would be good to prepare yourself mentally. You’ve retained your sight quite well for quite some time, actually…….”
The doctor continued saying something, but Catrin’s ears didn’t hear it.
What mattered was that there was no way.
No way to cure it.
That cruel reality.
“…….”
What the doctor prescribed at the end was vitamins.
Just a few nutritional supplements supposedly good for the eyes.
And even after paying, she had only one thing left in her hand.
One euro.
‘Now… what am I supposed to do?’
The city of dreams, Paris.
To think she would receive a death sentence as a painter here.
A life spent running toward only paintings.
She’d spent both her teens and twenties in that shabby studio.
The fact that her sight was limited made the despair feel unreal and vague.
“…….”
Moreover, absurdly, Catrin felt hunger.
Even now, her stomach ached.
Come to think of it, it had been two days since she’d had a proper meal.
She’d been absorbed in her work, and now she was worried about her eyes.
“……How pathetic.”
In her pocket, just one euro.
Paris was expensive—she wasn’t sure if she could even buy a single baguette.
With that thought, Catrin walked through the bustling streets for the first time in a long while.
The last time she’d come, it was to receive payment for a sold work.
The hope and joy of that day felt distant now.
What her narrowed vision showed was the countless silhouettes of people moving about busily.
Beneath them, like cockroaches, quick and fleeting then vanishing.
Only countless shadows cast in darkness.
“…….”
Having managed to buy just one baguette, Catrin looked around for a moment.
With her vision so narrowed, she had to turn her head clumsily to see about.
She could see signs marking the Marais District and gallery nameplates along the streets.
Absurdly, as her hunger faded, paintings drew her gaze once more.
As if entranced, Catrin’s steps turned down that alley.
Even if her eyes went blind tomorrow, she wanted to see more paintings.
Pitter-patter—rain began to fall over Paris.
Catrin walked slowly through the crowds of busy people.
Not leisure but desolation seemed to grip her feet, making her steps heavy.
Gallery Montbleu
The nameplate of the gallery where her exhibition would open next month barely came into view.
A large sign clearly visible even from across the wide intersection.
The elegant, refined gallery was currently hosting an exhibition.
Though not a traditional gallery, it was a very hot venue for discovering promising new artists of recent note.
“…….”
Catrin stopped before the crosswalk and took a deep breath.
Only then did her circumstances feel real.
Tears surged up.
Her long-dreamed-of first exhibition might become her last solo show.
And yet, and yet.
She was truly grateful she could do even that.
Just as Catrin steeled her heart, her eyes widened.
“Huh?”
Catrin felt something push against her back.
Her thin body tilted helplessly toward the road.
She spun around desperately, reaching toward whoever had pushed her.
She felt something catch on her fingernails and scratch, but her tilting body didn’t stop.
Honk—!
Her body lifted into the air with the blare of a car horn.
Thud!
A loud impact. Pain. Vertigo.
Within the jumble of sensations, screams pierced her eardrums.
“Kyaaaah!”
“Someone’s run into the road!”
“Someone’s been hit!”
Among the screams of passersby, attachment to her paintings grasped at the end of her life.
Only the unfinished painting filled her mind.
The sea beyond the Etretat Cliffs she had once beheld.
Instead of its moonlight, the hazy light of a street lamp was the last light Catrin saw.
And even that faded into noise and darkness.
***
A humming sound echoed dully.
“What’s for lunch today?”
“They said crispy chicken.”
“Ugh! Crazy, we have Oil Painting for 3rd and 4th period!”
Annoyed jeers soon ring sharply in her ears.
“Hey, Yeji. You okay?”
And she feels a hand tapping her shoulder.
“If it hurts, go rest at the infirmary and eat the chicken before heading home early.”
“Are you serious? That’s what you’re worried about right now?”
…So noisy.
As she raised her heavy body, a sharp headache throbbed.
“…….”
Before her eyes were two pairs of dark brown eyes filled with concern.
Catrin realized she could see.
The wide field of vision, the clarity.
The two people before her and everything around them appeared in sharp focus.
Unfamiliar Asians, an unfamiliar language…….
‘No, wait……. What? What was that just now……?’
Yeji suddenly came to her senses, startled by her own thought.
Catrin? Catrin?
The dream had been so vivid that she’d had an absurd thought.
The boy of the two people before her—Kang Hyunmin—spoke.
“Shouldn’t you go to the hospital?”
Hyunmin wore a very apologetic expression.
He’d been fooling around with a soccer ball since morning, and he’d accidentally kicked it wrong, hitting her.
She’d complained of dizziness and fallen asleep face-down for just a moment.
And had a strange dream.
“Are you really okay?”
Her desk partner and closest friend, Dahye.
To her question, Yeji couldn’t answer right away.
The memories were too vivid to simply dismiss as a dream.
Thirty-some years lived as Catrin.
A life lived with stubborn devotion to art through poverty and prejudice.
“I guess I should go to the hospital….”
Yeji murmured absently.
Even she thought it was ridiculous.
She calmed Hyunmin and Dahye, who were trying to drag her to the office to get an early dismissal slip.
Throughout the monotonous class periods that followed, Yeji’s mind remained somewhere else entirely.
Was it just a dream? Or had she somehow recalled a past life?
Even in this unrealistic situation, her body moved automatically through the familiar routine.
“Tell me right away if you feel dizzy again…!”
3rd period. Oil Painting practice.
Dahye, seated before her easel, whispered to avoid the teacher’s notice.
Her own easel and the sketch upon it felt oddly unfamiliar.
A simple vase by the window with an underpainting already applied.
‘Is this really my painting?’
This brush and palette. The water cup. The easel.
Though they were certainly hers, nothing about them felt familiar.
“…….”
In her confusion, Yeji hesitantly picked up her brush.
On the palette, before she knew it, she began mixing red and violet.
Her brush, heavy with paint, pressed firmly against the canvas.
“…….”
In that moment, Yeji understood.
Along with the sensation vivid in her fingertips, certainty arrived.
What followed was an absorption close to losing oneself.
Yeji squeezed all the paint she had onto the palette and moved her brush without hesitation.
“Okay, everyone stop and clean up for lunch.”
It was only when the bell rang and the teacher spoke that Yeji stopped her brush.
“Come on, hurry and clean up so we can grab some food…….”
Dahye, about to hurry Yeji along, stopped mid-sentence when she saw her painting.

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