I Became an Artist in a Romantic Comedy

Chapter 34

“What are you talking about? Why would I go to your house?”

“...You can’t?”

“It’s not that I can’t, but... give me a reason.”

Hong Yea-Hwa hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“I’ve seen your Peach Blossom Village. There’s a similar painting at my house.”

A painting similar to Peach Blossom Village? That didn’t seem possible.

Even if someone deliberately tried to mimic it, Peach Blossom Village was not an easy piece to replicate.

The ambiguous painting, teetering on the edge of a masterpiece (by my standards), was far from common.

“Why would I need to see that painting?”

“I’m just asking out of curiosity. It’s not yours, but it has a similar vibe.”

And why exactly does that require my involvement?

“The painting is called Hosung (The Call). The artist is unknown. My father bought it a long time ago.”

“So, you want to find out who painted it? And you think I might be a candidate?”

“Yes, exactly.”

Why didn’t she just say that from the start instead of making it sound so vague?

“Do you have a picture of it?”

She shook her head.

“The painting is in my father’s study, and no one is allowed to go in.”

“Then what do you expect me to do about it?”

“You’re a rising star. My father acknowledged you and said that if I brought you over, he’d allow us to access the study.”

Finally, her explanation made sense. But seriously, could she stop throwing around terms like “rising star”? It was embarrassing.

“Let me think about it. For now, it’s not possible—I have work to do.”

“Oh... is it for the World Art Prize? You’re already preparing for that?”

“‘Already’? It’s only four months away. Honestly, even that’s cutting it close for most people.”

If she doubted me, she could ask Lee Ah-Reum.

“Let me know when you’re free. I’ll clear my schedule for it.”

I hadn’t even agreed to go yet.

Before I could reply, we reached the textbook distribution area.

“Please line up according to your number!”

We also received our student IDs along with the textbooks. The ID cards indicated our class and assigned number.

I was number 17 in Class 1, making me fifth from the back.

Hong Yea-Hwa was number 18, right after me.

‘Missed my chance to tell her no.’

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to take a look. As an artist, I couldn’t help but feel curious about Hosung, a painting supposedly similar to Peach Blossom Village.

After all the textbooks were distributed, I headed back to the classroom. On the way, I passed Class 3.

And there he was—Lee Do-Yoon.

When he noticed me, he smiled broadly. That awkwardness from earlier was nowhere to be seen.

Yet, I still felt uneasy. Not because he was the protagonist of the original story, but...

‘We’ve known each other for ten years as childhood friends.’

I needed to figure out what had caused the change in his personality.

As I passed him, I whispered quietly.

“Let’s talk later.”

He flinched but then smiled bitterly.

“Alright. I’ll come to your class after school.”

The brief encounter ended, and Class 3 moved on.

“Lee Ha-Eun, are you and Lee Do-Yoon close?”

The question came from Hong Yea-Hwa, who had been walking behind me. I nodded.

“We’ve been childhood friends for seven years. He’s been acting off lately, so I plan to have a talk with him.”

“...Creepy.”

The painting was photorealistic, depicting a single sturdy plum tree in bloom.

If it were just that, I wouldn’t have been so impressed.

“The coziness I’ve been feeling... It comes from this.”

The plum blossoms herald spring, and spring symbolizes warmth.

“So? Do you like me a little more now?”

“Not really. But thanks for showing me this.”

“...At least you can feel gratitude?”

“What do you think I am? I have manners, you know.”

She chuckled, her youthful demeanor making her seem my age, despite being eight years older.

‘I didn’t expect to find a masterpiece here.’

This building had once been used for sculpture classes.

When was this painting created? It didn’t seem very old.

“This was painted by Seol Yoon from Drawing Korea.”

“...What?”

That airheaded woman?

“She may seem a bit scatterbrained, but she became a department head at her age. Of course, painting skills and management are separate things.”

So that’s why she was in the creative planning division. She didn’t seem the part at all.

“You’re close with her?”

“She’s my junior. Both of us graduated from this school.”

This was turning into an endless stream of personal connections. The world was small, after all.

If Seol Yoon had been hired straight out of college, that was impressive.

And the evidence of her talent was right before my eyes.

“Still, there are some parts that feel a bit off.”

“...Really?”

As I’d mentioned earlier, masterpieces needed constant checking and care. Otherwise, they’d deteriorate.

Even this plum tree painting, while a masterpiece, had areas where the colors were fading.

For a masterpiece to remain intact, it needed to be finished perfectly.

“To me, it looks fine.”

Narrowing her eyes, Lee Ah-Reum scrutinized the painting.

“Got any chalk?”

“Should be some by the door.”

The room, though empty, still had a small supply area.

I found a container of chalk near the door and picked up a brown and pink piece.

“There’s a saying that beauty is in the details. The same goes for paintings.”

I used the chalk to subtly correct the parts that felt off.

“No matter how thoroughly you examine a painting, there are always things you can miss.”

Here, the colors were a bit faded. I adjusted the plum blossoms slightly.

“But if you add a touch of softness to your scrutiny...”

The branches seemed a bit too high. It might clash with the others.

“...You start to see the discomfort, and that’s when the painting begins to reveal its flaws.”

A painting can never be truly perfect. Perfection is an abstract concept, after all.

Even if I considered it perfect, someone else might find it lacking.

Clap, clap.

I dusted off my hands and put the chalk away.

“An artist’s job is to bring a painting as close to perfection as possible.”

And yet, every artist’s flame eventually burns out. When that happens, the joy of painting is all that remains.

“What do you think? Doesn’t it feel a bit warmer now?”

“......”

Lee Ah-Reum didn’t answer.

Or perhaps, she couldn’t.