I Became an Artist in a Romantic Comedy-Chapter 112

It wasn’t in a bad way, though.

“Where are the kids?”

They were right next to me just a moment ago. Where did they go?

At my question, my teacher lifted his head, and it looked like they had gone upstairs.

‘Wait, was the house always built with a second floor?’

I wondered about that, but whatever.

“So, why are you sitting alone, looking so pitiful?”

My teacher sat down beside me with the same expression he used when looking at the old Sanya.

It wasn’t the face of the grumpy person I had seen recently but the face of an old sage.

...He might look like an old man now. Anyway.

“Well... I was just wondering what would’ve happened if I hadn’t met you, teacher. Just a thought.”

“Hmmm.”

He sipped his canned coffee. The kids had brought in some things earlier, probably from the convenience store.

He grabbed one of the cans and opened it.

“Sanya. No, Ha-Eun. Do you know how fate comes about?”

Don’t speak like you’re handling a kid. It gives me goosebumps.

I muttered silently and shook my head.

“You’re too young to understand such things.”

“Oh...”

He said that?

A soft expression appeared on my teacher’s face. It was familiar—the kind of atmosphere I knew well.

“Fate doesn’t have a fixed answer. It can be inevitable or random. All of it can be called fate. But…”

He paused for a moment before continuing. My teacher, whose eyes were looking at the yard and not me, spoke.

“The fact that you and I met, I see it as just fate. Nothing special, not a predetermined destiny. Just like the colors of a painting, we met naturally.”

“It’s been a while since I heard something I don’t understand. Do you come up with this stuff on the spot?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

With a subtle smile, my teacher patted my shoulder.

“Do you remember, my student? You used to sit here every day, holding a piece of paper, drawing the sky.”

“Ah... I remember. You always hung them up in your room, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. It’s not like I could just throw away the drawings my only student made.”

He chuckled, saying that one was still hanging upstairs.

Wait, you brought that here?

I wanted to ask but swallowed the words. Even if I did ask, I doubted I’d get a proper answer.

“Sky...”

I saw the slowly setting sun. The sky was now a deep blue.

If I looked closely, I could faintly see the outline of the moon.

While staring at the deep blue sky, I opened my mouth. I didn’t even know why I was saying this.

“Come to think of it, I never told you about this, teacher. About the Angel.”

“Hmm? Angel, what about it?”

“I painted it using Sanya as the background. It’s a painting of me when I first met you.”

“…?”

My teacher blinked, looking at me with his eyes wide open. His mouth slowly parted.

For the record, my teacher didn’t know about the background of [Angel]. It was obvious, though. I cut ties with my teacher when I started painting [Angel].

During those days, I had locked myself in my room, refusing to see anyone, and turned away anyone who came to the studio.

This was hopeless.

I finished the remaining coffee in the can and tossed it into the trash can in the corner of the hallway.

Thunk.

It bounced off the corner and landed perfectly. That felt good.

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“You never asked, did you?”

“You crazy bastard.”

I shrugged and stood up. The kids were causing a racket upstairs, yelling and running wild.

I should go calm them down.

“Ha-Eun.”

Just as I was about to turn and head upstairs, my teacher called me.

I only turned my head to look at him, but his back was the only thing I saw. My teacher was now staring at the darkening sky.

“Your room upstairs. I kept it just the way you left it. Go check it out.”

“Really?”

“Just don’t look at your diary.”

“Eh? What’s the point of looking at it? It’ll just make me feel bad.”

“Heh. That’s true.”

Chuckling, my teacher took something out of his inner pocket and tossed it to me.

“Here’s the key to your room. I’ve had it. Your friends probably haven’t been inside yet.”

“…? How did you have this? Didn’t you grow up in China?”

“My place of death was in China. I left the key in a nearby place.”

Ah, I see.

I muttered a quick thanks and started moving my legs.

While I went upstairs, my teacher remained sitting on the porch, still looking at the night sky.

I shouldn’t be thinking like this, but...

‘If it were back in the day, I wouldn’t have known... but now, looking at that figure... It feels a bit weird.’

I turned my gaze and made my way toward the stairs.

The house wasn’t that big, but it wasn’t small either.

“What are you doing over there?”

“Ah, Eun!”

“This won’t open.”

“Can we break it?”

“It’s my room, you know?”

At my words, the three of them stopped moving. Especially Ha Soo-Yul, who subtly avoided my gaze.

I couldn’t help but laugh as I pulled a key from my pocket.

Naturally, their eyes all went straight to the key.

“Wait a second.”

The three of them stepped back slightly as I approached the door.

I inserted the key into the door lock and turned it, and with a click, the door opened.

‘The key looks exactly the same.’

I hadn’t noticed before, but when I put the key in my pocket and entered the room, I was met with a familiar sight.

A small room, but one that had been more comfortable than any other place.

The items I remembered from my past life were still there.

Of course, I didn’t miss them. Would I want to relive that hell? Absolutely not.

I rubbed the back of my neck and gestured for them to come in.

The three of them stepped inside, looking around the room.

“Surprisingly... it’s normal.”

“Yeah.”

“Is the only thing here a desk?”

At least it was something. It was the desk where I could comfortably paint.

While they were exploring the room, I opened a sliding door on one of the walls.

Then, I remembered that I hadn’t cleaned this room.

Meaning, there was a lot of dust.

“......”

I quickly pulled back and put on a mask.

Something about the air felt off when I first came in.

The thought that I’d have to clean again made my head hurt, but what else could I do?

Sighing inwardly, I rummaged through the closet. Something should be here...

Ah, found it.

Between the dust-covered blankets, I grabbed something.

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freeweɓnovēl.coɱ.

Carefully pulling it out, it was a faded piece of paper.

The paintings my teacher had hanging in his room were more or less completed works.

But the paintings I held in my hand were all unfinished.

If you looked closely, some of them had missing colors, or they were just scribbled.

At this time, I liked it. It was my way of creating the paintings I wanted.

Dozens of sheets of paper. I placed them roughly on the floor and turned around.

The three of them were standing still, looking at something.

What was it? It seemed like they were looking at something.

I took off my mask and quietly approached the three standing by the desk.

And then I spoke.

‘Oh right, the diary.’

A chilling future flashed in my mind, but thankfully. Really thankfully...

“Ah, it’s too bad!”

“Ye-Seo, that tone doesn’t suit you.”

“It’s a shame, though...”

It seemed like they let it go without much trouble. I probably looked like I had a cold sweat on my face...

“But why is this in Eun’s room?”

“Yeah, right? Did you pick it up somewhere?”

“That Low-Hwa person seems like they collect antiques. Maybe Eun just tossed it in here.”

Sorry, teacher. Please sacrifice a little for your student.

“Don’t mess with stuff like that. You might attract a ghost.”

“Boring.”

“At least Eun’s ghost…”

“The next painting should be in an occult style, it’d be fun.”

Choi Ye-Seo, Ha Soo-Yul, and Hong Ye-Hwa said one after another. This was a little heartbreaking.

But they listened to me. They moved to look at the paintings I had hidden behind.

Before they could look back, I quickly threw the diary out the window.

I thought I heard a faint scream from my teacher, but I ignored it. He’ll handle it.

‘Hmm. I wonder if there’s anything about [Angel] in my room.’

Honestly, I wasn’t sure. I came here just to gather some information.

Even if I didn’t find anything, it couldn’t be helped.

For a moment, I thought that, and my gaze fell on the bookshelf on the desk. The diary was probably there.

There was only one book in the bookshelf. The cover was plain, no writing at all—just a notebook.

But when I flipped it open to the back page...

[To the Angel]

There was a letter, or maybe it was a letter?

It looked like a comic strip, a story unfolding across the pages.

I remembered. This was probably the first drawing I did when I met my teacher.

It looked completely different from the art style I have now. I couldn’t say it was well-done, even as a compliment.

It really looked like something a child drew roughly. The proportions, the colors...

Even the crooked lines were a mess.

None of it was normal, but...

‘It was pure.’

A smile appeared on my face without me realizing it.

That’s what I thought.