I Was Michelangelo in My Past Life

"No?"

"What do you mean, I've lost my mind?" Seol Yeo-jin frowned, dismissing the ridiculous remark. If she had to be honest, the one who had lost her mind wasn't today's Seol Yeo-jin—but yesterday's.

The Seol Yeo-jin who foolishly gave up exhibition rights without even properly evaluating the work. That was a grave mistake for a gallery director to make.

Rolling the candy in her mouth, Seol Yeo-jin added,

"Teacher. I mean it."

She straightened her posture. The fox-like curve of her smiling eyes had long returned to a straight line.

"Kang-seok is going to be huge. If I can establish a connection with a future major artist by throwing in twenty million won, I'll throw it in again and again."

It was the intuition of Seol Yeo-jin, a fighter who had survived in the art world without connections, diving in young and thriving as a gallery director.

And besides—being able to commission a mural from Kang-seok, who will one day be a big-name artist, for just twenty million won? That was beyond a good deal. Seol Yeo-jin grabbed her handbag and stood up.

Suddenly, a news article she had read years ago flashed through her mind. A famous graffiti artist had painted a wall, and the building's value jumped from 400 million won to 7.2 billion.

Maybe it wouldn't be someone else's story after all. With a subtle smile in her eyes, Seol Yeo-jin looked at Go Doo-han.

"Is twenty million such a big deal? Money's overflowing anyway."

Seol Yeo-jin gave a short goodbye to Go Doo-han's baffled expression and turned away. She had mountains of work to do today.

* * *

As the sun dipped toward the horizon—6:30 p.m.

The sky, as if to declare winter had passed, glowed orange through the sketch room's windows, even at 6:30.

Kang-seok stared out the window.

He could see the empty internal roads of the school in the distance. Normally, this was the time he'd be racing down them on his bike. But not today.

With a composed face, Kang-seok turned to face forward.

Go Doo-han and several adjunct instructors were gathered, deep in discussion.

They were choosing the final artists whose figure drawings would be published in a book.

Those not selected would have their work exhibited in a street showcase near Cheong University's art district within the week, in collaboration with local academies.

Since the project's main goal was to publish a figure drawing reference book, those not selected would not receive monetary compensation. However, as Go Doo-han initially explained, they would be fairly rewarded by being offered another opportunity—an exhibition attended by influential figures in the figure drawing community.

Of course, everyone here hoped to be published in the book rather than shown in a street exhibition.

'He really takes care of his people.'

Kang-seok's eyes turned to Go Doo-han, who was looking over the scattered drawings on the floor. He studied them more seriously than anyone else.

Dozens of drawings, previously evaluated, were laid out again for final review.

Were there any mistakes in previous assessments? Anything overlooked? Which drawing had the best overall quality?

Go Doo-han examined the works with a cold eye so that both the chosen and unchosen could walk away without regret.

Even though he wouldn't personally gain anything from doing so—Go Doo-han was fully committed.

It felt like the placement test for the sketch class all over again. Back then, too, Go Doo-han had checked the adjuncts' judgments thoroughly, ensuring no mistakes or missed talent.

He was doing the same now.

With their leader so diligent, the adjunct instructors followed suit, carefully inspecting every drawing.

Since any of these might be published, their footsteps were twice as cautious as usual.

Among the many drawings were Kang-seok's. He had submitted far more than anyone else, so they had been placed in a separate stack—making them impossible to miss.

Kang-seok gave his own drawings a brief glance.

Even at a glance, he felt satisfied. If he hadn't been, he would've ripped them up and burned them. The fact that they were kept this long proved they were good.

'I gave it my all.'

And that, Kang-seok was proud of. Now all that was left was the result. With a calm expression, he looked forward.

Just then—he began to hear whispers from behind.

"…I'm going to get cut anyway. Can't we just remove mine?"

"Why? You drew well."

"Are you joking? Look at Kang-seok's drawing right next to mine. It's not even a fair comparison."

"Hey… comparing your drawing to Kang-seok's is already a losing battle."

Though whispered, the voices reached Kang-seok's ears with stark clarity.

"But seriously, he's good."

"Didn't he only spend like, an hour per drawing? How does that level of density come out in an hour?"

"Right? Look at that value contrast. Unless he shaded with crosshatching in multiple directions, that density and detail wouldn't even be possible. Wow. Just… how is that done in an hour?"

"If it's Kang-seok, anything's possible."

Nearly everything was about Kang-seok.

"I heard from a second-year at our academy. When Kang-seok 'unlocks his limit' in sketching, he just soars. They said he drew a Venus plaster bust during the second-year placement test, and it was practically 3D."

"…Even better than the ones now?"

"Apparently, yeah. These were done in an hour, but that one he poured all his time into a single drawing. They said it was like the Venus was frozen in time."

Kang-seok's ears perked. His lips twitched upward. He knew he had done well, but hearing others acknowledge it made him genuinely happy.

His past and present lives had been completely different.

Even if he remembered being Michelangelo, revered and worshiped by hundreds in a past life—in this life, he had never experienced such admiration. Naturally, he had no resistance to it.

Kang-seok's ears turned pink.

Being recognized as himself—Kang-seok—was electrifying.

Then, it happened.

Go Doo-han stepped forward.

Three adjunct instructors stood in a line behind him. Since all four had stepped up, the judging was clearly over.

And confirming that, Go Doo-han began to speak.

His expression seemed serious—apparently they'd just finished a final discussion. As if to reinforce this, he announced:

"The judging has concluded. After discussion, we have selected three people whose works will be published in the figure drawing reference book."

So it was really over.

Kang-seok nodded with a bittersweet feeling, repeating the number in his mind. Three. Only three would be published.

"It was a decision made after multiple reviews, not just today but over time, so I hope you'll accept it."

Though he said that, the shadowed intensity in Go Doo-han's eyes suggested otherwise:

"And if you don't… too bad." That gaze alone pressured the students into nodding. Honestly, no one believed Go Doo-han would ever let personal bias affect his judgment.

"First."

Go Doo-han received a drawing from Im Woo-hyun.

The revealed drawing was of a woman with short cropped hair, dressed in a tight-fitting outfit, crossing her legs. The curve from her waist to her hips was like a work of art.

"Yoo Mi-ji."

It was Mi-ji's figure drawing. She raised her hand, her face slightly flushed.

"Yes!"

"The saturation is a little high and the contrast too subtle, so it could seem flat or under-rendered. But the feminine lines and delicate feel were well executed, so you made the cut. You were selected purely on form and atmosphere—so don't get cocky and keep practicing."

He handed the drawing back and gestured for her to lower her hand. Mi-ji nodded vigorously and obeyed.

"Second."

Go Doo-han received the next drawing.

This one had sharp, precise lines and a more traditional structure. Unlike Mi-ji's soft drawing, this one focused on the stern face of a seated woman.

"Choi Young-tae."

"Yes."

The boy with sharp eyes behind silver-rimmed glasses raised his hand. Despite it being vacation, he wore his school uniform—and despite having drawn all day, his clothes were spotless.

Kang-seok glanced at him.

Choi Young-tae—the one rumored to have been accepted early into Hanyang Art University's stage design program.

His older brother and sister were both alumni of the Korea National University of Arts. Now, with Choi Young-tae, all three siblings had made it.

'That's one intense family,' Kang-seok thought briefly as Go Doo-han examined the drawing again.

"The way you used negative space and reflected light to create a sense of depth was brilliant. But you're too sharp. Your drawings are so blade-like it makes human skin look like steel. Be careful."

"Yes, understood."

"Still, your unique drawing style is incredibly rare, which is why you were selected—so maintain your style."

"I intend to."

So sharp. Go Doo-han smiled and gestured for the next drawing.

That smile on his face hinted at what was coming next. Even before the next drawing was revealed, everyone seemed to know.

As if they shared one instinct—no, certainty.

'It has to be Kang-seok.'

'Who else could it be but Kang-seok?'

Their eyes turned toward his seat. After spending nine hours a day drawing, again and again, the third-years all understood.

This is what it meant to draw that well.

And they also thought—

'If I had access to Kang-seok's figure drawing reference book when I was preparing for entrance exams…'

If I were to become a student preparing for entrance exams again, without a doubt, the one material I'd want most would be Kang Seok's collection.

While everyone's attention was fixed on Kang Seok, Go Doohan spoke up.

"The third."

A drawing spread open from Im Woohyun's hands.

How should one describe it? The moment the third-year students saw the drawing, they felt countless thoughts tangling together in their heads like threads.

First off, the human proportions were perfect.

Even without checking the composition or perspective, the flawless proportions stood out. There was not a single part that seemed off. Naturally, that gave the image a vivid sense of three-dimensionality.

At the same time, the drawing didn't feel lopsided in any direction — its balance and weight were excellent. Being able to sense where the ground was, how force was distributed, and the direction of motion and energy in the picture — it was nothing short of a revelation.

"So I really get to experience something like this, huh."

"It's like the drawing is saying, 'No need for words, I'll show you.'"

It was awe-inspiring.

Without a single word or note, the drawing explained everything, made everything understood. It was absurd. That was the thought echoing through the minds of the third-years.

They couldn't take their eyes off the shadows in the drawing — more precisely, the depth created by the light and shadow was astounding.

Especially the darkest areas of shadow — to say they resembled Vantablack, a cutting-edge material capable of absorbing 99.96% of light, would not be an exaggeration. Yet where those shadows softened, they were as faint as the gray used to depict a human hand, giving a real sense of space.

"Kang Seok."

And yet, the fact that all of that was done with perfectly natural gradation? Unbelievable.

"Wow, I've got garbage hands."

As the third-years reflected deeply on their own shortcomings, Go Doohan gave a short laugh with a shrug.

"Well. I mean, there's nothing to even give feedback on. It's kind of ridiculous, actually. Pass. You have to publish a book. I'll buy one too."

"Me too."

"Count me in."

As Go Doohan and the adjunct instructors expressed their interest in purchasing the book, the drawing returned to Im Woohyun's hands — leaving the top 1% of promising art students in despair. And with that, the ceremony to announce the authors of the upcoming publication ended successfully.

"You've all worked hard."

The human figure drawing project had come to an end.

"I'll call you sometime so we can grab a meal."

"Thank you for everything!"

"Please don't forget to contact us!"

The studio suddenly became noisy. Students rushed over to the teachers they had grown attached to. Even the third-years who had seemed so mature, nearing graduation, reverted to lively students in this moment.

"Sir, I'll visit often."

"Sure."

"I'm going to miss you."

"Sure."

"Teacher! Is that all you're going to say?!"

"Sure."

"Aaagh!"

The third-years gradually, though not slowly, said their farewells to Go Doohan and the adjunct teachers and began packing their things.

Then they stepped out the door — a door leading to society. The next time they would walk through the school gates would likely be graduation day.

Kang Seok watched the departing third-years before finally standing up himself. He didn't want to intrude on their farewell moment. His own goodbye was plain and simple.

He'd have to meet them several more times anyway because of the book project, and besides, it was only a month until he officially became a third-year — he'd be seeing them plenty.

"I'll get going."

Kang Seok turned to leave — or tried to. But Go Doohan stopped him, holding out a piece of paper.

"Seok-ah. Take this."

"What is it?"

"You remember Seol Yeo-jin, the gallery director?"

As if he could forget someone he'd seen just yesterday. Kang Seok nodded. Go Doohan continued, sounding slightly annoyed.

"You know that mural on the 8th floor of the Renaissance Mall? The Creation of Adam. Seems like Seol Yeo-jin figured out you were the one who painted it."

Kang Seok looked down. A mural proposal. The client was Peony Gallery.

"She's hoping you'll take the mural job."

Kang Seok furrowed his brows slightly. A mural, huh…

He was busy.

He still had to finish working on the wood sculpture abandoned in his father's studio. He was also about to start a project with Professor Park Ji-yeop.

He was plenty busy — was it really necessary to take on a mural job too? Kang Seok began backing away, but Go Doohan casually dropped a line.

"It's probably written there, but they're offering at least 20 million won."

Twenty what now?

The corners of Kang Seok's lips twitched.

Well, that changed things.

Changed a lot.

"She said she'd explain everything herself — just asked me to pass on the proposal. I've done my part."

Go Doohan adjusted his hat and began walking out. As he passed, he tapped the upper right corner of the paper.

"She said to contact her at that number."

Kang Seok's gaze dropped to the spot Go Doohan had tapped. A business card. The same one he'd received before, pasted there again.

When you really looked at him, Go Doohan was a model of what a true adult should be.

He could've stopped Kang Seok from associating with someone he didn't like. But if he thought it would benefit Kang Seok, he wouldn't interfere. In fact, he would quietly give a push instead.

The fact that he dangled the tempting offer of twenty million won to someone who hadn't even bothered to listen properly — that said it all.

Maybe that's why Park Ji-yeop and Seol Yeo-jin kept getting entangled with Go Doohan despite all their bickering. Kang Seok dared to try and understand their relationship.

Just then, deep in thought—

Go Doohan turned around, scowling playfully.

"You going home or what?"

The adjunct instructors were already by his side, waiting for Kang Seok to join them. Always so quick. Kang Seok looked at Go Doohan and slowly began walking.

"I'm going."

A deep navy sky.

Though it was night, the air felt as crisp and fresh as a morning.

Kang Seok pedaled hard on his bike. Usually, he would've gone home or to the furniture store — but today, he had another stop. The gym. He had decided to start working out, given his growing workload.

Click click click.

The bike chain spun as Kang Seok turned a corner and stopped. The gym nearest to both his house and the furniture store was right in front of him.

'Let's just register today.'

He intended to just talk to the front desk, sign up quickly, and be done with it. He climbed to the second floor and stood in front of the glass doors. Just then, a bright light spilled through the glass, drawing him in. Kang Seok's gaze turned slowly toward the inside of the gym.

And he saw it.

Supraspinatus. Infraspinatus. Teres minor. Subscapularis. Pectoralis major. Latissimus dorsi. Deltoid. Biceps. Triceps. Supinator. Pronator. Trapezius. Rhomboid. Levator scapulae. Pectoralis minor. Serratus anterior.

Muscles exposed by T-shirts and tank tops — revealed and accentuated by dynamic poses. Kang Seok's pupils trembled violently as he looked through the glass at the people inside.

"One more!"

"Urrrghhhhh!"

Whoa.

"Come on, one more rep!"

"AAAAHHHH!"

As guttural roars echoed through the gym, Kang Seok's eyes shook like a ship lost at sea.

What is this place? Heaven?

{Michelangelo. A man who loved the beauty of the human body — a lunatic for muscle.}