The Reborn Genius of an Arts High School - Chapter 10

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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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Chapter 10.
Jung Do-hyeon, Director of Bellagio Gallery.
He served as a judge for the fine arts category of Cheongrim’s end-of-year comprehensive practical skills exhibition, known in short as Yeonsiljong.
After judging for several years, he’d grown accustomed to parents pressing all manner of gifts and money into his hands.
He’d only felt pangs of conscience those first few times.
By now, he’d long since grown comfortable and numb to it all.
“It’s nothing much. You know my son got into Cheongrim this year, right?”
The daughter-in-law of a former cabinet minister.
That’s all he’d remembered of the woman who handed him a cake box.
Inside the box, familiar fifty-thousand-won notes were packed solid.
“Could I see what kind of painting it is?”
“Oh, of course. You won’t find it burdensome.”
Contrary to his expectations of something unremarkable, Kim Ji-an’s painting—her son’s work—was quite decent.
Even without this, he would’ve expected him to place in the upper ranks.
The sort of work university professors craved: standardized, direct, faithful to the fundamentals.
“I’ll send my regards to your father as well.”
So he took the money without hesitation, as she’d suggested.
The painting was good enough that giving it a high score would satisfy everyone else.
He’d thought of it as clean money.
Until Ye-ji emerged as an unexpected wildcard.
…….
The Yerim Art Center, emptied for the second round of judging.
An awkward silence hung among the judges as they entered the exhibition hall.
A damage incident, and now a second round of judging.
As time passed, Do-hyeon became certain of one thing.
Every judge besides Chloe had taken money.
It was obvious from the way they’d all colluded to awkwardly obstruct the second judging.
But he’d thought that even with a second round, nothing would change.
Oil painting? Surely not a decent one from a mere seventeen-year-old?
For a high school student gunning for college admissions, the work had too much pretension.
In any case, no one in South Korea would get into university with a painting like that.
Do-hyeon had preemptively stacked up criticisms of Ye-ji’s work in his mind.
“……The scent of flowers?”
The moment they stepped into the exhibition hall, a rich floral fragrance assailed their senses first.
As if under a spell, they all followed the scent to where the painting stood.
Full Bloom.
In the hushed silence where everyone held their breath.
Beneath the descending spotlight, dozens of flowers cast shadows in a single direction.
Brilliant yellow roses in full bloom were permeating the space with their fragrance.
…….
Do-hyeon found himself stepping closer to the painting.
Though heavily abstracted and blurred, there was a clear underlying structure even within that abstraction.
The difference between horizontal and vertical lines, perspective understood and compressed versus perspective muddled through ignorance, was unmistakable.
Just as a Picasso and a child’s drawing might look separated by a hair’s breadth, yet their impact differs profoundly.
‘How could a seventeen-year-old possibly create something like this?’
Do-hyeon found himself looking at Chloe again.
A stubborn foreign painter with nothing but notoriety to her name.
Or so he’d thought, but it was different.
It was he who’d been stubborn, he who hadn’t truly looked at the work.
Chloe—she was the one with genuine vision.
“But still, how could this be acceptable? A competition should be decided by actual painting skill.”
“Fresh flowers aren’t the student’s own work, are they? It’s just placing flowers in the canvas.”
“Exactly. All the other students’ work will look dead when compared to this scent she’s added…….”
Do-hyeon heard the other judges making forced criticisms.
The wound where she’d ruthlessly carved through the flower drowsing on canvas.
The trace of the canvas ripped diagonally in two, and through that fissure, flowers breaking through and growing.
At the moment of full bloom, no matter what oppressed or hindered it—
Rather, the more it was opposed, the more brilliantly it seemed to declare it would bloom.
Transcending the flat plane into three dimensions, bursting into the real world, the flowers exuded overwhelming presence.
But so what?
“Right. No matter how you look at it, we can’t give points for such gimmickry…….”
How could he justify having already taken the money?
Do-hyeon scrambled to dredge up whatever excuses he could.
As he did, a single petal fell from the work, drifting down helplessly.
It came to rest gently on the clear acrylic placed beneath the piece.
…….
…….
At the sight, the judges who’d been offering commentary fell silent.
As if the meaningless argument itself was causing the work’s full bloom to wither.
A petal detached from the magnificent work and fell indifferently.
“Competition regulations only require that three-dimensional works and spatial applications not infringe on others’ space.”
Chloe, who’d been absorbed in the work, suddenly spoke.
A single tear rolled down her cheek as she wiped it away.
Do-hyeon vaguely empathized with why she was crying.
It was a work of sufficient depth and resonance.
But that resonance proved fatally damaging to Do-hyeon in another sense.
“But there’s also a collage work over there—if reinterpreting existing objects becomes a regulatory problem, wouldn’t that work also be disqualified from judging?”
Though her eyes remained fixed on the work in contemplation, Chloe’s words were sharp.
“That’s… not… necessarily…the case…….”
Do-hyeon stumbled through his words awkwardly, glancing nervously at those around him.
Duchamp’s Fountain.
He’d submitted a mass-produced urinal as a work, expanding the definition and scope of art itself.
In an age where meaning and intent could turn anything—manufactured goods or organic matter—into a work of art.
To question now whether this flower-staged work constituted art was a meaningless debate.
Rather, the question was: what did the artist express through this work?
In contemporary art, that was what mattered most.
“……Ah, no.
If the work were merely excellent in theoretical terms, he might’ve had grounds to nitpick.
But the oil painting technique employed and the direction skills demonstrated were both superb.
The flawless Impasto Technique gave depth and vitality matching the accumulated pigment itself.
Moreover, combined with the angled lighting falling from the side, it unified the work and flowers into one.
That unity drew Do-hyeon into the concentration that allowed him to remain absorbed in the work all this time.
‘There’s nothing to fault…….’
Artists like Lucio Fontana and Alberto Burri had already employed canvas damage in their works.
The spatial sense created in reality by ruptures originating from canvas.
Full Bloom advanced beyond the sort of open-ended approach those artists had taken in simply opening that spatial sense.
Flowers blooming luxuriantly in the space revealed as the canvas split open, bursting into reality.
It clearly carried the artist’s intention.
The flower language of yellow roses.
1. Perfect Achievement.
2. Jealousy.
Because the work was dreamlike and beautiful, its interpretation could vary depending on the viewer.
But the text accompanying the piece clearly guided that interpretation.
This work is the artist’s Perfect Achievement, yet it is destined to wither by someone’s Jealousy.
‘Depending on the judges’ choice, the order could change.’
Destined to wither by someone’s Jealousy, yet capable of becoming the artist’s Perfect Achievement.
As Do-hyeon stood contemplating the work, shame burned across his entire face.
It felt as though the painting itself was reproaching him for the unethical choice he was about to make.
‘If that woman had just stayed out of it…!’
Do-hyeon felt his escape route cut off before this flawless work.
If this piece failed to receive a high score, the situation would become awkwardly inconsistent.
It would be enough to raise questions about the judges’ competence, or suspicion of bribery.
If only there’d been no unnecessary damage incident to the work!
Then at least he’d have had an excuse!
The second round of judging had made the work evolve even further.
For anyone with eyes, it was an undeniable truth.
The second round of judging thus concluded over several hours.
The moment judging ended, Do-hyeon headed straight to a certain mansion in Cheongdam-dong.
“…What brings you here at this hour? You said today was the second round of judging.”
The woman who emerged from the mansion was Kim Ji-an’s mother, the wife of the former cabinet minister.
But none of that mattered anymore.
Do-hyeon returned the cake box filled with cash he’d been uneasily holding to her.
“What is this…. Do you think this is child’s play? If we take it and give it back, does that make it never happened?”
“And who created this situation in the first place…!”
Do-hyeon barely restrained himself from raising his voice.
Without physical evidence, Do-hyeon was nonetheless certain she was behind the damage to the work.
Pressing down his anger, he spat out each word to her like a warning.
“I can overlook the bribery, but damaging another student’s work—that’s a different matter entirely, isn’t it?
“W-What are you talking about!”
Ji-an’s mother responded hastily, flustered by Do-hyeon’s words.
“Evidence? Do you have any? You’re accusing an innocent person…….”
“You still don’t grasp the situation?! That’s not what matters!”
Do-hyeon pressed on sharply.
“If this becomes a scandal, you won’t just ruin your son’s future—your father-in-law’s political career will be destroyed too. Can you handle that?”
“For heaven’s sake…. When were you so eager to take that dirty money? Now you’re acting clean?”
That was true.
But Do-hyeon had already shifted direction to minimize his own guilt.
He’d returned the money, and the grades would be scored fairly.
“Damn it! If there was a genius like that, the manipulation should’ve been done carefully! You’ve blown this way out of proportion!”
This wasn’t a neighborhood festival—you couldn’t hand out obviously biased scores at Yeonsiljong.
He couldn’t stake his entire career on a mere few thousand won.
Just then, someone came running out of the mansion.
“Wait a moment!”
The boy crying out, Do-hyeon recognized immediately despite meeting him for the first time.
That must be Ji-an.
“Still, you shouldn’t do this. If you were going to act like this, why take the money in the first place!”
Ji-an shouted and protested at Do-hyeon, his voice sharp and insistent.
The situation had already descended into chaos, and they were all too busy blaming one another.
Among the vehicles parked on the quiet, upscale residential street,
Click—
The shutter sound rang out from one car.
Unaware that everything was being recorded through the cracked window.
They were carelessly confessing their own crimes.
***
‘Cheongrim, opening new futures with outstanding works!’
‘Yeonsiljong, the stage born from students’ passion, concludes triumphantly.’
‘The fruit of students’ creative spirit…… Yeonsiljong seizes both achievement and glory’
Articles about Yeonsiljong appeared across all manner of arts and culture magazines and newspapers.
Thus, Yeonsiljong concluded brilliantly, drawing widespread attention.
The incident of Ye-ji’s work being damaged was downscaled to merely the extraordinary process by which an exceptional work came to be.
Though not a pleasant situation, paradoxically the work itself attracted even more attention as a result.
So much so that a few media outlets made interview requests.
“There are a few people interested in buying the work—are you thinking of selling it?”
After the exhibition ended, her homeroom teacher even carefully asked this.
But Ye-ji had no intention of selling the work right now.
“I’m still looking for the perpetrator.”
The work was still evidence.
So if she sold it, that would only happen after catching the culprit.
At Ye-ji’s words, the teacher nodded.
“If there’s anything I can help with, just tell me anytime.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Ye-ji was grateful that at least her school teachers remained somewhat favorably disposed toward her.
If they’d begun suspecting her sudden growth, things would have become complicated.
They’d simply marveled sincerely at the results they’d witnessed with their own eyes.
After smoothly taking her final exams and reaching the point of selecting Western Painting as her major for next year, something amusing happened.
“The reason I called you in separately today was…… well, something else.”
The Oriental Painting Teacher had suddenly called her in to ask if she’d ever consider taking an interest in that field.
Of course, Korean painting had its own charm, and she did have some interest.
Even the folk paintings she’d sketched during class had a certain appeal.
But……
“I’m going to stick with what I planned.”
A major was, after all, a major.
She wanted to continue with oil painting, the one thing she was most confident and passionate about, diving deeper into it.
Especially since in her previous life, she hadn’t even attended university and had only taught herself.
This time, with parents supporting her through university, she wanted to be ambitious.
She wanted to meet and learn from excellent teachers in diverse fields.
As time passed, the end of the second semester drew near.
“Hey! The grades are out!”
During lunch period, dragging on after the final exams ended.
At someone’s shout, everyone rushed to the administration office where the academic posting appeared.

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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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