The Reborn Genius of an Arts High School - Chapter 141

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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 141.
Richard listened to his secretary’s rambling account while reviewing recent acquisitions in his collection.
To him now, artworks were merely currency dressed in respectability.
There had been a time, early on, when viewing paintings stirred his chest and moved him with genuine emotion.
In his younger days, he’d been swept up in such things—accumulated several pieces, if memory served.
But that was before their value skyrocketed, before they outperformed any conventional investment.
These days, he could scarcely recall that old spark.
Still, he’d learned he possessed the eye to distinguish between artworks and artists—so he simply invested. Nothing more.
When the quality and criteria aligned, he bought. When prices climbed toward saturation, he sold.
For him, paintings were merely a market of infinite possibility.
He couldn’t quite say when the shift had begun.
“The artists whose work you’ve collected appear unremarkable. Your regular galleries report nothing unusual either.”
As Richard absorbed the secretary’s uneventful summary, a dull ennui began to settle over him.
It was almost laughable.
Most men would have indulged fantasies, dreams—they’d become a heavyweight financier.
Yet even that life, after a time, grew comfortable and tedious.
Of course, throughout all this he’d been quietly accumulating staggering returns from his primary business—equities trading.
By now it felt as natural as breathing.
Noticing his employer’s gaze, the secretary mentally sifted through his information once more.
Beyond the obvious details.
Something—anything—that might spark genuine interest….
“There is one development worth mentioning. It concerns the Korean market you asked me to watch.”
A small nation, yes, but with a growth trajectory remarkably steep. Korea—a peculiar market where both risk and reward ran high.
It was indeed a curious country.
Its absolute population was limited, so raw market size wasn’t rated particularly high. Yet its growth rate was almost uncanny.
Especially in popular culture—its influence was such that even Hollywood prioritized it.
Its standards were rigorous, its taste unforgiving. A market well worth watching.
Anticipating a flicker of freshness within the tedious briefing, Richard showed interest.
“What is it?”
“Blank is mounting an exhibition in early next year. They’ve already secured a major digital billboard at Times Square.”
Blank?
Richard sifted through the many galleries in his mental database.
“Ah. SS Corporation’s gallery, in Korea?”
“Yes, precisely.”
A gallery with notably refined taste, as befitted a major conglomerate subsidiary.
Though that was only the beginning.
Once they’d found their footing, they began selecting only established names—and interest waned.
They trafficked only in artists already guaranteed to succeed, which was why he’d declined their invitations of late.
“We haven’t received a formal invitation. However, orchestrating such a large advertising campaign is rather unusual.”
As with all gossip in financial circles, the judgment that follows belongs to the individual.
Whether it’s a genuine tip circulating quietly, or an intentionally planted rumor—impossible to say.
Yet regardless, Richard felt a spark of interest for the first time in a while.
“Let me know if you hear anything else on this. Bring it to me.”
“Understood.”
That concluded his briefing.
Watching the secretary organize his papers, Richard could only hope this small curiosity would linger.
***
Before the break ended.
Ye Ji, who’d been holed up almost entirely in her studio, ventured out for once.
Though “venturing out” was really just a supply run—she needed more materials.
“Hey there! Long time no see!”
But today’s shopping came with an unusual companion.
Young, recently returned from the United States where he’d spent the break.
Conveniently, he too had run through his Korean paint supply and needed restocking.
“I’ll be your driver today, so don’t worry about weight—load up everything you need!”
Ye Ji could only laugh at Young’s declaration.
“Will that car even fit all of it?”
Young’s Korean sports car had space efficiency that left much to be desired.
At her observation, Young’s fingers drifted aimlessly for a moment.
“Well, Korea’s got great delivery and courier services anyway, right?”
Right?
His voice was still bright, but Ye Ji sensed something had shifted about him.
A lightness that felt lighter than before, in a way….
It was a paradoxical way to phrase it, but she struggled to find better words.
Where once there’d been a forced levity, now he seemed genuinely at ease.
Fortunately, Ye Ji and Young’s shopping styles aligned well.
Once inside the art supply store, they selected materials with no eye to price—only composition and color mattered. Grab what matched, toss it in.
Always the largest container size.
If something dried out and went unused, so be it.
The thought of painting and running short on a desired color was simply unbearable.
“If you need a larger quantity, we can always import and send it next time!”
Delighted by their approach, the store owner eagerly continued his pitch.
Perhaps she should just buy the largest size in every color while she was at it….
When Ye Ji, briefly unleashed, began to consider impulse-buying everything, it was Young who had to rein her in.
“Whoa, whoa. You planning to turn your studio into a paint warehouse?”
True—she needed space to actually work, space to store finished pieces.
Preparing for the New York exhibition, she was already finding her once-spacious studio slightly cramped.
Completed paintings had to be moved to Hyun Min’s storage as it was.
Coming to her senses, Ye Ji finished the shopping and headed to a restaurant with Young.
Both had other commitments, so they planned a quick meal before parting ways.
“How’s the New York exhibition coming along?”
Young’s question was the one Ye Ji heard most often these days.
Everyone was anticipating it—and so was she.
“Fine. Preparations are going well.”
She always gave the same answer.
She was always doing her absolute best—the kind of work she could never regret.
The outcome, after all, rested with the viewers who saw the work.
She couldn’t predict that, but she could confidently say she was preparing thoroughly.
“That’s good. I’m planning to wrap up my special lectures this semester, then start preparing my own exhibition next year.”
Ye Ji nodded along as Young spoke, his head moving in rhythm.
Though by next year, she herself would be gone from Cheonglim.
The fact that he’d agreed to extend his contract for this year was already unexpected, given his personality.
Young chuckled softly at her reaction.
“You know, when I think about it… what’s the word.”
His Korean was now habitual, but unfamiliar words still didn’t come easily to him.
After a moment of searching, he continued.
“It just so happened that I was expelled from high school right before the end of my first year.”
I didn’t even make it a full year.
At his words, Ye Ji blinked.
“Expelled? Not a voluntary withdrawal?”
“Oh. You didn’t know?”
“Of course not. There’s nothing about it online, and you never mentioned it.”
Taken aback by his casual tone, Ye Ji answered flatly.
Young laughed playfully and replied in a joking voice.
“I thought I’d told you. You often talk like you already know everything about everything.”
Maybe I have some kind of sixth sense.
At his teasing, Ye Ji shook her head firmly.
In any case, whenever a conversation veered toward seriousness, Young had a knack for drifting it away.
“Anyway, that’s how it was. Somehow I ended up attending school with you from your second year, first semester.”
By next semester, it would make four terms together.
“It’s almost like we went to school together the whole time. …Oh! Right. That’s it. Serendipity! The timing was just serendipitous.”
Having found the word at last, Young continued brightly.
“I mean, I came here just to hang out with students, but it feels like I picked something up too. Like, the teacher disappeared and only the students remained, you know?”
If these fragments of his school life could be woven together into a single memory….
Ye Ji felt it had been a worthwhile time, regardless.
And.
“I learned a lot too. You were our teacher, after all.”
Ye Ji spoke with sincerity.
She’d gained new inspiration and perspective from his lectures—far more than she’d expected.
They were decidedly different from the rigid curriculum she’d endured before, and remarkably effective.
“I’m genuinely grateful.”
Since it sounded like a farewell, Ye Ji added with a smile.
“Though of course, we’re not done yet. But that’s the spirit of it.”
Young broke into bright laughter at her words.
“Actually, I think we ended up working way harder than planned. That’s not what we promised at the beginning, right?”
It was a joke, but there was truth to it.
When they’d first started the classes.
Young had suggested they simply play together, yet somehow the lessons had become surprisingly substantive for them both.
“Well, we’d better make the last semester count as just having fun, then~”
He said it playfully, but Young was a reasonably conscientious adult.
Doubtless the next semester would bring substantive lessons woven through the fun.
Being the last, both he and Ye Ji had nothing left but to give their all until the end.
“There was an exhibition scheduled for this year, actually. I cancelled it to be here though.”
This was news to Ye Ji.
Young rarely spoke about his own affairs.
But today, whether some wind had stirred him or he’d undergone some genuine shift in heart, he spoke freely.
He continued without hesitation.
“The work wasn’t sitting right with me, so I cancelled. The gallery said if that’s the case, they’d reschedule for me.”
She didn’t know which gallery.
But it seemed they held his work in considerable regard.
And in Ye Ji’s estimation, his artistic vision deserved exactly that kind of respect.
Then Young explained why he’d brought all this up.
“I was hoping you could come to the next exhibition. That’d mean a lot.”
One semester left.
Once he’d shed whatever regrets or doubts lingered, and the semester ended—once school was truly behind him—.
Would a new chapter begin in his art too?
“Of course. Send me the promotional materials. I’ll definitely be there for the opening.”
By next year she’d be an adult, so there was no reason she couldn’t travel anywhere, to any gallery.
Just as he’d come to her Paris exhibition on a day trip.
Perhaps by next year she’d have become that kind of adult herself.
Young’s transformation and his newfound sense of purpose—whatever artistic philosophy would unfold through them.
Watching not just herself but those around her evolve filled Ye Ji with a profound sense of elevation.
Each day that passed brought fresh anticipation, and the summer drifted by in this gathering of hope.
***
Before long, the break ended and Cheonglim High School’s second semester began.
With the start of the second term, the third-year students grew busier still.
It seemed impossible to get any more pressed for time, yet somehow it proved possible.
Beyond career counseling with their homeroom teachers, students began preparing to fill out university applications.
But that’s where the problem started.
When Ye Ji entered the Administrative Office for her scheduled counseling.
Everyone paid careful attention.
Yet within minutes, when she stood to leave, a murmur rippled through the room.
“What? Why are you leaving so fast?”
“Is she going abroad for university?”
“Has to be, right?”
Amidst the whispered speculation, Ye Ji’s homeroom teacher muttered in a dazed voice.
“She’s not going….”
When everyone turned to ask what he meant, the teacher repeated the phrase, barely audible.
“She’s not going to university….”

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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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