The Reborn Genius of an Arts High School - Chapter 4

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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 4.
Jeong Mi-jin, the Sketching instructor, had a reputation that mixed notoriety and praise in equal measure.
Most students disliked her demanding teaching methods.
But those who had grown under her approach thought differently.
Students who had benefited from her ability to genuinely elevate their skills held her in considerable respect.
…….
Today, Mi-jin sat in the Staff Room with a grave expression, studying the papers she had collected.
More precisely, she was examining Ye-ji’s assignment, which lay foremost among them.
“This is strange….”
No student working in visual art was ignorant of light’s importance.
But the crucial point was that understanding something and actually applying it to a drawing were two entirely different matters.
Much like how the famous painter’s “it’s so easy” struck people as deliberately ironic.
Art possessed an enormous chasm between comprehending theory and executing it.
Yet suddenly.
In a single day, Ye-ji appeared to have broken through that wall entirely.
“Oh, you went into the third-year class? The kid drew this really well~”
A passing Sculpture teacher glanced at the drawing Mi-jin was studying and asked.
Then he stopped short.
“Wait—they shouldn’t have time for assignments right now with entrance exams looming.”
Mi-jin nodded at his words.
“Right. This was a first-year class assignment.”
At Mi-jin’s response, he returned and examined the drawing intently.
A glass cup rendered in graphite.
The presence of water sloshing inside was palpably vivid.
A cup drawn in graphite in just one hundred minutes—two class hours combined.
Yet it made unmistakably clear both that it was glass and that water filled it.
Every point to emphasize and every element to boldly omit had been judged with precision.
It was the kind of image one might believe had been a photograph printed with a filter.
“Who is this? Ye-ji?”
The astonished Sculpture teacher flipped the paper over to check the submitted student’s name.
At that, another teacher seated nearby suddenly pushed back his chair and approached.
“Is this the drawing from Ye-ji in Class 1?”
It was Moon Hyun-seok, the Western Painting Department instructor who had taught Oil Painting to Ye-ji’s class the day before.
“Did the girl suddenly awaken to something….”
He too had sensed something different in Ye-ji’s work.
And it wasn’t merely her brushwork that had changed.
The two teachers fell briefly silent, both struck by the palpably elevated quality.
Had they not witnessed her creating it directly, they would have suspected someone else drew it for her.
“Did something happen to her?”
“Perhaps she attended some remarkable lecture somewhere.”
The transformation was stark and unmistakably positive.
The two teachers grew curious about what had caused such change.
“This isn’t something you just learn and produce, is it?”
Within the monochromatic graphite drawing, a subtle warmth emanated.
Glass catching warm sunlight, the glimmering surface of water droplets.
This was not merely a matter of technique.
“……something warm about it….”
She compared it again with the other students’ drawings.
Certainly they all used paper of the same tone.
Yet as if by optical illusion, only Ye-ji’s drawing was suffused with warm, comforting light.
The light recreated that busy classroom, those earnest students, that place itself.
The same warmth she had felt when first becoming a teacher at Cheongrim—warmth that stirred even one’s own dedication.
Her weary teaching life suddenly rekindled with purpose, and Mi-jin sprang to her feet.
“The homeroom teacher for the Art Department, Class 1—ah, that’s right. Ki-hun! Is there anything you know? Any change in her home situation?”
“Huh?”
Ki-hun, who had been eating a pastry behind the partition, looked up in bewilderment.
“What… what is it? What are you asking?”
Park Ki-hun, homeroom teacher for first-year Art Department Class 1, was a Korean language instructor teaching a general subject.
The Ye-ji he knew was adequate in ability, adequate in character, adequate in family background.
Simply an ordinary student.
Hearing that Ye-ji’s skill had suddenly advanced by leaps and bounds, he rose from his seat.
“…There was nothing particularly unusual that I noticed.”
At the small commotion erupting in the Staff Room, the Art Department teachers gathered.
In their midst, Ki-hun picked up Ye-ji’s drawing.
Though he taught general subjects, it had been over a decade since he last looked at students’ artwork.
Even to a layman’s eye, Ye-ji’s Sketching clearly differed from the other students’ drawings.
“Why did she draw so well?”
“Right, that’s what I’m saying. Did she always stand out this much?”
“She wasn’t without fundamentals before, certainly.”
“True. She just had fundamentals, that was all.”
The gathered teachers huddled together, studying Ye-ji’s drawing.
Occasionally, a student might produce a single piece that exceeded their usual ability by chance.
But teachers who had seen hundreds, thousands of drawings from students knew the difference.
This was no accident.
“This should be worth seeing in the Year-End Practical Exhibition.”
“Hmm, with this level of Value Control, she’d probably excel at traditional painting too….”
“Now, now, don’t poach. Ye-ji will definitely come to the Western Painting Department.”
“That’s for the student to decide. If I do well by her from now on, her mind might change, mightn’t it?”
When second year arrives, students in the Art Department choose their specialization.
The teachers went back and forth with playful caution, half joking, half serious.
“Convenient timing, everyone gathering like this.”
The Principal’s unexpected entrance quieted the chaotic atmosphere.
“Ah, other department teachers are fine. Let’s just get all the Art Department instructors to gather.”
The Principal, with a benevolent expression and a half-receded hairline, gathered the teachers.
They were already assembled near Mi-jin’s desk, so the briefing was quick.
“You’ve all heard we’re working to invite Chloe Choi as a judge for the Year-End Practical Exhibition, correct?”
Tension crossed the teachers’ faces at the Principal’s words.
Chloe Choi. A Korean-French artist whose market value was currently climbing sharply.
“I’m thinking of having her do a brief observation, primarily of classes with students likely to interest her.”
Chloe Choi, a Surrealist artist.
An exclusive artist of Montrablu, a renowned gallery in France.
The brilliance of her work was proven by the staggering amounts at which her pieces sold.
Even works under one meter sold for the price of a car as a baseline.
“It is essential that she agree to serve as the primary judge for this Year-End Practical Exhibition.”
Though the Principal bore a kindly expression, he was making every effort to project authority.
That was how significant this was.
Especially since Chloe had a habit of purchasing work by young emerging artists outright for large sums.
Being selected by her alone sent an artist’s market value through the roof.
“She’s stopping by briefly on her way to Japan in two days, so compile the classes worth observing and report to me by end of day.”
An unexpected summons to delay dismissal, yet the Art Department teachers’ expressions were conflicted.
The timing of dismissal wasn’t the issue now.
If Chloe failed to make a decision during this visit and declined the judge’s request…….
…….
Not only would the superior’s displeasure sting, but many students would miss a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Weighed down by the heavy atmosphere, the teachers hesitated, unsure how to respond.
Yet in that moment, Mi-jin spoke with unmistakable clarity.
“Who teaches first-year Class 1 that day?”
***
Ye-ji suddenly felt a dull throb where the bump on the back of her head was forming.
“This’ll take a few days….”
The Cafeteria bustled with activity.
Students from various departments mixed together, creating quite a vibrant scene.
Long hair, dyed and bleached locks, perms—things a regular high school could never dream of.
Even modified uniforms everywhere.
Everyone was expressing their individuality however they could.
Ye-ji liked this free-spirited atmosphere.
“But seriously, after getting hit in the back of the head, did you have some kind of personality shift or something?”

Ye-ji, who had stuffed her mouth full of cheese cutlet from the school meal, rolled her eyes at Da-hye’s question.
Cheongrim, true to its wealthy private school status, served cafeteria food at a high standard.
Perhaps it was the relative abundance?
Compared to a life where even dry baguette felt precious, eating now brought genuine pleasure.
Ye-ji, finding happiness in small daily moments, shook her head.

“Why? There’s nothing special about it.”

Da-hye was the first friend Ye-ji had made after enrolling at the school.
And she had remained her closest friend ever since.
Still, that didn’t mean they shared surreal conversations about past lives or anything like that.
It was clear such talk would sound ridiculous if she asked anyone to believe it.
Faced with Da-hye’s narrowed, piercing gaze, Ye-ji calmly returned the question.

“What’s so strange? Should I get a CT scan or something?”
I don’t see any change in myself.
At this response, even the slightly frowning Da-hye shook her head.

“No, it’s not that extreme, but you’ve just seemed a bit more mature somehow.”

Da-hye trailed off, finding it difficult to pinpoint exactly what she meant.
She had picked up on some shift in Ye-ji, to a degree.
But that change was in a very good direction.
A more composed gait, a different tone of voice, altered expressions.
And on top of it all, improved drawing ability.
Da-hye herself couldn’t tell if what she felt was envy or concern.
“They say people change when death approaches. Ugh, this is getting confusing.”
Eventually, Da-hye muttered the remark half-jokingly and popped a piece of cutlet into her mouth.
At that, Ye-ji simply burst out laughing.
In a sense, Da-hye’s intuition wasn’t entirely off.
She clearly had a memory of dying once.
‘My memory is definitely real. It’s not a dream or a hallucination.’
The previous night, after searching online,
the memories she recalled were proven to be from an actual past life.
Because she had died young, before becoming truly famous, most details hadn’t surfaced.
‘At least searching in French brought up some information.’
Her first solo exhibition, which she had never properly opened.
It received explosive reaction, but it was fleeting.
A brief-lived artist’s exhibition with no new work possible—that was inevitable.
And when searching for Chloe, the most common mentions weren’t about her at all.
‘After Chloe’s posthumous solo exhibition, Montrablu Gallery’s reputation soared dramatically.’
Most referenced her only in passing, explaining the history of the now-famous Montrablu Gallery.
A short-lived, tragic genius.
Without family or lover, she had simply been defined by a handful of words and left behind.
After confirming everything, Ye-ji made a firm decision.
She would not reject her past life—she would use it.
“I’m planning to start Night Study from today. What about you, Ye-ji?”
While Ye-ji stayed silent, pretending to focus on her meal, Da-hye asked.
It seemed she was renting the school’s nighttime self-study studio.
“…Yeah, I should probably get started soon too.”
Everyone was rushing to prepare for the Year-End Practical Exhibition.
Ye-ji planned to focus on slowly regaining the sensations of her past life and adapting to them.
***
Two days passed as she spent each moment in fresh gratitude for her daily existence.
“Just let me off, mister!”
“Let us off! We’ll run!”
Seoul bus commutes are hell.
Ye-ji barely gripped the overhead rail, squeezed among the crush of students.
At the students’ clamoring, the bus driver opened the rear door.
Cheongrim students in uniform poured out and sprinted in one direction.
“This insane hill!”
As everyone cursed and scrambled up the steep slope,
“…?”
Ye-ji, also running, reflexively turned her eyes toward an expensive foreign car passing beside her.
A rental, judging by the out-of-place look, beyond the weak tint,
‘…Chloe?’
A familiar face appeared, much older than she remembered.
Ye-ji’s steps faltered without her knowing.
But she quickly realized now wasn’t the time and resumed running.
Avoiding tardiness in her current life mattered far more than a past-life connection of mere acquaintance.
“What happened suddenly?”
“I dunno. Forgot paint.”
“How do you forget paint as an art school student?”
“I don’t use oil paints, so I don’t have any!”
Barely making it before the tardy bell, Ye-ji entered the classroom and immediately plugged her ears.
As always, without a moment’s peace, chaos reigned.
Having set down her heavy bag, Ye-ji asked,
“What’s everyone so noisy about?”
Da-hye, who had been doing extra homework, shrugged as she answered.
“The schedule just changed. Oil Painting instead of Sculpture.”

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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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