The Reborn Genius of an Arts High School - Chapter 2

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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 2.
Da-hye was not the only one who had stopped.
Cheongrim Art High School, where the most exceptional young talents gathered.
But no matter how prestigious, they were all still just seventeen.
When lunchtime arrived, students streamed out of the Practice Studio at remarkable speed.
A student lingering alone in the emptied Practice Studio inevitably drew the teacher’s attention.
“You’ve changed the mood?”
The teacher, who had approached wondering if something was wrong, found herself stopping in front of Ye-ji’s canvas.
A tediously rendered vase, painted with meticulous timidity—the sort of uninspired work.
Even accounting for student practice, the painting was about as dull as dull could be.
That lackluster vase was meant to frame a landscape beyond the window she’d inserted into the background.
A frame within a frame.
A common enough variation, but executed at precisely the level one would expect of her.
Yet unlike the original plan, the landscape beyond the window was layered with unfamiliar colors.
Caught off guard by the unexpected shift in Ye-ji’s work, Da-hye murmured aloud.
“…That’s really good…?”
The teacher nodded unconsciously at Da-hye’s murmur, as did Ye-ji herself.
The more one studied Ye-ji’s painting, the more one could only admire it.
Oil paint applied boldly, almost carelessly heaped on.
Yet beneath it all, a distinct texture was palpable.
This was no mere random application.
It was underpainting—layers of pigment built methodically, establishing the foundation of something larger.
“Are you thinking of going abstract with this section?”
Ye-ji hesitated at the teacher’s question.
She hadn’t deliberately planned this direction.
It was merely a lingering attachment to a half-finished painting from a vague memory—one that had suddenly resurfaced and moved her hand.
“I’m… not really sure.”
Despite Ye-ji’s confused answer, the teacher smiled faintly.
The Fine Arts Department of Cheongrim Art High School.
In South Korea, only those with something distinctly exceptional in painting could gain entry.
A gathering of children who had known only first place in art since their childhood.
But when such children assembled together, inevitably some were no longer first—they became second, third, or beyond tenth.
Many struggled to adapt amid the gap between their past achievements and present reality.
“It’s fine. You don’t need to think everything through with your head. For now, just let your hand guide you.”
What the teacher most needed to guard against was students who painted only with their minds.
They thought too critically, set standards too high, and simply elaborated with grandiose words.
The real problem was those children who spent years endlessly sketching.
If the brush moved first, there was little to worry about.
“If this piece comes out well, you won’t have anything to worry about.”
The teacher, satisfied, patted Ye-ji’s shoulder and left.
Ye-ji, still somewhat dazed, watched the teacher’s retreating figure.
“…Worry?”
About what?
Ye-ji set down her brush only after pondering what the teacher’s cryptic words could mean.
At that moment, Da-hye, already standing outside the Practice Studio, called out.
“Ye-ji! Hurry up!”
Fine art could wait—lunch was serious business for a spirited seventeen-year-old.
“Come on, let’s go!”
Hyun-min was there too, perhaps concerned after the morning’s accident.
Spurred on by the two of them, Ye-ji hurried out of the Practice Studio.
But her gaze lingered once more on the paintings left in the room.
Dozens of easels stretched across the Practice Studio.
Dozens of canvases holding countless possibilities.
Ye-ji took one last look at all of them before closing the classroom door.
***
“I knew it’d be like this. With you dawdling, there’s nothing left to eat at lunch!”
Da-hye snapped wooden chopsticks apart, grumbling.
With chicken goldenrod gone from the menu, there was little worth eating left.
While they were heating up cup ramen at the School Cafeteria, Hyun-min was hurriedly eating noodles that weren’t even fully cooked.
“Hey, hey. Wait till they’re done. Wait!”
“I said I’d play soccer with kids from other departments… Ow, that’s hot!”
“Ugh!”
Da-hye tossed him a wet wipe.
Though her tongue was sharp, Da-hye had a rather kind nature.
Pushing aside rice cakes that had overheated slightly, Da-hye unwrapped a hot dog and set it in front of Ye-ji.
“Thanks.”
While the ramen cooked, Ye-ji chewed the spicy hot dog thoughtfully, collecting her thoughts.
A past life suddenly remembered?
Shocking though it was, she’d accepted it more easily than expected.
It was now September 2016.
Her birthday coincided perfectly with the death date of her past life.
The clearer and more vivid the memories became, the less it felt like mere coincidence.
If that was the case, acceptance came easily.
What mattered most was that she still painted, and still wanted to paint.
“Well, I’m done eating, so I’m heading out! You’re really okay, right? Tell me if anything else hurts, yeah?!”
Hyun-min practically inhaled the ramen and rushed off.
“Yeah. Got it.”
Watching his back, Ye-ji shoved the remaining hot dog into her mouth.
Parts of herself she hadn’t noticed when thinking of him as just a peer her age.
With her past life’s memories restored, Ye-ji seemed to have gained an insight beyond her years.
After swallowing, Ye-ji asked.
“Have you ever heard anything about Hyun-min’s house or his parents?”
Da-hye, who had been slurping her now-softer ramen, tilted her head in confusion.
Her expression asked why the sudden question, but her answer was straightforward.
“Something about his parents working at a major corporation?”
Parents working at major corporations was hardly unusual at an art high school.
Da-hye herself came from a fairly comfortable household—both her parents were doctors.
Ye-ji’s own parents worked at smaller companies, ordinary office workers by comparison.
The art high school was full of children from wealthy backgrounds.
In South Korea, after all, it was nearly impossible for a child without means to pursue art seriously.
“But why?”
“Oh, just wondering how he plans to make a living like that.”
Da-hye laughed at Ye-ji’s comment.
Within South Korea—especially in the Fine Arts track of the nation’s top art high school, Cheongrim Art High School.
One had to break through fierce competition and prove their talent just to gain admission.
Whether by choice or circumstance, students here typically harbored considerable ambition about their futures.
Most naturally returned to the Practice Studio or studied after eating, a pervasive atmosphere.
So students like Hyun-min who moved about freely fell into exactly two categories.
Either genuinely talented enough to have coasted this far without worrying, or blessed with parents wealthy enough that the future required no concern.
“Still, even if he can’t paint that well, he’s incredibly sharp when it comes to information. He’ll probably go into curation or arts planning.”
Hyun-min was primarily interested in appreciating art rather than creating it.
He was faster than anyone when it came to news about exhibitions, viewings, and art-related issues happening domestically and abroad.
His wide-ranging interests extended beyond fine arts to dance and music programs—a reflection of his nature.
“…Well, I should worry about my own path.”
At Ye-ji’s remark, Da-hye let out a small laugh and began unwrapping a rice cake that had cooled enough.
“Here, eat this too. But that painting you did earlier was really good, you know? The frame-within-frame composition. You were worried it was too obvious.”
First-year students overwhelmed by South Korea’s rigid entrance examination system.
The creativity students imagined usually looked pretty much the same.
But the painting Ye-ji had created in the previous lesson was somehow different.
“If you just keep painting it the way you were, it’ll be quite an impactful piece.”
The landscape Ye-ji had painted beyond the window today was more abstract.
Brushstrokes that rippled like waves.
They resembled ocean waves, or perhaps a night sky stained by clouds.
Recalling Ye-ji’s promising painting, Da-hye popped a piece of rice cake into her mouth.
“Of course, since it’s just underpainting, we won’t know till you add more.”
Oil paint, by nature, dried and took on detail as you layered more color over it.
For now, one could only confirm that it was somehow different from her usual work.
“Why’d you suddenly change like that?”
Rather than answer Da-hye’s question, Ye-ji shoved a spoonful of ramen into her mouth.
Spicy and salty cup ramen.
Instead of the butter and flour smells from memory, Korean spices filled her mouth warmly.
The lonely years spent proving herself alone had ended without fanfare.
Her life now was filled with entirely new possibilities and chances.
She couldn’t explain it all in words right now, but….
“……Why are you suddenly laughing at people like that? Is your head still hurting?”
At Da-hye’s words, Ye-ji let out a small laugh.
“I just suddenly understood the truth of life.”
Then, instead of further explanation, Ye-ji simply pushed the remaining rice cake into Da-hye’s mouth.
After filling themselves with School Cafeteria food, they made their way back to the classroom.
Compared to her past life, the existence of a South Korean high school student was practically paradise.
Abundant food and clean surroundings. Diverse cultural facilities.
While this life wasn’t exactly wealthy, it was far from poor.
And most importantly, she had parents.
Parents who spared no support and affection for their only daughter.
At that thought, a sudden longing for her parents—at work as usual—swept over her.
‘I miss Mom and Dad.’
The fact that such a thing existed in her life now.
It was a precious everyday that wouldn’t be exchanged for a million euros.
“Are you going to academy after school today?”
“No, I want to go home today.”
Ye-ji answered Da-hye’s question simply as she opened the classroom door.
A cluster of classmates stood packed in front of the entrance.
Noise poured out along with their bustling figures.
“Man, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know, do we need to decide on a major?”
“I have something to ask the teacher—anyone want to come with?”
Amid the murmuring crowd, Da-hye and Ye-ji exchanged confused glances.
Everyone had gathered around a large poster affixed to the back of the classroom.
“What’s this? Why’s everyone freaking out?”
Da-hye pushed through the cluster of students toward the poster.
Thanks to Da-hye’s directness, Ye-ji could easily approach the poster as well.
<Cheongrim Art High School 38th Annual Final Practical Skills Comprehensive Exhibition>
The poster outlined participation details for the school-wide competition that students abbreviated as the “Annual Practical Skills Comprehensive Exhibition.”
“…Wow, this is already being announced.”
At Da-hye’s despairing tone, Ye-ji reflexively spoke while scanning the details.
“The schedule’s already up?”
No Cheongrim Art High School student could be ignorant of the Annual Practical Skills Comprehensive Exhibition.
Indeed, it was the sort of competition that any young artist would naturally know about.
Particularly, the junior-level exhibition held separately ranked among the nation’s top competitions.
Thanks to that reputation, freshmen who’d only just finished entrance exams knew well of the Annual Practical Skills Comprehensive Exhibition’s prestige.
The students gathered around added their own comments to Ye-ji’s question.
“Not ‘already’! The exhibition doesn’t start till December!”
“The submission deadline’s actually November.”
“Same difference.”
Moreover, the judges for the Annual Practical Skills Comprehensive Exhibition were not merely school teachers.
Leading experts from their respective fields served as judges each year.
Naturally, a diverse audience of professionals attended the exhibition.
Standing out there meant access to bigger and better opportunities.
Amid her friends’ murmuring, Ye-ji fell into thought.
Since the school’s reputation was at stake, certain practical courses included works submitted for the exhibition in the Final Examination grade.
A multifaceted, meaningful event.
Students inevitably felt considerable pressure.
‘Is that what the teacher was worried about earlier?’
Ye-ji scanned the schedule, confirming her suspicion.
[Artwork Submission Deadline: November 30th]
“So we have a month and a half till the deadline?”
At Ye-ji’s words, sighs erupted from all sides.
Amid voices teasing her for stating the obvious, Ye-ji barely suppressed what almost slipped out.
A month and a half was tight for less experienced students to conceive and complete a piece.
But Ye-ji was different.
‘……That’s plenty of time.’
With her absorbed past-life experience and memories, Ye-ji found it an ample window.

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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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