I Was Michelangelo in My Past Life

* * * *

At the frontlines of college entrance exam information—there they are.

The Daechi-dong moms.

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.

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Seongbuk-dong.

A standalone house with a garden bathed in soft green hues.

Cha Ji-sook, mother of Park Hye-yeon, a senior at Chunghwa Arts High School, touched a choker-style necklace encircled tightly with pearls. She ran her fingertip over the natural pearls, feeling their texture with her fingerprint, then turned her head.

First-floor living room.

Outside the cool living room—

The garden was filled only with expensive trees, fitting of a gold-and-silver merchant's home in Cheongdam-dong, Apgujeong, or Sinsa-dong.

There, under the shade, sitting in a hammock reading a book, was Park Hye-yeon. [Kang-seok's Human Anatomy Sketch Collection]. She's reading that again. It had become her favorite lately.

Ever since she heard that Kang-seok was participating in Go Du-han's project six months ago, she'd been visiting the bookstore daily. Apparently, it was because she didn't know when the book would come out.

She could've just said she was curious about it. Cha Ji-sook smiled gently, finding her daughter subtly adorable.

But Kang-seok, Kang-seok... He was a name buzzing among Chunghwa Arts High moms lately. Since moving up to 3rd year. A kid who used to be at the bottom of the class was suddenly ranking first in every art class he took—it made sense there was chatter.

And not just that.

He contributed to the national high school mural exhibition, submitted work to the famous Go Du-han's solo show, and was currently exhibiting a 3D mural at the Peony Gallery that was drawing crowds. His sculpture "Father" had people raving.

A Michelangelo-like boy who had appeared like a comet in Korean art.

That's what parents in the entrance exam scene were calling Kang-seok these days.

"He even quietly published this anatomy sketchbook, and it's selling like crazy. I hear there's even a parent group trying to figure out the secret to his improvement."

Overseas, where people couldn't verify with their own eyes, the rumors were often dismissed or downplayed. But in Korea, he was drawing significant attention.

Of course, it was all still moderate attention. In Korea—and in contemporary art more generally—value often follows price tags.

"That'll change with time."

If a special opportunity came his way, Kang-seok would no doubt explode into massive success. Cha Ji-sook, who had a shrewd eye inherited from her businessman father, was certain of it. She was rarely wrong.

That's why it was even more amusing.

She thought of the Chunghwa Arts moms who likely didn't even know the book had come out. They call me a liar behind my back, and they don't even know this much? Just thinking about them made a smile threaten to escape her lips.

"Anyway, it's about time…"

Cha Ji-sook tapped the sofa armrest lightly with her fingers.

"Ajumeoni."

"Yes, ma'am?"

The housekeeper, who was arranging flowers, turned around.

The living room, decked out with summer hydrangeas, looked refreshingly vibrant—almost like a party was about to begin, yet not so lavish that it tired the eyes.

Cha Ji-sook nodded in satisfaction and gently requested:

"Could you tell Hye-yeon to go upstairs to her room now?"

Time to start preparing for their guests. She added the unspoken part silently as she rose from her seat, watching the housekeeper walk out to the garden.

Ding-dong.

Right on cue, the doorbell rang.

Today was the day of the lunch gathering with the Daechi-dong moms.

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.

.

After Park Hye-yeon had gone upstairs and the housekeeper had left to clean the study, the first-floor living room sat quiet.

A small group of Daechi-dong moms—those with kids applying to art schools who had to juggle both practical skills and academic scores—gathered closely, flipping through pages of a book.

It was a booklet.

Specifically, the newly published [Kang-seok's Human Anatomy Sketch Collection].

These moms, whose children were art students, scrutinized the sketchbook with sharp eyes. They flipped slowly, carefully, and only much later looked up.

"So, you're saying the directors in Seogyo-dong bought dozens of copies of this book?"

"That's what I heard. I'm close with the owner of a big bookstore near Seogyo Intersection. He told me directly. On display day, the hundreds of copies they had in stock were all sold out."

"...Really?"

"Yes. I heard it was a one-time project publication, with only 900 first prints, and most of those were distributed to bookstores in Seogyo-dong. It might already be impossible to find."

Impossible to find?

The Daechi-dong moms looked stunned. Especially those whose kids were aiming for art universities like BAU, K-ARTS, or Korea University—where understanding the human body is crucial—their reactions were particularly intense.

"Oh my. Then shouldn't we hurry and get one too?"

"Exactly."

"Can't we just go buy it now?"

"These days, if a store has stock, you can pick it up right away... shouldn't we check that first?"

Human anatomy sketchbooks aren't everything in the art exam. But if everyone else has one and your kid doesn't, that's a whole different issue.

The Daechi-dong moms tried to act calm as they discreetly picked up their phones. Then tap tap—perfectly manicured nails hit the screens.

They searched for the book online to check for store stock. But Gangnam, Mokdong, Gwanghwamun, Yeongdeungpo, Cheonho, Jamsil—everywhere showed "out of stock."

Only way out would be to travel to the outskirts of Seoul or the countryside.

"If we don't move fast, we really won't be able to get one."

"Seriously, even Jamsil is out? And Gwangju and Busan too? Did those directors buy out every branch themselves?"

"Why would they do that?"

"Maybe to use as teaching material, or for reselling."

"That's hoarding. Isn't that illegal?"

Factoring in kids' pick-up times and other errands, going out of town today wasn't realistic... What to do?

Outwardly composed but inwardly anxious, they stared at their phone screens. It's not like they had to own it—but if they didn't act now, they might never get it. That kind of scarcity mindset drives people to buy. That's exactly how they felt right now.

Luxury bags can be bought later, even at resale prices—but a kid's entrance exam is now. A few days or weeks could make a world of difference. Tension began to show on their otherwise polished faces.

That's when Cha Ji-sook, who had been quietly sipping her coffee after dropping the initial comment, spoke again.

"Kang-seok's Human Anatomy Sketch Collection—that's actually the winning project from a collaboration between the Chunghwa Arts High School 3rd-years and their sketch instructor last year."

So?

The Daechi-dong moms gave her a look that said, Why bring that up now? But once she had their attention, she gently set down her coffee cup and continued.

"I figured others would be curious, so I asked around in advance... Turns out, because the publication response has been so good, there's a possibility of a second print run—if Wishbook House, who co-published it, agrees."

"What?"

"Oh my."

One mom clapped her hands as she put down her drink.

"...So, if Wishbook House agrees, they could print more copies? Oh, that's wonderful."

She picked up her phone immediately. Her fingers moved lightly as she dialed. She reached for a contact saved as "Wishbook House Director."

Cha Ji-sook smiled as she watched her.

The Daechi-dong moms, always on the frontlines of exam prep, were so zealous that they'd even pay someone to wake their kids up.

On the flip side, if you used that zeal wisely—you could rake in serious cash.

* * * *

—See? I was right.

Blue sky.

As Kang-seok pedaled his bike toward his destination, a voice came through his wireless earbuds. The scent of grass lingered in the air, as the rain had only recently cleared.

Before he could open his mouth to reply, the voice continued.

—Well... It didn't sell out on the first day, but a week in and it's basically the same. Don't you think?

Hearing the voice of Choi Young-tae, Kang-seok nodded quietly. They had exchanged numbers at a previous gathering and now stayed in casual contact from time to time.

"I see."

Clatter—there was a faint sound of bicycle wheels rolling.

— "Anyway, that's great news. Congratulations on the decision to print a second edition."

"Thank you."

It seemed that the purpose of today's call was to celebrate the second printing of Kang-seok's Human Anatomy Sketchbook. Knowing that Choi Young-tae tends to get to the main point a little later in conversation, Kang-seok nodded.

Second edition.

He hadn't expected the decision to come so quickly.

He thought it would take a few months to sell out, but as the book hit the top ranks of the liberal arts chart in the second week of July, the stock had nearly vanished.

He'd heard that the display copies at the main Seogyo-dong store sold out on the first day—when he first heard the news, Kang-seok had been left speechless.

Online and offline rankings are compiled weekly, but to think that a book with only 900 copies printed made it to the top... it sounded like a fairy tale.

Still, thanks to the strong sales of a relatively expensive 48,000-won anatomy sketchbook, he would soon have a sizable amount of money again. The question was what to do with it. With a contemplative look on his face, Kang-seok pedaled on.

— "…By the way, those kids aren't bothering you yet, right?"

By "those kids," he meant the students from the Buddhist statue-making club.

"Not yet, anyway."

July 12.

Only about two weeks of summer break remained. Up until a few days ago, they'd been buried in books for the final exams that would affect their grades—how could they be a bother now?

— "Well, that's a relief…"

"It's fine. I'm almost at the meeting spot now, so I'll hang up."

— "Ah, right. Since you're biking, I'll hang up. Talk to you soon."

"Yes."

With a brief goodbye, the call ended, and music began to flow softly through his earphones. As if the world was filling with song, Kang-seok pushed the pedal harder once more. Lifting his head, he spotted today's destination.

Bloom Art Museum.

Seeing the familiar view, Kang-seok slowly dismounted. The difference was noticeable—since moving to a reservation-only system, the crowd had thinned considerably.

Thinking that, he pressed his white baseball cap more snugly onto his head. Today was an important day. He couldn't afford to get stopped mid-way.

He repeated to himself that he couldn't waste energy elsewhere and walked forward.

Today was the day to decide the final placement of the sculpture "Father."

"Mr. Kang-seok, you're here?"

"Curator Jin Yu-mi."

Kang-seok lightly bowed as he stepped into the back office of the Bloom Art Museum, today's destination. If not for the computers and desks among the expensive artworks, it could easily be mistaken for another beautifully curated gallery room.

As she guided him toward the director's office, Jin Yu-mi wore an apologetic expression.

"The director is in a meeting with other curators over the art fair… and it's running a bit long… would you mind waiting here for a bit?"

"Yes, that's fine."

"I'm really sorry."

She bowed repeatedly, even as she brought him some snacks, clearly feeling bad. That's how work is sometimes. Kang-seok nodded to show it was okay, then glanced around.

There were books laid out as if it were a lounge. As expected of one of Korea's top museums, they were rare books you couldn't find in regular bookstores.

As he scanned through the titles, something else caught his eye near the snacks on the white table—a stack of translated editions of Artist News, a New York-based art magazine. The July issue sat prominently on top, suggesting the translation work was up to date.

It seemed like material shared internally within the back office. The pages were slightly curved, like they'd been read many times.

Naturally, Kang-seok picked up the top issue. The full-color prints made it easy to view, and the translated pages flipped smoothly, like curtains fluttering in the wind.

And then suddenly, he stopped—startled by a familiar name.

[Visiting the Tomb of the Great Artist, Michelangelo Buonarroti]

That was the heading on the page.

A travel essay briefly describing Michelangelo's tomb overflowed with flowery language, saying one could feel the artist's soul through the monument's structure.

"A devoted fan, I see," Kang-seok thought, and casually flipped to the next page with his finger. Whether before he knew about his past life, or after, he'd never taken much interest in anything that came after death.

He was alive now—not his past life.

So the idea of visiting a grave, in this life or the last, never crossed his mind. A tomb. He thought of the massive stone coffin he'd once made. A sigh escaped his lips at the memory of that love-hate piece.

Tomb, tomb, tomb…

"I wonder how grand they made it… Wait, t-this is… this is my tomb?"

Kang-seok's lips began to tremble.

His fingers froze mid-turn on the page.

One sentence from the travel essay caught his eye:

[Standing before the tomb of the great and wondrous genius Michelangelo Buonarroti fills one with awe. Five people contributed to the creation of this tomb. They were Giorgio Vasari, Battista Lorenzi, Valerio Cioli, Giovanni Bandini, and Battista Naldini.]

Five.

Five people built this tomb.

His gaze shifted to the accompanying photograph.

According to the essay, Giorgio Vasari handled the architectural design; Battista Lorenzi sculpted the Allegory of Painting and Michelangelo's bust; Valerio Cioli did the Allegory of Sculpture; Giovanni Bandini crafted the Allegory of Architecture; and above all of them was the Pietà painted by Battista Naldini.

Michelangelo's bust was placed atop the sarcophagus, with the three allegorical statues below and the Pietà above.

Ah.

Have you ever felt your entire body erupt in heat?

That sensation of fire burning within you. Heat. Heat. Heat. It was rage.

Rage unlike any he'd felt since becoming aware of his past life—a fury that surged from the deepest depths of his soul.

Just as he was about to explode and scream—

Click. The door opened, and Jin Yu-mi peeked in with an apologetic face.

"Mr. Kang-seok… it looks like the meeting's going to take a bit longer… I'm really sorry. Would you like more snacks or— Mr. Kang-seok?"

"...Hoo. Um, Curator. There's something I want to ask you."

"…Y-Yes? Please, go ahead."

A strong impression could sometimes carry unintended intimidation.

Jin Yu-mi tensed her shoulders and gulped, waiting for him to speak.

Pressing down on his trembling lips, Kang-seok asked:

"If… if I wanted to rebuild Michelangelo Buonarroti's tomb… how would I go about it?"

His reddish-brown eyes were burning with genuine passion.

"…Excuse me?"

Jin Yu-mi blinked in confusion.

Rebuild Michelangelo Buonarroti's tomb?

"Y-you mean a real tomb?"

"Yes."

Even if it was just a dream.

It was a completely absurd idea.