The Reborn Genius of an Arts High School - Chapter 52

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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 52.
Young nodded confidently in response to Ye Ji’s question.
In his work, one could feel loneliness and emptiness.
Though she couldn’t quite articulate it, she could tell that his current bright exterior was a gross exaggeration—a carefully constructed facade.
Kang Hyuk, who had been studying the work, posed a question.
“How long did it take you to paint this?”
“Twenty minutes? Or twenty-five years?”
At Young’s answer, Kang Hyuk nodded slowly, as if in admiration.
The painting itself didn’t take long to complete, but the work held within it a lifetime of experience.
As she had suspected, Young’s work was not the type that demanded endless hours and meticulous effort.
Rather, it was about drawing forth certain impressions in the viewer through the smallest of touches.
Because he understood his own gift so keenly, he deployed his work with absolute confidence.
Yet for all that, there was a peculiar self-mockery underlying it all.
“Once you’re famous, people will applaud even if you just fart.”
So everyone’s bound to succeed eventually.
Ye Ji couldn’t quite bring herself to laugh at the way Young delivered this as a joke.
He clearly believed his own fame was hollow and ephemeral.
Even if one earned vast sums and became renowned, a person could still feel completely empty like this.
“Alright! Now, let’s finish up by looking at Ye Ji’s work and head home?”
Young spoke brightly and led everyone to Ye Ji’s work, which was last on the schedule.
Ye Ji observed the expressions on the others’ faces as they regarded her painting, feeling somewhat self-conscious.
The thought that they might come to understand her through her work made her feel embarrassed.
After all, the theme of Life and Death was unusually personal to her.
“…Hmm….”
Young fell silent, studying the painting for a long moment without speaking.
An awkward hush filled the room, and Ye Ji was beginning to feel mortified when—
“How old are you right now?”
“Oh, yes. I’m seventeen by international age.”
“Eighteen by Korean age?”
Young suddenly asked about Ye Ji’s age.
She nodded almost reflexively, and Young tilted his head.
“Very unusual. So Special.”
‘Unusual’ and ‘special’ are distinctly different words, aren’t they?
Ye Ji wanted to push back clearly, but held her tongue.
Besides, she didn’t much care either way.
In the strange atmosphere, Kang Hyuk spoke up.
“The candle’s at the bottom, but the wax is dripping down from above—what does that symbolize?”
“Well, that….”
Just as Ye Ji was about to explain, Young cut her off.
“No, no. Why don’t we take another look once everything’s finished and think it through more carefully then?”
Ye Ji thought there was no need to go to such lengths, but since her teacher had suggested it, she could only acquiesce.
In any case, the experience of looking at another person’s work and understanding them through it was quite fascinating.
Seven days of school remained before break.
It felt a shame that this class had only just begun.
***
She had done her best. And produced the best possible result.
Yu Ra was certain of this.
The theme was challenging, but not impossibly difficult.
Her work had turned out even better than she’d anticipated or worried about.
This time, surely she would capture the greater share of attention.
‘What expression will she wear.’
She anticipated Ye Ji’s face as she admired the work, and that expression had been entirely satisfying.
The amazed look on someone’s face when confronted with your creation.
The gasps, the interest, the fascination of those around her.
Her high spirits gradually subsided as she observed Young’s hollow work.
The artist Young seemed far emptier than she’d expected, yet possessed a yearning that somehow resembled her own.
He was someone perpetually searching for something.
Someone wandering in search of a passion that might fill the void within his soul.
‘He’s definitely someone worth learning from.’
Conveying something through the simplest of forms.
That was the true realm of masters.
The uninitiated, seeing such work, often say, “I could do that much myself!”
‘They couldn’t possibly.’
The profound details contained within were not easily imitated.
Her own work was excellent, and the teacher’s skill exceeded her expectations.
Yu Ra’s mood was very good.
But the moment she encountered Ye Ji’s work—
Yu Ra realized she had fallen into the most arrogant delusion imaginable.
Seeing Ye Ji’s painting, it was as if she’d struck an enormous wall; her breath caught in her throat.
A city skyline, dripping candle wax, and vines?
Perhaps on the surface it seemed unremarkable.
But Yu Ra could see it clearly.
Decaying vegetation wreathed across the urban landscape, and a pomegranate dropping darkly rotting seeds.
A mysterious palette that blended modern sensibility with classical still-life painting.
From that work emanated a lonely quality, along with something ineffably moving.
A feeling that, as of yet, she couldn’t quite name or articulate.
“The candle’s at the bottom, but the wax is dripping down from above—what does that mean?”
At Kang Hyuk’s question, Yu Ra’s lips pressed together tightly.
Candle wax that defied gravity, that climbed the wall like vines.
That was the desperation of one striving to achieve the impossible.
Yu Ra understood now why Young had asked Ye Ji her age.
The emotions conveyed in the work were simply impossible to attribute to a teenager.
Great despair over something, and yet the will to rise again despite it—to challenge the impossible.
A depth of profundity that Yu Ra herself had no idea how to even approach.
“…….”
On her way home, Yu Ra suddenly stopped walking.
She couldn’t quite remember how she’d walked here after class ended.
She’d given her all and produced the finest result possible? That’s what she’d thought just an hour ago.
A bitter laugh escaped her.
What a pathetic thought that had been!
In that moment, overcome by her own contempt, Yu Ra nearly hurled the mobile phone she’d been holding.
But she barely managed to suppress the surging emotions.
Her work was certainly bold and creative.
That was something she could still be confident about—it was true.
The problem was that it was all there was.
Compared to the painting Ye Ji had created, her work was nothing more than a hollow shell.
She had become so fixated on inverted color that she’d sacrificed the details.
‘No matter how much chiaroscuro I add tomorrow, that won’t change.’
But Ye Ji’s work possessed Mise-en-Scène.
Every element that Ye Ji had chosen and orchestrated in that single painting had purpose.
Though it was only one painting, it unmistakably contained a story.
‘…I can’t do that.’
Yu Ra felt suddenly gripped by intense frustration.
She couldn’t believe how blindly confident she’d been.
“Ha….”
Yu Ra released a burning breath.
Her vision, usually sharp and cold as steel, blurred before her eyes.
Anger, frustration, disappointment?
These negative emotions mingled with an odd exhilaration.
She was angry, but that fury was directed solely at herself.
Who had ever made her feel this way before?
Never in her life had anyone stirred such emotion in her.
Yu Ra roughly rubbed her eyes, burning with indignation and frustration.
‘I want to win.’
I want to someday surpass that talent.
Before I die, I want to paint something greater than that girl’s work and earn the world’s recognition.
Yu Ra felt an intense yearning swell within her.
Life and Death. That theme now finally resonated with her, arriving almost too late.
For Yu Ra, this was the moment her life’s purpose crystallized—a path without regret.
***
After all the students had left.
Young remained alone in the Studio.
“…….”
He gazed at the still-unfinished work of Ye Ji, his expression empty of mirth.
A small girl, sitting among the third-year students with her eyes wide open.
She was quite different from what he’d expected.
There was nothing notably eccentric or unusual about her.
An ordinarily sociable and reserved teenage girl with a strong sense of self.
Perhaps ordinary was indeed the word for that impression.
He’d learned about Ye Ji recently, when he visited France.

A work displayed in the special exhibition.
A painting with a subtly Korean character that had captured the gaze of Young, who carried Korean blood.
The caption identified it as a work by Ye Ji, a student from Cheonglim.
The caliber of this year’s Montrebleu Youth Competition was reportedly very high, and this painting certainly lived up to that standard.
The youthful vigor of a student, combined with an inexplicable profundity and restraint.
Yet through it all burned a passion for art so intense it could be felt—a truly exceptional painting.
Other works radiated self-satisfaction and confidence, but Ye Ji’s was different.
Something was different about it.
The emotion one felt viewing the work was something wavering yet warm.
It was a feeling he’d never experienced before, difficult to articulate in any language he possessed.
In truth, the reason he’d accepted the offer from Cheonglim to come here was because of her.
Now he faced Ye Ji’s actual work in progress.
“…….”
He’d thought she might be mature for her age.
But this exceeded his imagination.
“Did she… conceal her skill?”
The painting displayed at Montrebleu.
It had contained both competence and roughness.
But looking at this painting now, he could find no trace of clumsiness whatsoever.
She’d sketched nothing and painted with absolute certainty.
The various symbolic elements that must have emerged from such complex deliberation.
All of it harmonized to create an atmosphere both strange and deeply urgent.
Most remarkably, within that urgency there shone a brightness.
‘The opposite of me.’
Most people appraise Young’s work thus.
Darker than expected. Hollow. Futile.
They evaluate his work through such negative terminology.
The depth they recognize in his work he accepts with gratitude, but—
“What thoughts does she harbor day after day….”
Small, young, cute-looking—eighteen years old, a high school girl.
What vast ruminations must occupy that small head of hers.
To produce such depth in her work?
Young’s curiosity about his student Ye Ji continued to deepen.
Moreover, Ye Ji’s work had been so striking it had overshadowed everything else.
Yet the works and worlds of Yu Ra and Kang Hyuk were quite intriguing as well.
Yu Ra, cold and reserved in appearance, was brimming with more intensity and confidence than anyone else.
Kang Hyuk played at being bold and cool, yet seemed captive to countless regrets and lacks.
‘As for Sung Hyun….’
She remained difficult to assess at present.
Her fundamentals were solid, but she was of the type Young had most worried about when taking on Korean students.
A student lacking flexibility, merely outputting what she’d been taught.
‘I thought this kind wouldn’t show up if we scheduled around exam periods.’
What could be done?
He had no intention of indulgently accepting all students with open arms.
Even just taking the willing ones with him would make for an enjoyable and enriching class.
Still, hadn’t he given her one last chance?
‘Time to look inward.’
Time to sit quietly, observe oneself, turn inward.
It was the first thing an artist should do, before seeking inspiration from without.
If she finds her answer there, she has the fundamentals—probably she’ll make solid progress.
“This should be interesting.”
In any case, the conclusion was certain: this would be more rewarding than expected.
Young left the Studio, already anticipating tomorrow.

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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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