The Reborn Genius of an Arts High School - Chapter 145

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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 145.
To serve as director of Bellaniance required sharp instincts in more ways than one.
It meant not only reading your superior’s moods, but understanding the atmosphere in which the market moved.
Victoria dumped a stack of gallery invitations across the director’s desk.
“In that spirit, here are invitations from the galleries I’ve selected.”
The way she saw it, now wasn’t the time to follow—it was time to hunt for something new.
Of course, finding a suitable artist immediately wasn’t realistic.
But if you kept looking, wouldn’t one eventually surface?
With the eye of someone who’d risen to director, it would certainly be possible to spot one.
But.
“For now.”
The director swept the invitations aside with a wave of his hand toward Victoria.
“Have the Marketing Team heads rotate through and scout a bit. If you find any promising artists, bring me a report.”
The middle-aged director was a man of considerable pride.
He showed no inclination whatsoever to venture out hunting for such things himself.
And yet these days’ trends demanded otherwise.
What kind of era was this?
Most luxury brand directors now approached ambassadors and collaborators directly—those who influenced sales.
For the sake of marketing, they made a point of being seen managing and caring for them in front of journalists.
It was, after all, proof that the brand was youthful and operating with vigor.
To the director’s somewhat old-fashioned instruction, Victoria nodded without a flicker of expression.
“Understood.”
She’d made her proposal, and her superior had declined—that was his call.
In any case, that’s what it meant to be an office worker: you did as you were told.
From where she stood, this approach seemed unlikely to achieve any real image renovation, but she had to go along with it.
Stubbornness that spurned trends and avoided risk-taking could itself be a form of branding, she supposed—but not like this….
‘…I don’t know. It’ll work out somehow.’
It wasn’t a problem for a mere project manager to worry over.
If things went well, there’d be promotion; but if she rubbed someone the wrong way, she’d be miserable the entire time she worked here.
She tried to let it go then, but Victoria found herself looking once more at the invitations that had come back to her hands.
If—if she still had any luck left to unfold her career….
Might she stumble upon a rough diamond by chance?
……
Unable to fully give up, she pored over the invitations once again.
***
Ye Ji, Hak Su, and Sang Chul moved to the first floor, where conversation would be easier.
Between the awkwardly assembled group hung an equally awkward atmosphere.
The clink of ice in cold coffee broke the silence.
Hak Su spoke first.
“When did you say the New York exhibition is?”
“Um… March….”
Which meant, in effect, that she’d have to miss school because of the exhibition right after the semester began.
Ye Ji had counted this as one of the reasons she might have to give up on entering university.
Like everything else, the first button matters in group life.
The first month of the first semester.
If she stayed hidden and appeared only later?
Wouldn’t that mean missing the window to make friends?
She had no intention of deliberately creating such an awkward situation.
But the professors had other thoughts.
Sang Chul actually nodded as though this worked out perfectly.
“Ah, well then….”
Hak Su also nodded pointedly as he spoke.
“If she holds a major American exhibition right after enrollment, wouldn’t that dispel any doubts among the students?”
“If it’s Blank, there won’t be a single art student who doesn’t know the name.”
Watching the two professors nod at each other, Ye Ji found herself running out of responses.
‘Most students don’t have a career like this….’
Korea’s first placement in the Montrebleu Youth Competition.
A prize in Blank’s new project, where she competed alongside adults.
And as a result, she was now preparing for a New York exhibition.
No other nineteen-year-old in Korea could claim the same résumé.
She could roughly guess why they were so eager to bring her in.
But regardless of Ye Ji’s expression, Hak Su continued his explanation.
“There’s no need to worry about such concerns. Just think of celebrity special admissions—people are more curious than resentful about such exceptions.”
Not that she could interrupt an adult mid-sentence.
Ye Ji listened to the professors’ explanation, still uncertain whether this was the right move.
“When celebrities enroll on television, everyone pays attention.”
“And besides, students appreciate when someone who enters via special admission actually delivers results worthy of it.”
That famous person is a student at our school.
Just that alone boosted student pride in the institution.
Hak Su and Sang Chul each found supporting points, building their case to persuade her.
“Of course, it wouldn’t be completely equal to everyone else’s university experience.”
Hak Su seemed to have thought through, from multiple angles, what doubts might have led Ye Ji to consider rejecting enrollment.
He’d clearly spent time wrestling with her perspective.
“But wouldn’t your particular situation actually benefit from being in a different league altogether?”
University was where people who’d been praised as excellent in their respective regions all converged.
Korea University was the very peak of that.
And Hak Su, after so many years as a professor, knew well that such a gathering bred no small amount of jealousy and rivalry.
“Better to be openly in a different tier than to pretend you’re the same. And in a way, it’s cleaner that way too.”
High school arts had a similar, if smaller, atmosphere.
Someone as conspicuously exceptional as Ye Ji would have felt the envious gazes of those around her.
And judging from her nature alone, he could guess she’d have chafed at such attention rather than enjoyed it.
Having grasped Ye Ji’s heart, Hak Su added to his explanation.
“A sense of camaraderie with fellow students. A career accomplished enough to inspire genuine pride in that community.”
After all, it wasn’t all rivalry.
The better Ye Ji did, the stronger her work became—
Even though she was simply committed to her art, her peers would feel support and pride in her.
Not that Ye Ji was unaware of this.
She’d already experienced all of it, just as Hak Su described.
Beyond that, there were people who’d gained fame or promotions as a result of her success.
Understanding it in that same context, the points Hak Su was making began to feel reasonable.
“A special admission itself—that kind of singularity—would be plenty sufficient.”
A normal student would feel admiration and aspiration, dreaming of achieving something like that.
Of course, being human, some jealousy and envy would inevitably exist.
But if you accounted for every twisted sentiment out there, you’d never make a decision.
Rather, because she’d be a different tier entirely, not a peer to compete with, the community would more readily embrace her as someone elevating their collective standing.
What Hak Su was saying struck at the exact core of Ye Ji’s anxieties.
Sensing that he actually understood her position to some degree, she found herself growing more interested in their proposal.
Only then did Ye Ji glance at the documents Sang Chul had given her.
From what was written there, her major coursework could apparently be substituted with exhibition preparation and similar work.
She found herself wondering if universities were really this autonomous by nature.
But since it was a course that required actual exhibition as proof of completion, it merely seemed easier for Ye Ji.
Mounting an exhibition of social standing was itself a rare opportunity to obtain.
So probably, up until now, this system had been nonexistent in any practical sense.

‘…Oh, that’s not it at all?’
Ye Ji belatedly noticed the note stating that these relevant courses were being newly established starting next year.
Surely they hadn’t gone this far just for her…?
“Your career is exceptional even by domestic standards,” Sang Chul continued in a persuasive tone.
Even just from the information she’d been given, the scope of activities available to her in university was far freer than she’d expected.
There was no need to scale back her exhibitions or diverse activities.
Enjoying university life.
Being able to consult with various professors while pursuing her artistic practice.
Building a foundation of diverse knowledge and cultivation otherwise difficult to access alone.
The merits of university that Ye Ji might have enjoyed—
They’d carefully extracted and organized only those.

……
Reading the documents, Ye Ji fell into thought.
It truly did seem like an opportunity that would never come again.
But the better it looked, the harder the decision became.
“How about this, then?” Hak Su suggested, noting her continued internal conflict.

“Since we’re in the middle of the semester, why don’t you come sit in on some lectures for a trial run?”
Seeing is believing.
It would surely be better than agonizing over documents that inspired no intuition.
“I’ll send you a list of lectures. Pick whichever ones appeal to you, and I can arrange for you to attend.”
As dean, he had the authority to do that much, Hak Su said with confidence.
It felt like a privilege to her—burdensome, even—but.
University was a decision that would shape the next several years of her life.
“…Thank you very much for thinking so well of me.”
What did it matter if it was a somewhat burdensome privilege?
You took it while you could.
Ye Ji accepted Hak Su’s proposal.
“Then I’ll sit in on some classes first and… think it over a bit more.”
***
After Sang Chul and Hak Su vanished, leaving her with a weighty decision to carry.
A message came through from Chloe.
-How have you been? You must have been so busy.
“I’ve been well. Even so, I’m sure I wasn’t as busy as you.”
-Oh, liar. But it’s nice to hear.
Chloe laughed softly at Ye Ji’s words.
She too had recently wrapped up her postponed solo exhibition to great acclaim.
Though it had been quite a while since they’d last spoken, the conversation flowed without any awkwardness.
Rather, there was a natural warmth to it.
She suspected it was only possible because they shared Catherine as a common thread.
She hadn’t been able to attend the exhibition in person.
But the word filtering through online made it clear Chloe’s exhibition had been a resounding success.
-By the way, isn’t it about time for you to enroll in university too?
For a nineteen-year-old at this point in the year, that would naturally be the most pressing question.
French-born or not, she was half-Korean after all.
Ye Ji smiled slightly at the natural flow of interest.
When she briefly outlined the situation, Chloe responded in a surprised tone.
-Really? So you’re thinking of not going?
“I’m still deliberating about it.”
In the art world, credentials were still quite a significant factor, after all.
That was always the first reaction—surprise.
-I see.
Chloe, who’d been quietly answering, suddenly let out a laugh.
Sensing even she found it abrupt, Chloe added,
-It’s just, I keep thinking you really remind me of someone I know.
And now I find myself seeing that resemblance everywhere.
Though Chloe trailed off, Ye Ji knew exactly who she meant.
-Someone like you probably doesn’t need to learn much in university. That person said exactly the same thing.
At Chloe’s words, tinged with reminiscence, Ye Ji found herself momentarily speechless.
-People with exceptionally rare talent sometimes need time with themselves more than instruction from others.
Chloe said this to show she understood Ye Ji’s position.
Yet paradoxically, Ye Ji felt only more confused by what she’d heard.
She couldn’t even remember how she’d ended the call—the conversation had simply petered out.
Why was she unable to decide this matter cleanly, instead endlessly reconsidering?
Was it because the conditions were too good to refuse?
Or was it fear—that alone, she might become isolated?
……
-You still have a lot on your mind, don’t you.
When Ye Ji fell silent, Chloe spoke in a gentle voice.
She’d never thought of herself as easily swayed.
But apparently an unrecognized problem still remained within her.
Grasping at the issue lodged deep inside—
She found herself unable to avoid thinking again of Catherine, the person Chloe’s gaze had made her recall.
Catherine had certainly said something like that to Chloe once.
It was that she’d been trying to cast off the lingering regrets and hesitations of those days—not to forget everything from that time.
So why wasn’t she recalling it all, acting as though she’d forgotten?
Ye Ji suddenly found herself remembering a day from the distant past.

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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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