I Was Michelangelo in My Past Life

"When I was young, Michelangelo and I went to study painting at the Santa Maria del Carmine Church in Florence."

Torrigiano turned his head.

His face, now that of a wanderer, was full of hardships. Perhaps because he had done mercenary-like work, or maybe it was just his nature. Torrigiano's face reminded one more of a soldier than a sculptor.

Suddenly, he frowned. The memories of fleeing Florence to escape Duke Lorenzo's wrath crawled back to him.

"...Buonarroti had a habit of mercilessly mocking painters. One day, he spoke more provocatively than usual, so I got extremely angry and punched him once. Buonarroti's bones and cartilage shattered like crackers by my hand."

Jealousy, hatred, and inferiority filled his eyes. Torrigiano recalled the mockery and laughter from that day and continued.

"He will carry the wound I gave him for the rest of his life."

— Pietro di Torrigiano D'Antonio recalling the frail and delicate seventeen-year-old Michelangelo being dragged away like a corpse.

Kim Dong-hwi knew himself well. He was mediocre. His talent could simply be summarized as ordinary. That was the size of the talent he had.

Unfair.

He barely grasped even that, yet there were too many people in the world better than him.

Was that all?

Born with ordinary skills, the world was far from peaceful. At least his own world was.

"Not first place?"

"I got first place in other subjects, but in sketching and Korean..."

"So you lost to the same person in sketching and Korean?"

"...Yes."

He recalled his mother's cold gaze.

His father, mother, older brother, younger sibling.

They all looked at him with those eyes. Why are you only this much? Why were you born with only this much and only put in this much effort? They looked at him with eyes that could not understand.

This is my best! Kim Dong-hwi never shouted.

I am trying like my life depends on it! He never protested to them.

Because they could never understand those below them anyway.

How could they understand when their sights were different? Kim Dong-hwi simply moved a little, trying to reach a place that high gaze could reach.

If the head doesn't work, then study; if study doesn't work, then art.

Kim Dong-hwi had learned art from a very young age to look at the same place as them. Fortunately, he had a wealthy environment. Even if ordinary, having something is a talent, so before he knew it, he had reached the top of Cheonghwa Arts High School.

Others called him a genius.

So he thought. Finally, I've reached a world that the mediocre cannot see. That's what he thought.

He was happy. Drunk on pride, he bragged about what he had achieved. Look at what I accomplished. Look at how much I know.

"That's not it."

So when Kang Seok pointed it out, it was shameful enough to die.

Someone said, why foam at the mouth over one small mistake, but does everyone feel shame the same way?

If it was shameful enough to die to me, then it was shameful. Moreover, it was hateful enough to die. A gaze that condemns me for one mistake. That cold gaze strangely reminded him of his mother's.

Kim Dong-hwi instinctively knew.

That guy was someone who could trample over him in any way.

So he scratched him. Every time he saw him, he scratched, crushed, clawed, and wounded his pride. He trampled him so he could never look up again.

"But why?"

Why is that bastard's gaze still so upright?

"I sent you to an art high school where you could keep your grades well. What if you fall behind there too?"

"...Sorry."

"I heard that kid's major is sculpture."

"...."

"Since you lost in sketching, if your majors were the same, you'd lose there too, right?"

Kim Dong-hwi met Kang Seok's eyes and thought. Cold, passionate, seemingly never looking down. How could he be so noble?

"....."

"What am I hoping for? You'll fall behind anyway. Just aim for first grade and spend that time preparing your grades and the college entrance exam. If abilities are similar, the higher grades get into better schools."

"...Yes."

"I heard Korea National University of Arts has its own English test. Prepare for that instead. I don't understand why you obsess over practical skills."

It felt disgusting.

Looking into those fiery eyes was hateful. Those eyes. No, no no. Were those really his eyes? I don't know. What does it matter? His fist clenched. At the moment Kim Dong-hwi clenched his teeth until his molars broke—

"Art students! Move to the meeting place for orientation!"

The PE teacher's voice echoed up to the second floor. The first-year students sitting on the first floor, along with students from other departments moving to the orientation place, were all looking at the art students.

"Ah."

As soon as Kang Seok recognized it, he turned his back without hesitation.

No matter if everyone looked at him or not.

Kang Seok walked leisurely on his path. For some reason, the art students watching Kang Seok walk felt as if they were being abandoned.

Thud, thud.

Kim Dong-hwi also watched Kang Seok walk away with a strange expression.

"Uh... shall we go?"

"Let's go, let's go."

"By the way, what now? I guess I'll fall one rank behind each time."

"...Yeah, but at least it's not the same major. Think positively."

"Is that so?"

The quiet second floor became noisy again.

After Kang Seok left his seat, art students gradually dispersed like receding tides. Among them, male students approached Kim Dong-hwi.

Tap tap. The boys tapped his shoulders, their faces full of laughter.

"You lost this time."

"..."

"And dude, stop picking fights. Isn't it childish? We're third years now. Third years. How can you still act like this over expression techniques from first year? Don't nerds have no popularity with girls?"

"Yeah, dude!"

Amid the boys' laughter, Kim Dong-hwi quietly spoke.

"...Doesn't he seem a bit different?"

"His drawing has improved a lot."

"No, not that."

"Then what, his style? How would I know that? Are you a freak who even watches Kang Seok's drawing style? Crazy."

"No, not that. The person... no, never mind."

Kim Dong-hwi shook his head.

That was when—

Among the kids leaving for the first floor like a receding tide, Park Hye-yeon with a bob haircut was staring at Kim Dong-hwi.

Somehow,

He felt like it was the first time in a while meeting Park Hye-yeon.

Looking at her fiercely raised eyes, memories from first year flashed by.

After sketch classes, everyone in class was busy talking about teacher Go Doo-han.

"Anyone got an offer?"

"No, no one..."

"No way?"

"Really, this is crazy. Didn't they say we were the star generation when we enrolled..."

More precisely, it was about the rumors spread by Park Hye-yeon's mother. If teacher Go Doo-han found a talented student he liked, he would keep them back to offer a special chance or something. But no one received that all semester.

Kim Dong-hwi hadn't received an offer either.

He was upset he hadn't received Go Doo-han's offer despite being first in sketching. So Kim Dong-hwi decided to give his peers something to talk about.

"It's not that we can't do it. Maybe... Park Hye-yeon's mom lied?"

Kim Dong-hwi's smile must have twitched then.

"What?"

"Well, our generation has the highest average scores among all art students. But no one got an offer... Honestly, maybe the rumor was wrong..."

Thunk!

A cat-shaped pencil case hit Kim Dong-hwi's head. It was Park Hye-yeon.

"Are you done talking? Are you saying my mom is a liar?! What the heck!"

"Ah, let go! Hey!"

The famous story of Park Hye-yeon and Kim Dong-hwi grabbing each other by the hair and fighting was well known. Kim Dong-hwi stayed silent because he hated acting like a girl, and Park Hye-yeon just hated mentioning that story.

Anyway,

It was natural that their relationship worsened after that day.

Careful not to meet each other's eyes, what a crappy situation this was. Kim Dong-hwi frowned. His luck wasn't good today. Just as he frowned and was about to go down to the first floor, Park Hye-yeon casually spoke.

It had been too long to count.

"You didn't come to teacher Go Doo-han's solo exhibition this time, right?"

"Yeah. So?"

Why do you care? Kim Dong-hwi swallowed the words and looked at Park Hye-yeon with wary eyes.

Park Hye-yeon, with her hair swept behind her ear, muttered.

"Really? Then I'm curious."

"About what?"

"Your expression when you see Seok's new work."

"..."

"When you saw Seok's plaster sketch of Venus last time, your expression was pretty funny."

After saying that, Park Hye-yeon adjusted her bob and walked ahead, pushing past Kim Dong-hwi.

His shoulder bumped, and Kim Dong-hwi instinctively grabbed his shoulder with his hand. She didn't even answer? Kim Dong-hwi's face was full of bafflement.

What's with her? At that moment, as Kim Dong-hwi looked at Park Hye-yeon in astonishment, she turned and looked back.

"I'm looking forward to it."

Then she smiled with her eyes narrowed and disappeared.

When did she start siding with Kang Seok? Left alone, Kim Dong-hwi wiped his shoulder with his palm, looking dumbfounded.

"Not much happened after that, huh."

Click-clack, click-clack. Pedaling his bike, Kang Seok recalled what happened at school today.

When Kim Dong-hwi was boiling over like about to explode, he was quiet during orientation and class and then left. Kang Seok shook his head, remembering the classroom before the storm.

Spring in March.

It already felt like a typhoon was coming.

Every pedal stroke made the black windbreaker shake. It was a departmental jacket they had bought in a group purchase with their own design.

Since the school bus had just left, no one wearing the jacket was seen around the road.

'I should exercise.'

As Kang Seok pedaled, he thought that Kim Dong-hwi's boiling eyes resembled Torrigiano's. He shivered a little recalling how Torrigiano, three years older, lost his temper and threw punches.

His nose itched.

To protect this nose in this life, he had to work out hard at the gym he seldom went to.

Lately, Kangseok swallowed a sigh as he recalled that apart from using the gym instead of the bathhouse when staying up all night in the studio, he hadn't been going to the gym much.

Because he never knew when or where a punch might fly, maintaining agility was essential. Or, if not that, it wouldn't be bad to stomp so hard they couldn't even throw a punch. Kangseok's mouth twitched.

As he thought over various random things, before he knew it, he had stopped his bike and was climbing the stairs.

The smell of yuto clay seeped into the stairs, signaling he had arrived at the sculpture academy. Yuto was a type of clay mixed with oil to keep it from hardening, used by sculpture majors for their entrance exams.

The higher he climbed, a slightly musty smell grew stronger — apparently, a lot of the powder that inevitably comes from sculpture work had piled up during the winter special classes. Seems like they worked hard. Cleaning the air conditioner filters every few months was a chore.

But it was strange. Usually, they would have scheduled cleaning right after the special classes ended. Had they still not done it? Kangseok pushed the questions filling his head aside and climbed the stairs.

He saw all the windows in the academy wide open to get rid of as much powder as possible. Through the windows came the scent of spring approaching.

Kangseok slowly ascended the stairs. Near the academy door, he heard the noisy chatter of kids who had arrived earlier by school bus, probably ordering delivery before class. Now the smell of tteokbokki finally hit his nose.

"Looks like they're eating inside."

Well, it wasn't any of his business. Kangseok deliberately nudged the wide-open glass door. Ding-dong, the bell announcing a visitor rang.

Soon, a sculpture teacher peeked out, holding wooden chopsticks. As he checked who had come, he hurriedly got up and almost ran down the hall.

"...Seok-ah!"

Seeing his brightened face, Kangseok greeted him.

"Long time no see, teacher."

Part-time instructor Kim Hojin.

Looking at his name tag, Kim Hojin sighed. His arms were behind his back, tying his apron again. After tightening the ribbon, Kim Hojin opened the counseling room glass door.

"Shall we go?"

"Yeah, sure."

Kangseok followed with a somewhat indifferent look.

It was understandable—he had asked the kid who had come saying he wanted to quit the academy to wait.

"Honestly, even if you tell me, there's not much I can do... you know, I'm not a full-time teacher, just part-time. I called the director, and he said to wait around while classes are going on."

"I'll just wait here."

"It'll take a while. Anyway, all your art supplies are here, and he said don't take the lesson fee today, so let's go in together. It's the day students do free research anyway, so it'll be free."

"...Alright."

They somehow held him back.

Kim Hojin let out a sigh of relief. If Kangseok had left just with his art supplies and never returned, he'd be the one getting a scolding from the director.

'But seriously, where did everyone go when they said we had to keep Seok here?'

With two main branches and two branch academies, they must be swamped, but still, at least one person should be around. Why was it always like this? Kim Hojin entered the senior class with a puzzled expression.

That night's meeting flashed through his mind.

"We absolutely cannot let him quit. He's bound to get into either Korea University or Korea National University of Arts."

During the meeting, they had Kangseok's school record and mock exam results on hand. Wherever they'd heard about Kangseok, they kept repeating he must be kept. They even talked about giving free tuition or scholarships.

This was common in academies — boasting the number of students admitted to top universities brought in far more profit. Kangseok was an invaluable asset.

"Hey Hojin, if Seok comes while we're gone, make sure to keep him. Call immediately, okay?"

That's why they said to stall so that the vice principal or director could counsel him. Seriously, after another year, he should quit.

He didn't feel exactly happy.

"Teacher."

"What is it? Is Kangseok coming back to the academy starting today?"

"Teacher, can you take care of him first today?"

As soon as they entered the senior class, the kids swarmed noisily.

"Wait, wait."

Kim Hojin looked back at Kangseok. Kangseok stood where his seat had been empty throughout the winter special class, quietly pulling up his drawing board all the way.

Thinking back, when Kangseok didn't show up for the winter special class, only the academy's teachers or students barely paid attention to him.

Kangseok stood looking at the empty drawing board and easel. Ah, today they needed photos. On other kids' boards were about a dozen photos of celebrities or sculptural figures taken from various angles.

You have to look from multiple angles to make a three-dimensional sculpture. This way, they might as well just sit him down and leave him there.

Kim Hojin quickly approached Kangseok.

"Seok, if you tell me who you want to make, I'll print some photos."

"Ah..."

All eyes suddenly turned to Kangseok.

It was like they were asking what he was going to make. But did he really have to make something? Most sculptures get crushed and thrown away anyway.

Kangseok hadn't even planned on coming for class. He was just waiting for the director. Maybe he should just wait in the counseling room. Kangseok's eyes cooled with annoyance.

"Teacher, since the hobby class girl isn't coming today, can't I just do that?"

A female student from the humanities department nodded toward a corner.

Kangseok naturally followed her gesture. He recognized the spot — the seat of the older sister who used to come once or twice a week after signing up for the adult hobby class. Seems like she was still coming.

A little bit of black was visible on the drawing board. What was stuck there? Kangseok peeked. Nine photos were densely pasted.

The full A4 sheets were filled with black, red, white — Kangseok's expression became strange. The photos showed an actress in a traditional wedding costume.

The bridal attire from a drama featured a fancy floral headpiece and a large decorative hairpin — something you'd see only in historical dramas, like a butterfly-shaped heavy crown.

On top of the heavy floral crown with hairpins and danggi ribbons was a picture so elaborate and heavy-looking that Kangseok tilted his head.

'She's going to do that as a hobby?'

He didn't think she'd finished it. The balance was difficult, and even teachers rarely challenged this kind of work for research projects. Also, it was completely unrelated to entrance exams.

In short, it was something you could do only as a hobby, but it was difficult even for that.

Anyway, the crown... Kangseok's eyes sparkled with interest.

Then—

"That's a bit much, isn't it?"

Kim Hojin shook his head. They left it alone because it was a hobby class, but she had been trying to do that for three months. The crown kept collapsing, wasting cleaning time.

"I'll pick a new one for you."

There were plenty of reference materials in the academy. Kim Hojin turned around. Then—

"Teacher, I'll just do this."

"...What?"

When he turned around, Kangseok's mouth curved as if amused.

"I'll do that."

The beauty of the East. He had never sculpted anything like that before. Thinking that far, he suddenly wanted to make it. Kangseok, who never lost his desire for a work, walked over without hesitation, carrying the whole drawing board.

His fingers moved this way and that as he adjusted the board.

While Kangseok quickly set up, Kim Hojin looked around. Normally, the kids would ignore him or scorn him for being absent from the entrance exam preparation, but the kids looked at Kangseok with curious expressions.

"Seok, you're really going to do it?"

"Looks like he really is."

"But can he really?"

"What? You haven't heard? He made a glass flower that size for the exhibition. It looks just like the real thing. His skills are insane now."

"...Really?"

And the most surprised was Kangseok himself.

He seemed like he was shut away on a deserted island. Even though people were watching him, he didn't care and stared only at the easel.

But it oddly suited him.

"They say his skills are crazy, so why hasn't he started?"

"You don't start without observing."

"No, well..."

"Have you ever done something like this? It's been less than five minutes. Just wait."

Right. Kim Hojin nodded at the voices behind him.

Actually—

The danggi headpiece was placed on top of the heavy floral crown with hairpins. Thinking about the danggi ribbon and all, the most important thing was the neck.

In sculpture, if the tilt of the neck — the starting point — was off even a little, no matter how well the top was built, it would be useless. So at first, it was good to observe slowly and thoroughly.

Kangseok seemed to know this well and stared at the photos for a long time. His hands moved only long after.

When everyone was already scraping clay to fix the facial center,

Kangseok slowly, as if fitting puzzle pieces, placed a palm-sized lump of clay in the middle of the easel.

"Oh, he started."

"He's doing it."

"Be quiet, you'll get noticed."

Despite the noisy kids, Kangseok's hands moved quickly and precisely.

Like shooting a gun.

Without hesitation, he kept attaching lumps of clay one after another. While watching in awe, he quickly made the chest and neck, then started attaching the face clay without even fixing the facial position.

Without setting the center, he piled up the sides, back, and top of the head, pushing clay with a scraper, bending clay at the jaw's end as if he already knew where it should end.

Kangseok's face blossomed with joy as he quickly started sculpting. Passion for the work. Pure joy. Everyone in the room seemed captivated by Kangseok's act itself.

Kim Hojin too.

It felt like encountering a god of art.

Every time his hand moved, the woman's image was drawn and completed beneath his palm — endlessly fascinating. Sacred, beautiful, wondrous, it warped the sense of time.

After watching for a long time,

Kim Hojin felt a strange emotion burning in his ankles.

How to say it—

He wanted to hug the clay right away and couldn't hold back.

A petal of your floral crown

Michelangelo

Sacred and eternal

You who are splendid

You seem to have no rivals.

—Excerpt from a short poem by Benvenuto Cellini