I Was Michelangelo in My Past Life

Michelangelo left us with these words:

"The greatest danger for most of us is not that our aim is too high and we miss it, but that it is too low and we reach it."

Early afternoon, under a pale yellow blazing sun.

At the back office of the Bloom Art Museum, curator Jin Yumi, in her seventh year, stopped in surprise as she was about to enter the break area in front of the director's office. Her gaze, peeking through the slightly open door, landed on Kangseok.

There was only one reason for her surprise.

His expression.

It was so vastly different from anything she'd seen in Kangseok over the past few months.

The furrow between his brows, tightly pressed lips, twitching corners of his mouth, and reddish-brown eyes trembling with anger.

None of these were expressions you would normally associate with Kangseok.

Someone might say she was just jumping to conclusions, but Jin Yumi was certain in that moment.

They say perceptive people can sense even the air. Hoo. Inhaling the coffee-scented air, Jin Yumi lowered her gaze. A small watch on her wrist caught her eye.

2:10 PM.

She was already ten minutes past her scheduled meeting time with Kangseok.

"...Of course he'd be angry!"

It was inexcusable to keep a promising genius artist like Kangseok waiting. Ah, and of all times, someone from the Sankang Foundation had to show up… Jin Yumi swallowed a sigh.

Back in the day—

Director Jin Dowook, who studied under Yang Seongu and later moved through the Sankang Scholarship Foundation to receive the Bloom Art Museum under the Sankang Cultural Foundation, was notoriously weak against anyone connected to the Sankang Group.

"Why am I even worrying about this right now? What do I even do..."

Jin Yumi made a grimace. Why today, of all days, did she have to be the one on back office duty? She grumbled silently, but it didn't change anything.

"Okay. Go. Just go. You have to go in..."

Click.

Grabbing the doorknob, she turned it with an intentionally loud sound and naturally peeked her head inside.

"Um... Artist?"

Gulp. Just as she began to speak, she nervously gripped the doorknob. Even though it was mid-summer, it felt icy cold.

"I... It might take a little longer. I'm really sorry. Would you like some more snacks or—"

She didn't even finish the sentence. Their eyes met—his reddish-brown gaze locked straight onto hers.

"...Artist?"

"...Hoo. Um, curator. I have a question."

"Y-Yes? Please go ahead."

"If—hypothetically—someone wanted to rebuild the tomb of Michelangelo Buonarroti... how would they do it?"

"Pardon?"

Jin Yumi blinked.

"Rebuild... an actual tomb?"

"Yes."

What kind of nonsense is that? He wants to rebuild Michelangelo Buonarroti's tomb? Out of nowhere? How would that even be possible?

Then, through her shifting vision, she spotted the magazine in Kangseok's hands. It was the July issue of the renowned New York art magazine Artist News.

Now that she thought about it, she had read the translated version. Was this about that travel essay? Yes—it included impressions from a visit to Michelangelo's tomb. His finger seemed to be marking that exact page.

Vivid rage. The story of Michelangelo's tomb. A paused page. And sculptures reminiscent of the Renaissance, so much so that people called him "the Michelangelo of Korea." A philosophy that glorifies the human form.

These fragmented clues floated through Jin Yumi's mind.

Ah!

A few days ago—

In the back office, fellow curators had jokingly said that Kangseok seemed to be a fan of Michelangelo. That memory flashed through her.

"So... he's not angry because of the director. It's because of Michelangelo's tomb?"

Once she reached that conclusion, her nerves eased a little. Michelangelo's tomb—she had seen it in person, after all.

Yeah, it really was... underwhelming.

If Kangseok was a die-hard Michelangelo fan, it made sense that he would be upset.

Who was Michelangelo, after all?

The great artist—often called the divine artist—Michelangelo Buonarroti was the sculptor who had built tombs for some of the greatest figures of the Renaissance.

Among those great figures were popes. Michelangelo himself sculpted the famed Tomb of Pope Julius II.

Even that grand ensemble of sculpture and architecture is said to have been only a third of what Michelangelo had originally envisioned.

A sculptor who was truly committed to large-scale works—that was Michelangelo.

He even spent eight years working by candlelight on the Bandini Pietà, which was to be placed in his own tomb, while also overseeing the design of St. Peter's Basilica.

Jin Yumi vividly remembered how she had memorized facts about Michelangelo's obsession with tombs while preparing for her museum curator certification.

According to Vasari, when the marble didn't meet his standards, he smashed it in frustration with a hammer.

He never finished it, completing only a fraction. But the fact that he prepared a sculpture for his own tomb speaks volumes about how serious he was.

Yet his actual tomb... was completely mismatched to his legacy and reputation. There would never be another like Michelangelo—but just as she began to spiral into more thoughts—

"Ah!"

Jin Yumi quickly bowed her head.

"I'm sorry... I just... got lost in thought for a moment after hearing your question. Um, you asked how one might go about rebuilding Michelangelo Buonarroti's tomb, right?"

She quickly racked her brain. Thoughts spun like a hamster wheel. Michelangelo Buonarroti—the prideful idol of stubborn Italians. Rebuilding his tomb? That was practically impossible.

No one in Italy, let alone a Korean halfway across the globe, would agree to such a thing just because he was a fan.

So, one would have to transcend history.

"Well... at the very least, you'd have to be a sculptor on par with Michelangelo, wouldn't you? I mean, he's often seen as the one who opened and closed the Renaissance. A sculptor who defined an era... so, you'd have to be that significant too. Um..."

It was a vague answer.

But Jin Yumi tried to respond with all the sincerity she could muster for the artist in front of her.

"First, you'd have to be recognized by Italians, right? Be a sculptor loved in Italy! And of course, there would be a lot of resistance, so you'd need global recognition, too. Yes—you'd have to be famous! Like, world-renowned, not just average. Maybe the most famous sculptor in the world?"

Kangseok listened silently, never interrupting.

"...Also, you'd have to be overwhelming."

Yes. No need for fancy words. Jin Yumi spoke with conviction.

"Exactly. Overwhelming. Unless you're overwhelming enough to make the world nod just because you do—it's impossible. I mean... it's someone trying to rebuild the tomb of Michelangelo, someone completely unrelated to him. It has to be so convincing that even a ridiculous claim like that would be accepted."

Completely unrelated.

Kangseok let out a dry chuckle at that part.

Well—she wasn't wrong.

"You're right. So... where should I start?"

"Hmm. Maybe get famous first? Join art fairs, get your name out there...?"

As if getting famous were simple. Jin Yumi trailed off, implying she wasn't sure either.

Kangseok nodded.

Realistically, even if he did all that, there was no guarantee it would work. Unless lightning struck Michelangelo's tomb and destroyed it, creating a reason to rebuild…

He shook his head.

Even he knew how fanciful that was.

He'd have to become famous first.

The moment he stored that idea in his mind, voices murmuring in the distance reached their ears. Jin Yumi perked up and peeked outside the lounge. Silhouettes were moving beyond the frosted glass.

"Ah! Looks like the meeting finally ended."

Thank goodness. Jin Yumi muttered as she turned, ready to clear the space for the next guests from the art fair meeting.

By then, all of Kangseok's anger had faded.

It must have been a satisfying conversation. Jin Yumi, feeling a bit proud, made a casual remark.

"But, artist."

"Yes?"

"You must be a big fan of Michelangelo?"

"Fan?"

Kangseok's lips twitched slightly as he tried to find the right words.

"More like... I'm learning from him."

"Learning?"

"Let's say... I'm his student."

Like a student and master, connected across 400 years. Kangseok added quietly. Jin Yumi chuckled softly. The same kind of dreamy, romantic answer she'd heard from many artists.

That's just how artists are.

Jin Yumi nodded.

"You must've learned a lot."

Kangseok nodded once more.

"Yes. I think I finally understand."

"Understand what?"

"How to sculpt."

A strange answer.

Just as Jin Yumi tilted her head, sensing déjà vu—

"Michelangelo reportedly said on his deathbed: I think I finally understand the essence of sculpture... and now I have to die? What a pity. Isn't that incredible? Sometimes we curators wonder—what exactly did Michelangelo realize? If he had lived longer, what kind of art would he have left behind?"

A professor's words from a lecture crossed her mind. Kangseok smiled, his reddish-brown eyes cast downward.

The backlight made him seem to glow.

As she looked at his unreadable expression, Jin Yumi suddenly found herself desperate to see his next work.

She was beginning to wonder about his world.

"Aigoo, I'm so sorry, artist. You waited so long."

Director Jin Dowook of the Bloom Museum bowed his head. There's a difference when someone in charge bows—it carried undeniable weight.

Since the director offered a sincere apology, Kangseok couldn't just sit still. He assured him it was okay.

Honestly, waiting 10 or 15 minutes wasn't that bad. Today's wait had meaning.

"It's alright. It was time well spent."

It felt like a new dream and goal had been born. Just as the corners of Kang-seok's lips curled into a smile, savoring the strange sensation, they suddenly tightened into a flat line.

"That pathetic, languidly elegant cold statue is utterly unforgivable. Damn it. Just thinking about it makes me angry again."

What on earth was that tomb, which couldn't even compare to the tip of his own sculptures filled with raw dynamism and soul? With the exception of Vasari, most were forgotten sculptors who had once belonged to the Academy.

That lethargy, seemingly born from early Baroque form, was inexcusable. He felt as though his body might cry out in fury from inside that place.

"Let my soul go to God, my body to the earth, and let me return to beloved Florence, even if only in death."

That wish had burned out like a matchstick, unable to achieve even a small dream. His soul still lingered on earth, and just when he'd found some comfort in the idea of at least having returned to Florence, he discovered that miserable tomb.

He would rebuild it.

No matter what anyone said, he would make it possible.

Once more, he made a vow and looked ahead.

Because Kang-seok's face remained stiff and straight, Jin Do-wook continued apologizing, perhaps mistaking it for lingering anger.

"I'm terribly sorry. The Cultural Foundation suddenly insisted we submit your sculpture 'Father' to an overseas art fair—utterly unreasonable."

"...What?"

Art fair?

"So I shouted at them, asking who would take responsibility if even one corner of a 5.7-meter sculpture was damaged in transit. I've never raised my voice like that at the SanGang Foundation before—everyone was shocked. I was shocked myself. Ha ha."

Kang-seok gave him a curious look.

"But still, it's a bit of a shame. These art fairs often open new doors for emerging artists. If you have time, I'd recommend preparing a piece for it."

"A piece to submit to the art fair?"

Jin Do-wook nodded.

"Yes. A painting would carry much less risk of damage compared to a three-dimensional piece."

At that, both men simultaneously thought of the human sketch collection 'Sunset'. Though it was composed of hundreds of drawings, the lightbox on the back was prone to damage.

The better the artwork, the heavier the burden of exporting it overseas.

Of course, 'Sunset' could technically be taken abroad, but just as he got to that point, Jin Do-wook shook his head quickly, brushing the thought away.

As far as Jin Do-wook knew, 'Sunset' had been exclusively displayed at Peony Gallery for almost six months. Just like the exhibition contract he was preparing to sign with Kang-seok today, 'Sunset' was likely under contract with that gallery.

Discussing submitting a contracted work to an international art fair was against industry rules.

So he subtly shifted the topic.

"Of course, we do have other sculptural works, but large-scale ones—especially marble sculptures—are difficult to transport. Still, the global art market and Korea's are on completely different levels. If you want to get your name out there..."

Jin Do-wook continued speaking.

Art fair... Kang-seok recalled something Yumi had chattered about just earlier.

"Hmm. First, you've got to get famous. Like, participate in art fairs or at least make your name known a bit..."

Scratching the bridge of his nose, Kang-seok listened to Jin Do-wook and then asked quietly:

"So, when is this art fair?"

"Huh?"

He could always just make a new piece.

Kang-seok smiled.

It really felt like things were finally beginning.

Early morning.

Cheonghwa Arts High School.

A middle-aged man in a sky-blue short-sleeve shirt, matching the summer sky, let out a deep sigh in the corner of the teacher's office.

Every time he sighed, nearby teachers cast him sympathetic looks.

That man was Kim Su-hak, homeroom teacher of 3rd-year class 4 and Korean language instructor.

"Cheer up, Mr. Kim."

A bottle of vitamin drink was placed on his desk, next to a Choco Pie. Looking at them with a glum face, Kim recalled words that echoed in his mind.

"Mr. Kim, how can you still not know which university your student Kang-seok is applying to?"

"I'm disappointed in you, Mr. Kim."

The vice principal and head of student affairs had been grilling him—despite the fact that the homeroom interview season wasn't even over yet.

He had already been cornered three times during grade-level meetings. It was maddening.

Normally, not knowing one student's university of choice wouldn't be a big deal. But Kang-seok was a special case.

Most art students, by the time summer break approached, would have finished grades and started preparing for their practical exams.

But Kang-seok wasn't showing any such signs. Though he still seemed to be doing art, he hadn't enrolled in evening classes since the first semester.

The head of student affairs heard from some students at the snack shop that Kang-seok had even stopped attending private art academies. That's when the rumors began.

Since he wasn't doing anything related to art college entrance prep, word spread among teachers that he might not apply at all.

Anyone who knew how obsessed private school boards were with top-tier university acceptances would understand just how much pressure Kim Su-hak was under.

That's when it happened.

A social studies teacher peeked over the cubicle wall and asked:

"Today's the interview, right?"

Interview.

Kim turned pale.

It was two weeks before summer break. Interviews were being held in reverse attendance order, and now it was student number 1—Kang-seok.

He had put it off for as long as possible. But the day had finally come.

"I... I can do this, right?"

The social studies teacher offered a kind smile.

"Well, Seok has great grades and solid art skills lately. Usually, kids with good scores end up preparing for Korea National University of Arts anyway. I doubt he's quitting art. Right?"

"You think so?"

If he didn't get good news today, he might get metaphorically eaten alive by the vice principal.

Cheonghwa Arts High School, run by the elite SanGang Group, was practically a jungle—survival of the fittest. Kim popped a stress-relief pill and bowed his head.

He came.

He really came.

The time had come.

Kim Su-hak stared straight ahead, waiting for the door to the interview room to open. It felt like lions and predators were watching him from behind.

Even the calming pills weren't working—his heart was racing. At least they didn't have to do the interview in the teacher's office.

Still, it felt like the worst.

As he turned pale, staring at the door...

Click.

The door opened.

"Hello."

Kang-seok entered the room.

It was the first time they'd seen each other that day.

"S-Seok, you're here..."

Am I trembling right now?

Kim forced a smile. Kang-seok bowed and sat down, briefly wincing as he gripped his knee. Kim, forgetting his own nerves, asked quickly:

"Are you hurt?"

"Oh, no. Just... my ankle and knee have been hurting a bit lately."

"...I see."

Kim noticed the rolled-up sleeve of his loose uniform, revealing a pale forearm. That oddly calmed him a little.

"So... Nothing else troubling you lately?"

A routine question. As he asked, Kim opened up the June mock exam scores, student records, and the interview sheet.

"Not really. Nothing hard."

Seeing Kang-seok's relaxed expression, Kim felt a flicker of relief. No news was good news.

"Okay. Well, you know why I called you. It's time to check your career plans. The mock results came out—great scores, by the way. Have you thought about a university?"

He clicked his black Monami pen and wrote Kang-seok's name at the top of the interview form.

"Ah, well..."

Kim nodded encouragingly. As he met Kang-seok's unusual reddish-brown eyes, the student spoke again:

"I'm not planning to go to college."

...Huh?

Kim's pupils quivered.

"What?"

What the hell was this?

Kim stared at him, stunned. Kang-seok looked back calmly.

Ah. How could this be described?

Yes—

It felt like a bomb had gone off.

"I found a dream."

Kim, collecting all his years of studying literature, summed it up in one perfect phrase:

I'm screwed.