I Became an Artist in a Romantic Comedy

Chapter 29

A Week Into the Contest

Today marked the day when the professors would critique the submitted works and the paintings selected for display in each school’s auditorium would be delivered.

Following the critiques, the awards ceremony would take place—albeit a week later.

Even though the professors’ evaluations were crucial, the final results also had to consider the live vote tallies and general audience feedback from the live stream.

“Why are we spending Creative Activities time on an art critique...?”

“Seriously, wouldn’t it have been better to use career guidance time instead?”

“Honestly, even if they’d done it during P.E., it would’ve been better—”

“Want to die? Don’t you dare touch P.E.!”

For most students, the art critique felt like a drag.

Creative Activities, usually a free period, had been commandeered for a university professor’s lecture on the art critique—hardly a captivating topic for high schoolers.

“Hey, Lee Ha-Eun! This isn’t fair. You should’ve shown us your painting before sending it off!”

Of course, not everyone felt that way. Take, for example, Choi Ye-Seo, whining from her seat in front of me.

“Yeah, Ha-Eun, you’re so mean.”

Even Ha Soo-Yul, narrowing her eyes at me, seemed to agree.

“All the entries are on YouTube anyway. You must’ve seen mine already.”

“It’s not the same as seeing it in person!”

“Exactly!”

Choi Ye-Seo’s rebuttal and Ha Soo-Yul’s enthusiastic nod of agreement made it clear they were conspiring to make things difficult for me.

“Fine. You’ll see it soon enough during the Creative Activities period when we go to the auditorium.”

“Yeah, but I want to see it now!”

“So unfair.”

Ignoring the two slumping dramatically in disappointment, I turned my gaze out the window.

There was still some time left before the Creative Activities period, and the paintings were still being brought in.

Right on cue, I noticed a group carrying our school’s entries into the courtyard.

Ten paintings in total.

With each class period lasting 50 minutes, they’d likely dedicate about five minutes to each piece.

Our school had submitted 21 paintings to the contest, but only the top 10 in votes were selected for display.

‘And my painting’s right on top. How predictable.’

As the most-voted piece nationwide, my Peach Blossom Village (도원향 桃園鄕) was carefully packed and placed on top of the pile.

The other paintings were decently packed as well, but none seemed as meticulously wrapped as mine.

‘Their intentions couldn’t be more obvious.’

Once the critique was over and the awards ceremony concluded in a week, they’d probably try to take Peach Blossom Village for promotional purposes.

If someone didn’t see through that blatant move, they’d have to be clueless.

The only reason I could clearly identify my painting from the group was simple:

‘That hot pink just pops.’

The bright colors made my piece stand out from the others, even from a distance.

No matter how sharp my eyesight was, I couldn’t exactly make out the other paintings in detail from this far.

I glanced away and checked the clock—almost lunchtime.

“Ugh, I don’t feel like cleaning.”

Next semester, I swore to myself, I’d volunteer for faculty office duty instead.

That he could discreetly meet HAEUN without drawing attention.That HAEUN’s talent was genuine and not a fluke.

“To make money.”

“Such a sellout. Anyway, this critique session is a big deal—university professors were invited, you know.”

“Yeah, and I bet you’re only going because the school paid them an appearance fee.”

“Shh! Keep that between us.”

What a sleazy response.

Despite my complaints, I was mildly curious about the other students’ works.

The critique itself didn’t matter to me; I just wanted to see the paintings.

‘What’s the point of listening to people who didn’t even draw the works they’re analyzing?’

Critics always seemed to add unnecessary interpretations.

Would they even realize that the apple in Peach Blossom Village was inspired by my sister’s half-eaten snack?

Unlikely.

As we reached the auditorium, I noticed that the other grades had already gathered, filling the seats.

Their vacant stares were all directed toward the centerpiece of the display—my painting.

“Whoa... That’s insane. Crazy...”

“......”

While Choi Ye-Seo gawked with her mouth wide open, Ha Soo-Yul stared at the painting as if she were looking into the universe itself.

‘This is going to cause a lot of chatter. It’s all being recorded, too.’

Peach Blossom Village was prominently displayed in the center of the arrangement.

With four paintings on the left side, five on the right, and a noticeable gap between them and my work, the message was clear: This is the showstopper.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at the blatant favoritism.

This was exactly why I had avoided joining an agency.

Something told me I’d have to deal with some annoying fallout tonight.

Following the teacher’s instructions, we paired up and sat down.

I ended up sandwiched between Choi Ye-Seo and Ha Soo-Yul.

Soon, the lights dimmed, leaving only the stage illuminated.

Three older individuals walked onto the stage, taking their seats like judges at a competition.

The critique session began with the first painting: a personified yellow flower titled Paradise of the Bees.

The professors offered a mix of critiques and praise.

“Oh, this employs a decalcomania technique.”

“But the palette is too monochromatic—it’s hard to see the essence of the flower.”

“Still, doesn’t it evoke the beauty of a tulip?”

Two of them played the good cop, while one played the bad cop.

At least they weren’t too harsh, likely to protect the young artists’ feelings.

Even so, the whole setup felt off. These professors weren’t the artists; their interpretations were just guesses.

Would they even understand my piece?

I doubted it.

For now, I slouched in my seat, my eyes wandering to the edge of the stage.

Two figures stood in the shadows, deliberately avoiding the spotlight.

‘Obvious. Too obvious.’

I clicked my tongue and turned away.

It was clear I’d cross paths with them eventually, but it wouldn’t be today.

‘Guess I’ll slip out the back when this is over.’

Avoiding unnecessary hassle had always been my motto.