I Became an Artist in a Romantic Comedy

Chapter 54: World Art Prize (5)

My press conference video quickly spread on YouTube, causing my subscriber count to skyrocket once again.

“Gaining 50,000 subscribers in a single day is unusual.”

Though it was a small number compared to the global population, 50,000 people had clicked that subscribe button in just 24 hours.

Watching the number climb in real time every time I refreshed the page was exhilarating.

Unsurprisingly, after the press conference, various media outlets and broadcasters swarmed, but I hadn’t made any further appearances.

I ignored them all.

They should’ve been grateful I attended once; without Uncle Hong Jin-hu’s coaxing, I wouldn’t have even done that.

The reporters turned to conspiracy theories to vilify me, but unfortunately for them, they’d picked the wrong person.

I wasn’t just anyone. I was the creator of Heo Mu-seol, a history-making figure in Korean art with 1.75 million YouTube subscribers, close ties to Drawing Korea, and a business relationship with Atlantis.

The press hounds had made a mistake.

What happened afterward? I wasn’t particularly interested, so I didn’t follow it closely.

But one thing was clear:

Age was just a number now.

At 17, I had transcended the boundaries of youth, standing shoulder to shoulder with the pros—or perhaps even above them.

“Ugh, I can’t look at this anymore.”

Every website seemed to be overflowing with posts praising me and Heo Mu-seol.

Some of these posts came from people who had seen the artwork in person, while others were from those who had only seen photos.

Apparently, it was the firsthand accounts that gave this Prize its massive turnout.

The organizers were so grateful they even personally came to thank me.

This was certainly a favorable outcome, no doubt about it.

Stretching lazily, I slumped onto the couch in the living room.

There was no reason for me to take further action. All I needed to do was wait for the award ceremony and then return to Korea.

“But what should I do with Heo Mu-seol?”

Should I transfer ownership to the organizers? Sell it?

Honestly, I didn’t care either way. Money wasn’t an issue—I already had more than enough.

But giving it away for free felt like a waste.

After all, I’d poured considerable time into creating it.

“I’ll think about it after the awards.”

For now, I had nothing to do.

Going outside wasn’t an option; reporters would mob me the moment I showed my face.

Revealing myself at this point would only add fuel to the media frenzy.

This wasn’t an easy situation to navigate.

I was alone in the hotel suite. My parents were on a date, and my sister had gone out with her friends.

What about Teacher Lee A-reum? She was busy meeting people—her World’s Garden series was a masterpiece in its own right, attracting plenty of attention.

Uncle Hong Jin-hu? He’d gone to “keep an eye” on his daughter, a role that sounded more like stalking but was actually just parental concern.

There was no one left.

The girls had tried to convince me to go out with them, but I refused.

As I lay on the couch, my eyes rolled lazily toward the window. From there, I could see the crowd of people below.

“Look at them. What would happen if I stepped out?”

Ignoring their gossip was easy, but the throng of people wasn’t something I wanted to deal with.

Even the girls had balked at the sight of the crowd, suggesting we wait until they dispersed.

But would they ever leave?

“Well, they seemed to head home in the evening.”

Having chosen seclusion, I had no choice but to endure this suffocating solitude.

“Ugh, I’m bored. Isn’t there something to do?”

As I mulled over my predicament—

Knock, knock, knock.

A sound came from the front door.

“Who could that be?”

Forcing my lazy body to rise, I trudged toward the door.

“Who is it?”

As I walked, a voice called out from the other side.

“It’s Yehwa. Can you let me in?”

Hong Yehwa? Why was she here? I thought she’d gone out with the others.

Still, I unlocked and opened the door.

There she stood, holding a large frame in her hands.

“Weren’t you with the others?”

Yehwa scratched her cheek awkwardly, offering a sheepish smile.

“Well… I realized I had something else to do.”

I chuckled and stepped aside, letting her in.

“Make yourself at home.”

“T-thank you…”

She hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, her eyes darting around.

“No one’s here. What do you want to drink? Coffee or peach iced tea?”

Glancing around cautiously, she softly requested iced tea before settling on the living room sofa.

I fetched a cup of iced tea for her and coffee for myself before sitting across from her.

Thud.

“So, what brings you here?”

“Ah, well…”

Yehwa fidgeted, clearing her throat multiple times, but seemed unable to speak.

It was obvious she wanted to share her victory at the National Exhibition, so I decided to break the ice myself.

Crossing my arms, I smirked.

“Congrats on winning the National Exhibition. Good job.”

“Ah… thank you. You knew about that?”

Caught off guard, she paused before shyly expressing her gratitude.

“Uncle Hong wouldn’t stop showing off pictures. He’s a total show-off dad, you know?”

Yehwa’s face flushed red, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“So, how was it? Did you see any masterpieces?”

“Well… honestly, I still don’t know what makes a painting a masterpiece. But…”

“But?”

“I was sure of one thing. There wasn’t a single work that came close to Peach Blossom Land.”

Her expression turned serious as she looked me straight in the eye.

I returned her gaze, tapping my arm thoughtfully.

“Not even a painting comparable to Peach Blossom Land?”

This generation must have set their sights on the Prize instead.

That made sense. Otherwise, it didn’t add up.

I hadn’t expected masterpieces at the National Exhibition, but I had thought there might be something comparable to Peach Blossom Land.

Apparently not.

“Have my standards gotten too high?”

Perhaps this was simply the norm.

“You’ve been staring for a while…”

The voice of Hong Yehwa broke my thoughts.

Her face had reddened again, making me chuckle.

“So, can I take a look at the precious painting you’ve been holding onto?”

“Ah, yeah. Of course.”

Yehwa carefully placed the framed piece on the table in front of us.

“Judging by the size, it’s about 24 inches. Decent.”

That’s by my standards, though. Everyone’s preferences vary.

It looked like she had stuck closely to the original draft.

No wonder she had won the National Exhibition.

With some additional guidance, she could probably create something comparable to Peach Blossom Land.

“She’s not far off. Just a little refinement would do the trick.”

When you see someone with talent, there’s an itch to teach them.

“What do you think? How is it, Ha-eun?”

Her slightly nervous tone made me smirk.

“How would I know? It’s your painting. I don’t feel right judging it.”

I wasn’t a competition judge, after all.

“Still, I’d like some feedback. That way, I’ll know what to improve.”

Is this why professors are so eager to work with graduate students?

At her firm response, I hesitated briefly before speaking.

“Alright, first off—”

And so began the critique—or rather, the feedback session.

“Here, the line at the edge rises unnaturally.”
“The coloring is good, but the shading is too intense.”
“This area feels empty. Maybe add a structure or two.”

Yehwa diligently took notes, hanging on every word.

Of course, feedback is best wrapped up with encouragement.

“Even without these adjustments, there’s little to criticize overall. You deserved the win.”

My sudden compliment made Yehwa duck her head, murmuring something I couldn’t hear.

“Honestly, if you find the right mentor, you could start producing masterpieces as early as next year.”

Her head shot up, her eyes sparkling.

“…A mentor?”

“Yeah. A mentor, a teacher—whatever you want to call it. Someone to guide you.”

A mentor, huh? Could I find someone suitable for her?

In the original story, Yehwa had become Teacher Lee A-reum’s student. Maybe I could recommend that.

“What about Teacher Lee A-reum? She works in the same style as you, and she’s already created masterpieces.”

“Teacher Areum… She’s good, but…”

Her expression twisted into a dissatisfied frown.

Wait, weren’t they supposed to get along well?

In a slightly trembling voice, Yehwa asked me, “Could I… maybe learn from you instead?”

“Me?”

What a sudden request. I wasn’t even part of her artistic field. My puzzled look must have been obvious.

“I mean, no offense, but of the people I know, you seem like the best option…”

Her voice grew quieter as she spoke.

I watched her for a moment before shrugging.

“Sure, why not?”

“!!! Thank you!”

Her face lit up instantly, and I couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm.

Honestly, I hadn’t planned on taking on a student, but…

“On one condition.”

If I was going to invest my time, there had to be some ground rules.

At my words, Yehwa tensed again.

“My coaching time will be limited and irregular. Also, you’ll have to come to my studio.”

“Got it. I expected that.”

“And this is the most important condition.”

“Okay…”

The atmosphere grew serious, and she leaned in slightly as I opened my mouth.

“Teacher Lee A-reum will also teach you. Is that okay?”

“…? Of course, that’s fine. That’s the condition?”

“Yep. I’m not from your artistic field, and my specialty is brushes, anyway.”

“Ah.”

Understanding dawned on her face, followed by a bright smile.

“That’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“Alright then. Looking forward to working with you, my student.”

“…Do I have to call you ‘teacher’ now?”

Of course! Respect your mentor, please.

And just like that, I unexpectedly became Hong Yehwa’s teacher during my time in the U.S.