The Reborn Genius of an Arts High School - Chapter 20

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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 20.
A ridge drawn with noble restraint adorns the hanji paper with solemn elegance.
The sprawling mountain landscape distills itself into just a few ink-rendered curves.
Yet within those simple strokes dwell thousands of trees, flora and fauna, and people going about their lives.
As if to mirror such a world, the outer edges of the work are layered with Oil Painting rendered in vivid color.
A pine tree, drawn with meticulous care as though placed right before one’s eyes, its needles sharp and green.
And above it, a delicate drift of white snow blankets the branches like frost blossoms.
Not pure white, but a brilliant Oil Painting pigment on the hanji paper that somehow conjures strange volume and prominence.
At first glance it appears to embrace the beauty of emptiness that Traditional Korean/Oriental Painting celebrates, yet that white was anything but vacant.
Densely packed snowflakes and smooth pine needles, rough bark—varied textures filled the space completely.
“….”
From a single Painting barely a meter wide, Da-hye felt something vast and imposing.
The weight of the distant mountain range in the background.
The delicate precision of the foreground pine and snowflakes, rendered as though inches from her face.
Despite the work’s restrained palette, it possessed an immersive power she could not tear her eyes from.
And beneath all of it lay one fundamental emotion.
Anticipation.
What lies beyond these snowflakes and branches that the viewer reaches toward?
Like an open ending in a novel, the measured color palette unfurled the imagination.
Though the landscape depicted a cold, desolate snowy mountain, there was no sense that what lay ahead would be dark or bleak.
Rather, it felt like waiting for spring’s arrival.
The emotion the artist wished to convey through this single Painting was hopeful, warm, a vast anticipation turned toward the future.
“What do you think?”
Unable to bear Da-hye’s prolonged silence, Ye-ji asked.
In response, Da-hye only pressed her lips more firmly shut.
This was a Painting drawn by a friend her own age?
The gap in skill was so vast that she hardly knew what emotion she ought to feel.
“Give me that. The work’s theme.”
Still unable to look away from the Painting, Da-hye extended her hand.
Her expression was unusually stern, so Ye-ji handed over the Notebook with some nervousness.
“What I submitted was more polished, and this is the translated version, but….”
Ye-ji added an unnecessary disclaimer, but Da-hye simply took the Notebook without ceremony.
Privately, Ye-ji harbored one worry.
She feared she might have presented a style that felt too old-fashioned, too dated.
With older masters, she felt confident.
But facing peers sensitive to every trend and stimulus felt somehow more nerve-wracking.
‘Of course I’m eighteen now myself….’
But when you factored in memory and patterns of thought, it was ambiguous whether she fit neatly into the teenage category.
After studying the Notebook intently, Da-hye exhaled a long sigh.
“……Is something wrong?”
Finally unable to contain herself, Ye-ji asked again.
“You.”
Having read the thematic intent woven throughout the Notebook, Da-hye spoke even as she sighed.
“…You really are a prodigy, aren’t you?”
She was struck by how closely the content written there aligned with what she herself had felt.
Moreover, the anticipation Ye-ji had woven into the work was genuinely impressive.
That anticipation she had captured was directed entirely inward—toward herself.
Da-hye realized this Painting was, in a broad sense, Ye-ji’s self-portrait.
In an age where endless comparison with others never ceases,
Ye-ji had clearly used Traditional Korean/Oriental Painting and Oil Painting as metaphors for her own roots and environment, expressing her anticipation for her own future.
With utter clarity and certainty.
“…What?”
Ye-ji, not quite grasping Da-hye’s words, asked back with a blank stare.
Da-hye laughed at the sight and patted Ye-ji’s shoulder several times with audible taps.
“We need to figure out how to ship this overseas right away! Wait—how are we protecting the work?”
A frame? Should we source custom packing materials first?
Seeing Da-hye in full fuss, Ye-ji finally managed to laugh again.
She felt a quiet pride as well.
“The First Round Review has to pass first before we send the actual piece, so we’ll have to wait a bit….”
“Wait for what? You think this won’t make it?”
True, one can never know about these things.
But seeing Da-hye already searching up international express shipping costs, Ye-ji could only laugh.
Acknowledgment from those near to her seemed to touch her heart far more than validation from strangers.
“Do you have plans tonight?”
Why don’t you stay for dinner?
At Ye-ji’s words, Da-hye’s expression shifted in an instant to one of weariness.
“I have to go to cram school. English cram school. Then art academy after that.”
“Ah.”
“Must be nice not having to go to cram school aaaaah!”
Separate from any desire for results, the weight of schedules during even a break was exhausting.
Da-hye pummeled a stuffed animal from Ye-ji’s bed while letting out a wail, then sprang to her feet.
“Still, I’ve got to do what I’ve got to do. Anyway, I’ve got about two hours, so let’s order tteokbokki. And cake and coffee too.”
A high schooler has to have that much as a snack.
Ye-ji nodded and simply opened her delivery app.
“But what happens now?”
While Ye-ji was choosing food, Da-hye, examining the work more carefully, asked.
“This one’s finished, and now we just wait for the First Round Review and Second Round Review results.”
“Right, but you still have to paint the piece for Seowhawon like you mentioned before.”
At Ye-ji’s response, Da-hye nodded.
“That’s a pretty high-pressure spot. I understand why though…”
After seeing a Painting like this, anyone would be ambitious.
Pleased that her friend was at that level, Da-hye spoke with excitement.
“Seowhawon, I mean—I thought you were joking at first.”
Ye-ji had only recently had her Oil Painting skill recognized after the Yeon Sil-jong incident.
And now she had suddenly gained the chance to exhibit at a gallery famous for Traditional Korean/Oriental Painting.
“You’re not suddenly changing your entire major to Traditional Korean/Oriental Painting, are you? You’re not transferring departments?!”
At Da-hye’s rushed excitement, Ye-ji burst out laughing despite herself.
“Don’t worry, I have no such plans. Besides, these days most artists don’t work in just one medium.”
It was an era where blending different disciplines and techniques was necessary to create new art.
Da-hye nodded at Ye-ji’s words and asked.
“So what kind of work are you thinking for this exhibition?”
“Hmm… I’m not sure yet. Still deliberating.”
Of course, her goal of creating a work that would leave an impression on everyone remained unchanged for Ye-ji.
But this was not an Art Competition/Call for Entries.
There was no need to be grandiose, no need for unnecessary solemnity.
If she had been given the chance to exhibit at a fine gallery at an opportune moment, there was only one way to repay that chance.
“Wouldn’t it be better to do something that seems like it would sell well?”
So Da-hye wasn’t wrong.
Even as she thought this, Ye-ji recalled her most important objective.
“More than that, I want to paint something that captures everyone’s attention.”
Having it sell for a handsome sum and giving the gallery a substantial cut would be one form of repayment.
But receiving recognition for the work itself would also be a way to repay the chance she had been given.
Ye-ji was certain that this was an even greater aspiration than money.
And if the director of Seowhawon, who had recognized her skill,
he would surely place greater value in that than in mere profit.
“Anyway, enough about me. How was your trip?”
At Ye-ji’s question, Da-hye eagerly found her moment to chat.
Even the ordinary life of a normal high schooler had become something precious to Ye-ji.
The two unfolded a month’s worth of stories that had been shared only briefly through messages, rekindling their friendship.

***
“My, busy Ye-ji reaching out to invite me like this.”
On the first day of break when they’d arranged to meet Hyun-min outside.
They had gathered to visit Seowhawon.
“You do have a way of jumping into things headfirst, don’t you.”
“Not all of it was my doing. Remember that, would you?”
At Ye-ji’s words, Hyun-min couldn’t deny it and chuckled quietly.
“Fair enough.”
There was a reason she’d brought Hyun-min along today.
Not just connections, but scattered knowledge across every artistic discipline beyond genre.
Hyun-min’s real talent lay not in his own skill but in being a walking encyclopedia.
If she was to place her work at Seowhawon and target sales, she needed to understand the gallery’s atmosphere and primary clientele.
Touring Seowhawon with Hyun-min would surely give her insight into all of that.
With that thought in mind, as Ye-ji passed through the alley toward the gallery, she suddenly stopped in her tracks.

‘……This place is bigger than I expected?!’
The building, constructed like a massive traditional Korean house, blended modern and traditional aesthetics.
Ye-ji could now understand what Hyun-min meant when he said she had “jumped into something big.”
The height easily exceeded three or four stories, but the windows were so large that the exact number of floors was hard to discern.
Not a simple rectangular structure, but a complex architectural design.
With a spacious parking lot capable of accommodating dozens of vehicles with room to spare….
“You said it was in front of the main building’s elevator, right?”
“Oh? Yes… right.”
Still somewhat dazed, Ye-ji followed Hyun-min inside, where he took the lead with easy familiarity.
‘He’s been here more than once or twice.’
Following him as he moved ahead like a practiced curator was rather convenient.
Most galleries had as their primary goal simply introducing the artists’ works.
Unless it was an experiential exhibition or art museum.
They were typically free to visit.
“This artist must be quite famous.”
Entering the exhibition hall, Ye-ji asked Hyun-min.
Various Korean accessories utilizing jade and smaller works displayed delicate, charming beauty.
The elegant blue-green hues were lovely enough to stir a desire for acquisition.
“She’s a popular artist these days. Seems like her work sells well as collectibles and gifts.”
Hyun-min, widely knowledgeable as he was, explained what he knew.
“The whole space is dark except for the walls. The floor is dark wood, ceiling is black.”
A typical modern gallery that highlighted works with focused lighting.
“Right now there are only small pieces, but when larger works come in, the lighting setup changes entirely.”
When Jeong Ha-yun’s work arrives, it’ll probably get much brighter.
“They can repaint the walls different colors on request. This place is quite flexible about adapting the environment to suit the work.”
Following Hyun-min’s explanation of the atmosphere and scale, Ye-ji nodded.
The fact that they modified the venue to suit the work—despite free admission—signified one thing.
That art transactions were brisk enough to generate meaningful income regardless of entry fees.
Enough visitors were present on a weekday afternoon to confirm that assumption.
In a capitalist society, popularity was synonymous with sales.
An artist whose pieces were so pre-reserved before exhibition that purchase was impossible even if desired.
At Hyun-min’s explanation, Ye-ji nodded in understanding while slowly absorbing the works themselves.
Sometimes beautiful things like these felt somewhat sad to see reduced to a mere numerical price tag.
The crafted pieces held beauty and delicacy more directly.
Ye-ji believed such artworks possessed a force that drew viewers closer almost involuntarily.
The intricate, modest detail distinct from grand artworks created an intimacy that demanded deeper contemplation.
Likely her own work could also request adjustments to lighting or minor elements.
Thinking it through, there seemed nothing to worry about—and yet Hyun-min’s expression was somehow peculiar.
“Even accounting for all that, this won’t be an easy place.”
So they completed a full circuit of the first-floor exhibition space under Hyun-min’s guidance.
The flow design was well-conceived, which brought into view, directly before Ye-ji, the problem location.
The corridor before the elevator revealed itself.

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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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