The Reborn Genius of an Arts High School - Chapter 137

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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 137.
Moo Young felt her emptiness and lack like a weakness.
So she’d wanted to fill that void in her work.
But accepting it was nothing more than recognizing herself.
She thought of it as stagnation, as failure to grow.
And yet… perhaps it really was, quite literally.
‘Did I really need to fill it at all…?’
Like beer and whiskey—different things.
Most would call whiskey the more refined spirit, but people sought out both for their distinct charms, the way they appreciated what each offered.
She didn’t have to think of her own emptiness only as something she needed to overcome and rise above.
“…Sigh.”
Why had she been unable to grasp something so obvious until now?
Moo Young breathed out a short sigh.
She drained the beer in one gulp, crushed the can, and tossed it into the trash.
A thought followed: what she’d felt from Ye Ji was perhaps closer to admiration.
She was someone who understood herself with ruthless clarity.
As though she’d lived through profound regret and doubt about existence itself.
What she wanted, what she should do, what she could do.
She grasped all of it with an unsettling precision.
Unlike most people, who let momentary passion and desire sweep them into choices and actions regardless of intellect, Ye Ji was different.
That was the unbridgeable gap between her and Ye Ji.
To know what she wanted, what she should do, what she could do.
For herself, floundering in all three, what she lacked now wasn’t something to fill the void.
It was acknowledging that void and coming to know herself better. That was what she needed.
Why had she not understood until now that acceptance wasn’t stagnation—it was growth itself?
……
Moo Young swept all the canvases scattered across the living room to one side and stacked them up.
Canvases torn, creased, and broken, layered with emptiness and conflict.
Atop the ruined things, she began to pour paint without hesitation.
This was a kind of hill of awakening, a burial ground for the past that had trapped her in its frame.
With inspiration blooming for the first time in ages, she threw herself into the work with fervor for a long while.
***
Hae Yun’s studio, located in Jeongeup.
The sweltering summer was no different in the mountains.
Among the disciples gathered around eating the chilled fruit punch, Jung Won was showing off the new mobile phone he’d bought.
The Goyo Edition, all the rage these days.
Hae Yun, who’d been glancing at it now and then, asked a question.
“That’s gotten that popular lately?”
“It really has!”
Jung Won spoke cheerfully and showed the phone to Hae Yun as well.
The familiar traces of paint were reproduced exactly on its surface.
Jung Won chattered away to him as he fingered the back of the device.
“My little sister wants one too, so I’ve already got her name on the third-batch preorder.”
Han Gyu, watching Jung Won and Hae Yun, asked a question.
“Didn’t you say your sister doesn’t do art?”
“No, she doesn’t. But this thing—even kids who don’t know the first letter of art want to have it now, you know? Either way, it’s pretty, isn’t it?”
Jung Won added that high school students were the age when they wanted everything that was trendy.
“Besides, Goyo is an artist who’s worked with Celian too. The fact she’s pretty famous helps a lot.”
What kind of reaction would come if people found out that the creator of this product was actually a high school student?
When Ye Ji had said she was using a pen name for commercial work to avoid unnecessary gossip.
At the time, Han Gyu had thought it wasn’t quite necessary to go that far.
But… seeing the reaction this had gotten…
‘It was worth it, then.’
The public was more narrow-minded than one might think.
Chances to be evaluated purely on one’s work were rare.
She’d gotten that chance by hiding behind a pen name, but now it seemed like Ye Ji’s time in that shelter was running short.
Ye Ji would gradually be weighed down by her own name.
Though she’d avoided qualifiers about age and background, now the achievements of the past would become those qualifiers instead.
The public would endlessly demand that she create something even better than what she’d done so far.
“I’ll clean up! Let me do it!”
Jung Won, noticing that everyone had finished, shoved the last piece into his mouth and stood up.
Watching the disciples each take on their share of the cleanup, Han Gyu also rose from his seat.
These days the atmosphere in the studio had become harmonious in a way it never had been before.
Hae Yun, standing up, kept glancing at Jung Won’s back for some reason.
Seeing that, Han Gyu, barely suppressing a smile, spoke softly.
“If you want one, why not just ask Ye Ji about it?”
“Who said they wanted one?!”
So she was envious of the Goyo Edition Jung Won had bought.
Hae Yun, grumbling needlessly, went back to shutting herself in the studio.
Watching her, Han Gyu let out a small laugh and turned his gaze toward the calendar on the wall.
July had arrived with its thick summer heat.
Hae Yun’s exhibition in Montrebleu had had its date fixed.
It would be next summer—exactly one year from now.
As for when to tell Ye Ji, he wasn’t sure yet. But Hae Yun was pouring all her energy into preparing for the exhibition.
Han Gyu quietly confirmed the schedule with her in a way that wouldn’t interfere with her work as she resumed it.
“You do remember that Dean Lee Hak Su is scheduled to visit this afternoon, right?”
“……Oh, right. Is that today already?”
Hae Yun’s characteristic indifference to most people remained unchanged.
Yet despite that, many things were clearly shifting.
“Yes, today, so do keep that in mind.”
Dean Lee Hak Su was considered the top dean of Korean University’s Art School in the country.
He had once tried to bring Hae Yun on as a professor, but her tenure as an instructor had been very brief.
Though Hae Yun and Lee Hak Su had been painting together since their youth, their temperaments were completely opposite.
While Hae Yun was withdrawn, Lee Hak Su was remarkably open and personable.
And he had also been Han Gyu’s professor during his university years.
As Han Gyu handled various odds and ends, time slipped away, and soon the appointed hour arrived.
Han Gyu greeted Lee Hak Su, who arrived looking dignified.
“Welcome, Professor. How have you been?”
“Ah, yes. You’ve been well, Han Gyu?”
Though Hae Yun and Lee Hak Su were the same age, Lee Hak Su appeared considerably younger on the surface.
Since it was clear he’d been doing well, Han Gyu exchanged pleasantries lightly.
“Of course. Please, come in.”
Upon entering Hae Yun’s studio, the scent of ink, stone dust, and paper hung thick in the air alongside the stretched hanji paper everywhere and the general disarray.
It was quite different from the chemical smell that would drift from an oil painter’s workspace.
But Lee Hak Su began nagging the moment he stepped inside.
“Stop just running the air conditioning and open some windows for ventilation, will you? An old person like me needs to think about living a long life.”
“If you came here just to nag, get out. So you became a dean—do you have that much free time?”
The way they bickered with each other made them seem quite close.
No matter how many years passed, there was no helping it—one’s manner of speech reverted to that thoughtless youth when seeing an old friend.
“So, you’ve made peace with that Moo Young fellow, haven’t you?”
Lee Hak Su, easing into ordinary conversation, asked the question somewhat casually.
“……?”
Hae Yun finally set down her brush, a look on her face asking what he meant.
“Why do you look like you’re hearing this for the first time?”
Well, because she was hearing it for the first time…
To Hae Yun’s mind, at their last meeting, Moo Young had seemed to dismiss her.
Though she herself had apologized for the past, there hadn’t really been any situation that could be called a reconciliation.
That was reconciliation?
Watching Hae Yun frown and then tilt her head in confusion repeatedly, Lee Hak Su shook his head slowly.
“……You two need to actually talk to each other, you hear me? Heavens, master and student alike—how can you be so alike? Both just bottling things up inside…!”
Lee Hak Su spoke with exasperation, cleared a corner of the cluttered sofa, and sat down.
Then he took a pamphlet from his jacket pocket and set it down.
“This one asked me to pass it along to you for a reason. I had a feeling something was off about it.”
Hae Yun, still bewildered, checked the pamphlet.
It contained specific information about location and dates.
Should she be relieved that reconciliation had been achieved?
Or should she curse Moo Young for being unclear about it and leaving it ambiguous?
Unable to make up her mind, Hae Yun was answered by Lee Hak Su continuing.
“That fellow’s upcoming exhibition in the United States. This is the pamphlet for it.”
Hae Yun, not sure what to make of it, fingered the pamphlet.
The piece she’d seen at Moo Young’s studio the last time was printed large on the pamphlet.
Though the inside contained passages of introduction all written in English.
“…That’s impressive. Is that the United States exhibition you mentioned?”
It was a substantial exhibition being held at The Phase Gallery, which was renowned even in the United States.
Han Gyu briefly explained the contents for Hae Yun, who didn’t read English well.
As Hae Yun stared at the pamphlet, Lee Hak Su asked again.
“And you’re exhibiting in France too, I hear?”
How on earth did news leak out of this studio so easily?
Hae Yun clicked her tongue and spoke.
“Where did you hear that?”
“Haven’t I introduced you to one or two disciples? When you live young like I do, young people just naturally bring you all sorts of information.”
Concerned that his friend was aging stubbornly, Lee Hak Su launched into another round of complaints.
Perhaps it was because he continued to meet young students.
Lee Hak Su certainly looked considerably younger than someone the same age as Hae Yun, enough that his manner seemed almost disrespectful at first glance.
In any case, at his complaints, Hae Yun’s expression grew weary.
“If that’s all you’re going to say, just head back to Seoul!”
“My goodness, your temper is always in such a rush. But anyway…”
“Shush!”
“All right, all right. Fine. Anyway, I was curious what kind of wind was blowing through you these days to make you do this.”
The Hae Yun that Lee Hak Su had known acted as though the world beyond Korea wasn’t her domain.
Standing firm in Korea with both feet planted.
As though maintaining tradition in art and keeping her place was her role alone.
That was the Hae Yun who had painted quietly and steadily.
But now suddenly, overseas exhibitions?
From what he’d seen as he came in, the disciples seemed busy assisting with Hae Yun’s unfinished work.
Young people working with sweat beading on their foreheads even under the air conditioning in the hot summer.
It was a vitality that he’d thought could never again be felt in Hae Yun’s studio.
“……There are things like that.”
Since talking it through would be tedious and lengthy, Hae Yun tried to brush it aside.
But Lee Hak Su pressed further at her attitude.
“Is it because of that Ye Ji student?”
At that remark, even Han Gyu, who’d brought in tea, was a little startled.
Really, to what extent exactly was there no privacy in this studio?
Since there was nothing particularly she needed to hide, she hadn’t been bothered, but maybe at this point she should be tightening security?
With that thought, Hae Yun fixed Lee Hak Su with a stare.
“Where did you hear that name?”
To Hae Yun’s question, Lee Hak Su took a sip of the tea Han Gyu had brought.
Lee Hak Su, dean of the Fine Arts College at Korean University.
He hadn’t made a great name for himself with his own art, but he had a respectable career as a mentor.
Directly creating art and teaching were completely different matters, and he had a talent for the latter.
Moreover, he took pleasure in producing students of a caliber worthy of the school’s reputation.
Successful artists whose instruction and management had been credited to his record.
That gave Lee Hak Su great satisfaction.
It hadn’t changed even after he became dean.
Whenever he spotted promising students among the new cohorts, he was quite proactive about looking after them.
“A student told me.”
Among the decent new students this year, he’d heard the story of Ye Ji and Hae Yun from one of them.
“Kang Yura, I believe? She said she was in the same school as this Ye Ji girl last year?”

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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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