I Became an Artist in a Romantic Comedy

Chapter 68: Siren (1)

“Yaaawn.”

I stretched, letting out a wide yawn, and glanced around.

The hallway was silent, the muffled sound of a lesson drifting from the nearby classroom.

I’d just closed the door behind me, so the quiet wasn’t surprising.

“Now, where’s the director’s office again?”

I began walking, trying to recall the school’s layout. I was fairly certain it wasn’t in this building.

“It’s probably in the main building.”

Our school’s largest structure was unmistakable—the main building was the first thing you saw walking straight from the front gate.

Everyone called it the “Great Main Hall.”

Leaving my current building, I made my way there.

The corridors were empty since classes were in session.

“Why summon me during class? Guess I’ll find out soon enough.”

As I entered the main building, I was greeted by its massive lobby.

“Every time I see this place…”

It really looked like a hotel lobby, grand and extravagant.

This was the first point of contact for visitors—outsiders rather than students or staff—seeking assistance.

I scanned the area briefly before approaching a man who looked like a staff.

“Excuse me, could you tell me where the director’s office is?”

“Ah, yes, just a moment.”

He looked flustered but quickly pulled a small notebook from his pocket.

“A new hire, perhaps?”

I waited as he flipped through the pages.

“The director’s office is on the third floor, toward the back.”

“Got it. Thank you.”

I nodded slightly and headed toward the elevator, still not entirely used to all this formality.

Riding up to the third floor, I couldn’t help but think about the director.

“The director must have a taste for Gothic aesthetics. The banquet hall had the same vibe.”

The third floor was eerily quiet, its corridors empty and still.

“Looks like this whole floor is the director’s private space. Must be nice to have money to burn.”

It wasn’t surprising. As a member of the S Group family and a school director, wealth was a given.

I walked down the corridor, lined with identical doors.

“This is oddly familiar. Déjà vu, maybe? At least I won’t get lost this time.”

Fortunately, the director’s office was easy to spot—it had a uniquely elaborate design.

The double doors were decorated like a butterfly, detailed with symmetrical patterns. It was ostentatious, almost blinding.

Taking a deep breath, I knocked.

Knock, knock.

“Come in.”

The voice from within prompted me to open the door.

“Excuse me…”

Stepping inside, I froze mid-sentence.

The room was almost entirely empty.

For all the extravagance outside, the director’s office was starkly minimalistic.

The walls were painted a pale gray, and the only furnishings were a glass table and two chairs.

“Hahaha. Please, take a seat, Mr. Lee Ha-eun.”

The familiar voice belonged to Director Lee Ji-chul, who gestured toward the chair opposite him with his usual gentle expression.

“Ah, yes.”

Taking the offered seat, I couldn’t help but glance around the bare room.

“This is rather sparse for a director’s office, sir.”

“Haha. Apologies, as you can see, I prefer simplicity in my personal space.”

“That’s fine. I prefer simple spaces over flashy ones.”

At my words, the director chuckled, waving his hand.

“This room might be sparse, but I could easily request anything I need from my assistant.”

I didn’t respond, still feeling slightly out of place in this situation.

“You’re still guarded, I see. Didn’t we meet just the other day?”

“We’ve only met twice. You’re still unfamiliar to me.”

“Hm, I’ll have to work harder to earn your trust, then.”

A silence fell between us, heavy and lingering.

It wasn’t long before his assistant entered, placing a tray with two glasses of iced tea on the table before leaving.

“Do you like iced tea?”

“I don’t dislike it.”

Breaking the silence, Lee Ji-chul spoke again.

“You must have many questions.”

“I do, but you called me here, so you go first.”

“Me? I don’t have anything to ask.”

His puzzled expression caught me off guard.

“Wait… You didn’t summon me out of curiosity?”

“What would be the point? I have nothing to gain from that.”

“Liar.”

I’d met plenty of people like him before.

Staring directly into his eyes, I stayed silent. Eventually, he let out a sigh.

“Alright, fine. I was just teasing. Your gaze is quite intimidating, you know.”

“Sudden personal attack, huh.”

Lee Ji-chul chuckled lightly, shaking his head.

“Not your outer eyes, but your inner ones. They’re far too deep, almost unsettling to meet.”

“Is that so? I wouldn’t know.”

If it were about artistic observation, my teacher would far surpass me.

“Alright. Since you’ve noticed, let me ask my question first.”

“Go ahead. I’ve got all the time in the world.”

Lee Ji-chul paused briefly before speaking.

“Is your mentor… Woo-hwa?”

The moment he said that name, my body froze.

“What? How does he know that name?!”

“Judging by your reaction, I’m correct.”

“…How do you know that name?”

“Hmm? Ah, I see. It’s not widely known, is it?”

Why would that accursed mentor’s name appear here? Did he end up in this world like I did?

“Wait. That novel I read before dying… wasn’t it one my mentor recommended to me?”

The mere thought of Woo-hwa being here sent shivers down my spine.

That eccentric being here? It was both terrifying and surreal.

“If Woo-hwa is involved, maybe I can figure out why the masterpieces are here.”

One thing was certain: Woo-hwa was somewhere in this world.

“Why are you bringing up my mentor’s name all of a sudden?”

“I was simply curious. Your skill far exceeds what’s expected of someone your age. Clearly, you’ve had some extraordinary guidance.”

He didn’t seem to know about my reincarnation.

“So, I tried digging into who your teacher might be, but nothing came up.”

“…So you guessed?”

“Indeed. It was half a hunch. I didn’t expect it to be true, though.”

He chuckled, his admiration evident, but I found the whole situation baffling.

“Actually, it was Woo-hwa who discovered the masterpieces in this world.”

“…What?”

“The masterpieces were only discovered relatively recently—less than 50 years ago, I’d say.”

“A mysterious creator and a discoverer named Woo-hwa…”

I muttered quietly, but Lee Ji-chul seemed not to notice. He sipped his tea leisurely, giving me time to process.

The information I’d just received was overwhelming.

It would take a while to piece it all together.

“Do you know where Woo-hwa is now?”

I needed to find him. If I did, he’d have a lot to answer for—and a few hairs fewer on his head when I was done.

“Hmm. I wouldn’t know. It’s been nearly 30 years since I last saw him.”

“Ah. I see.”

I exhaled deeply, masking my disappointment.

“For now, that’s all I’ll ask. Your turn to inquire.”

“Oh, in that case—”

Lee Ji-chul’s eagerness to change the subject was odd, but I decided to let it go. He’d tell me eventually, I hoped.

My questions piled up: about the banquet, his role as director, his secrecy, the masterpieces, Heo Mu-seol, Do-won-hyang, and how he acquired [Siren].

The conversation stretched on, Lee Ji-chul answering as much as he could.

Eventually, he glanced at the clock.

“My time has flown. It’s almost lunch.”

“Indeed. I should get going—the others must be waiting for me.”

Standing, I straightened my clothes and bowed politely.

“Thank you for your time. May I visit again sometime?”

He smiled warmly, nodding.

“Of course. I feel like your guard has lowered a bit, and that’s a relief.”

“Haha… One more thing, Director.”

As I turned to leave, a question lingered in my mind, prompting me to pause.

“Why is this room so empty?”

“…Hmm.”

His expression softened, and his gaze swept across the barren space.

“This used to belong to my daughter-in-law—the former director.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“No, no. I appreciate it. It’s been nice to share this space and converse again.”

“She must’ve enjoyed the conversations a lot.”

“She did. Any topic, she would chatter endlessly.”

Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“May she keep things lively, even in the heavens.”

With that, I left the director’s office, the quiet hallway now feeling oddly lonely.

Something about it left me with an indescribable feeling.

After school, heading straight home didn’t sit well with me.

I told my friends to go to the studio ahead of me.

Though they looked curious, they didn’t press for an explanation.

Once they’d left, I hailed a taxi.

“Thank you.”

I got out after a short ride, walking with purpose.

“What a coincidence.”

The stairs of the memorial park stretched before me.

Lee Ji-chul’s words echoed in my mind:

“Siren is housed in Gangnam Memorial Park. My daughter-in-law adored it in her lifetime.”

She’d spent her days gazing at that painting, he’d said with a bittersweet laugh.

“But… is it okay for Siren to be in a memorial park?”

Knowing him, Lee Ji-chul had probably sorted it out.

Before heading to see [Siren], I walked toward another part of the park.

I stopped in front of a neatly placed gravestone.

[Lee Ha-eun]

The name was carved clearly into the stone.

I didn’t know this person—had never met them, didn’t know their face.

But they were family.

From my pocket, I pulled out a single flower: a lisianthus.

“Just… had some business nearby, so I thought I’d stop by to say hello.”

So, just remember—your family loves you.

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

It was time to see [Siren].

“Woo-hwa… what are you up to now?”

I made my way to the grave of Lee Ji-chul’s daughter-in-law, the former director.

There, in front of me, was [Siren].

Getting in hadn’t been difficult; a quick call to Lee Ji-chul was all it took.

“No need for grand gestures, right?”

After those words, my surroundings shifted.

A raging storm surrounded me—a vast, tumultuous sea.

“Long time no see, Siren.”

An old connection was rekindled.