Chapter 4
Ms. Jung Mijin, the drawing teacher, had a reputation that was both criticized and praised.
Most students disliked her strict teaching style.
But the students who improved under her method felt differently.
Those who benefited from her teaching respected her a lot, because she clearly helped improve their skills.
“……”
Today, Mijin sat in the staff room with a serious expression, looking through the papers she had gathered.
More precisely, she was looking at Yeji’s assignment placed at the very top.
“…This is strange.”
In visual art, there was no student who didn’t know that light was important.
But knowing something and actually applying it in a drawing were two very different things.
Just like how Bob Ross’s famous “It’s so easy” feels ironic.
In art, there is a huge gap between understanding theory and actually performing it.
But suddenly—
It was as if Yeji had crossed that gap overnight.
“Oh, did you go into a senior class? This one’s really well done~”
A sculpture teacher passing by glanced at the drawing Mijin was holding and asked.
Then he paused.
“…Wait, no. Seniors don’t have time for assignments right now because of college prep, do they?”
Mijin nodded at his words.
“That’s right. This was from a first-year class.”
Hearing that, he came closer and examined the drawing carefully.
A glass cup drawn with graphite.
You could clearly feel the presence of water inside it.
A cup drawn in just 100 minutes over two class periods.
Yet it perfectly showed that it was glass—and that it contained water.
The artist had precisely chosen what to emphasize and what to leave out.
It looked so real that you could believe it was just a photo with a filter applied.
“Who is it? Lee Yeji?”
The sculpture teacher, now surprised, flipped the paper to check the student’s name.
At that moment, another teacher from behind pushed their chair and approached.
“Is that Yeji from Class 1?”
It was Moon Hyunseok, a Western painting teacher who had taught Yeji’s class the day before.
“Did she suddenly have some kind of awakening…?”
He had also felt something different about Yeji’s painting.
It wasn’t just her brushwork that had changed.
The two teachers fell into thought, sensing the completely different level.
If they hadn’t seen her draw it themselves, they might have suspected someone else had done it.
“Did something happen to her?”
“Maybe she attended some amazing lecture somewhere.”
The change was obvious—and very positive.
Both teachers became curious about the reason behind it.
“But this isn’t something you can just learn and produce, right?”
Even though it was just a graphite drawing, it carried a strange warmth.
The sunlight reflected on the glass and water surface.
This wasn’t just about technique.
“…There’s something warm about it…”
They compared it again with other students’ drawings.
They were all on the same type of paper.
And yet, Yeji’s drawing alone seemed wrapped in a soft, warm light.
It recreated the busy classroom, the passionate students—the very atmosphere of that place.
It even reminded Mijin of the passion she felt when she first became a teacher.
As if her dull routine had been reignited, she suddenly stood up.
“Who’s the homeroom teacher of Class 1… ah, right. Mr. Kihoon! Do you know anything? Like a change in her family situation?”
“Huh?”
Kihoon, who had been eating bread behind a partition, looked up in confusion.
“W-what? What do you mean?”
Park Kihoon, the homeroom teacher of first-year Class 1, was a Korean language teacher.
The Yeji he knew was just average in skill, personality, and background.
A completely ordinary student.
So when he heard her skills had suddenly improved so much, he stood up.
“…Nothing special happened, as far as I know.”
The small commotion in the staff room drew more art teachers together.
Among them, Kihoon picked up Yeji’s drawing.
Even as a non-art teacher, after seeing countless student drawings over the years, he could tell—
this one was different.
“Why is it so good?”
“Exactly. Was she always this outstanding?”
“She did have decent basics before.”
“Yeah, just decent—that was it.”
The teachers gathered around, discussing the drawing.
Sometimes, a student might accidentally produce a piece beyond their usual ability.
But the experienced teachers knew.
This wasn’t luck.
“This year’s exhibition might be worth watching.”
“With this level of value control, she’d probably be good at Korean painting too…”
“Hey, don’t try to steal her. She’s definitely coming to Western painting.”
“That’s up to the student. If I treat her well from now on, she might change her mind.”
In their second year, art students would choose their specialization.
The teachers joked—but also competed seriously.
“Looks like everyone’s gathered.”
The principal entered, and the noisy atmosphere quieted.
“Other teachers can go, but art teachers, stay.”
The kind-looking, slightly balding principal gathered them.
“We’re trying to invite artist Chloe Choi as a judge for this exhibition—you’ve all heard, right?”
Tension spread across the teachers’ faces.
Chloe Choi—a Korean-French artist whose popularity was rapidly rising.
“We’re thinking of letting her briefly observe classes with interesting students.”
A surrealist artist.
An exclusive artist of the famous French gallery, Montrebleu.
Her works were incredibly valuable—even small ones could cost as much as a car.
“She must be the main judge for this exhibition.”
Though gentle in appearance, the principal tried to sound firm.
It was that important.
Chloe was known for buying works from young artists for large sums.
Being chosen by her alone could skyrocket an artist’s value.
“She’ll stop by for a short visit on her way to Japan in two days. Decide which classes she can observe and let me know by today.”
This meant delayed work hours, but no one complained.
If Chloe refused after the visit, many students would lose a huge opportunity.
In the heavy silence, Mijin spoke clearly.
“Who’s teaching first-year Class 1 that day?”
Meanwhile, Yeji felt the bump on the back of her head throb.
“This is going to hurt for a few days…”
The cafeteria was lively and noisy.
Students from different departments made it colorful.
Long hair, dyed hair, perms—things impossible in normal schools.
Everyone showed off their individuality.
Yeji liked this free atmosphere.
“Did getting hit on the head suddenly change you or something?”
Asked Dahye, as Yeji stuffed her mouth with cheese pork cutlet.
The school meals were high quality, thanks to being a wealthy private school.
Compared to her past life, even eating brought her joy.
“No? Nothing like that.”
Dahye was her first and closest friend at school.
But she couldn’t talk about reincarnation—it would sound ridiculous.
“Then what’s different? Should you get a CT scan or something?”
“I don’t feel any change at all.”
Dahye frowned slightly.
“…Not that serious, but… you seem more mature.”
She couldn’t quite explain it.
Yeji had clearly changed—in a good way.
More mature in behavior, speech, expression—and much better at drawing.
Dahye couldn’t tell if she felt worried or jealous.
“They say people change when they’re about to die… hmm.”
She joked and took another bite.
Yeji laughed.
In a way, Dahye wasn’t wrong.
She had indeed died once.
‘My memories are real. Not a dream.’
After searching last night, she confirmed—
her past life really existed.
But since she died young, there wasn’t much information.
‘There’s a bit more if I search in French.’
Her first exhibition had gained explosive attention—
but only briefly, since she died young.
Most references to her were just small mentions in the history of Montrebleu Gallery.
“A tragic genius who died young.”
That was all her life had been reduced to.
After confirming everything, Yeji made a decision.
She would accept and use her past life.
“I’m going to start night practice today. What about you?”
Dahye asked.
“…Yeah, I should start too.”
While others rushed to prepare for the exhibition,
Yeji planned to slowly regain her past skills.
Two days passed.
“Driver, just let us off here!”
“I’ll run from here!”
The morning bus was chaos.
Students poured out and ran uphill.
“…That car?”
While running, Yeji glanced at a luxury car.
Through the window—
“…Chloe?”
She saw a familiar face.
Older, but unmistakable.
She stopped briefly—then ran again.
Being late mattered more.
“What’s going on?”
“The schedule changed—sculpture got replaced with oil painting”.
