The Reborn Genius of an Arts High School - Chapter 19

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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 19.
The sudden proposal naturally brought bewilderment in its wake.
To begin with, it was unclear whether she even belonged in such a space.
A person had to know when to step in and when to step back.
When Ye-ji didn’t answer right away, Seo Tae-gyeong offered his most paternal smile. “Don’t worry. You have more than enough skill for this. There’s no need to fret.”
“But Seohwawon is an Oriental painting specialist gallery,” Ye-ji replied reflexively. “I work primarily in oil painting.”
Did he really think she was worried about her own level?
Ye-ji harbored not a shred of doubt about her abilities.
At that, Jeong Hae-yun let out a quiet laugh, while Seo Tae-gyeong seemed momentarily flustered.
“If my work gets attention at that venue, it’ll just make things awkward between us.”
Such a role wasn’t for her.
Reactions to Ye-ji’s statement split down the middle.
Those who laughed, and those taken aback.
But Seo Tae-gyeong found himself caught somewhere in between, his expression shifting to something subtly ambiguous.
The cocky bluffing of a young student.
That’s what his mind told him. Yet somehow…
“Then what would be best?”
He grew curious about the outcome.
What kind of work could she possibly be planning to announce so fearlessly?
He did business in art, but like any business, occasionally adventure was necessary.
“Hmm…”
Seo Tae-gyeong watched Ye-ji as she considered the question, finding her fascinating.
For hollow bluffing, she was remarkably composed.
He sensed very high potential in her.
High risk brought proportional reward.
Galleries that failed to discover new talent stagnated and grew stale.
Unable to capture younger audiences, they became events unto themselves.
Certainly, a single work by a master could fetch what dozens of works by young artists might command.
But what if that young artist matured into a master?
Would they forget the gallery that helped them grow?
‘Some ungrateful bastards exist, but they don’t last long anyway.’
Most return to exhibit at the gallery that gave them their start, their market value elevated.
The works of artists still rising in value sell more actively.
Like coins appreciating, the pieces of prolific artists can balloon in value with each exhibition.
Naturally, such artists’ works draw collector interest.
“You’re not thinking of doing entirely oil paintings, are you?”
“Of course not.”
Ye-ji answered with obvious certainty to his question.
If that was the case, then what he’d seen from her today would be more than sufficient.
Moreover, the risk in this situation wasn’t his alone to bear.
Jeong Hae-yun was involved in the middle of it.
If poor results came about, he could always claim he was simply trusting his judgment.
At Seo Tae-gyeong’s gaze, Hae-yun opened his mouth slightly. “Doesn’t your main gallery have a hallway leading to the elevator?”
With that remark, Seo Tae-gyeong became even more certain.
He didn’t want her to abandon Western painting entirely.
He hoped she would never forget the art that was her birthright, her roots.
For the connection not to end after just one or two pieces.
‘There’s no other venue like this.’
Hae-yun could teach her, but he couldn’t provide a exhibition space.
Hae-yun had shrewdly arranged things so that Seo Tae-gyeong would play that role.
Recognizing the manipulation, Seo Tae-gyeong didn’t resent it.
Rather, he felt fortunate to be used in this way.
Ye-ji, too, nodded along as she listened.
The elevator entrance—a space where people necessarily lingered while waiting.
“Ah, that spot is a bit ambiguous, isn’t it?”
Seo Tae-gyeong nodded in agreement with Hae-yun’s remark.
It was a high-traffic area, so it could draw attention, but managing the artwork became difficult.
His valuable paintings couldn’t hang there, that much was clear.
“If it’s possible, it would be nice to display the work of whichever student seems most promising to you, sir.”
Hae-yun opened the door, and Seo Tae-gyeong sealed it shut.
Then Hae-yun casually deflected: “Well then, you should hang yours there.”
Ye-ji, who had been watching their exchange like a volley match, let her eyes wander.
Something felt orchestrated in their conversation, but it was a good offer for her.
Better than good—it might be the sort of opportunity someone could only dream of.
“Yes, then… I’ll do that.”
At Ye-ji’s answer, Seo Tae-gyeong’s smile turned satisfied.
He had come to convince Hae-yun, but instead had uncovered an unexpected gem.
‘Normally I would have insisted that hanging a high school student’s work alongside Hae-yun’s exhibition was absurd, but…’
Now he found himself wondering why it shouldn’t be done.
He didn’t want to see his gallery fade away like a forgotten elder locked in a back room.
To prevent that, he had to break the established mold and let fresh air inside.
“As long as you’re comfortable with it, sir, shall we proceed that way?”
“Yes. …You’re certainly talkative over meals.”
Hae-yun gave his assent lightly and returned his chopsticks to his food.
An era when the romance of art was fading.
Ye-ji had no idea of the sincerity these two middle-aged men were investing in her.
“Let me know once the schedule is set.”
Watching Ye-ji calmly heap seasoned vegetables onto her plate, Seo Tae-gyeong found himself smiling despite himself.
Unusually distinct, remarkable, and curiosity-inspiring—that was the kind of student she was.
***
Na Mi-rae was in her second year as an assistant in Jeong Hae-yun’s studio.
And in his workspace were more than ten assistants like her.
“What kind of kid just rolls in like that? We’re stuck in the Annex, but she gets to hang in the Main building?”
And in the prime spot for the most accomplished student’s work, no less!
Mi-rae muttered irritably as she mechanically applied ink to one of Hae-yun’s massive canvases.
Another assistant working on the same repetitive task answered back.
They worked and lived separately in a building connected to the warehouse, away from Hae-yun’s main studio.
Their role was simple.
Filling in the minor details of pieces that Hae-yun didn’t need to handle himself.
In return, they received a salary and free studio space to work.
“She’s only a sophomore. Are you jealous?”
“Besides, the teacher decided it that way anyway. What can we do?”
At the resigned tone of the other assistants, Mi-rae’s irritation only grew.
“That’s not the point! Doesn’t it bother you? It’s not fair.”
For those studying Oriental painting, Seohwawon was a dreamlike place.
Some random girl shows up from who knows where and gets to hang her work in the Main building with Hae-yun?
There were talented artists rotting away here!
“Wait, is she famous or something?”
One of the assistants tidying a corner of a work set down her brush and pulled out her phone.
After searching for something, she turned the phone around to show an internet article.
The other assistants, tired of repetitive work, gathered to look at the screen.
“Didn’t you say she was from Cheongrim?”
“So she’s a junior of yours?”
“What? There was something like that at Cheongrim Art High School?”
Ye-ji of Cheongrim Art High School.
A work had been damaged, but she had salvaged it and mounted a successful exhibition.
Even earning a critical review from Chloe Choi, who had praised the piece.
“Is this her?”
The phone returned to its owner after making the rounds, and Mi-rae stared at it blankly, her brows furrowing.
“Yeah, it’s her. Guess she wasn’t just any ordinary kid.”
Already harboring ill will toward Ye-ji, Mi-rae voiced her displeasure all the louder.
The article made it clear that Ye-ji was merely a victim of circumstance, but that mattered nothing to her.
An ambitious little troublemaker.
That was already the image Ye-ji had in Mi-rae’s mind.
“Look, her grandmother’s been coming by every day lately with side dishes.”
She’s after something, obviously.
In the midst of her bitter muttering, Han Gyu entered the studio.
Given the poor soundproofing of the traditional house, he’d already caught wind of the complaints, his expression sour.
“Hey, Mi-rae. Knock it off. Aren’t you embarrassed?”
At Han Gyu’s appearance, Mi-rae fell silent momentarily, but couldn’t hold her tongue for long.
“No, seriously, let’s be honest. Don’t you think it’s weird too, Gyu? It’s just so strange.”
“Don’t speculate. Just do what the teacher asked.”
Han Gyu, who had come looking for documents, dug through a bookshelf on one side before adding: “And focus on your own work. If you half-ass something for Seohwawon, you might get kicked out.”
He probably wouldn’t actually throw them out, but exhibiting at Seohwawon meant something significant.
Normally, that alone would have been more than enough.
But those with ambition never knew when to be satisfied.
Why should this girl named Ye-ji get a better spot for her work?
Fixated on that fact, they couldn’t objectively accept what they themselves had gained.
“You rake leaves in autumn and shovel snow in winter to get the teacher’s favor, but what does she do? How does the teacher end up inviting her into his own studio?”
Han Gyu, holding the documents he’d found, looked at Mi-rae.
“Why do you think I do those chores?”
Mi-rae blinked at his question.
True to their MZ generation label, the assistants ignored anything outside their assigned duties.
It wasn’t an era where the youngest automatically handled odd jobs; now, conscientious people had to take care of things themselves or go mad.
In other words, because people like Mi-rae wouldn’t do it, Han Gyu ended up doing it.
But Mi-rae answered without understanding his point at all.
“…Don’t you not draw paintings?”
“…Forget it. Just do your work properly.”
Han Gyu found it easier to handle things himself than to wait for subordinates to pick up on hints.
But in doing so, they had to prove themselves.
They had to show they were doing their own jobs clearly.
“If you talk like this now and then get outperformed by that high schooler at Seohwawon in terms of artistic quality, how pathetic would that be?”
It wouldn’t be just you—our entire studio would be humiliated.
Han Gyu warned them, but Mi-rae still seemed oblivious.
“To be blunt, how are you sure that’s even her work? She’s leaving for Seoul tomorrow, right?”
Han Gyu was growing annoyed, so he glanced around the studio once more.
Though no one had said so aloud, it was clear everyone shared the same resentment toward Ye-ji’s arrival.
Some of them had been assistants for over five years—longer than Han Gyu himself had been here.
Deciding it was time to address this properly, Han Gyu spoke up.
“You want to know why the teacher gave her his own studio instead of an empty room?”
Hae-yun had watched Ye-ji from the moment she began working through to the completion of her pieces.
It was a form of intensive interview.
“Could you do it if he asked you to sketch through to the final piece in front of him? If you say yes, I’ll tell the teacher right now.”
When Han Gyu pressed her directly, Mi-rae fell silent.
Separate from jealousy, if such an opportunity were given to her, she’d honestly be terrified and want to run away.
Besides, Hae-yun wasn’t the sort of person who was easy to be around.
The thought that he might actually create such a space made her reluctant to even open her mouth.
“If you really don’t want to be embarrassed, do your work properly. Properly.”
Having given one final warning, Han Gyu left the studio.
An odd tension settled among the remaining assistants.
Some felt genuine urgency, others a competitive fire.
.
But others felt shame and contempt.
The sudden arrival of genius had that effect on ordinary people.
***
The Montravelier Youth Competition.
The first round of online registration had closed.
“Excuse me~”
Having heard the news, Da-hye had naturally shown up at Ye-ji’s house the moment she returned from her trip.
Ye-ji, too, had returned home as her break from school drew to a close.
Since her parents had already left for work, Da-hye went straight to Ye-ji’s room.
“Can I see it right now?”
She’d been dying of curiosity, Da-hye said, bouncing on her feet.
The sight of her friend genuinely eager to see her work, curious and hopeful.
At Da-hye’s enthusiasm, Ye-ji felt both a pleasant warmth and a slight pressure.
She hadn’t expected to feel this way about a friend her own age, but for a painter, the viewer’s age or number mattered little.
With a slightly trembling heart, Ye-ji opened the door to the room where her paintings lay.

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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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