I Became an Artist in a Romantic Comedy

Chapter 55: World Art Prize (Complete)

The 15-day-long World Art Prize came to an end on July 29th, finally drawing the curtain on an event that had been the subject of much discussion.

The Grand Prix winner was decided through a combination of public and jury votes.

Unsurprisingly, the recipient was me.

The award ceremony was held at the Grand Rapids Museum of Art, marking the conclusion of the competition.

Even though Heo Mu-seol had been moved elsewhere, it still felt as if its lingering aura remained.

The spacious venue was packed with people—so many that it might have looked like an ant colony from a satellite image.

Cameras surrounded the event, broadcasting the ceremony live, as was typical for such competitions.

The ceremony, which had been proceeding uneventfully, finally reached the moment I had been waiting for: the announcement of the prize money.

If you’re wondering why someone with plenty of money and little interest in material wealth was waiting for it—

“Should I donate it? That press conference stunt still bugs me.”

The prize money itself didn’t matter much, but it seemed like a good opportunity to improve my image.

And with the ceremony being broadcast live, the timing felt perfect.

“Speaking of which, there are two kinds of prizes: the public vote and the jury vote.”

Unfortunately, the rules didn’t allow one person to win both.

Not that it made much of a difference, since the prize amounts were the same.

I was awarded the public vote prize. Why not the jury vote?

“I have no idea. That was their decision. No point arguing over it.”

I didn’t dwell on it. Debating would’ve only been a waste of energy.

After receiving the prize, I didn’t immediately step off the stage. Instead, I turned to face the cameras and spoke.

“I’ll be donating all of the prize money.”

Whether or not my skills spoke for themselves, I felt it was time to address my image.

My regular viewers knew my personality, but the press conference had introduced me to the entire world in a less-than-favorable light.

Foreigners unfamiliar with me might’ve been taken aback by my behavior.

While I did have some international recognition, I couldn’t take anything for granted. It bothered me enough to act.

News of the donation spread like wildfire.

Journalists who had previously criticized me were scrambling to write favorable reports, suddenly abuzz with activity.

At least now I could breathe a little easier.

A student donating $1.2 million—about 1.6 billion won in Korean currency—was bound to raise eyebrows.

Sure, it might seem excessive for someone my age to give away such a large sum, but so what? I could always earn more.

After the ceremony came the final event: an artist-audience interaction session.

Artists were given the opportunity to connect with their audience, share the creative process, and receive feedback on their work.

While other artists were engaging in meaningful conversations, I found myself fending off persistent reporters.

“Get lost, will you? Don’t you ever get tired?”

Still, I couldn’t afford to tarnish the image I’d just polished, so I answered as many questions as possible.

Most of them were trivial small talk, but it was better than nothing.

After a grueling hour, I returned to my family, utterly drained.

“Haaaah, this is exhausting.”

Who makes ceremonies this long? I’m still technically a patient—can’t they cut me some slack?

Dad placed a hand on my head.

“You did well, son. You were amazing up there. Most kids wouldn’t even think about donating their prize money.”

His gentle smile formed a crescent on his lips.

In response, I let out a tired but amused remark.

“You must be proud to have such an unusual kid, huh?”

“Of course. Isn’t it obvious?”

We chuckled together and exchanged a fist bump.

“Thanks for all the behind-the-scenes work, Dad.”

“Oh? You noticed?”

“How could I not? You made it so obvious.”

Dad had been in charge of managing Heo Mu-seol at the museum, overseeing its display and restrictions.

I genuinely appreciated his efforts.

“Well… thanks.”

It wasn’t in my nature to say things like this, and I felt my face heat up.

“…?”

When no response came, I turned to see him blinking, his eyes glistening like a deer caught in headlights.

“Goodness, your dad’s getting all sentimental,” Mom teased as she watched us.

After the ceremony, I returned to the hotel to rest, only for a knock to interrupt my peace.

Knock, knock, knock.

A bright, cheerful voice followed.

“Ha-eun! Yoon! Let’s go out! The crowd’s gone now!”

It was Choi Yeseo, her voice as lively as ever.

Yoon and I exchanged a glance, then smiled and got ready.

Even after such an exhausting day, my friends had traveled all the way to America to see me.

The least I could do was spend some time with them.

Taking my sister’s hand, I opened the door.

“Sniff sniff… all clear.”

Waiting outside, Ha Soyeol immediately buried her face in my neck and took a whiff.

“What are you doing?”

I gently pushed her head away and greeted the others.

“So, where are we going to hang out—”

“Too much talking! Just follow me!”

Choi Yeseo grabbed my wrist and boldly led the way, her bright energy lighting up the group.

The three girls wore smiles that seemed contagious, and even my sister, Yoon, looked overjoyed.

“Well, fine. Might as well enjoy the moment.”

I kept pace with them, not too fast, not too slow, and let the warm sense of belonging in my chest grow stronger.

Somehow, these girls didn’t feel like strangers anymore.

And just like that, my journey at the World Art Prize came to an end.

—

Minor Art Gallery Forum

[Title: Damn, Ha-eun!]
(Photo of the $1.2 million donation check.jpg)

“Where will you go next, Hyung? Are you even human? Did God model you after Himself when He made you?”

– Damn it… How can I not worship this guy?
– Again? It’s him again, Lee Ha-eun?!
ㄴ Show some respect. Speak formally about Lee Ha-eun-nim.
– He just donated 1.6 billion won straight up. Freaking awesome.
– This reminds me of Plato’s theory of forms…
ㄴ What the hell does that even mean?
ㄴ Do kids not learn ethics in school anymore?

[Title: Foreign Art Companies Are Losing Their Minds]

“Everyone’s targeting Lee Ha-eun, lol.”

– Foreign forums are going nuts, too.
ㄴ Why?
ㄴ They’re pressuring their governments to make him a citizen.
ㄴ Talk about something realistic, dumbass.
ㄴ No, it’s real.
– How did this even happen…?

—

[Title: Ah. Thank God.]

“Ha-eun, I see you’re doing well over there. It’s already been a month since you left.

“I’ve been waiting for your streams this whole time. I’d go hungry, thirsty, but as long as your stream was on…”

“So please draw a cat girl, you bastard.”

– …? LOL.
– Wait, are you Korean? LOL.
– pls cat girl guy strikes again…
– Calling the host a bastard…? Take aim, it’s an enemy.
– This guy is the real deal, lol.

—

YouTube Headlines

[The Growing Crowd in Front of Drawing Korea HQ… Why?] – Views: 2.315 million

[Fortune or Misfortune? The Answer Remains Unclear] – Views: 1.789 million

[17-Year-Old Prodigy Lee Ha-eun’s Return Date Announced] – Views: 7.394 million

Back in Korea, where my name was burning bright, I was…

“Ugh… Too lazy to move.”

“When are you going to get better, oppa?”

I was lying in bed, hugging my pillow like a bolster.

“Sis, after playing so hard yesterday, muscle soreness is inevitable—”

“That’s just because you’re weak. I’m perfectly fine.”

I glared at my sister, but her words had already deflated me.

“Why does my body produce male hormones but no muscle…?”

“What are you muttering about now?”

Why is my sister extra sassy today? That’s a little depressing.

“Come here.”

I wriggled to the edge of the bed, making room.

Seeing the space, Yoon’s eyes lit up.

“This is what you wanted all along, isn’t it, sis?”

“Hmph, as if.”

She naturally took the pillow and turned to face me.

“Sigh… I pity her future boyfriend.”

Whoever dates my sister will have to survive my family’s trials—and my interference.

Still, if Yoon finds someone she truly likes, I’d have to give my blessing.

“…Ugh. I’ll worry about that later.”

The very thought annoyed me already.

Maybe I should ask her while I’m at it.

“Yoon, do you have someone you like at school?”

Yoon, who had been scrolling on her phone, turned to look at me with a disgusted expression.

“The boys at school? Ew, no thanks.”

“Poor guys.”

But surely there must be someone she’s interested in. Out of curiosity, I pressed further.

“Nobody? Surely there’s at least one guy who’s decent-looking.”

“Hmm… I mean, there are, but…”

She frowned slightly, glancing at me.

“It’s your fault my standards are too high.”

“Uh… Thanks?”

Was this… good news? I think?

“If I had to pick an ideal type, it’d probably be someone like you.”

“Impossible.”

“Exactly. Which is why I’ll probably stay single forever.”

Another version of me in this world? Yeah, not happening.

Looks like Yoon will just have to live with us forever. Too bad (?).

“Mom would probably love that more than me.”

After that, our conversation devolved into lighthearted small talk.

I wanted this moment to last a little longer, but then—

[Uncle Hong Jin-hu: I’m in the hotel lobby. Where shall we meet?]

[Me: Heading down now.]

“Where are you going, oppa?”

“Ah, as much as I’d like to stay here with my precious sister, the world doesn’t let me have my way.”

“Fine… Be careful, then.”

“I will.”

The reason I was meeting Uncle Hong was simple: Heo Mu-seol.

It was time to decide what to do with it.