I Became an Artist in a Romantic Comedy

Chapter 53: World Art Prize (4)

[WORLD ART PRIZE WINNER… A 17-YEAR-OLD BOY FROM KOREA?] Views: 1.323 million

[CURRENT SCENES IN FRONT OF DRAWING KOREA’S HQ] Views: 988,000

[JUPITER’S ADMINISTRATOR, DAVID, GETS REJECTED] Views: 1.982 million

—

Minor Art Gallery Forum

[Title: LMAO, WHO EVEN IS LEE HA-EUN?]
(Photo of Heo Mu-seol, the clear top-voted artwork, with nearly seven times the votes of second place)

“Look at this! Almost a 7x gap in votes. Is he Picasso and Van Gogh’s secret love child?”

– Fr, man. I had a weird feeling about him since Peach Blossom Land, lol.
– Dude pulled out the ultimate move at a global competition, LOL.
– Why can’t I see Heo Mu-seol?!?
ㄴ Why can’t I be happy too?!
– But seriously, that’s insane. How does a 17-year-old high school kid pull this off?
– What the hell have I been doing for 20 years?
ㄴ Selling your time to internet forums, lol.
ㄴ Goddammit.
– So Picasso and Van Gogh were gay?
ㄴ Dude, stop.

—

[Title: Guys, check out these clowns, LMAO]
(Photo of planetary representatives huddled together on the third floor of the Grand Rapids exhibition hall)

“All this to see Heo Mu-seol. Just look at them, smh.

– Why the hell are they wearing long parkas inside? LMAO.
ㄴ I’m at the exhibition hall right now, and it’s understandable. The first and second floors have the heaters cranked up.
ㄴ ???
ㄴ What are you talking about?
ㄴ It’s freezing near the third-floor stairs. It’s better now, but when Heo Mu-seol was first displayed, they even restricted access.
ㄴ What kind of group insanity is this? Are they afraid of a painting? LOL.
– Yo, come see for yourself, you idiot. It’s freezing up there.
– How can these so-called artists not appreciate a masterpiece? So funny.
– Saturn even bit someone, lmao.
ㄴ She’s like a chicken…
ㄴ This dude likes 36-year-old women…
ㄴ I was kidding, chill! Delete your comment, dammit.
ㄴ Haha, someone’s triggered.

—

[Title: Lee Ha-eun’s Live Stream Is Up, Go Go!]

“Got a notification and thought, ‘What’s this?’ It’s Ha-eun, yas!”

– Thanks, bro.
ㄴ OP: I’m not your bro, you jerk.
– Time to give our Eun some money.
ㄴ Me too, noona!
ㄴ OP: (waves wallet)
ㄴDude, you said you weren’t a bro, lol.

—

“Testing, testing, can everyone hear me?”

Damn it. Navigating a foreign IP setup wasn’t as easy as I’d thought.

I adjusted the phone on the tripod to ensure the camera captured the right angle.

[Hi hi hi!]
[Hello, Eun-nim!]
[It’s been so long! T_T]
[pls cat girl!!!]
[Who let that guy in here? LMAO.]

Seeing the chat run smoothly, I let out a sigh of relief.

“Whew. Looks like the setup’s fine. It’s been a while, everyone.”

I hadn’t streamed in two weeks, only posting updates on social media. Getting to interact like this felt great.

“Yo! Hi everyone!”

Choi Yeseo suddenly popped into frame, waving brightly at the camera.

[Host, you jerk.] – Message deleted by moderator.
[Why did the heavens create a god named Lee Ha-eun?]
[Yeseo-nim, what are you doing there???]
[I hear voices—is Soyeol-nim and Yehwa-nim there too?]
[I wish Ha-yoon-nim was here too.]

I nodded at the flood of questions.

“Yes, everyone’s here. Hey, stop chewing on my hair, will you?”

At that moment, Ha Soyeol clung to my back, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and nibbling on my hair.

[I’ll let it slide because he’s the host…]
[A man who has it all (but is terminally ill)]
[This stream’s balance is impeccable, lol.]
[Soyeol-nim, that’s not okay!]
[Why are the others just watching? LOL.]

“How is that dirty? I’m not unclean or anything.”

“Yeah, Ha-eun’s practically a germaphobe.”

Not true. Germaphobes don’t scatter tools all over their workspace like I do.

My studio’s a mess because I see everything as a potential tool, so I don’t bother organizing it.

“Stop drooling on me. Back off.”

“Mmm…”

Of course, she didn’t listen.

For some reason, Choi Yeseo and Hong Yehwa looked at her with envy.

What was I supposed to do with these people?

“Oppa, you overthink everything.”

My sister, who had been quiet until now, suddenly shouted out, seemingly having come up with a good idea.

“Let’s take Yeol-unnie to a café! She seems hungry too!”

“You’ve already eaten three slices of cake today. No more.”

“Heeeng.”

Yoon’s mood deflated instantly, prompting Hong Yehwa to comfort her with a hug.

I considered just chatting with the viewers when—

“There you are.”

“Don’t you ever get tired, Uncle Hong Jin-hu?”

The unwelcome guest showed up to disrupt us.

“It’s time. Come along now.”

“What time? Oh, right.”

I remembered the message I’d received earlier that morning.

– [Sun Hong Jin-hu: There’s a press conference at 3 PM today. Will you be attending?]

The message I had received earlier that morning had been far more detailed, but in summary, it had said this:

“The press conference starts at 3 PM today. Will you be attending?”

“Time flies, huh? Well, what to do now?”

Having already started a livestream, it felt awkward to just cut it off and leave.

But then again, the press conference was going to be broadcast anyway. Did it matter if my audience came along?

[Don’t leave us behind…]

The plea in the chat cemented my decision.

“How about this: let’s go together, viewers.”

The chat came alive with excitement, and Uncle Hong didn’t object, which I took as tacit approval.

Still, I had to leave the girls behind.

“Wait here for an hour. I’ll be back soon.”

Their reluctant expressions as they waved me off left me feeling a little uneasy.

“Don’t worry; it won’t take long. Lee Ha-eun is only a guest, after all,” Hong reassured.

“Is that really the right way to put it? This isn’t some variety show.”

“Haha, don’t worry. Anything unpleasant, I’ll handle. Isn’t that enough?”

“Alright, I’ll leave it to you.”

The press conference was being held on the third floor of the exhibition hall.

As we approached, I saw a long line of people waiting to enter.

“Don’t they feel the cold?”

The indoor temperature, which had been uncomfortably cold for two weeks, had improved slightly, but it still evoked a wintery chill.

Despite the conditions, the reporters pressed on, braving the discomfort to cover the event.

It was admirable, in a way, though most of their faces were filled with irritation.

After all, it had been Uncle Hong’s idea to hold the press conference here, likely to mess with them on purpose.

As soon as I appeared, a wave of camera lenses turned in my direction, the flashes firing like a blizzard of light.

I’d later learn that each of those cameras was worth a small fortune.

A stand had been set up beneath Heo Mu-seol, and Hong, the planetary representatives, and I stepped up onto it.

Thus began the press conference.

Most of the questions were directed at the planetary representatives, and they answered them one by one.

But then—

“I’d like to ask Lee Ha-eun a question. Could you share your thoughts on Heo Mu-seol?”

The moment one reporter broke the ice, a deluge of questions followed, all aimed at me.

When I stayed silent for about three minutes, the reporters began to realize something was wrong.

The buzz of conversation that had been so lively moments earlier died down completely.

I crossed one leg over the other as I sat back in my chair.

Then, casually picking at my ear, I said, “I don’t speak English. Ask me in Korean.”

The reporters blinked in confusion, unable to understand, while the few who did speak Korean shouted out their questions.

“Lee Ha-eun! What inspired you to create Heo Mu-seol?”
“What are your plans after the competition?”
“Do you have any future projects in mind?”

I ignored them all.

It was only then that the reporters began to realize something was off. Meanwhile, the planetary representatives smirked, quietly stifling their laughter.

“Hmm.”

My low hum echoed in the now silent space.

Tapping my thigh with my thumb, I finally spoke.

“I need people who appreciate art. Not mutts who only tug at people’s pants and bite them.”

The sudden vulgarity shocked the reporters, some of whom tried to object.

“That language is too harsh—”

“You don’t care about the work; you just want a person to exploit. Isn’t that right?”

I stood, my tone growing sharper.

There’s a reason people call reporters leeches. They only care about ratings, ignoring everything else.

“You want attention, whether it’s praise or criticism. Heo Mu-seol? To you, it’s just a scrap of paper.”

But—

“If you’re so scared of a piece of paper that you bundle up in layers just to see it, shouldn’t you at least question the artwork?”

Isn’t it remarkable? That a mere painting could shake people to their cores, disrupting their mental state?

My words were recorded and broadcast, and the media outlets that tried to mock me ended up facing public backlash.

– These people don’t even understand the significance of the artwork.
– Heo Mu-seol deserves to be in the top 5 masterpieces of the world!
– Ignorant fools always make themselves known.

Criticism and mockery ran rampant, but so did awe for Heo Mu-seol.

– Honestly, doesn’t Heo Mu-seol deserve to be called a masterpiece?
– People who’ve seen it in person can’t put its impact into words.
– It’s a once-in-a-lifetime kind of work.

After the press conference, I resumed my livestream.

“Reporters who prioritize star power over the art itself. Of course, not all are like that.”

But most of the ones I’d encountered certainly were.

As I added that last remark and continued chatting with viewers, a notification popped up.

[An anonymous donor has sent 1,000 milk points!]

“Ha-eun! Check out YouTube right now!”

“Why? YouTube?”

Borrowing Yoon’s phone, I opened the app to find a trending video. Its thumbnail featured me at the press conference with the title:

“Words That May Never Be Spoken Again.”

The comments under the video were brimming with admiration for both Heo Mu-seol and me.

“What the heck is this?”