The Reborn Genius of an Arts High School - Chapter 46

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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 46.
The Executive Secretary was taken aback by Hyun Min’s words.
“May I ask your reasoning for this request, sir?”
Though he was the chairman’s son, the sudden demand left the Executive Secretary no choice but to inquire into his motives.
Particularly, raising the profile of a painter named Ye Ji held real value.
Supporting her would benefit the group as well.
Even now, VIP clients were constantly asking about her.
“It’s just that Ye Ji would find it terribly bothersome.”
Hyun Min’s expression softened into something more befitting his age, and he let out a quiet laugh.
“And I’d like to protect my friend’s privacy.”
That was reason enough.
The Executive Secretary found himself unable to counter Hyun Min’s argument.
……
It was true.
The sudden attention of the wealthy.
It could become poison to a young student’s heart.
In fact, the pressure that came from unexpected attention gained in youth was all too familiar.
There were countless cases of talented individuals crushed beneath that weight before they could fully flourish.
Of course, to judge that the ceiling of one’s potential had been reached would be a harsh assessment.
“……You’re right. As you say, there’s no reason for us to share that girl’s information with our clients.”
Myung Hee voiced his agreement with Hyun Min’s intent.
Though he wasn’t certain how far ahead Hyun Min was thinking.
‘Sometimes what’s hidden gains greater value.’
Eventually, of course, her name would become known naturally enough. But by then, her value would already have risen substantially.
……
When Myung Hee fixed him with a meaningful gaze, Hyun Min’s eyes shifted away slightly.
That clever boy seemed to be calculating even that far ahead.
“In any case, I’m looking forward to it. This year’s birthday gift.”
Having resolved all his questions, Hyun Min left the chairman’s office with those parting words.
He left behind only a conclusion that would benefit both Ye Ji and himself in the long term.
“Didn’t the second young master say he had no interest in management?”
At the Executive Secretary’s question, Myung Hee fell into thought for a moment.
The boy was sharp and resourceful, but reluctant to draw attention to himself.
So he’d been confident that the boy had no interest in business.
“……Perhaps. I thought that would be the case.”
Now, he realized he didn’t truly know his own son’s depths.
But at least there was one consolation: the boy wasn’t selfish.
……
When his phone rang at that moment, Myung Hee found himself smiling involuntarily.
[Ye Ji: I’ll finish and send it within two weeks.]
Did she think he’d be wondering how things were progressing?
Myung Hee fell into contemplation as he read this unrequested report.
She had considerable sense of responsibility and took pride in her work.
The fact that she’d even taken photographs of the process without embellishment spoke volumes about her character.
……
Moreover, the canvas in the photograph, tinged with that mysterious blue.
The painting stirred memories of a familiar scene and amplified his anticipation.
There were only two subjects that could make his usually composed second son show his actual age.
Painting and the sea.
Being occupied with company matters, Myung Hee always lacked time to spend with Hyun Min.
So Hyun Min would pass those hours visiting exhibitions.
He didn’t know what Hyun Min thought about while viewing paintings, but his eyes were calm when he looked at them.
Like the sea itself.
As if confirming that observation, Hyun Min showed particular interest in works of that subject matter.
Perhaps it was the joy of reading his enigmatic second son’s true thoughts at last.
So Myung Hee had collected paintings, arranged art education, built an aquarium, and gifted a yacht—
he’d provided every form of support money could offer.
But now, thinking back, he wondered if he’d misstepped.
Perhaps he’d merely been consoling himself under the guise of doing it all for Hyun Min.
“In any case, ……I hope this time I’ve gotten it right.”
At least looking at the recent work, he could be certain of one thing.
Showing the Aquarium to Ye Ji had been a meaningful act.
Myung Hee thought this through and sent a brief reply to Ye Ji.
[I’m looking forward to it.]

***
After the exams ended, life fell back into its familiar rhythm, flowing swiftly.
Home, school, studio—the same turning wheel.
Yet within that routine, Ye Ji felt genuinely pleased that she was still painting.
In every moment of her life, there was the smell of oil paint and the weight of her brush.
The fact that she could live this way without other worries felt like a tremendous blessing.
Buzz—buzz—
Ye Ji entered the studio with a light heart, but her brow furrowed as her phone wouldn’t stop vibrating.
What on earth was wrong with this Social Media account?
Recently, she’d been receiving direct messages from people she didn’t know almost daily.
[Is this really the artist Ye Ji’s account?]
[Are you the Ye Ji who exhibited at Seo Hwa Won?]
The account seemed to have spread somehow, with such messages arriving almost every day.
At first, since they contained some information about her, she’d responded.
She’d assumed they were likely journalists or people from the arts and culture world.
[Do you sell your work?]
[Could we possibly see your paintings?]
But the messages quickly turned to business.
Offering her money outright and demanding paintings?
It was absurd, to say the least.
Originally, Ye Ji’s Social Media account had been purely for sharing photographs of her work and daily life with friends.
Since she had no intention of promotion or selling work, she politely declined every offer.
Then they’d claim they saw her work at some department store, or at Seo Hwa Won—
‘They see it once and suddenly want to buy paintings?’
If anything, Ye Ji’s mood only darkened.
She had absolutely no intention of selling her work indiscriminately.
So when she presented at Seo Hwa Won, even as a newcomer, she’d set her Artwork Value quite high.
If it didn’t sell, then it didn’t sell.
When her true worth was finally recognized someday, then she could decide whether to sell again.
That it all happened to sell and she made substantial money was incidental.
Ye Ji didn’t actually enjoy the act of earning money.
To her, money was validation through capital, and operational funds to prepare her next works.
It held no greater significance, and she had no immediate need for large sums.
Now Ye Ji had food, materials, and a workspace.
Her life was complete—there was no need to push herself to sell to strangers.
Besides, even taking the commission from the chairman wasn’t about the money.
‘He was buying everything, so I was just making a counterproposal out of consideration.’
A sort of negotiating tactic—compromise on one point to gain another.
And courtesy for someone who valued her paintings enough to want them all.
But what exactly did these people think they were seeing in her work?
Without any genuine feeling, they simply wanted to possess it because of the label: “paintings bought by people of influence.”
‘Of course, this stubbornness led me to starve in my last life….’
But there was a kind of pride that even death couldn’t change.
And this time, with a solid foundation, such conviction wouldn’t easily be broken.
‘There’s no reason to change it.’
That was right.
Having firmly settled her thoughts, Ye Ji systematically blocked every noisy account.
‘…Is there no way to avoid all this nonsense?’
Selling paintings to people who don’t understand their value wounded her pride.
This time she could handle it by blocking, but there was no guarantee it wouldn’t happen again.
Perhaps for now, keeping herself hidden was the way to preserve her convictions and principles.
‘I’ll think about that later.’
After clearing her direct messages, Ye Ji picked up her brush again and examined the canvas.
Checking whether the paints from earlier sessions had fully dried was essential.
She felt that characteristically tacky sensation of oil paint—slightly tacky to the touch, not quite fully set.
“It’s not smudging….”
But there were still parts that needed care.
Ye Ji planned to continue working deliberately, without rushing.
The deep blue depths and the warm glow of sunlight filtering through them.
Over that, she applied transparent Gel Medium to express jellyfish, malleable and graceful.
The spreading tentacles drifted freely through the water, and their glossy sheen caught the yellow sunlight, glowing warm and lustrous.
And now Ye Ji was beginning to apply the final layer over everything.
Cross-hatching currents from all directions, without fixed orientation.
Following their flow, waves collided into white foam that scattered like powder.
‘To preserve texture, paint alone won’t be enough.’
Ye Ji mixed white sand into the medium and applied it where the currents collided and surged.
The white paint mixed with sand grains gave the wave foam a genuinely grainy texture at the water’s edge.
And the thickly applied paint expressing the currents gained dimension through delicate brushwork.
One side bent in an angular stroke, another in a V-shape, creating depth that shifts according to the direction of light.
‘This is where it gets tricky.’
To properly layer the paint as intended and maintain its form, rushing would ruin everything.
After that, Ye Ji shut herself in the studio day after day, completing one section at a time.
Some nights she missed the last train and her father came to pick her up, and afterward she’d sleep in and arrive late to school.
Some might call it excessive, but Ye Ji found joy even in such a life.
To have an interest that could hold her attention through exhaustion, and the stamina to pursue it.
Ye Ji understood well how precious such a life could be.
Now it was just a matter of letting it dry properly….
……
Ye Ji lifted her gaze to the studio ceiling for a moment.
The lighting Seong Su had newly installed in the studio proved far more helpful than necessary.
Particularly the ceiling track lighting, like in a gallery, allowed her to adjust the angle and position of the lights.
For a work without fixed orientation, adjustable lighting was invaluable.
The thickly layered paint from the Impasto technique meant that even the shadows cast by light were part of the artwork.
Sigh….
Days spent absorbed in painting had passed.
Following the approaching summer, sweat had begun gathering on her brow.
Ye Ji barely managed to sit up, let out a breath, and turned on the studio air conditioning.
It was already mid-June, and it was becoming difficult to endure the daylight without cooling.
“……Done.”
The canvas, a spacious square over a meter on each side, had become a work capturing a slice of the sea.
Currents rendered three-dimensionally through the Impasto technique cross in all directions, creating rough waves.
Yet within that turbulent flow, the jellyfish drifted, holding the warm light of sunlight that had penetrated the water.
And as if self-luminous, it reflected its captured light, glowing smooth and warm.
A living creature that maintains its own radiance even amid the harsh world’s currents.
Though it might appear tossed by the flow, closer inspection reveals the truth.
No matter how the canvas is turned, external forces cannot reverse or confuse the creature within.
Within a work that bears no fixed direction, only the jellyfish itself knows where it truly swims.
Free and stubborn. Shining brighter than anyone.
It will drift along the path it alone has chosen.

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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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