The Mona Lisa Pounced On Me

Chapter 1 – 1503

Day 36 of falling into a strange world and becoming the disciple of a crazy woman.

During that time, I’ve been sexually harassed fifteen times and sexually assaulted three times.

She says it’s because I’m like a younger sibling to her.

‘Where have you been?’

‘The cathedral.’

‘You didn’t meet that woman, did you?’

‘Not that woman, but my only friend-‘

‘Enough. Don’t even think about going outside anymore.’

‘But Master, you go out to play every day.’

‘Hey, you bastard. Are women and men the same?’

Damn it.

——————————————————-

A studio filled with easels, paints, half-finished paintings, and brushes.

A cool evening breeze blows on this March day.

Outside the open window, the bell tolls seven times, announcing sunset.

It’s time for the woman who calls herself my master to return.

What should I do first?

I already cleaned the yard earlier, and did the shopping too.

I just need to change clothes and go out to greet her.

What I was doing now…

Without changing my seated position, I stared blankly at the workbench.

A nearly completed bust sculpture sat there.

I should have finished this sculpture today.

Though I hurried with anxious hands, while doing all sorts of chores,

And with my now smaller hands, I couldn’t work at the speed my master wanted.

My face wrinkled at the thought of being scolded, and I sighed.

– I told you to smile more. Is not being able to do that something to be proud of? Just like a man, always whining…

It’s not like I’m afraid of those petty scoldings.

It’s exactly 36 days since I was hit by a car and fell into this strange world.

During that time, I’ve experienced every kind of power trip, old-fashioned nagging, and all the harassment that exists in the world.

I fucking thought that if I fell into another world, there would be animal-eared demi-humans and elves,

And I’d be doing things like leash-bound naked restraint mating.

Or, as an aspiring sculptor, I could use my major to create something like a moonlit monster harem statue.

But I’m doing exactly the same work as in my previous life, just with an absolutely insane master.

All the teachers I’ve had before were angels in comparison.

In this world where gender roles are reversed, sexual harassment was also part of this power trip.

It’s still unbelievable that someone who creates such beautiful art

Is actually a person who gropes her disciple’s buttocks.

– To do art, you know, it’s important to understand the male body. You need to fill me with inspiration, that’s what I’m saying. But why are you avoiding it? Someone like me isn’t bad, honestly.

I put down the carving knife in my hand, unable to concentrate.

Regardless of our master’s artistic views or views on men,

her appearance is definitely fantastic.

I’m not sure what meaning there is in complimenting someone’s looks,

but she has really long legs and good proportions.

Unlike the common corrupt professors,

who sexually harass their students and steal others’ achievements as their own,

my master Leona was truly a great artist, unlike anyone I had seen in my two short lives combined.

It was irritating, actually.

Damn it, instead of patting others’ butts, just finish that precious painting of yours.

My eyes involuntarily went to the easel in the corner of the studio.

On it was a painting of the Holy Father holding a ball of thread and a baby female saint.

It’s Leona’s work.

Strictly speaking, it’s not a finished piece yet, since it’s not complete.

But looking at that benevolent Holy Father and the mischievous baby saint’s expression,

I had to admit that the 20 years I spent sculpting to get into Seoul National University’s Sculpture Department were all in vain.

Even if I lived 20 more years, could I create a sculpture comparable to that painting?

Even in a world where gender roles were reversed, the love in a parent’s gaze toward their child remained the same.

“Is that all you can do?”

I felt anger rising as I recalled Leona’s favorite phrase.

The deep part of my brain above my eyebrows throbbed,

adding another scratch to my pride.

At an arts high school, you can see countless self-important people.

No, I was probably the worst of them all.

Someone who entered both high school and university as the top student doesn’t get kicked around on the streets.

However, Leona ‘graciously’ accepted me as an apprentice when I fell into this other world with nowhere to go,

she also allowed me ‘something a man couldn’t even imagine’ – access to her workshop,

and she was someone who sold her works to earn money and build a magnificent workshop,

and since she was the person who ‘fed and housed’ me,

my pride before Leona was nothing more than a nail file.

A scratcher that she, the cat, could scratch whenever she wanted.

The cedar nail file could be replaced whenever it wore out,

but the problem was that my pride couldn’t be replaced.

It’s not that sexual harassment is difficult to handle.

I was originally a man of this world, and quite a manly one at that.

I’m just annoyed.

Damn it, instead of touching others’ butts, please teach me about art. Art.

I don’t care about romance. Since I’ve ended up in this city of art, it’s my duty as an art student to leave behind at least one immortal masterpiece.

Though I’ve never been to school yet because of remote learning, I’m still a college student if I got accepted, right?

Anyway, our so-called master behaves very childishly like a kitten,

Like an elementary school boy who teases a girl he likes.

The way she gets jealous when seeing others’ talents is just like that.

How she thinks her field is the best and belittles everything else.

Otherwise, it makes no sense that I’ve fallen into this world and can’t meet the only sculptor friend I’ve ever made.

Telling me not to even talk to other women besides her. Is that even reasonable, really?

This is why I can’t understand the psychology of people who date.

I don’t mind having been in a traffic accident and falling into a strange world.

I don’t care if it’s a different world where times have changed significantly and gender roles are reversed.

As long as I can sculpt again.

So I’m happy. Because I’m holding a hammer and chisel like this.

Of course, I’m a bit dissatisfied that this so-called master doesn’t teach me and just goes out having fun.

Come to think of it, that woman has a really peculiar personality.

She demands that I dress properly and come out to greet her when she returns home.

Like a new bride, or in this world, a new groom, having to dress up and come out – if I don’t, she scolds me harshly.

This is just another part of this unreasonable master-disciple relationship.

To get back to the point, the problem is this.

Should I quickly change clothes and go downstairs, or should I finish my work?

Of course, the answer is already decided.

Screw it. I’m a real man.

I picked up the chisel again and concentrated on the finishing work.

The hard texture of the already dried clay.

Carefully scraping away at the angry eyebrows, one strand at a time,

Carving the hair one thread at a time.

Anyway, this person who calls herself a master, even though it’s almost time-

As I was thinking,

Clunk-

I heard the sound of the front door opening downstairs.

Suddenly, a chill ran through a corner of my heart.

My left hand holding the sculpting duster trembled slightly.

They say sometimes you get hand tremors when you hit a slump.

I, who burn with passion rather than slump even with masterpieces in the same studio,

Have no idea why I’ve been like this lately.

Thinking about what kind of scolding I would get today, my face frowned,

And the door opened.

Leona stood at the door, showing off her tall height, slender in a neat crimson coat.

I could tell she was a bit drunk from the way her trademark beret was tilted on her head.

Nevertheless, it was amazing how she could look down elegantly.

Judging by my model-trained eye, she was about 175cm tall.

In my past life, my height was about that much,

Which is quite tall in this world where people struggle to make a living.

One might want to build sturdy stairs directly.

‘Kheugh. I’m drunk.’

“Master, you’re back.”

I’ve never been to an office, but this woman who speaks like a bald department head in his 50s is supposedly a master.

And she’s someone who casually creates paintings, sculptures, architecture, and inventions that would make professors weep.

What good is a pretty face when her personality is like that?

I swear on my past life, I will surpass this hopeless pervert woman in art.

The artistic spirit in my heart blazed fiercely.

“Huh? Ah- our baby. Not sleeping? You’re so handsome. Right?”

Fortunately, she’s intoxicated enough that I should be able to put her to bed right away.

“Yes. You should go to bed now.”

“I’m not drunk, okay? Why are your clothes like that? Dress more handsomely. I… huh?”

I barely managed to suppress my face from naturally wrinkling in disgust.

This is the first time in my life I’ve been treated this way,

But life is nothing special.

They say everyone lives like this in graduate school.

“You didn’t come to meet me. The world is so convenient. Are you playing with dirt again? Didn’t I tell you not to do that… didn’t I tell you to paint? Sigh… let’s sit down first. Oh my. What happened to your face? It’s all ruined. Look at all that disgusting dust.”

As I mentioned earlier, I hate this a hundred times more than sexual harassment.

What grudge does she have against sculpture that she disrespects someone else’s major like this?

For someone who’s only ever been familiar with grinders, chisels, gouges, and hammers,

Suddenly being told to pick up a brush—as if that would work out well.

“You know what? I bought you nice clothes but you don’t even wear them properly. Do you know how much they cost? I’m saying all this for your own good. Don’t you know that?”

I answered without bothering to hide my involuntarily clenched teeth.

She’s too drunk to notice anyway.

“I know. Since my godlike master ordered it, I have to do it by today.”

“Ordered? My baby? Who? What? Ah. I’m dizzy… Water.”

She makes me practice but she’s too drunk to even remember.

Without answering, I nodded toward the water bottle on the table.

Don’t tell me my behavior seems disrespectful.

If I were to bring it to her respectfully with both hands, she’d immediately start cursing,

Saying something predictable like ‘Damn, you got stone dust on it! This is why I told you not to play with dirt like a child!’

The master picked up the water bottle and took a long drink.

When her mouth is closed, she truly looks like a painting.

From one angle she looks like a saint, from another like a majestic general.

“Phew-“

But whenever words or sounds come out of her mouth, it ruins the image.

Can’t she just keep her mouth shut?

Hey! Where do you think you’re going, woman! Stop!

I’m saying this, but it’s entirely based on facts.

If you don’t like it, go look through Western art history books. See how many female artists’ names you can find.

I’m not being sexist, but sculpture, no, art in general is a masculine activity.

How can a woman handle chisels and hammers when they require so much strength?

…Of course, these days even men use grinders.

But more importantly,

Whatever he thought of my attitude—pressing my lips shut and nodding—

Our master began to deliver a lengthy speech.

“So haughty. Fine, you think you’re great. Is being good-looking everything? In my day, when the master ordered something, I’d go out at dawn to buy art supplies first. Have you ever run around at dawn wondering where to find silver-tipped brushes or red lead? Or have you dug up graves in cemeteries at the crack of dawn looking for bones to grind into paint? Your life must be so comfortable as a man who can’t go outside? The city’s name means ‘city of flowers,’ but you have no idea how terrifying the nights are. Scary older girls roaming around?”

I knew that no matter what choice I made, I’d get a soul-crushing response in return.

If I had known it would be like this, I should have just nicely handed over the water bottle and accepted whatever comment came my way.

It was a mistake.

Please just drink some more water and come to your senses. Your slurred speech seems to have cleared up now.

“Do you know what favors I had to ask the guild just so you could get one piece of clothing, huh? Making boring sculptures by the main gate day and night. That coat is worth half a florin, half a florin. You probably don’t even know how much money that is, do you? I’m not someone who usually takes change, but because of you, I had to hold coins in my hand. You should have just said thank you and accepted it. You’re a boy with no charm whatsoever—”

“Yes, yes. Now please go inside and get some rest.”

I stopped him because I felt like I was going to lose my mind if I kept listening.

Shit, I made another mistake.

I shouldn’t have interrupted him.

When I ran errands, I only ever used tiny silver or copper coins. I know a florin is gold. I don’t know how much it’s worth. But it must be expensive.

Now what happens next is obvious.

Leona’s lips twisted cruelly.

“Hey. Giocondo.”

Giocondo. The name my master gave me on my first day in this world.

It means ‘the singing person.’

I fucking thought it was a nice meaning.

As it turns out, it contained a bit of mockery—if you have no other talents, just sing like a nightingale.

I couldn’t keep using my name Cheolmin in this neighborhood where no one could pronounce it, so I just accepted it.

Anyway, I’ll never use it again, so my name is Giocondo.

“What is it, Master?”

As desired, I asked in a clear voice like a nightingale corpse rolling on a silver tray.

The only good thing about having a smaller body is this. It’s good for acting cute.

“Has it been about a month since we met?”

“36 days exactly.”

“It’s been a while.”

Leona put down the water bottle lightly as if feeling better after drinking,

Then wrapped my lower back with her left hand as I sat at the workbench.

I wondered why she was calling my name instead of cursing at me.

And this is what she was up to.

When her hand, cold from the outside air, touched my spine,

My body involuntarily shuddered.

“Suddenly, what is this.”

“Hmm. Stay still.”

A hand slithered like a snake around my waist.

Damn it. This is why I hate girls.

In my past life, they would go crazy saying I was so handsome, begging to feel my muscles.

In this life, they’re going crazy with lust in their eyes.

Please, if you have that time, practice your modeling skills one more time instead. Don’t make excuses about lacking stamina.

I gently placed the tool I was holding on the workbench and swatted away the master’s hand, but

Like a snake coiling, the left hand wrapped around my buttocks

And then these words were thrown:

“Sister will teach you about sex today.”

Crazy woman.