I Was Michelangelo in My Past Life

Sculpture Academy [Land]'s director, Choi Yulmok.

He got out of the car, panting. In his anxious face, Choi Yulmok walked quickly forward, holding a cellphone in his hand.

The screen was lit up. The time displayed on the phone was 6:43 PM. It was just about 30 minutes after he had received a call from the part-time instructor Kim Hojin saying Kangseok had arrived at the academy.

For something expected to take quite a while, it was an early arrival.

Since this was a gathering prepared by the sculptors of Seogyo-dong, who had all studied under the same master, they had expected it to take a long time to finish.

"The student called you. What are you doing if you're not going?"

Yang Seongu, the main figure of the gathering, had given a firm yet not harsh order, telling him he should go since his student had called. Thanks to that, Choi Yulmok was able to leave quickly.

Yang Seongu, the godfather of the sculpture world and a first-generation sculptor, had a strong presence. When he said a word lightly, others always took it seriously.

Thus,

Thanks to Yang Seongu's one word, Choi Yulmok was able to dash out like a bullet.

'I should thank him properly later.'

Choi Yulmok climbed the stairs. A musty smell came up — a mixture of clay and dust. Now that he thought about it, the start of the new semester and Yang Seongu's return date coincided, so both the vice principal and he had been living frantically lately.

'I should call the cleaning company today if possible. Will they answer at this hour?'

Since dust flying around could clog the air conditioner with dirt, affecting respiratory health, they made sure to have the place cleaned every few months. Choi Yulmok realized he had even forgotten the cleaning schedule.

He had been too lost in romantic thoughts about meeting Yang Seongu. Just thinking of Yang Seongu reminded him of his younger self who had dreamed of becoming a sculptor, which explained his current state.

Most of the people settled in the Seogyo-dong entrance exam art scene had once been artists before becoming businessmen. Momentarily lost in memories, Choi Yulmok shook his head and opened the door.

Clink, the door opened and Choi Yulmok stepped inside. The academy was unusually quiet today. What's going on? Is there some problem? Choi Yulmok walked down the corridor with a serious expression.

Because all the walls were made of transparent tempered glass, the inside was clearly visible. The reason the academy was so quiet today was that the entrance exam class near the entrance was especially silent. There wasn't even an exam today, so why was it so quiet? Choi Yulmok turned his head.

And there, a woman the color of soil stood.

"·········!"

More precisely, it was the woman's face.

Her face was blurred, as if dust had covered her eyes.

Choi Yulmok raised his hand and wiped his eyes. No matter how much he looked, he couldn't see her clearly. Given that he was well over fifty and had quite good eyesight, it was perplexing.

What was visible, however, was that she wore a bridal-style yeoyeojimeori (traditional Korean bridal hair), tteogujimeori, tteoljap, a binyeo (ornamental hairpin), and daenggi (ribbon). She looked pure.

It was a multicolored beauty so vivid that it took a moment to realize that all her colors were just soil tones.

Why was a woman dressed in such a traditional hanbok at their academy...? Wait, everything was soil-colored. There's only one thing in a sculpture academy that would be soil-colored.

······clay.

Clay.

That's when he realized it wasn't his eyesight — her face wasn't defined yet because she was still being sculpted. Her features weren't fully formed.

It was so incomplete it was shocking he had mistaken her for a person.

Was there anyone in the academy who could shape clay like that? Just then, his eyes caught a male student moving his hands behind the woman's butterfly-shaped gache (hairpiece).

A familiar black academy jacket. A familiar hairstyle. A face with a strong expression, not exactly kind or gentle. A still not fully grown height.

Despite having met for two months and two weeks, it was easy to recognize him after so long.

It was Kangseok.

Choi Yulmok's mouth dropped open towards Kangseok.

·········Kangseok made this? How? That was the only thought he could have at the moment.

This was a different level of astonishment than when he heard news about sketches, murals, or three-dimensional flowers over the whole vacation.

Think about it.

Do you think talent in painting and talent in sculpture are the same? Recall when the great Leonardo da Vinci failed at casting a bronze equestrian statue.

Is shaping glass the same as shaping clay? Remember how the wondrous artist Michelangelo struggled when he had to move from plaster statues to bronze.

There's a saying "like father, like son," but isn't this too extreme...?

To make such a beautiful woman only 40 minutes after returning from a two-month-and-two-week break at the academy... it was unbelievable.

When he spoke on the phone with Kim Hojin, he had just arrived recently. Even calculating the time, it was less than 40 minutes, so how could Kangseok have sculpted the chest, neck, face, yeoyeojimeori, tteogujimeori, and gache in such a short time?

It was impossible to hide his shock.

Unless his hands were made of molds, it was a difficult task.

No, even with molds, maintaining the balance was hard.

At that moment, the only thought occupying Choi Yulmok's mind was:

So this is it.

Seeing is believing. While Choi Yulmok was staring blankly at Kangseok beyond the glass wall, Kangseok slowly stepped back. As with painting or sculpture, you have to step back intermittently to see the whole, not just the trees but the forest.

As Kangseok stepped back to look at the woman, their eyes met.

"Director."

"······Seok, Seok-ah."

"You came?"

Ignoring that the other kids were staring dumbfounded, Kangseok took off his arm sleeves. Then he tossed the sculpting tools that had been stuck to his fingers along with the sleeves down.

Choi Yulmok snapped back to reality seeing the items easily fitting into a large tarpaulin bag under the stairs. This tarpaulin bag didn't usually come out unless he went to competitions or traveled long distances, so he immediately understood the situation.

He really was quitting.

After roughly wiping off the clay with a wet wipe, Kangseok checked for any mess and then turned around without hesitation.

Then, as if his class had just ended, he came toward Choi Yulmok with the tarpaulin bag slung over his shoulder. His face was smiling. The usual look on Kangseok's face, which often seemed chased or pressured, looked unusually calm today.

"I heard you weren't charging today, so I was just playing around while waiting."

"Oh, I see."

After throwing away the wet wipe in the trash, Kangseok checked if his seat was clean and walked toward Choi Yulmok in the corridor.

...Was that called playing around? Choi Yulmok's gaze kept drifting back to the soil-colored woman beyond the glass wall.

Fixing his gaze on Kangseok standing before him, Choi Yulmok asked hesitantly:

"How was your vacation...?"

"Good. Very good."

"I see. But since you even brought the tarpaulin bag..."

Thinking, quitting? Choi Yulmok swallowed his next words. The bag was packed heavily with all his belongings, showing clear determination.

Kangseok nodded as if confirming Choi Yulmok's unspoken thought.

"Yes. I could have told you by phone, but since I've been indebted to you since middle school, I thought it was right to see you and say it in person. Also, I have to take this back."

Kangseok lightly lifted the tarpaulin bag as if showing it off.

Since he had left it at the academy since the first year of middle school, it was filled with various items.

A spray bottle, a towel with a name tag sewn on by his mother, rubber and bamboo spatulas received on his birthday, splints cut by his father, twine they had searched for together in the warehouse, a work apron made by his mother with character patches sewn on for worn spots, arm sleeves with Kang Chaeyoung's heart doodle, and work clothes handed down from his father.

Each item bore the marks of use and affection.

Looking at them, memories of the years spent at the academy came back. The first time he stepped into Sculpture Academy [Land] with his father was in first year middle school — six years ago. Even without counting this year, it was a full five years.

Entrance exam student.

The amount of time entrance exam students preparing for art school spend at an academy is never short.

During vacations, from noon to 5 PM on weekdays, then from 6 to 10 PM. On weekends, they were at the academy by 9 or 10 AM. They ate at the academy district until around 7 PM, studied, and prepared for entrance exams.

Since he lacked skill, he sometimes attended the evening sessions at a discounted price, thanks to the director's kindness.

It had been five years — a long time together.

Kangseok looked at Choi Yulmok again.

He had been with the director since the academy was small.

Before the academy grew, when he was scolded for not improving, he still was fed a hearty bowl of soup once a week. The teacher would pat his back saying he would improve someday — memories flashed by.

He recalled running, eating kimbap, not knowing if the pickled radish went in through his mouth or nose as he rushed to lock the academy door.

Looking briefly at the transparent entrance exam class, Kangseok swallowed his words and slowly said,

"I'm quitting the academy."

Choi Yulmok, stunned by Kangseok's firm words, couldn't even suggest sitting down or talking in the counseling room.

Though unlikely, he wanted to ask,

"Are you thinking of quitting art entirely?"

"No."

"...Then you're going for student record comprehensive screening?"

He meant the hakjong—the student record comprehensive screening.

He asked if Kangseok planned to enter art school without the practical exam by using student records.

Kangseok didn't answer, only looked at Choi Yulmok.

For some reason, those eyes seemed to ask since when had doing art meant entering art school was the same thing. Though it couldn't be, Choi Yulmok felt a sudden pang of guilt.

If it had been another student, he would have said harshly, With your grades, you can never get into a good university. You can only get in because you're going to art school. So you shouldn't quit the academy.

He would have tried to hold him back with those fierce words.

But he couldn't utter a word.

Maybe because he remembered Kangseok, who sometimes moved his hands with hatred toward himself for the past five years and even got teary-eyed.

Or maybe because he recalled Yang Seongu's face telling him it was the student calling him.

For some reason, Choi Yulmok couldn't bring himself to say the words he had said dozens of times every year.

"Thank you for everything."

Until Kangseok silently bowed his head and turned away, Choi Yulmok was forced to remain silent as if mute.

It's over.

Kangseok tightened the tarpaulin bag on his shoulder and trudged down the stairs. The stairs were silent. The fact that no one was using the stairs at this hour made quitting the academy feel even more real.

Just a few steps more and he would be out the door.

"···Seok-ah!"

Choi Yulmok's voice grabbed his ankle.

Kangseok slowly turned around.

Under the light, Choi Yulmok's face shone brightly. Smiling with tears in his eyes, he said to Kangseok,

"Live well."

"······Yes."

"Come visit sometimes when you're bored, even years from now."

"·········."

"If you succeed and come visit, I'll buy you the best naejangtang (beef tripe soup) around here. And,"

"·········."

"If you come to work, don't expect any soup."

Kangseok swallowed his laughter. His throat ached. He smiled brightly in return and replied,

"Yes."

Kangseok bowed his head once more and moved forward. He didn't look back.

The evening sky mixed with blue and purple.

[Iterum Glass Workshop]

Park Ji-yeop looked up at the signboard. The place, converted from a garage, was tightly shut. It looked as if it was telling people not to enter. Could a workshop be this closed off? Park Ji-yeop felt a strange sense of alienation.

On the other hand, it made the fact that Kang-seok was really working here feel more real. The photos Kang-seok had sent flashed through his mind. The intermediate process was so realistic that someone might believe a human had been butchered.

If Kang-seok hadn't sent the video of the making process as well, even Park Ji-yeop might have misunderstood—it was that lifelike. That was why he came to check it out. More precisely, he couldn't bear it without seeing it with his own eyes.

Park Ji-yeop had a premonition.

Seven pieces? No, just that one alone seemed enough to completely outdo Project Inche. He had been told to press the bell after coming here, but where on earth was the bell?

With dark circles under his eyes from continuous all-nighters, Park Ji-yeop looked around.

Then, it happened.

"Who's there?"

Who was lurking around in front of this place? A middle-aged man with a vigilant gaze stared at Park Ji-yeop. He had an impressive, bandit-like build. Park Ji-yeop slightly bowed his head to the face that looked at least twice his size and asked,

"Are you the owner of this workshop, by any chance?"

"That's right."

"Oh, I'm Professor Park Ji-yeop from the Department of Plastic Arts at Hanyang University of Arts. I heard that Kang-seok is working here, so I came to meet him today."

"K-Kang-seok, you say?"

"Sir? Teacher?"

Was Kang-seok old enough to be called "teacher" by anyone? Seeing the man's sharp eyes, Park Ji-yeop was taken aback, and at that moment he glanced again at the signboard.

"Let's go in."

The middle-aged man slightly opened the garage door and beckoned him inside. Though he said he was the workshop owner, he barely opened the door like someone sneaking in. Despite his older-looking face, the man's lively expression was somewhat strange.

Suppressing a small doubt, Park Ji-yeop slowly followed behind the middle-aged man.

.

.

.

"Sir. Teacher Kang."

Kang-seok, who had come straight to the workshop from the academy and was eating, raised an eyebrow. There was only one situation when Jo Dong-beom, who always called him "teacher," used that title.

When others were around.

"Teacher, you have a visitor."

Behind Jo Dong-beom appeared Park Ji-yeop's face over his shoulder. Kang-seok swallowed a short breath. Right, he had said he'd visit today. Kang-seok bowed slightly and stood up.

"Professor, you're here?"

"Kang-seok, it's been a while."

With a friendly nod, Park Ji-yeop glanced around. He looked as if he was searching for the completed Marktoob No.1. Kang-seok smirked slightly and pointed to one side.

"Marktoob No.1 is over there."

Following Kang-seok's finger, Park Ji-yeop's gaze shifted. In the shadow hidden by darkness, a peach-colored silhouette appeared. Approaching the shape, his eyes adjusted, and the color shifted to a skin tone with a pinkish hue like pigskin.

A human.

There was a human lying with eyes closed.

"Huh… huh… this is!"

Without even thinking of swallowing his voice or reaching out, Park Ji-yeop approached the model called Marktoob in a stiff posture. The skin covering it resembled human skin from both near and far.

Looking at the physique neither young nor old but somewhere in between, Park Ji-yeop swallowed hard. Inside this human figure, human organs were perfectly contained. He had heard it took four whole sleepless nights to make it, but recalling the models seen in the video, even that seemed short.

The speed was beyond human comprehension.

Sometimes, humans meant to be in the sky mistakenly come down to earth. With a face that gave up trying to understand, Park Ji-yeop looked back at Kang-seok. There was also a hint of regret in his expression.

"But covering it all with skin like this makes it hard to see the organs."

He wanted to see those vivid organs in real life. Park Ji-yeop expressed his disappointment. In fact, covering it in skin like this might actually damage its value as a reference.

Those incredible organs were hidden beneath the skin…! Park Ji-yeop glanced at Kang-seok with continued regret.

At that moment, Kang-seok, with a face that showed no regret at all, nodded.

"Anyway, Marktoob was made for dissection. The skin is just the outer packaging before the body is sliced open."

"...You mean for dissection?"

Park Ji-yeop turned his gaze back to the human model called Marktoob. Dissection? He unconsciously showed a skeptical expression. It was a sad thought, but did this really hold as much value as a cadaver? Doubts welled up.

Medical staff who needed cadavers bore the fate of the scalpel wielder.

After completing cadaver practice in class, these were the people who took scalpels and cut skin professionally. Would those people find meaning in dissecting such fake models?

Just as Park Ji-yeop thought this, Kang-seok continued as if he had predicted it.

"This will be quite good reference material."

Jo Dong-beom nodded vigorously beside him.

"Professor, would you like to touch it?"

"Is that okay?"

Surprised, Park Ji-yeop looked at Kang-seok. Kang-seok nodded. Since it was made for dissection, it was natural to touch it. When Kang-seok added this again, Park Ji-yeop hesitated no more and reached out to Marktoob.

Slowly extending his fingers, he pressed firmly on the wrist draped over the chair's armrest. Park Ji-yeop's expression changed oddly. It was soft. The flesh gave way softly, like pressing chicken meat, and warmth was felt.

Maybe his hands had gotten cold being outside. Park Ji-yeop, with a strange look, grabbed the wrist with his whole palm. At that moment, knowing his own cold hands, he could feel a small warmth.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Park Ji-yeop started touching various places.

It was warm.

Had some device been installed?

Just as curiosity kicked in, he felt a small, beating movement. Park Ji-yeop's pupils widened. Thump. Thump. A faint pulse. He was mesmerized by the wondrous beating.

Then slowly, slowly, he turned his head to look at Kang-seok.

Kang-seok's face was obscured by backlight.

Park Ji-yeop's gaze was caught by the orange light behind Kang-seok's face, and he asked with difficulty,

"Why… why is this beating?"

Marktoob's pulse was beating.

"This is a revolution! I say it's a revolution, Kang-seok! This is not just for the medical field. A living, breathing anatomical model! If we supply this to other departments where ethical issues prevent dissection practice, it will advance overall human anatomy education."

"Exactly! That's right!"

"Our university wants to buy it immediately. Anatomy practice in the art college! I never imagined this day would come… Kang-seok, I'll buy it!"

"Why are you buying this? The Sangkang Medical Center will recognize Marktoob's value. It can make up for the shortage of cadaver practice and supply it to nursing and medical schools. Also, since this model contains diseases, it's an excellent specimen to replace ITT virtual surgery—hey! Where are you taking it?"

"Kang-seok! Please! We can't miss this. You didn't even sell me !"

This is a revolution. I say it's a revolution!

Recalling Park Ji-yeop's shouts echoing in his ears, Kang-seok let out a deflated laugh. He remembered how in a past life he tried to publish an anatomy book but it was shelved due to work.

Artists used to study human anatomy by looking at their ceiling murals.

He recalled how people copied his ceiling murals in lines. Though many things have developed well now, he felt good thinking he was helping human anatomy even a little.

Honestly, it was just fun.

"What are you laughing at?"

Kang Chae-young, eating bead-shaped ice cream, looked at Kang-seok flipping through sketches at the living room table with suspicion.

"Something funny happened."

"Really? Did you get back from the academy okay?"

Chae-young, eating chocolate-banana-flavored bead ice cream, tossed out the question. Kang-seok looked up. She must have heard the news. Or maybe she saw his bag in the room.

Anyway, her nosiness—though pretending otherwise—was like checking if he wasn't hurt. Kang-seok drank a zero-calorie cola while looking at Chae-young.

"I got back fine."

Suddenly, Kang-seok's eyes widened as he drank his cola. Looking ahead, Chae-young's eyes were wide as she ate the bead ice cream, asking why.

Having zero-calorie cola at home was one thing. He recalled how he never even glanced at bead ice cream before unless it was on big-sale days for hard bars. When had their house become so abundant?

He thought anew that it wasn't a joke that his parents' furniture store was doing well.

"How many times a week does meat come to our table these days?"

"Suddenly? Um… isn't it at least once a day?"

"Once a day?"

It was surprising. Maybe in three months, the day would come when his parents would swipe their check card buying furniture for their new detached house. Kang-seok looked around the house, and his phone suddenly vibrated.

Zing.

His gaze naturally dropped.

[Dear Artist Kang-seok, sorry for contacting you at a late hour. This is Ryu Soo-heon from the Ministry of Culture, Sports, and Tourism's Culture and Arts Department. After securing the budget last time, I wanted to talk again. If it's not inconvenient, are you available to talk now?]

"What? An ad?"

"No."

"Really? Popular place, huh."

Chae-young teased while eating bead ice cream. Kang-seok lightly pushed her forehead with his finger and stood up. The phone was already on the call button.

— Artist!

The call connected quickly as if the person was waiting.

"Secretary, long time no see."

— Yes. First, artist, I tried to secure as much budget as possible.

"Yes."

Holding the phone between his shoulder and cheek, Kang-seok grabbed the door handle to close the door. In the other hand, he held sketches.

— Four hundred million won. We can give you four hundred million won as labor costs.

Four hundred million won for one major renovation.

Kang-seok pursed his lips.

Click.

Closing the door, Kang-seok nodded happily. His gaze naturally shifted to the sketches in his hand. Turning the last page, the abandoned building of Yongshin Land appeared.

"Let's meet and discuss."

What Kang-seok held was the renovation blueprint.