I Became an Artist in a Romantic Comedy

Chapter 25: Sixteen and Growing, Plus a Retreat and a Competition (8)

The Afternoon Training

The afternoon “training” session turned out to be hardly that.

“That object in front of you is a rifle.”

We were sitting on the field, all eyes on the line of objects laid out before us.

To my surprise, it was indeed a row of rifles—a long, black line of them.

Of course, there were no bullets or magazines attached.

“This is the K2 rifle. In the past, we used the M16, but now we’ve switched to the K2.”

The soldier launched into a lecture filled with details we didn’t really care about.

Judging by the glazed-over expressions around me, I wasn’t the only one spacing out.

“Why me…,” Yeseo muttered, tracing her finger in the dirt with a sulk. Ha Soyeol patted her shoulder to console her, but…

“Sniff…”

…It didn’t seem to help much.

“As I mentioned earlier, everyone will take a turn practicing the shooting stance.”

Wait, did that mean we’d get to hold the rifle?

A flicker of excitement crossed the students’ faces.

“But! No one is to touch the weapon until the person in front of them is finished and stands up!”

The soldier drew a line on the ground to mark where we shouldn’t cross, firmly enforcing the rule.

There were six K2 rifles in total. With one per class, this would wrap up pretty quickly.

“Company commanders, come up first,” the soldier ordered.

Honestly, this soldier’s manner was grating, even just by the tone of his voice.

Since I was last in line, my turn would be at the very end.

One by one, the students held the rifles, each giving their own little commentary.

“Whoa, this thing’s super heavy!”

“Well, duh. Are you stupid or something?”

“Hey, watch it!”

Enough of that. Soon it was Yeseo and Soyeol’s turn.

“Wowww! This is amazing!”

Yeseo was practically studying the rifle like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

Wasn’t she just sulking a moment ago?

“Oh,” was Soyeol’s brief but enthusiastic reaction. Unfortunately, her interest seemed to fade quickly.

Finally, my turn arrived.

I glanced over at the other classes and noticed they were almost done too.

“Take one knee and—” the soldier started to explain, but I was already in position, the rifle shouldered.

“Huh,” he muttered with a slight tone of admiration. Didn’t he feel a bit embarrassed to be openly impressed?

“Do you have any family in the—?”

“Nope.”

“Ah, that’s too bad.”

I set the rifle back down, about to return to my spot, when—

“I said don’t touch the rifle until the person in front stands up!” a booming voice echoed across the field.

The shout came from Class 1’s area.

What was wrong with that class?

Every time something happened, it was always linked to Class 1.

The soldier assigned to their class was yelling, clearly furious.

“The three who touched the rifle, step forward!”

I glanced over as I returned to my seat.

I recognized the faces—they were our school’s notorious troublemakers.

Turning my attention back to my seat, I figured there was no point in getting involved in their mess.

From the distance, I could see the two soldiers engaged in a tense conversation, though I couldn’t hear them.

“Ha-eun, have you used a gun before?” Soyeol asked, curious.

“Nope. Just watched some videos.”

Soyeol gave me a skeptical look.

“Really.”

At my firm reply, she finally nodded and changed the subject.

“They’re doing a campfire tonight.”

“Oh, right. Another thing to drag us out for.”

Campfire. A bit annoying, but maybe there’d be marshmallows.

“Hey, Ha-eun! It’s the weekend after the retreat. Want to hang out?”

“Out of nowhere?”

Yeseo’s sudden suggestion caught both Soyeol and me off guard.

“I’m down,” Soyeol replied immediately.

“I don’t mind, but what are we doing?”

“The school’s hosting an art contest. If we win, we can get musical tickets!”

An art contest, huh? I remembered seeing a poster advertising it near the cafeteria.

“You’re good at drawing, Ha-eun! You might as well practice and give it a shot!”

Yeseo was already brimming with excitement, like she’d won the contest herself.

“So, why are we hanging out?”

“To go to an art café!”

An art café—it had been a while since I’d been to one.

“Sure,” Soyeol answered instantly, and I nodded as well since I had no reason to refuse.

“I’ll text you the details later!” Yeseo said, practically bouncing in place. She looked thrilled.

When we gathered again on the field after dinner, chopped firewood was arranged in the center.

This was starting to feel legit.

Yeah, a retreat needed this kind of thing to pump up everyone’s spirits.

As the firewood blazed, students began their talent performances.

The MCs were the student council president and vice president, Choi Seung-cheol.

There were songs, raps, even a magic show, skits, and dance performances.

Caught up in the mood, I clapped and cheered along, blending in.

The only performance I didn’t get to see was a girl group dance—both Soyeol and Yeseo blocked my view.

In fact, Soyeol went as far as to cover my eyes with her hands.

“And now! We’re nearing the grand finale! For the last event!”

The student council president hyped up the crowd.

“One person from each class will come up and sing a line from a song!”

Ah, yes. The classic ‘make-the-introverts-squirm’ activity.

“Will each class representative please come forward?”

Heh. Our student council president sure was oblivious.

“So, who’s going for our class?” someone asked.

“We have an idol trainee right here! Yeseo, go up!”

“Hey, what about Soyeol? She probably sings well too!”

The class split into two factions: Team Yeseo and Team Soyeol.

“The future idol!”

“Let’s hear the voice of our ice queen!”

I felt the urge to facepalm.

Yet, the two candidates were looking at… me?

“Come to think of it, we’ve never been to karaoke together, have we?” Soyeol mused.

“Yeah, not even once.”

With my and Soyeol’s personalities, we’d never had a reason to go.

Yeseo, meanwhile, usually went with other friends.

“Ha-eun,” they said in unison.

Please, no.

“Ha-eun, just once, please? Pretty please?”

Please stop.

“Can’t one of you go up instead?”

“Nope.”

“I’ve never heard Ha-eun sing even once!”

Neither have I, honestly.

“I don’t even know any songs.”

“It’s fine! Even a nursery rhyme will do!”

The anticipation built up, and now our class was the only one left without a representative on stage.

“Class 2! Are you ready yet?”

One day, I’m going to make that student council president regret this.

Unable to resist their pleading looks any longer, I reluctantly stood up.

Everyone in our class watched me in tense silence, waiting to see what I’d do.

And so, it was me. Great.

As I approached, I saw the representatives from other classes already up there.

“Starting with Class 1! Song title, please!”

This guy was like a real MC. Does he have some experience?

Class 1’s rep sang a girl group song and did a great job, drawing cheers and encore calls from the crowd.

“Well, I’d like to go last—”

“Oh, we don’t do that! Just tell us the song title!”

You little…

After a heavy sigh, I answered.

“‘Fly, Broken Wings.’”

“Alright!”

The song began.

It was a song that had once inspired one of my masterpieces.

Out of the seven works I considered masterpieces, this song had played a role in several.

It was from the OST of a certain game, but it had filled me with energy and inspiration whenever I worked on my art.

Each of my masterpieces had something special in it.

If I could recreate them now, it would probably turn the art world upside down.

—

Fly, oh broken wings,
I know you’re still with me,
Give me a push, and I can take off,
Fly, oh broken wings,
Let’s soar to where freedom lies,
Let’s reach for our “ideals.”

As the lyrics flowed, I opened my eyes, recalling my past life’s studio.

A cramped room, holding a palette in one hand and a brush in the other.

The ghost of that past self was reborn in this moment.

My tear-filled gaze…

Watching as the soul that had once been serene…

Slowly decayed before my eyes.

The mirror tells me
I still remember hope.

—

The piece called Angel—I’d poured everything into it.

I’d wanted my parents to recognize it.

But all I got in return was a reminder to focus on my studies.

I was doing what I loved, wasn’t that enough?

Wasn’t it enough that I was talented and successful at it?

Those weren’t the words I’d wanted.

All I’d wanted was for them to look at my work.

To let me do what I loved without interference.

Again and again, you locked me away,
As I locked myself away.
We nailed ourselves to the ground,
But the soil gave me courage.

In the end, all I had left was my brush and paper.

And my six masterpieces,

with Angel as the final one.

I’d break my back if that’s what it took to finish it.

Because it was the painting that held my ideals.

—

Die, little dreams,
Pluck the camellias blooming inside me,
Wouldn’t it be easier to surrender?
Why does this hand keep reaching for an unreachable dream?
Is my desire for sanity truly “ideal?”

There were moments when I’d wanted to give up, but this song helped me push through.

It was just a game OST, just that.

But to me… this song had been a huge support.

I was grateful for it and thankful that it had kept me going.

—

Fly, oh perfect wings,
Where have you been hiding until now?
Take me to that wisdom that started it all.
Fly, oh perfect wings,
Show me who I can become.
One last time, let me say it with courage.

I looked ahead as I sang, and when I finished, silence filled the air.

No cheers, no applause.

They simply stared at me, blankly, their faces stunned.

Their expressions were so funny I burst into laughter.

My mind felt clearer than it had in a long time. Hmm. Maybe I should try karaoke sometime.

It felt so light and refreshing.

I looked over at Ha Soyeol and Choi Yeseo.

Both had blank expressions. That is what singing is, you guys.

—

End of Performance.

I bowed my head and stood back up.

A moment of silence, then suddenly—

“Wooooaaaahhhhh!!!”

A chorus of screams erupted.

The next performer, Class 3’s representative, looked at me with teary eyes.

“…Sorry.”

I didn’t expect them to react like this, either.

I turned my head away, pretending not to notice.

…Not my problem.

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