I Became an Artist in a Romantic Comedy

Chapter 45

One week after the sports day, which had been refreshingly different from what I expected...

"Wow, did they really grade it like this...?"

"Those bastards. Wasn’t it supposed to be a fair and straightforward exam?"

"Seriously. I actually cheated using the textbook in my head, isn’t that an act of cheating?"

The midterms had arrived, and all the students were going crazy, while the teachers were all smiles.

"Hey, this is revenge, right? You should fix the answers!"

"What the hell is the common ground between Confucius and Laozi...?"

"Why on earth do we have to study ethics in 1st year? Why did I even choose that class?!"

This is a specialized high school, yet why does it feel just like a general high school?

In fact, it was even harder than a regular high school. There were not only general subjects but also specialized exams for each department.

Of course, I wasn’t concerned about those subjects. I passed the general exams without any problem, and I also did quite well on my specialized exams.

"Heh, heh..."

After school, Choi Ye-Seo, who had already reached a state of enlightenment, came to our class.

"Lee Ha-Eun, hello."

Then Ha Soo-Yul arrived, looking like she didn’t have a single thought in her head.

As for Hong Ye-Hwa... well, she was in a state of complete mental peace.

But, she was good at studying, so there wasn’t much to worry about. She truly was the ace of the art department.

It was strange to see someone from a family like hers, who had lived in a different era, giving that expression. Life sure is interesting (or long).

Just as I was heading out with them after school, I heard...

"Oh, right. Hong Ye-Hwa, can you go today?"

"...Huh? What?"

Maybe it was the effect of the exams, but Hong Ye-Hwa seemed a bit dazed, shuddering and looking back at me.

"Ah... yeah, sure."

Hong Ye-Hwa responded and picked up her phone. The name "Father" appeared on the dial screen.

‘Hmm, so formal...’

I didn’t want to interfere with their father-daughter relationship, but I couldn’t help but think about it.

Ha Soo-Yul and Choi Ye-Seo, who had been listening to our conversation, suddenly got excited.

"Why? Where are you going? You two? Why?"

Ha Soo-Yul’s eyes seemed to grow brighter the more we talked.

"I told you! Stick to the order! That damn bitch—!"

Thud. You're an idol, right...

Without thinking, my hand shot out and covered Choi Ye-Seo’s mouth. Don’t stick your tongue out at me.

I quickly withdrew my hand and pulled Choi Ye-Seo’s cheek.

"Ah! Let go!"

"Stay still."

Only after a few seconds did I release my hand from her cheek, and she rubbed it vigorously.

"Did I say something I shouldn’t have?"

"It’s not what you think."

I couldn’t understand why they were so worked up, but I had to calm them down.

"I mean... why don’t you guys come over to my house? You can bring all your friends if you want."

"Sure."

"Fine..."

At Hong Ye-Hwa’s simple words, the mood lightened instantly, and I felt relieved.

"So, why are you and Ye-Hwa going to my house?"

Once the mood had settled, Choi Ye-Seo quickly asked.

Hong Ye-Hwa and I exchanged a brief look, then shrugged. We figured no one else would hear it anyway.

"She has a painting called 'Ho-Sung' at her house. And she said this 'Ho-Sung' is similar to my 'Do-Won-Hyang'."

"Yeah. It’s not exactly your painting, but the level of completion is too similar."

When we said it’s similar, we were implying that it could’ve been a masterpiece.

Do-Won-Hyang isn’t a masterpiece, but it's a painting close to one. I think that’s what Hong Ye-Hwa meant to say.

"Ah, I see. So, it’s because of the painting... is there any other reason?"

Choi Ye-Seo’s face looked a little uncomfortable. Was she in a hurry?

"...No."

Hong Ye-Hwa turned her head and scratched her cheek at Choi Ye-Seo’s question.

"Ugh... later, we’ll go to the truth room."

By now, Ha Soo-Yul joined in and started pressing Hong Ye-Hwa.

What are these guys doing?

I was watching them mess around when Hong Ye-Hwa suddenly stopped walking.

"We’re here."

"Where is this...?"

We stood in front of a large tower. The newly built Tower Palace.

I chuckled quietly.

"When will you return to Atlantis?"

Suddenly, when I asked, Hong Jin-Hoo stopped laughing and sat back down. He immediately became more casual, telling me it was fine to speak informally.

"Probably in July... but..."

"Is it because of the prize? Are planets participating this time?"

"Now that you mention it, I heard you’re participating too. Some planets might join, but I’m not."

"Hmm. I see."

Our strange conversation seemed to be puzzling Hong Ye-Hwa, who had been quietly listening.

But after that, Hong Jin-Hoo sent her to the place where the others were.

"Before meeting you, I thought it was just curiosity."

A deep laugh resonated through the study.

Then, he stood up and brought a painting.

Where did he get this from?

"Let me see what Lee Ha-Eun thinks of this."

With a mischievous smile, Hong Jin-Hoo removed the cloth covering the painting.

So, this is the father? He seems a little strange. Shouldn’t people just call him "Dad"?

But, well, it’s not really my place to comment.

I lowered my eyes to look at the painting, "Ho-Sung."

Ho-Sung (呼聲) — The sound of calling.

The painting was simple. A tiger howling from a mountain.

It wasn’t anything special... just like Do-Won-Hyang, it had that same feeling of alienness.

"So, what do you think? Do you feel anything?"

I turned to Hong Jin-Hoo, who was looking at me curiously.

"It’s not amateur work. But it’s not professional either."

"Hmm. I knew that."

"Please listen to the full explanation from a Korean artist."

I had said this before, but it felt odd to say again.

I tapped the frame of the painting, lost in thought.

"Are these from planets?"

"You just said it’s not professional, right?"

"Exactly..."

Hmm. It’s unclear. But one thing’s for sure, it’s neither amateur nor professional.

Amateurs couldn’t produce something this clean.

So, is it professional? Not really. They are always serious about their work.

What’s left?

'An artist... but who says there can't be other artists than me?'

"For now, the person who painted Ho-Sung is probably someone similar to me."

"Based on what?"

"My eyes, or perhaps the alienness of Do-Won-Hyang."

Hong Jin-Hoo carefully caressed the frame, deep in thought.

"Certainly. Compared to ‘masterpieces,’ both Ho-Sung and Do-Won-Hyang feel alien. It’s like they belong to a different dimension."

"...?"

How does this person know the term 'masterpiece'?

"Huh? Why do you ask?"

"Do you know about masterpieces?"

"Why wouldn’t I? They’re the expensive ones in the art market."

???

What is going on? The concept of masterpieces and masterpieces were terms I used exclusively.

"Do you know about masterpieces?"

I asked again, just to make sure.

"Of course. Masterpieces are those rare paintings, only seven of them in the world, right?"

When I heard that, a chill ran down my spine.

These were details that weren’t even mentioned in the original story.

And those masterpieces were definitely related to my previous life’s masterpieces. The numbers matched perfectly.

The first thought that came to my mind was...

"...I guess I don’t need to worry about money anymore?"

If I make a masterpiece now, could I become one of the top 100 richest people in the world?

It seems related to my previous life, but it’s already over. Why think about the past?

I should live well in this life. But still, my paintings...

‘I do want to see them again. Especially...’

[The Angel].