I Became an Artist in a Romantic Comedy

Chapter 80: 8th Masterpiece

“When will this end…?”

December had arrived, and the school held an early closing ceremony for the semester.

Although it combined the semester-closing ceremony and the end-of-year event, nothing really changed for us.

Our homeroom teacher for second-year remained Ms. Lee A-reum, and Hong Yehwa was still in the same class.

At Sa jong Art High, meritocracy ruled.

Students with outstanding grades were promoted to Class 1 or 2, while those who didn’t perform well were demoted.

Cruel, yes, but this field demanded it. Only those with talent could survive.

Ha Soyeol, Choi Yeseo, and even our protagonist’s group all stayed in Class 1, just like in their first year.

“Normally, Lee Doyoon would start making waves in his second year.”

But because of my presence, he seemed to have entered the entertainment world earlier than he would have otherwise.

Not that it was a bad thing, but… wouldn’t he get held back if he kept missing attendance?

He barely managed to scrape by in his first year. With his second year expected to be even busier, I couldn’t help but worry a bit.

Incidentally, all departments at the school followed a similar curriculum progression.

The first year focused on building skills and theory. The second year transitioned into full-fledged practical training.

By the final year, students completed capstone-like projects akin to university graduation theses.

Sa jong Art High wasn’t famous for nothing. Its graduates were highly skilled, making it a popular choice for aspiring professionals.

Personally, I wasn’t too concerned. I’d slept through most of my first year and didn’t expect much to change in my second year.

“Now, lastly—”

How many times had I heard the principal say “lastly”?

Two hours had passed since we entered the auditorium. Wasn’t it time to wrap things up? I had plans today.

Ten more minutes dragged by before the principal finally left the stage.

As if taking his place, the vice principal climbed up to the podium.

“Oh, come on…”

I could almost feel the silent cries of despair from the students.

“Wow… turning the closing ceremony into this ordeal,” Choi Yeseo muttered with a wry laugh.

Looking exhausted, she leaned against Ha Soyeol, who was standing next to her.

“Ha Soyeol… I’m dying here.”

“You’re making me more tired, Yeseo.”

Unmoved by her theatrics, Ha Soyeol deflected her advances. Then, turning to me, she asked, “Where’s Yehwa? She said we’d go together.”

“She had something come up and asked me to let you know she can’t join us. Sorry, I forgot to mention it earlier.”

After the ceremony ended, Ms. Lee A-reum and Hong Yehwa had left together for some task. It looked like they were preparing something.

Hearing my explanation, the two girls clicked their tongues in disappointment.

“Ugh. Guess we’ll have to plan for another time?” Yeseo asked, scratching her cheek.

But everyone who could join had already gathered: me, Yoon, Soyeol, Yeseo, Doyoon, and Baek Yuseol.

We’d planned this get-together to celebrate finishing our first year, but it wasn’t easy to align everyone’s schedules.

Especially among our group, me, Lee Doyoon, and Choi Yeseo were notoriously hard to pin down. We were already active in the professional world.

“Baek Yuseol is preparing for a competition too. I doubt she’ll find time later,” I thought.

Rescheduling wasn’t a viable option.

“Hmm… never mind. Let’s just hang out today,” I said.

I figured I could treat Hong Yehwa to a meal another day. Since we’d see each other tomorrow, it wasn’t a big deal.

After texting Yehwa, I reassured the others. “I let Yehwa know, so don’t worry.”

The group visibly relaxed and started chatting among themselves.

“Unnie, what perfume brand do you use?”

“Me? I don’t use any.”

“What? But you’re an idol!”

“Not every idol uses perfume, you know!”

Yoon, Yeseo, and Soyeol formed their little trio.

Meanwhile, another conversation unfolded nearby.

“Doyoon-ah, are you free this weekend?”

“This weekend? Hmm, I’ll need to check my schedule.”

Lee Doyoon and Baek Yuseol were practically glued together. Should I just shoo them away?

Trailing behind the group, I chuckled.

It had been nearly two years since I’d last seen this dynamic.

Walking after them, I glanced up at the gray sky above.

It was winter, and everyone was bundled up in long padded coats.

Those long coats wouldn’t stay trendy forever. A small spoiler for the future.

The others were too absorbed in their conversation to notice me lagging behind.

Yawning softly, I blinked slowly.

And then—

“Oh, it’s snowing.”

Feeling a chill on my nose, I looked up. Snowflakes were falling gently from the sky.

It reminded me of Heo-mu-seol. I should visit it sometime.

These moments might seem trivial and unnecessary to some.

But I got to decide their meaning. Even time like this held value for me.

This was the kind of ordinary life I’d wished for.

And suddenly, I realized I was smiling. Something about it felt good.

Winter’s End: Mid-February

Having turned 18, I was now a year older.

Was this what aging felt like? My body didn’t move as easily as it used to.

“You’re saying that for me to hear, aren’t you?”

“No way. I’d never.”

Oops. Got caught. Ms. Lee A-reum, who had been engrossed in her painting, turned to glare at me, only to laugh softly.

“Still wet behind the ears, aren’t you?”

“There’s only an eight-year gap between us.”

“Eight years is a lot.”

I held back the urge to point out that she was nearing her late twenties. 

Mentioning that would’ve earned me endless scolding until her work was finished.

Lying on the floor, scrolling through my phone, I felt restless and blurted out, “You’re almost done, right? I’m not needed anymore, am I? Why not call Yehwa instead?”

“Just in case. It’s always good to have insurance.”

“Am I the insurance…?”

“Who else would it be? You’re the only one I trust, Ha-eun.”

They say people get more playful as they age. It must be true.

I couldn’t help but wonder if Ms. Lee A-reum might fall into that category too.

After brushing off her comment with a vague reply, I fell into thought.

This year’s Prize would also be submitted at the end of March. That left about a month and a half to prepare.

“The framework is complete. Now, the key is what to fill it with.”

Should I imbue it with life, or with existence?

If it was the former, Ms. Lee A-reum could handle it alone. But for the latter, Hong Yehwa’s presence was indispensable.

If the goal was solely to win the Prize, creating a masterpiece would be the best choice. However—

“Ms. Areum, how about we try creating a masterpiece this time?”

“…W-what?”

Ms. Lee A-reum turned her head stiffly toward me, her lips trembling as she spoke.

“I must’ve misheard… right?”

“A masterpiece. Shall we make one?”

She brought a hand to the back of her neck as if to steady herself, and I tilted my head slightly. What’s with the reaction?

“That’s ridiculous… there’s no method for creating a masterpiece.”

“There is. Right here.”

I’d already created all seven of my previous masterpieces. There was no reason I couldn’t do it again.

That said, it wasn’t something I could achieve with this body alone. I needed support.

As I’d mentioned before, creating a masterpiece was akin to layering. From two dimensions to three, and then further into the fourth dimension.

Adding layers of paint would ordinarily make an image look flat, but in truth, it creates something more.

An unseen, otherworldly realm begins to take form.

Creating a world with color—it was an audacious idea, but that’s how illusionary realms are born.

And every world needs a ruler. That ruler is none other than—

Human emotion.

“Even the paintings I’ve already created required seven people to complete.”

Up to five of them, I could manage alone. But the remaining two? That’s where the real challenge lay.

To resolve that, I needed Ms. Lee A-reum and Hong Yehwa.

Ms. A-reum stared at me, her expression dazed.

“…It’s impossible. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Come on, yes or no? Just tell me if you’ll try.”

“Why are you suddenly using a dialect…? If it’s possible, I’ll give it a shot, but…”

She blinked repeatedly, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.

“No matter how talented you are, Ha-eun, this is—”

“Did I mention that I was the one who altered both [The Siren] and [The Gumiho]? I’m pretty sure I told you that last time.”

“But! Fixing a painting and creating something entirely new are completely different!”

She wasn’t wrong. For anyone else, it might have been too much to handle.

But I wasn’t just anyone. That was why I’d ensured the necessary safety net was in place.

“So, you’re in?”

“…Yeah, fine. But don’t blame me if it fails.”

“Fail? No chance. Success is the only outcome.”

I swiftly searched for Hong Yehwa’s contact on my phone and called her.

A short while later—

“Um… so, what exactly are you saying?”

When Hong Yehwa arrived at the studio, she clutched her head in confusion.

“I want to create a masterpiece, and I need your help. Feel free to say no.”

In truth, I was incredibly nervous. If she refused, my plan would crumble.

This project couldn’t proceed without her.

“…Alright, I’ll help. But explain the situation first.”

Oh, right. I’d forgotten about that.

My face must have given me away, because she shot me a sharp glare.

Awkwardly, I averted my eyes and began explaining everything as concisely as possible.

It took an hour, but she finally seemed convinced.

“The odds are slim, but it feels doable,” she said, glancing at Ms. Lee A-reum.

Her expression radiated trust, as if she had absolute confidence in me.

“Okay. Let’s get started right away.”

I settled myself in front of the painting Ms. Lee A-reum had been working on.

“You two don’t have to do much. Just assist when I ask for help.”

A strange sense of anticipation welled up inside me at the thought of creating a new masterpiece.

Though the painting was mostly complete, I planned to refine it further.

I had already received Ms. Lee A-reum’s permission for this.

While it was a collaboration, the majority of the work was hers, so I ensured her input was respected before making any changes.

Taking up a brush, I began adding layers of color to the finished painting.

Deepening some hues, softening others.

“Oh, right. I need to visit the old school building. I’ll go after the break ends,” I thought absentmindedly.

Thinking about unrelated things while working—it’s practically a rule of thumb for artists.`