I Was Michelangelo in My Past Life

A Snow-White Morning.

Bloom Art Museum, Exhibition Hall 4—before opening hours.

Sunlight poured in from the ceiling, catching on the hammer of the sculpture Father.

Ryu Junghyung, who had been admiring the imposing presence of the statue, lifted his head.

Wherever the sunlight touched, the unique texture of marble slowly revealed itself. The way the shimmering, sweat-like sheen glistened on the smooth back of the statue—it was truly beautiful.

To be honest, Ryu Junghyung preferred the back of Father, sculpted as if the god Vulcanus himself had descended into it, over its face. A matter of personal taste.

A satisfied expression formed on Ryu Junghyung's face.

Of course, that satisfaction wasn't visible to Jin Dowook, the director of Bloom Art Museum, who stood silently behind, still rigid and stiff.

Ryu Junghyung.

One of only five board members under the chairman of the Sangkang Cultural Foundation, and until a few years ago, the president of Hanyang University of the Arts.

A top-tier elite who graduated from Korea Arts High School, Korea National University of Arts, and Yale University.

A second-generation artist who followed the archetypal path of a Korean art prodigy, earning his doctorate from Yale, then returning in 1996 to become a professor in the Department of Fine Arts at Hanyang Art School, where he continues to educate the next generation.

Jin Dowook didn't usually have reason to meet such a man, but recently they'd been running into each other frequently—thanks to the sculpture Father. He wasn't sure whether to be pleased or worried about that. Jin Dowook wiped a bead of cold sweat as he watched Ryu's back.

It had already been well over 40 minutes.

He wondered when the observation would end—but at the same time, he could understand why Ryu was so engrossed.

After all, even he, upon first seeing Father, had visited daily with the sculptor Yang Seongu, standing in front of it like clockwork. It was a piece worthy of that dedication.

Just then, as Jin Dowook remained in thought—

Ryu Junghyung finally turned his head after a long 40-minute appreciation. His sharply defined jawline appeared, managed with the precision of someone who avoided even small indulgences.

"The more I look, the better it gets."

Right?

Ryu turned fully around to seek agreement. He wore glasses, with a distinctive eyeglass chain that was almost part of his identity. The chain resembled a rosary one might see in a cathedral—solemn, sacred.

As Jin Dowook unconsciously stared at the chain resting gently on his shoulders—

"…Or do you disagree?"

Ryu's voice cut into his ears. What was the question again? Momentarily caught in thought, Jin Dowook snapped back to answer.

"No, I agree. It's a wonderful piece."

And he meant it.

"Seeing it during a thunderstorm in the rainy season—it felt so majestic. Now I'm curious how it'll look when it's snowing. Ha… ha."

"Oh?"

Hearing Jin Dowook's awkward laugh, Ryu raised an eyebrow.

"So we'll be able to see Father here even in summer? I take it the contract went through smoothly?"

"Ah, yes, yes. I've been meaning to thank you—thanks to your help, Director Ryu, we were able to finalize it without trouble."

"That's good to hear."

Ryu stepped closer.

"May I ask what the contract entails?"

"Well… about that…"

Ryu narrowed his eyes.

The contract was as follows:

Bloom Art Museum had few rivals in Korea that could accommodate a sculpture like Father, and they used that as leverage to secure a space-rental-style contract.

Entry to Exhibition Hall 4 would remain via reservation only. Bloom would receive a set fee for hosting and managing the exhibition.

The contract was valid for three years.

So, for the next three years at least, Father would be displayed at Bloom.

"Not a bad contract."

Realistically, the museum likely couldn't have hoped for better.

Didn't Yang Seongu practically treat Kangseok like his own son?

If Kangseok were forced into a bad deal, Yang would surely raise hell. He was the one who insisted the gallery remain closed-access to protect the sculpture's finish. If the contract hadn't been good, the usually composed Yang Seongu would have pulled the piece out himself and relocated it elsewhere at his own expense.

"It's a bit of a shame we couldn't purchase the piece."

But that was never really on the table.

"I'm not thinking of selling it yet."

Kangseok had made his refusal clear during the graduation exhibition, no matter the offer.

Given the title Father, no one had truly expected it to be easily sold. Securing even exhibition rights was an achievement.

For promising artists, it was important to retain their early works. As Kangseok gained recognition, people would come seeking insight into his origins—and they'd come here.

To ensure those visitors stayed longer, Bloom had to hold onto the rights to Father.

"Still, he's quite shrewd."

Word was that Kangseok negotiated the deal entirely on his own—no adults involved. How could a nineteen-year-old be so skilled? Ryu Junghyung clicked his tongue, still staring at the statue through his glasses.

He didn't chase a quick profit—like a patient predator.

Ryu thought of Kangseok's face, which he had never seen in person.

"I wonder how many of Kangseok's works will remain in Korea."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing. Just thinking aloud."

With a soft laugh, Ryu turned again. It was nearly time to move on to his next meeting—with the chairman of the Sangkang Foundation.

He looked up once more at Father, not yet ready to part from it.

And Jin Dowook watched from behind.

How many of Kangseok's works will remain in Korea, huh?

Jin clung to that half-said thought. He recalled something Kangseok had said just yesterday:

"By the way, when is that art fair happening?"

Jin also remembered the gleam in Kangseok's eyes when he'd asked. If he was curious about art fairs, maybe his work would soon be shown at one.

If he made it to an international fair, Kangseok's name would grow. That was fine. But if his works became famous too, it meant something bittersweet.

Because all of Kangseok's pieces were large. As he gained fame, he might create his sculptures abroad from the start. And then—due to their massive size—they might never return to Korea.

They would become like those countless masterpieces in foreign lands—far out of reach.

All we can hope for is that Kangseok creates as many works as possible here before he leaves…

Jin Dowook consoled himself with that small hope when—

"Wouldn't it be nice if he made at least one more piece in Korea?"

Ryu's voice pierced Jin's thoughts. Before he could respond, Ryu asked another question.

"That monument we discussed last time—the one in front of the Sangkang Foundation Museum. Have we decided who's making it yet?"

"...Pardon?"

No way…

Jin Dowook turned to Ryu Junghyung in surprise.

Behind Ryu, the morning sun was rising.

"Well then, sir. I'll be going now."

With those words, Kangseok turned to leave the counseling room. Homeroom teacher Kim Suhak watched him go with a blank expression.

Click.

As the door closed and Kangseok stepped into the bright hallway, his lips curved into a smile. He felt free, having said what he needed to.

Everyone always said that academic credentials would soon stop mattering in Korean society—but for now, they still did. It was a line repeated to exhaustion. Yet Kangseok didn't believe it necessarily applied to him.

Four years.

Too long to be tied down in college.

As that thought settled in his mind, he soon reached the stairs. To get to the third-year classrooms, he'd need to go up—but instead, he turned and began heading down. Tap tap tap tap. He quickly descended the stairs.

"Better tell Mr. Jeong Byeongkwon before the rumors spread."

If people were to hear through rumors that I decided not to go to college this time, it could lead to unnecessary misunderstandings.

Kang-seok's steps kept quickening so he could arrive before classes began. Behind the main building—unlike the Delphinium Hall at the far right of the stairs—was the sculpture studio, tucked away on the far left near the incinerator.

Although it was a large studio for a sculpture major, its secluded location meant hardly anyone knew the sculpture department had such a big workspace.

And nobody ever came looking for it.

Most likely, Jung Byung-kwon was holed up in the studio working again.

'It's been a while since I've come here like this.'

Since it was exam season, he hadn't been back since the early practicals at the start of finals. After that, between counseling sessions and the sudden increase in self-study hours, he had even less reason to come.

In any case, it had been a while.

Feeling unexpectedly glad, Kang-seok approached the sculpture studio in a hurry.

"…didn't I say so?"

"…I said…!"

"No, I mean…!"

Unlike usual, voices could be heard from inside.

And not just one or two.

'Who could be here at this hour?'

Kang-seok quietly opened the studio door. Thanks to the regular oiling and maintenance done by teacher Jung Byung-kwon, the door opened silently.

"That's why I'm saying we should ask Kang-seok for help, even now…!"

"No—! What do you mean, ask for help? Is Kang-seok some kind of Buddha statue-making club member? Don't you remember how he was practically kicked out and sent to the mural club when the new sculpture majors arrived? How could we call him back now… Have some shame."

"Ugh! I'm not saying we ask for free help! I'm saying we commission him and pay!"

The subject of the conversation was Kang-seok—himself.

—"The Buddha statue club must be bothering you at school lately, right? Are you okay?"

—"…Wait, are you saying they haven't started pestering you yet?"

Was this what senior Choi Young-tae had been talking about?

Expressionless as always, Kang-seok walked inside. The voices grew more intense.

It wasn't just a few people. Most of the key members of the Buddha statue club seemed to be gathered.

"Have we made any progress? There's less than two months left, and we've barely made any headway. What we've made so far is terrible! How are we supposed to face the seniors? I'm telling you, we should just pay Seok and ask him!"

As he got closer, the figures of the students came into view.

They were in the middle of carving wood. Wood chips were scattered everywhere, and sweat poured down their faces—one had a towel wrapped like a bandana, another had tied up their bangs with a rubber band and pinned them.

Their fingertips were stained red, perhaps from dye.

"Do you even know how valuable Kang-seok is now? Do you remember his sculpture displayed in Exhibit Room 4 during the graduation show? That piece is going to be shown in an extended exhibition. I heard corporate art museums are offering hundreds of millions of won to acquire it, and Kang-seok hasn't budged. Do you think he'd move for our pocket change?"

"Then do you have any other ideas? Do you?!"

"You! All you do is raise your voice!"

It was a scene that could erupt into a fight at any moment.

There was no sign of teacher Jung Byung-kwon.

Kang-seok, watching them scream without even realizing someone had entered, clenched his fist.

He struck the desk—knock knock—a deep, clear sound echoed through the studio.

"…Seok?"

"It's Kang-seok."

"Gasp!"

"…Seok-ah…"

Confirming that all eyes were now on him, Kang-seok leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and asked:

"Alright. Let's hear it. What's going on?"

There'd better be something going on.

A male student, intimidated by Kang-seok's sharp glare, gulped nervously.

.

.

.

"So you're saying the World Buddhist Academic Conference is being held in Korea this time, and you guys were assigned to create a promotional Buddha statue?"

When Kang-seok asked again, the students nodded.

"We only entered the Buddha statue-making competition because it was part of the curriculum, but then we won…!"

"Who signs up for a competition at the end of third-year first semester? We're already overwhelmed with college prep—how are we supposed to make a statue too… Ahh."

"Seriously, with so many famous people in the Buddha statue world, who would've thought we'd win?"

Each time one opened their mouth, three or four others joined in, turning the room into a market scene.

"Quiet. Quiet."

Kang-seok motioned downward with his hands, and the kids fell silent. At least they listened well.

"So to summarize, you need to make a high-quality statue to attract as many visitors as possible to the academic conference happening in late August or early September."

Right?

When Kang-seok sought confirmation, the Buddha statue club president, Jung Young-ho, nodded vigorously.

"That's right."

As he spoke, the other kids nervously fidgeted.

"This conference is hosted by the World Buddhist Society, which publishes the most prestigious journal in the field. If we mess this up, we're in big trouble."

"In Korea, it's practically the Olympics of Buddhist studies…"

"I know that too."

Kang-seok had been part of the Buddha statue club during his first year, after all.

What was unique about the club was that, due to the inseparable connection between Buddhist statues and Buddhism itself, members naturally picked up all sorts of related knowledge.

Anyway, to sum up—

Winning the promotional statue competition was great and all, but with the core members all being third-years overwhelmed with mock exams, art competitions, and finals, there had been no real progress on the statue.

They were exhausted but didn't want to cheat or cut corners, and in their desperation, someone had suggested reaching out to Kang-seok—whose hands were quick and whose carving skills were exceptional. That suggestion had come two weeks ago.

Since then, the group had split into factions: one wanting to ask for help, the other opposed. Instead of working, they'd just argued loudly while pretending to make progress.

"…And before we knew it, it came to this."

Also a third-year and sculpture major, Jung Young-ho lowered his head in shame. Kang-seok glanced at the red-scarved group behind him with twitching lips.

"Interesting."

A Buddha statue… It just so happened that the structural frame construction for the renovation of the abandoned Yongshin Land building wasn't finished yet, and there were no upcoming art fairs lined up either—he was pretty bored.

"If this brings together Buddhist scholars from around the world… it'll be a big event?"

"Huh?"

"Right?"

Honestly, it was a niche event, but because it was niche, once you made a name for yourself in it, that name would stick.

A Buddha statue… a Buddha statue…

Kang-seok nodded.

Curator Jin Yoomi had told him to get famous. Then, in any field, the key was to simply get famous first. That was also Kang-seok's personal belief.

A rolling stone gathers no moss.

You shouldn't let your hands grow stiff, and you should never let yourself grow lazy under the excuse of "rest."

Recalling his motto, Kang-seok rested his chin on his hand.

Attracting people.

The most important thing in attracting people was, ultimately, temptation.

And that was simple:

Make them want to see it.

Kang-seok looked at Jung Young-ho and asked:

"Do you know how to shoot video?"