I Became an Artist in a Romantic Comedy

Chapter 26: Sixteen and Growing, Plus a Retreat and a Competition (9)

Potential Criminals

Once past a certain age, the word “criminal” often comes prefaced by “potential.”

Or perhaps we’re all born with that potential label. People are unpredictable—at any moment, one wrong decision can draw a red line across a person’s life, marking them forever. A fleeting lapse in judgment can alter the entire course of a life.

Humans need to be cautious, careful not to let reckless decisions turn them into criminals.

Why do I bring this up?

Because my school recently produced its own criminal: a guy everyone knows… Kim Byung-jun.

—

Two weeks after returning from the retreat, our school’s reputation was in shambles.

Correction: it was potentially in shambles. We hadn’t fully hit rock bottom yet.

One student’s actions dragged the school’s name through the mud, tarnishing its reputation and credibility. Kim Byung-jun’s flashy display had sent our school into a full-blown crisis.

It was no surprise that the victim’s family showed up at the school.

And Kim Byung-jun’s parents came, too, but thankfully, I didn’t have to see them—I’m not in his class, after all.

Class 1 was responsible for dealing with that whole situation.

From what I heard through the grapevine, it was pretty interesting.

According to juvenile law, minors aged 10 to 19 fall under its jurisdiction, and those from ages 14 to 19 can technically face criminal charges.

However, rather than prison sentences, they usually receive some form of protection or counseling.

For minors, the harshest punishment they can receive is long-term detention in a juvenile facility.

But here’s where it gets interesting: somehow, Kim Byung-jun’s case resulted in protective custody rather than criminal charges.

The outcome was two years in a juvenile detention center—the maximum under protective custody.

I’m not sure what strings were pulled, but I imagine the decision factored in his age, his lack of prior offenses, the victim’s injuries, and his apparent “remorse.” Whether he actually felt any remorse is another question, but the ruling had been handed down.

The school expelled him, of course, as expected. The only disappointment was that he didn’t face harsher consequences. I never liked Kim Byung-jun anyway, so I felt no sympathy.

So he’d spend two years in juvie—would he be back in middle school after that? I had no idea.

In the aftermath, the teachers faced angry parents, and the principal and vice-principal were in full damage-control mode.

—

“Teacher, you didn’t sleep again, did you?”

“Three days.”

“…What?”

“That’s how long I’ve been awake.”

Even with dark circles down to his chin, he stared at his computer screen.

I thought about making him some coffee, but where would I even find a coffee pot in a classroom?

So I just left him to it, not wanting to interrupt any further.

Anyway, Kim Byung-jun had been expelled from the retreat and wouldn’t be coming back to school. From probation, he’d gone straight to juvenile detention—no need for anyone to cross paths with him again.

The victim’s family had apparently pressed the teachers about the four-week injury recovery, demanding answers.

While I did feel sorry for the teachers, I wasn’t sure what they could actually do.

…Well, it seemed to be sorted out somehow. School reputation could be rebuilt eventually.

The Kim Byung-jun incident had a profound impact. It meant restrictions would increase significantly for all students.

The school would probably stay quiet for a while.

Humans are inherently potential criminals. It’s an unchanging reality, and age merely determines when a person is held accountable.

As children, it’s our parents who shoulder that responsibility. As adults, it’s us.

Nothing really changes; only the bearer of that responsibility does.

—

“Ha-eun, what are you drawing?”

“A monster.”

No, it’s definitely not Kim Byung-jun. I’m just drawing a person who happens to look monstrous.

…If I’m seeing Kim Byung-jun in the lines, that’s just a coincidence.

Criminals, from a societal viewpoint, are monsters, unpredictable and dangerous.

Any random passerby could suddenly pull out a knife—who could predict that?

Humans aren’t inherently trustworthy, no matter how strong our bonds become. Even with trust, “belief” is another matter entirely.

For me, belief is an unwavering constant.

That constancy applies only to the “divine” or to “objects.”

In my case, it’s objects—the things I draw.

“However…”

Even a belief held for ten years can change.

My family and Ha Soyeol—I believe in them, because I feel they’re constants.

‘Even if that’s just wishful thinking.’

But who cares? I can make exceptions to my own rules.

If you don’t like it, then you can try living as Lee Ha-eun.

—

“A person doesn’t have to be a monster, after all.”

I tore up the drawing and tossed it into the wastebasket.

An ugly drawing gone, a blank sheet emerged.

Portraits shift with perspective. They vary depending on whether you view them from the artist’s point of view or the model’s.

Oddly, Ha Soyeol, sitting next to me, remained unaffected by angles.

No matter where you looked at her from, her defining features stood out.

I placed my pen on the paper and began sketching her face, then moved on to her upper and lower body.

It was still class time, but no one paid me any mind.

This is why I loved this seat. No one watched me here—this was the best. Thrilling, always fresh.

Then I sensed two pairs of eyes on me. Well, no surprise—Ha Soyeol and Choi Yeseo.

“Can’t you pay attention up front?”

“Draw me too!”

How did she manage to whisper with that much force?

Choi Yeseo, what are you?

The people around me are endlessly fascinating.

Our homeroom teacher? A single dad with a kid, despite that… face(?). My dad? A corporate executive who looks like a regular guy.

Weird.

And my mom? She manages my YouTube account and has somehow amassed a huge number of subscribers.

Revenue sharing had been set up years ago. How does she manage to make YouTube income rival my dad’s salary?

Thanks to her, my little sister Ha-yoon got everything she wanted—snacks, toys, everything.

Ha-yoon’s practically a princess.

If this were some kind of parenting show, it’d be full of heartwarming moments.

She’d been raised with so much love that she grew up with no rough edges.

She’s popular at school, gets good grades, and—although her athletic skills aren’t great (our family’s “weak link”)—who cares?

My little sister! Go ahead and follow all your dreams!

Yep, still the doting older sibling.

“Look, I’ll draw you too, so pay attention in class. Hey, the teacher’s looking at you.”

“Huh? Wait, really?”

Choi Yeseo quickly turned to face the front.

And immediately met eyes with the science teacher holding a piece of chalk.

…Or rather, didn’t, since he was still busy writing on the board.

“Oh, Lee Ha-eun, you’re dead. I’m dragging you to the snack shop after school.”

“Sounds boring. I barely eat, anyway.”

“Oh, please, we’ll finish it off for you! Right, Soyeol?”

“Yeseo, pig.”

“Soyeol…?”

Yeseo looked betrayed, but Soyeol’s focus stayed on my notebook.

“I can’t color it in for you, though. I don’t have colored pencils.”

I silently tore out the portrait and handed it to her.

The rare, bright smile that appeared on her face showed how much she liked it.

“Hey, me too!”

“Sure, Goldilocks.”

“Wanna die?!”

How does she even manage to put that much intensity in her whisper?

With each new day, I keep discovering these quirks, so I decided just to go with it.

‘If I keep stressing about this stuff, I’m the one who loses out.’

—

“Ha-eun, look at this.”

I was about to start Yeseo’s portrait when Soyeol held out a clenched fist toward me.

“Ta-da.”

“…What is it?”

In her hand was a little shark-shaped phone charm.

It looked… oddly familiar.

“I had it custom-made.”

“Wait, it’s based on one of my drawings?”

“Yep.”

That explains the sense of familiarity. It resembled the cherry blossom shark I’d drawn near the snack shop.

“So, Yeseo?”

Yeseo stopped her grumbling and looked over at the sound of her name.

“Here.”

“Ohhh! Is this really for me?!”

Soyeol handed her a pink killer whale charm.

Her wide, gummy smile looked genuinely happy.

…Weirdly adorable.

But, I mean, who would be heartless enough to see that smile and feel nothing?

“Here, Yeseo. Your portrait.”

I passed her the portrait I’d just finished. I usually threw in a playful twist, but today I drew it seriously, not wanting to spoil the mood.

“…Thank you, both of you.”

She looked close to tears. But, hey, it felt nice seeing her so happy.

“I’m going to frame this and hang it in my room~.”

Yeseo bounced in her seat, practically glowing.

“Hang it in your room after you solve this problem.”

“Eep! Teacher! Were you watching?”

“You three have been muttering this whole time—of course I noticed.”

“Oh, come on! I was being quiet…”

Yeseo’s mood plummeted.

At this point, I wondered if she might need a mood-stabilizing evaluation.

Reluctantly, she shuffled up to the blackboard.

“Um, uh… I think, from here…?”

“How does that have anything to do with saltwater evaporation?”

The room filled with laughter.

It looked like Yeseo wasn’t cut out for science.

I glanced out the window and saw a clear, blue sky.

And my thoughts?

‘It’s going to be boiling on the way home.’

A trivial, pointless worry—but hey, sunny days mean nothing if you’re just going to melt on the sidewalk.

—

“Oh, I almost forgot. Teacher, when are you going to give me my reward?”

“Oh, right. I forgot too.”

What a pair we make.

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