I Was Michelangelo in My Past Life

* * * *

Evening of June 13.

Kang-seok had completed the sculpture.

And under the direction of Yang Seon-gu, the godfather of the sculpture world, blackout curtains were installed both inside and outside Exhibition Room 4 at the Bloom Art Museum, where the sculpture was being displayed.

Multiple layers of barricades.

All doors to Exhibition Room 4 were sealed to prevent anyone from entering. In addition to increasing the museum's security staff by 1.5 times, they had also requested help from a private security company to hire special security agents.

It was an almost crime-scene-like situation. People passing by the Bloom Art Museum late at night whispered to one another.

No one knew what this unprecedented level of protection was for, which made the mystery all the more disturbing.

That day, yet another bizarre rumor escaped over the museum walls.

"You know that foreign sculptor? I heard he finally finished his sculpture, but if you look at it… you freeze."

"No, I heard you die."

"No, they said it curses you. People who see it fall into panic and become violent."

"I heard it makes your heart race."

"They say if you see it four times, your heart stops."

An out-of-place urban legend.

June 14.

A day when the blooming roses seemed like they'd fall at any moment.

On a flower bed where the contrast between the red roses and blue sky was striking, on the 3rd floor of the Delphinium Hall—

A cool breeze flowed into the sketching room.

Students in summer uniforms, aprons, or work clothes were quietly immersed in their tasks.

"If I leave the finish like this, it'll look so incomplete, right?"

"Obviously. We're about to take photos for the exhibition catalog—this is kind of too much. You need to add more depth."

"How am I supposed to? Ugh, I applied the base layer too thin. No matter what I do, it won't stick."

A girl majoring in Western painting threw her Barbara brush down in frustration. The friend next to her, using a Hwahong brush, looked at her as if she were making a scene.

Just as she was about to say something, Im Woo-hyun passed by.

"Less talking, more brushing."

A sharp rebuke. The girl with the Barbara brush pouted but picked it back up. She couldn't argue—it was true.

"Ugh, if this were a major class and not a sketch class, I would've asked the teacher for help."

"You rely too much on Mr. Love. If he helps you like that, it's not your work anymore—it's his. Be grateful we're allowed to work on exhibition pieces during sketch class at all. The art theory teacher flat-out refused, said we had to stick to the curriculum."

"That's just because the theory teacher is weird. Probably mad things didn't work out with her last boyfriend and now she's taking it out on us."

For the third-year art students at Cheonghwa Arts High, the graduation exhibition during the first semester is one of the final major school activities before they start prepping in earnest for college entrance.

Since only grades from the first semester of third year are factored into college admissions, students shift to focusing entirely on entrance exams or private institutes once that window passes.

So, unless they're deeply involved in a club, this graduation exhibition holds a special meaning.

By June, when the exhibition catalog is being finalized, art teachers often allow students to use class time to work on their exhibition pieces if they haven't yet finished.

That was exactly what was happening now.

So, even though this was sketch class, the students were allowed to work with acrylic or oil paints.

A few design majors had pulled out unused desks from the supply room and were working on laptops. Their projects were video-based.

The sculpture majors had even gotten permission to leave and work in the sculpture studio, saying it was impossible to work here.

'Is this high school or college?'

Im Woo-hyun grimaced. It reminded him of his university days doing all-nighters. Shuddering at the memory, his eyes instinctively turned toward one direction.

Where Kang-seok was.

Rarely, Kang-seok was holding a brush.

Holding a paint-smeared wooden palette in one hand, he dipped an oil painting hog-bristle brush into an oil can placed on a folding chair next to him—his technique looked seasoned.

"He said those aren't his exhibition pieces, right?"

Jang Yu-min had approached Im Woo-hyun.

She was one of the instructors for sketch class, working alongside Son Dong-wook and Im Woo-hyun. She tucked her wine-red bob hair behind an ear and looked up at him.

"Right. He's a sculpture major."

Only a few people knew that he was carving marble. Ah, not carving—he'd finished the piece by now.

Im Woo-hyun's gaze drifted to the leather sofa normally used by Ko Du-han, now empty. These days, the art teachers rarely left the principal's office, buried in meetings. Ko Du-han was no exception.

'If it weren't for Kang-seok's situation, I would've ditched everything and hidden in the sketch room. Damn it.'

The thought made him sigh. Then he heard Jang Yu-min's voice, full of admiration:

"But I've never seen such an extraordinary student. Were all geniuses like that in high school?"

Were they all like that?

Im Woo-hyun's eyes turned back to Kang-seok.

Or rather, the four easels in front of him. Apparently, waiting for oil paint to dry on one canvas was too boring for him, so he had four easels set up, working on a different painting on each.

In short, he was painting four pieces simultaneously.

"Not many geniuses as ambitious as Kang-seok," Im Woo-hyun said.

Even if you have the skill to dig multiple wells, you can't draw water from them all. Usually, you need to focus on one to get results. But Kang-seok kept firing away, like with a machine gun, until something came out.

It was like harvesting results with sheer time and volume. A violent kind of yield.

"Even though he's already finished his main piece, the fact that he's painting this diligently too… He's a true-born artist," said Jang Yu-min, smiling with genuine warmth.

Perhaps it was because she knew what the paintings were about.

"A surprise gift—so romantic, don't you think? When is Kang-seok moving, again?"

"Uh… It got delayed. Maybe around the exhibition? Or after."

.

.

.

Unaware that Jang Yu-min and Im Woo-hyun were talking about him, Kang-seok continued painting.

He had arranged his four easels in a semicircle, rotating his body slightly with each stroke.

One canvas showed his family—himself, his father, mother, and Kang Chae-young—looking forward and smiling gently.

Another showed his mother turning around and smiling in front of a field of flowers with a blue sky in the background, captured from the waist up.

The third captured Kang Chae-young flashing a V-sign at the camera, dimples deep with a bright smile.

And the last was of his father, leaning back in a chair, smiling widely with charming laugh lines.

They were all destined for the living room of their new home. The spacious living room on the first floor of their new house in Seongbuk-dong was big enough to display four large paintings without feeling cramped.

'Well… we can hang them wherever feels right once we move in.'

Kang-seok smirked slightly. At this pace, even with the slow drying time of oil paints, he could finish before the move. He was satisfied, moving his brush across canvases that looked more vivid than photographs.

It was, surprisingly, his first time painting his family's faces as a gift.

Until now, he had never felt able to capture them well enough. He was finally able to, and was deeply grateful for that.

Just then, the bell rang.

Break time.

'Already?'

Looking at the clock, Kang-seok placed his wooden palette on a nearby folding chair and stood up to head to the restroom. But as he turned, his eyes met someone else's.

Park Hye-yeon.

She looked at him with cat-like eyes, as if to say what are you looking at?, and just then, Jin Se-hyun came up waving her hands frantically in panic.

"W-we weren't trying to bother you. It's just, you're so good—I just wanted to watch a little! Y-you were so focused that I didn't want to interrupt… S-sorry, if it was distracting. Really sorry…"

"I didn't even do anything, but it felt like I was about to get jumped."

Apparently, the way Kang-seok used to sharply mock Kim Dong-hwi, who often picked fights with him, had now blown up into a well-known rumor in the art department.

On top of that, it was break time.

He wasn't trespassing—he hadn't bought the land, after all—so who cared where he stood or what he looked at? Kang-seok waved a hand to signal he was fine.

"No need to go that far."

As Kang-seok casually tried to reassure Jin Se-hyun, who was bowing his head repeatedly, he attempted to walk past them.

"But seriously, it's beautiful."

A muttered comment reached his ears. It was Park Hye-yeon. Kang-seok turned around. Her gaze was fixed on the canvas titled Mother's Smile.

She seemed to take it in for a moment, then turned to Kang-seok with a neutral expression.

"You. Even during the Venus plaster drawing, and now this. Come to think of it, you're pretty good at drawing women, huh?"

…What?

Kang-seok's eyebrow twitched.

Oblivious or indifferent, Park Hye-yeon stared off into space as if lost in thought. Her upward-curved, feline-like eyes dimmed to a soft hazel.

"Now that I think about it, back in freshman year too, your works were mostly centered around women. I didn't realize it back then, but… seeing it like this, I get it. I guess this is your strength. These soft textures and rhythmic lines."

After murmuring as if solving a mystery, Park Hye-yeon returned to her usual aloof expression. She gave a small nod of acknowledgment, then tugged on Jin Se-hyun and walked toward the sketch room ahead of him.

Jin Se-hyun, flustered as he was pulled along, waved his hand like a stuffed animal.

"Let's go to the snack bar. I'm starving."

"You're trying to get that corn bread again, aren't you? …Didn't your mom say not to let you eat that too much…? Hey, Hye-yeon. Flour isn't good for you, right? How about the watermelon your mom packed? Doesn't that sound good? No?"

"I'm sick of it. Come on, let's go. If you microwave that for 15 seconds, it's heaven. Heaven for 1,700 won. Who needs watermelon?"

"...Really? I like watermelon better though…"

"Then you eat it."

"Uh… huh? Really?"

Their murmuring voices faded as they walked away.

Kang-seok stared at their backs, then slowly turned back around. As he did, a sharp, sarcastic voice from the past echoed in his mind.

"The muscular bodies Michelangelo loved to draw always reminded me of bumpy walnuts. Even when he drew women, didn't they just look like men? That's why they say he failed anatomically."

He had once harshly criticized Michelangelo for drawing female bodies that resembled male ones.

Kang-seok's lips twitched.

On the canvas, Baek Myung-hee, his mother, and Kang Chae-young, his sister, were undeniably beautiful women. The delicate lines, the graceful curves from neck to shoulder, the loving smiles—who could look at this and not call it beautiful?

Kang-seok gazed at the canvas with a strange expression, as if looking at something painted by a stranger.

How long did he stand there like that?

Not long after, the bell rang again.

To Kang-seok, it sounded like a wall shattering.

Early evening. A red sunset hung in the sky.

The door to a truck labeled [Seok's Furniture Shop] swung open.

It was the heart of Daechi-dong, Gangnam.

Kang-seok and his father, Kang Hyun-do, parked their truck in a surprisingly spacious Gangnam parking lot and pressed the elevator button. Sixth floor.

As the elevator opened, Kang Hyun-do carefully turned left.

A sign appeared.

SINUS.

Latin for "curve."

It was the name of a mid-sized company that wholesale supplied office furniture and equipment. But they hadn't come to look at Sinus' in-house products.

"Hello."

A woman greeted them with a polite smile, as if to ask what brought them in. Kang Hyun-do subtly nodded and pointed at something.

It was the Meteus chair.

"We came to try out that chair."

"Ah, the Airgod?"

The reason the two came to Sinus today was to test the Meteus chair in person before buying it for their new house. It would've been nice if Baek Myung-hee and Kang Chae-young could join, but Myung-hee had to watch the furniture shop, and Chae-young had to go to her academy. So the two decided to come first.

"Feel free to sit and try it out."

At the female staff's encouragement, Kang Hyun-do nodded.

"Dad, have a seat."

"Sh-should I?"

Looking somewhat excited, Kang Hyun-do didn't refuse Kang-seok's suggestion. It was a chair he had always dreamed of owning if they ever had extra money.

It was widely known and often ranked at the top among high-end chairs.

They'd heard that it's best to try it in person before ordering from the official website, so here they were. But something felt awkward. Perhaps it was because they were the only customers in the showroom. Even though no one was watching, he felt eyes on him.

Because of that awkwardness, Hyun-do fumbled with the chair. Seeing this, Kang-seok stepped in.

"Dad, you should rotate this, press your hips to the back. That way you'll notice the difference."

"I think… it's good."

"Is this the B model?"

He was sitting in the B size of the Meteus Airgod Metallic version—the standard size.

"How's the headrest?"

"I… think it's good, haha."

Hyun-do, feeling shy, could only repeat that it was good. His ears turned slightly red as he lightly tapped the armrests with childlike delight.

He had long given up the idea of owning such a chair by his mid-thirties. And now, here he was—dream coming full circle.

Then, suddenly, he stood up.

"Dad. Chae-young always crosses her legs, so to correct that, we should raise the curve here like this…"

"Mom's legs are different lengths, so if we're adding a footrest, we need to lower the seat a bit. Or if no footrest, lower it entirely by this much…"

He remembered Kang-seok discussing design ideas months ago using his own sketches. He used to think Kang-seok was just good at painting and sculpture, but it turned out his talent extended across all fields of art.

That's why, rather than just his own excitement, Hyun-do figured it was better to rely on Kang-seok's rational judgment.

"Seok, you try it too."

"Shall I?"

Kang-seok didn't refuse. Since all four family members planned to get Meteus chairs, it only made sense for everyone to test them out.

His feet touched the ground. He gently pushed himself back into the chair. Feeling the subtle vibration, he pressed his back against the seat and closed his eyes.

He had done quite a bit of research on Meteus before coming here.

"How is it? Pretty good, right? Comfortable?"

At his father's eager expression, Kang-seok made a strange face. It wasn't that the chair was uncomfortable, but rather that the Meteus chair was designed to enforce proper posture—so comfort wasn't exactly the main draw.

Still, even with that in mind…

Kang-seok looked down at the armrests and asked, his voice calm but curious:

"Dad, how long until we move again?"

A question that came out of nowhere.

Hyun-do looked puzzled, but answered readily.

"At least a month, I'd say?"

A month.

Kang-seok looked down at the armrest.

I think I can make something better than this.