The Reborn Genius of an Arts High School - Chapter 5

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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 5.
The schedule changed suddenly.
Ye-ji didn’t know why, but for her it was good news.
She’d been dying to pour out everything overflowing in her head anyway.
‘Thank goodness I don’t have to wait for night classes.’

The students headed toward the studio, lugging heavy brushes and paints.
“Everyone, hurry and grab your practice pieces, then get to your spots!”
The teacher, who’d arrived unusually early, was chivvying them along before the bell even rang.
“But the bell hasn’t rung yet!”
The students, hassled the moment they arrived, naturally voiced their complaints.
“If you want to start right away, you should be preparing in advance!”
The teacher seemed unusually hurried today.
Ye-ji sensed something was off, but decided not to dwell on it.
What mattered now was that she could finally paint.
“I mean, if that’s the plan, shouldn’t it be prep time, not break time?”
At Da-hye’s grumbling, Ye-ji let out a quiet laugh.
Still, the students took their places without much more complaint.
As they dragged easels and canvases into position, Ye-ji glanced over the works.
‘Looks like more new pieces than I expected…’
Most students had swapped their practice drawings for fresh ones meant to submit to the Yeonsilljong.
And they’d quietly traded oil paint for acrylics or watercolor.
“This doesn’t even feel like an oil painting class anymore.”
Da-hye’s muttering proved she wasn’t much different.
She too was working from her phone, referencing sketches she’d gotten feedback on at her academy, redoing the underdrawing from scratch.
Artistic expression and freedom were buried under the crushing weight of achievement, trapped in complex theory.
Most students were touching canvas with extreme caution.
“I don’t know~”
By contrast, Hyun-min seemed to have little ambition for achievement.
Rather than strain to paint a “good” picture, he’d shifted his whole approach toward pop art.
Instinctively pretty and cute imagery. Colors that appealed directly to taste.
Within the square canvas sat a sketch of a dolphin, its body curled round and smooth.
It was a sensible direction if technique couldn’t be shown off.
‘Actually, that’s a smart choice.’
When self-awareness works well, something worthwhile emerges.
Good technique wasn’t the only thing that made a good painting.
From that perspective….
Plop—
As she squeezed paint, the thick oil paint fell onto the palette with a weighty sound.
Ye-ji spread the generous squeeze of pigment across with a large brush.
Her fingertips still felt somewhat dull, but it would do.
The sensation was enough to pull the scenes from her mind.
She pressed blue paint onto the canvas with a heavy, scooping motion.
She drew boldly across the canvas without hesitation.
‘Ah… that feels good.’
A number 20 canvas, roughly 70 centimeters wide.
As she dragged paint across it, a strange sense of satisfaction washed over her.
The thick oil paint clung to the canvas, holding every brushstroke’s texture.
Her memories of past and present lives carried a considerable gap.
The past version of herself had rich experience but was half-blind, her vision never quite right.
The present, by contrast, had clear vision but sparse sensation and experience.
Her hands wouldn’t always obey her thoughts, but Ye-ji wasn’t worried.
She was young—more than young, still practically a child.
If the two slowly blended together, her potential would expand far beyond measure.
“What are you doing?”
But her uninhibited brushwork startled Da-hye, who’d been sketching beside her.
Ye-ji’s painting had received solid feedback in the previous session.
But now, under Ye-ji’s brush, even the already-finished parts were being covered over.
The painting the teacher had said looked “quite good”—
—was completely buried under new colors.
“I wanted to change it a bit.”
Ye-ji answered calmly to Da-hye’s shock.
Then she boldly applied more paint with her brush.
This was the Impasto technique.
Layering oil paint thickly to create texture and dimension through brushstrokes was her specialty.
The thick, tangible quality felt in painters like Van Gogh came precisely from this technique.
But the existing painting was done by a student still inexperienced with oils, so the pigment lay too thin.
Such shallow work didn’t meet Ye-ji’s standards.
“A bit? You call that a bit?”
A white tea table by the window, a flower vase, and the view beyond.
The original painting had shown that peaceful scene, but now it was completely obliterated.
Ye-ji’s preferred Impasto technique applied paint even thicker than usual.
Thick blue pigment covered the table entirely.
Da-hye, past confusion and alarm into resignation, waved her hand.
“I have extra canvas if you need it.”
Ignoring Da-hye’s comment—which assumed the painting was already ruined—Ye-ji continued layering paint.
Deep, dark blue-green and the subtle violet from beyond the window blended and engulfed the room’s landscape.
As if the sky beyond the window had overflowed and poured into the room.
A profound blue-green of unknowable depth pooled within the canvas like an ocean’s mysterious light.
Lost in the voluminous sensation of thickly applied paint—
Click—
The classroom door suddenly opened and an unfamiliar face stepped inside.
The unexpected arrival of a stranger brought an awkward silence.
But Ye-ji could identify who’d burst in.
It was Chloe.
***
“Ah, pardon the intrusion~ Goodness, everyone’s working so hard!”
The Principal of Cheongrim hurried in behind Chloe, speaking.
He laughed with a nervous chuckle, trying to ease the awkward atmosphere, though he was flustered himself.
Disrupting class all of a sudden?
‘I never planned to come in.’
The problem was that Chloe herself was equally startled by her own actions.
In the chaos of the unsalvageable situation, the Principal continued blathering.
“The artist Chloe happened to be visiting Korea….”
The Principal fumbled through an explanation, clarifying it had nothing to do with the Yeonsilljong.
But the more he explained, the worse the atmosphere became.
Painter Chloe Choi. Everyone knew the name.
Chloe watched the Principal awkwardly escalate the situation but felt no regret.
‘That painting….’
Chloe crossed the classroom as if in a trance, stopping in the middle.
A subtle color combination expressing depth in a single stroke.
The thickly applied oil paint was still just the base layer, yet the difference was palpable.
An indescribable sensation.
This resembled so much the brushwork of someone she’d known in her youth.
‘Katrin… it’s like hers.’
In a quiet village on the outskirts of Paris.
A woman she’d met by chance there.
Gaunt and unremarkable in appearance. Yet eyes that shone brighter than anyone’s.
And the astonishing paintings she’d seen in her studio.
Despite living in a ramshackle house barely better than homelessness, she’d stocked paint abundantly.
Yet in such conditions, her paintings overflowed with hope and positive light.
The experience of managing to ask her for a few painting lessons.
That had transformed Chloe’s entire life as an artist.
“Is this your own work?”
But looking closer, Chloe could see another painting beneath those confident brushstrokes.
Cheongrim’s students all had quite strong skills.
Yet Chloe was deeply disappointed by their formulaic competence.
Even this student’s painting, which had surprised her, shared something of that feeling.
“Yes.”
At the student’s flat answer, Chloe examined the painting more carefully.
Her impression of every student’s work at Cheongrim was identical.
Paintings so conventional they were hard to believe came from high schoolers.
Though she understood it was because of Korea’s entrance exam system, she still didn’t like it.
She didn’t want to score paintings that felt stamped out like cookie cutters, separated only by the finest margins.
“What’s your name, student?”
“Ye-ji Lee.”
So she’d decided to decline the tedious role of judge—
But in Ye-ji’s eyes, Chloe found a curious, quiet intensity that caught something in her.
Strangely, even this gaze felt familiar, achingly so.
“Your underdrawing and what you’re painting now are completely different styles. How do you plan to finish this?”
At Chloe’s question, Ye-ji pressed her lips together.
“Is this Chloe the judge for this year’s—”
Hyun-min’s murmur reached her ears.
Ye-ji paused, eyes rolling in thought, then answered with quiet conviction.
“It’s for the In-school Competition. If I say now, it won’t be fun. See the finished version later.”
At Ye-ji’s response, Chloe’s mouth curved upward almost unconsciously.
Her thinking had completely shifted.
‘There might be meaning to this.’
Perhaps the children shaped by South Korea’s entrance exam techniques were like well-honed raw gems.
They’d learned appropriate skills and methods.
Yet still unpolished stones without individuality or character.
How they were cut would determine if they became treasures or remained ordinary.
‘Ye-ji Lee….’
This one student’s painting had shown that hope.
What would the finished piece be like?
What more might she feel seeing it?
What did those colors mean to express?
Her heart quickened with anticipation.
How long had it been since she’d felt such pure emotion?
“…It’s good. I’m looking forward to it.”
With that, Chloe left the classroom.
The Principal’s footsteps following her out seemed to dance with lightness.
Ye-ji, her brush stilled, watched Chloe’s departing figure.
She thought idly that the woman had become quite impressive in middle age—
“Whoa, no way. That was Chloe Choi, right?”
“Chloe Choi must be judging this year’s Yeonsilljong. The lineup is insane.”
“Seems like she liked Ye-ji’s painting?”
“Ooh~ Ye-ji~!”
Teasing and envy, jokes and jealousy mixed into chaos as the class erupted.
“Quiet, quiet! Now, aren’t you going to paint?”
Before the atmosphere overheated—
The teacher quickly settled the students.
Soon scattered, they returned to their work with renewed energy.
In the midst of it, Ye-ji thought.
‘Chloe’s going to judge my painting?’
Chloe, who once pestered her to teach her painting.
Now that same person would see her work as a judge?
Ye-ji picked up her brush again with renewed resolve.
She absolutely refused to paint anything Chloe would find lacking.
***
A few days later, it was announced that Chloe Choi was the main judge for the Yeonsilljong.
It set not just the school but the entire Korean art world abuzz.
Galleries and painters wanting to connect with Chloe turned their attention to the competition.
Teachers grew tense with predictions that everyone would flood the exhibition once Yeonsilljong opened.
Under that pressure, the students threw themselves into their work.
While everyone burned with enthusiasm—
Ye-ji quit her art academy.
“Ugh, it’s ridiculously expensive and that’s all.”
In a Seoul art supply store.
Da-hye muttered complaints while loading paints into a basket.
She needed to restock the colors running low, and get bigger tubes of the basics—white and black—
As she considered and loaded, she glanced at Ye-ji and couldn’t hide her surprise.
“Hey… you.”
Ye-ji was quietly gathering paints.
And not small amounts—200ml bottles, the big ones.
Colors she wanted were already clear in her mind; she tossed them in without hesitation until the basket was full.
“…Just that much has to be like 500,000 won?”
“That’s why I’m not going to academy.”
Ye-ji laughed and answered.
With parental support, spending on materials was far more efficient than paying for academy.
And maintaining an expensive art academy just because everyone attended it was wasteful.
With the memory of Katrin and herself as a teacher, it was even more pointless.
Supplementary education that baited students and parents’ desperation had no business charging whatever it pleased.
“Ah, I guess that’s way cheaper then.”
Convinced, Da-hye considered briefly, then added everything she needed to her basket too.
Soon the two paid for their materials and left the store.
Da-hye, with a complex expression, looked at her receipt and crumpled it.
“It’s a complicated feeling.”
In the end, the arts always came down to money.
No matter how financially comfortable parents were, unless they were wealthy enough to own conglomerates, the burden was real.
A vague sense of debt always followed the children.
And that weight naturally transformed into hunger for results.
“I’m going back to academy. What about you?”
Da-hye, refocusing herself, asked.
Ye-ji crammed the heavy paint bottles into a large bag and answered.
“I’m going back to school.”

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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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