I Was Michelangelo in My Past Life

* * * *

Black Night.

In the cold winter wind, two figures stood on the terrace.

Clink. With a soft sound, two wine glasses touched. It was a pale ruby-colored Pinot Noir, like a blend of red fruit and grape skins.

Choi Mijeong slowly swirled the glass of Pinot Noir and carefully opened her mouth.

"...Are you okay?"

"With what?"

Lee Minhyeok, the one being questioned, widened his eyes in confusion. Seeing his genuinely surprised expression, Choi Mijeong, relieved that at least his mental state seemed intact, gently sipped her Pinot Noir.

"Well, it's just... I was worried since your father said he was going to hand over the Seongbuk-dong estate to that high school sculptor! Completely, at that!"

Even if her father owned three more houses and had plenty of assets in cash or kind, this was still shocking. To give away a house like that... Just how deeply was he moved?

Choi Mijeong shook her head as she recalled what had happened that day. A fleeting image passed through her eyes under the dark night—it was of the sculpture Leap she had seen today.

It really had been impressive. The lifelike wings, claws, and ear tips kept circling in her mind. It was a sculpture that seemed to breathe.

'...Sir... Thank you. Really, thank you. It's been so long since I've seen my father this excited... It's all thanks to you, sir.'

She also recalled Lee Minhyeok's face, bowing repeatedly in gratitude.

From Kang Hyun, who had glanced nervously between her and Minhyeok at the news of the house being handed over, to Kang Seok, who didn't seem shocked at all and simply asked if the sculptor had somewhere to stay instead—each memory surfaced one by one like flowing water.

"There's nothing to worry about. That house wasn't going to be inherited anyway."

"Huh?"

"Think about it. That house was like a nest for my father. He didn't even build it himself. He just moved in, but he was so attached to it... With his personality, if anything, he would've demolished it before passing it down to someone else."

Choi Mijeong looked into her wine. Now that he mentioned it, it made sense. Her blurred memories became clearer—probably because her father had been bedridden lately.

Right, the Seongbuk-dong house was one he would have taken with him if he could. No matter how long he stayed away for research, he always came back.

"...Well. As long as you're okay."

To soothe her uneasy feelings, Choi Mijeong popped a piece of cheese into her mouth.

"So, where is your father going to live now?"

"Don't know. We'll have to see once he starts moving his things."

"...You seem to be in a good mood."

Minhyeok smiled warmly at that.

"I am. It feels like my father has finally gotten his drive back—it feels amazing."

His cheeks flushed as he sipped his wine. Seeing him like this was a relief compared to the haggard, worn-out look he'd been wearing lately.

Choi Mijeong was about to take another piece of cheese when a thought struck her. Her eyes widened. Wait, oh my! Her lips curled into a big smile.

"That high schooler—no, that sculptor. He's bound to become famous, right?"

Lee Minhyeok gave her a look that said, Of course.

"Famous? Absolutely. There's no other sculptor like him. Didn't you feel that when you saw the piece? Are you sure you looked at it properly?"

"...Ahem! I did! But, you know, nothing in life is certain. I was just asking!"

"Hmph."

"Anyway! If he does get famous... I heard that once you become known overseas, sculptures can sell for tens or even over a hundred billion won per piece in Hong Kong. Will he get that famous?"

Now understanding what she was getting at, Minhyeok set down his wine. This woman was thinking about how the sculpture might end up worth more than the current market price of the Seongbuk-dong house.

He even heard her mumble something about how it might be better to have a piece of art than to just pay taxes on the house.

That's when Minhyeok made a declaration.

"Absolutely not! Never selling it!"

"Who said anything about selling? Besides, it's not even yours to begin with—it's your father's."

"No way!"

He declared, loudly and firmly, that the piece would be passed down through the generations. Slightly tipsy from the wine, both of them began to passionately express their opinions under the moonlit sky.

.

.

.

"So? So? Are we moving?"

Excitement sparkled in Kang Chaeyeong's eyes as she bit into a dried squid. If there were such a thing as a life-changing lottery ticket, this was it. She spun her head toward Kang Seok.

Her eyes were brimming with noisy emotion. Kang Seok ignored her sentimental gaze and dipped a piece of squid into mayo-soy sauce. The spicy Cheongyang pepper kicked in with a sharp zing in his mouth.

Kang Hyun grinned, his flushed face glowing from beer.

"We're moving. We are."

"Whaaaaat!"

Chaeyeong stomped her feet in excitement. Sitting on a camp stool, her toes bumped the table, sending little vibrations through it. Kang Seok, drinking his grape soda, silently vowed to get a new dining table once they moved.

"So when are we moving? When do we go to Seongbuk-dong?"

"Not that soon. There's the capital gains tax and other things to take care of. He asked us to wait about three months... Only after that can we set a date."

"Oh, take your time! We'll wait half a year if needed!"

"What? They're covering the taxes too?"

Chaeyeong nodded like it was nothing, but Baek Myeonghee was stunned. Her eyes rounded like a startled rabbit. Covering the taxes too?

"Seongbuk-dong is super expensive. He said we might even get hit with a tax bomb, so Professor Lee said he'd handle all of it. When he asked if we could wait three months, I said sure. But it'll probably take longer. He still needs to get the house sorted too…"

"Oh my."

Baek Myeonghee's cheeks turned red. Solving even the tax problem before handing over the house? She couldn't help but feel grateful. She clapped her hands in joy—but then froze.

"...But what about Professor Lee Minhyeok? Don't you feel bad? From his son's perspective, it's like he lost everything just for giving a gift. I feel terrible…"

At that innocent concern, Kang Hyun smiled.

'It's really okay. My family lives separately... and my grandfather—my father's father—was very wealthy. My father owns three more houses, and the assets passed down from my grandfather are quite substantial. Even after giving this away, he'll live more than comfortably.'

'Still...'

'And besides... wasn't that sculpture worth it?'

Rather, it was a face that looked relieved to finally repay a debt, even if only indirectly, through his father. Even Minhyuk Lee's wife—who had been the only one looking a little uneasy—couldn't help but smile softly, as if to say, there's no stopping him now, once he cast off his worries and smiled.

"Professor Minhyuk Lee doesn't seem to think that way."

Kang Hyun-do took a swig of beer.

"I thought my family was the most harmonious one in the world. Turns out, there's another."

"What?"

"Never mind. It's just... yeah… ahhh, that's refreshing."

Placing the beer can down, Kang Hyun-do grinned and stretched out his arms wide. Then he hooked them around his son, sitting diagonally across from him, and pulled him into a tight embrace.

"My son!"

"Dad, your beard. Your beard! Ack!"

Despite his son's protest against the prickly facial hair, Hyun-do nuzzled his face against him anyway. It was, without a doubt, a truly happy day.

* * * *

Blue sky.

Jo Dong-beom leaned back, wiping sweat from his brow. Even though it was the dead of winter outside, the workshop was excessively warm.

"Master, we've moved everything now, right?"

Turning around, Jo Dong-beom asked. Kang-seok nodded calmly.

"Yes. Looks like that's everything."

Kang-seok had given up correcting the use of the term Master. He slowly looked around the studio. All the plastic bags filled with supplies from Miracle Makeup had been transferred inside.

"But seriously—this place could get really messy. Are you sure you're okay with that?"

This was exactly why they hadn't gone to a furniture workshop. The upcoming project was bound to get the surroundings dirty—inevitably so. Kang-seok glanced around with clear reluctance.

"I don't mind. Use it however you want, Master. Just go all in, treat it like it's your own house. That's how real work gets done, isn't it?"

Jo Dong-beom insisted it was fine. Honestly, if he didn't go this far, it would be impossible to maintain his connection with Kang-seok. To work with someone whose talent felt practically divine—Jo Dong-beom was willing to mess up the studio a hundred times over if it meant he could stay by his side.

Seeing Dong-beom's firm conviction, Kang-seok sighed and gave a small nod.

"I'll help clean up afterward."

"No, it's fine. That's not something a master should do. It's a disciple's job."

I never said I'd take you on as a disciple... Kang-seok swallowed a laugh and looked away.

At the end of his gaze sat a handcart stacked with large boxes, probably postal size #5. These were materials he'd requested separately.

"You said you needed these, Kang-seok, so I managed to find them, but... what exactly are you going to use them for?"

"They're all legal documents, right?"

"Of course. You're free to use them however you'd like."

"Good."

"They're for a project, right? I did read your proposal, but I still don't quite get it. It sounded like you're trying to create medical dummies or surgical navigators? If so, what I provided should be enough, shouldn't it? Why do you need academic papers and surgical records, then? ...What exactly are you trying to make?"

Park Ji-yeop's voice echoed in Kang-seok's mind. The boxes were filled with medical documents—research papers, surgery records, and more.

"Master, what should I do now?"

"Just relax."

As he sliced through the thick rope binding the boxes, Kang-seok thought to himself: What did I say to him again...?

"Something one level above that."

"One level above...? What do you mean?"

Does something like that even exist? Is that possible in just 49 days? Isn't this pushing it too far? Park Ji-yeop had looked at Kang-seok with worried eyes.

Park knew full well just how deep Kang-seok's knowledge of anatomy went.

It far surpassed any typical art student—so much so that even among medical professionals, his understanding wouldn't fall short. The kind of intense study of the human form that Michelangelo Buonarroti or Leonardo da Vinci might have done—Kang-seok seemed to be their modern incarnation.

And that's exactly why Park had advised him to just stick to something simple. A realistic anatomical model, maybe some illustrated medical diagrams—it would be more than enough. No one would blame him.

RIP.

With a rough tearing sound, the box opened. White papers, densely packed, were revealed inside—documents that had been translated into Korean for easier reading. That Park Ji-yeop had managed to source them so quickly was impressive.

He had once complained about being misunderstood as a human-body-obsessed weirdo—but maybe that wasn't so off base, given how many of these materials he had stockpiled.

"What is all this...? Just paper?"

Jo Dong-beom had wandered over and was peering into the box. He furrowed his brows as he read some of the titles in Korean.

Low Anterior Resection. Pulmonary Nodule Surgery. Cesarean Section. Thoracotomy. Cerebrovascular Surgery. Open Surgery for Abdominal Aortic Aneurysm. Artificial Vascular Graft Replacement...

One procedure after another—Jo Dong-beom's expression grew increasingly puzzled.

Is this right...?

"Are these the right materials? I think there might've been a mistake."

"Nope. They're correct."

Clearly confused, Jo Dong-beom pulled out some of the papers. It didn't make sense. Why would an artist need this kind of thing? Then again, didn't he say he was working on an anatomical art project?

"Master, what exactly are you trying to make?"

Kang-seok's eyes gleamed with pure fervor.

"A body."

"A... a body? A human?"

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Jo Dong-beom looked down at the paper, half-expecting some kind of alchemy was about to take place. But if Kang-seok was really trying to create a human being—why all these surgical records?

"More precisely, I'm trying to create a body that contains human disease."

"So... like, for use in surgery or something? Like the special prosthetics they use in medical dramas?"

Jo Dong-beom had heard of that before. With his master's sculpting skills, it made sense he'd be good at that kind of thing. Dong-beom nodded, thinking he finally understood, but Kang-seok immediately refuted him.

"No. One level above that."

"...One level above?"

Jo Dong-beom's expression began to shift into the same one Park Ji-yeop had made. Is that even possible...? But then again, if anyone could do it, it would be this master. His expression relaxed again.

I mean... was that glass flower sculpture even something a human could make?

Trying to apply conventional standards to Kang-seok was pointless. Jo Dong-beom flipped through the papers, trying to seem casual.

"So what are you going to call it?"

If this was a new concept, it needed a name. Maybe it was something that could be patented.

As Kang-seok lifted a paper labeled Pulmonary Nodule Surgery, he quietly read it over.

What would he call it?

After a moment of silence, he whispered softly:

"Maktub—it is written."