I Became an Artist in a Romantic Comedy

Chapter 28

The anthropomorphism contest for middle and high school students had become a nationwide event, managed by the private corporation Korea Drawing Inc.

Korea Drawing wasn’t just any ordinary company. It was a haven for artists, known even abroad for its prestige.

Comparable companies included Atlantis Inc. in the U.S., though they were unrelated to this particular event.

With its headquarters in Cheongdam-dong, Korea Drawing had poured significant resources into this contest.

In one of the offices sat Ahn Dae-Min, the manager of the Planning and Promotions Department, rubbing his smoothly shaved head in frustration.

“Phew... This is our first time hosting a contest, and the submissions are this good?”

He leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh.

“At this rate, it’s going to take forever to pick the top entries.”

On the monitor before him were dozens of entries from the contest. Even to a layperson, the quality of these works was enough to draw admiration.

“Didn’t we delegate all the judging to the evaluation team? Why stress over it?”

At that moment, his subordinate—or rather, his assistant—Seol Yun entered the office and spoke casually.

“Ugh... Just thinking about it gives me a headache. Didn’t you know? We have to filter out the entries that show no promise before sending them to the evaluation team.”

“...What? But I thought the evaluation team was handling everything! Why now?!”

“How should I know? Those old geezers change their minds every five minutes.”

“But...”

Seol Yun had plenty to say but bit her tongue.

The Planning and Promotions Department was a newly established division, weaker in influence compared to other departments.

With no proven track record, their team couldn’t afford to voice complaints.

“Overtime is inevitable. Oh, and don’t forget, the professors are coming this afternoon.”

“...Understood.”

Leaving his computer as it was, Ahn Dae-Min stood up, deciding that a cup of coffee might help clear his mind.

Seol Yun, wearing an expression of despair, also returned to her desk.

Neither of them noticed the incoming email, which arrived moments after they left.

The sender? HAEUN.

The subject line? NO.1 [Peach Blossom Village (도원향 桃園鄕)], an intriguingly unique title.

***

"Oppa!!"

I was lying in my room, idly scrolling through my phone, when my younger sister, Lee Ha-Yoon, burst in, kicking the door open.

Four years younger than me, but because of her early enrollment, she was already a sixth grader. Today, her eyebrows were furrowed, and her mouth formed a sharp triangle.

"You ate my Häagen-Dazs again, didn’t you?!"

"...Yeah."

It was an honest mistake. The lid was off, so I assumed it was leftovers.

"Do you want me to go buy you another one later?"

I couldn’t bring myself to make excuses. How could I commit the crime of lying to my one and only sister?

"Uuuuuh... Fine!"

Thankfully, my kind-hearted sister quickly dropped her frown and beamed.

"Come here."

When I gestured for her to come closer, she lit up and dashed over, diving onto the bed beside me.

"Careful!"

"It’s okay! You’ll save me if anything happens!"

I’m not Superman, little sister. It’s unfair how fragile we siblings are.

Well, at least Yoon grew up healthier than Mom and me.

Probably thanks to Dad’s genes.

But that wasn’t important. As long as she stayed healthy, I was happy.

I did wish she’d bring her friends over sometimes, though. The last time she did, it didn’t go well.

"Does your brother have a girlfriend?""Don’t come to my house ever again."

...Let’s not think about that anymore.

After that day, Yoon stopped inviting friends over.

I worried she might be getting bullied at school, but when I attended a few events, I saw she had plenty of friends.

She played well with them during sports days and bazaars.

Wow. She figured it out.

Now that I think about it, my little sister might have quite the eye for aesthetics.

I smirked at her question, feigning ignorance.

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

My mischievous smile gave me away instantly.

"Come on, spill it!"

"Fine. Yes, I thought of you when I painted it."

Yoon’s pout turned into a bright smile as she looked up at me.

"I knew it! The vibe, the face, even the hairstyle—they all felt familiar!"

"Even the bitten peach?"

"Argh! Forget about that!"

My dear sister had once handed me her half-eaten peach because she didn’t like it.

Of course, I ate it without complaint.

Is this what being a parent feels like?

"We’re here. Feel free to pick out something besides Häagen-Dazs."

"Really?!"

"Yup. Think of it as a reward for figuring out the inspiration for my painting."

"Awesome! I’m going to clean this place out!"

Mom was definitely going to scold us if we overdid it.

Still, the house was out of snacks, so we might as well stock up for the studio, too.

As I filled the basket with goodies, I opened my phone to check the contest’s YouTube stream again.

New submissions had been added, and the quality of the entries kept improving.

"Impressive."

Without my painting, it would’ve been tough to pick a winner.

But my work stood out, undeniably dominating the competition.

"Whoa, look at that number."

My votes had reached six figures—217,795.

Since international viewers could vote, the numbers had skyrocketed.

Curious about the live chat, I opened it.

[WTF TIHS???]

[holy...=/=]

[Is this even fair? This level is insane.]

[No way a student drew this. Was it outsourced? AI?]

[This is museum-level. Probably going on auction soon.]

...I think I’ve seen enough.

It wasn’t hard to guess which painting they were reacting to.

Honestly, I’d anticipated a strong response, but even I hadn’t expected it to be this intense.

Turning off my phone, I looked up.

"Yoon?"

"Pffft."

My sister puffed out her cheeks, clearly irritated.

"I’ve been calling you for ages!"

"Sorry, sorry. I got a bit dizzy."

"What?! Are you okay? Should we go back?"

Her face instantly changed to one of concern, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

"No, I was just surprised by the YouTube chat."

"Oh, phew. I thought you weren’t feeling well."

No way a trip to the convenience store would wear me out.

"Still, if you’re ever sick, you have to tell me, okay?"

"Of course."

We placed our baskets on the counter.

The cashier made brief eye contact with me, his expression a mix of weariness and dread.

...Yeah, maybe we overdid it a little.