The schedule suddenly changed.
She didn’t know why, but it was good news for Yeji.
She had already been eager to take out everything overflowing in her mind.
“At least I don’t have to wait until night practice. That’s a relief.”
Carrying their heavy brushes and paints, the students hurried to the practice room.
“Everyone, hurry up! Sit down with the painting you’re going to work on!”
The teacher, who had arrived unusually early today, urged the students even before the bell rang.
“But the bell hasn’t rung yet, teacher!”
The students, rushed as soon as they arrived, naturally complained.
“If you want to start right away, you should be prepared in advance!”
The teacher seemed unusually impatient today.
Yeji thought something might be wrong, but soon decided not to worry about it.
What mattered more was that she could start painting now.
“If that’s the case, then this should be prep time, not break time.”
At Dahye’s grumbling, Yeji let out a small laugh.
Even though they complained, the students still took their seats.
As they set up their easels and paintings, Yeji glanced around.
“There are more people starting new pieces than I expected?”
Most students seemed to have switched from practice paintings to new ones for submission.
They were also quietly taking out acrylics or watercolors instead of oil paints.
“What kind of oil painting class is this…”
Dahye grumbled, but she wasn’t any different.
She was already fixing her sketch using feedback from her academy.
Artistic freedom and creativity were trapped under complex theories due to the pressure of results.
Most students carefully touched their canvases.
“I don’t know, I’ll just do whatever~”
Compared to them, Hyunmin didn’t seem too concerned about results.
Instead of forcing a “good painting,” he switched to pop art.
Simple, pretty, and cute visuals with eye-catching colors.
On his square canvas was a sketch of a curled-up dolphin.
It was a smart choice.
“Actually, that’s a clever decision.”
If you understand your limits, you can still create something decent.
A good painting doesn’t always require high-level skills.
In that sense…
Squeeze—
The thick oil paint dropped onto the palette.
Yeji spread it boldly with a large brush.
Her hands still felt a bit clumsy, but it was fine.
It was enough to bring out the image in her mind.
She picked up thick blue paint and dragged it across the canvas without hesitation.
“Wow… that feels so refreshing.”
On the 70 cm canvas, the stroke felt strangely satisfying.
The thick oil paint stayed on the canvas, holding the texture of the brush.
Her past life and present life felt very different.
In her past life, she had experience but poor vision.
Now, she had clear sight but lacked experience and refined control.
Her hands didn’t move exactly as she wanted—but she wasn’t worried.
She was still young.
As these two sides slowly merged, her potential would grow even more.
“What… are you doing?”
Her bold movements shocked Dahye.
Yeji’s painting had been considered quite good before.
But now, even the finished parts were being completely covered.
“That ‘pretty good’ painting was being entirely repainted.”
“I just want to change it.”
Yeji answered calmly and continued painting boldly.
This was the impasto technique—
Applying thick layers of paint to create texture and depth.
Like the thick strokes seen in Van Gogh’s paintings.
But her previous work had been too thin and shallow.
That kind of painting didn’t meet her standards.
“Just a little? This is ‘a little’?”
The peaceful scene of a table, vase, and window was now completely destroyed.
Yeji’s thick layers of paint covered everything.
Deep blue and purple tones mixed together, flooding the canvas.
It looked as if the sky outside the window had spilled into the room.
The deep, ocean-like colors filled the painting.
Just as she was absorbed in the texture—
Slide—
The classroom door suddenly opened.
A stranger walked in.
The room fell silent.
But Yeji recognized her.
It was Chloe.
“Ah, excuse us for a moment~ Wow, everyone is working so hard!”
The principal followed behind Chloe, trying to ease the tension.
But even he seemed flustered.
Chloe herself was also surprised by her own actions.
“That painting…”
She walked forward, drawn to it.
The deep colors, the bold strokes—
It reminded her of someone.
Katrin… it feels like her.
A woman she once met in a quiet village near Paris.
Poor and frail, yet with shining eyes.
Her paintings were full of hope despite her harsh life.
That experience had changed Chloe’s life.
“Is this your painting?”
“Yes.”
Chloe looked closer.
Most students’ works felt too rigid and formulaic.
But this one was different.
“What’s your name?”
“Lee Yeji.”
“The sketch and what you’re painting now are completely different styles. How do you plan to finish it?”
Yeji stayed silent for a moment.
“Is she the judge for the competition…?”
Someone whispered.
Then Yeji answered firmly:
“It’s for the school exhibition. It wouldn’t be fun to explain now. Please see the finished work later.”
Chloe smiled.
“This might be meaningful.”
These students were like uncut gems.
Depending on how they develop, their value could change completely.
“…I like it. I’ll look forward to it.”
With that, Chloe left the classroom.
The class immediately became noisy.
“Wow, that was Chloe Choi, right?”
“She’s judging the competition?”
“Does she like Yeji’s painting?”
Amid the excitement—
“Quiet! Get back to work!”
The teacher calmed them down.
As the students returned to painting, Yeji thought:
“Chloe is going to judge my work?”
The same Chloe who once begged her to teach her.
Now she would evaluate her painting.
Yeji picked up her brush again with determination.
She didn’t want to create anything that would disappoint Chloe.
A few days later, it was officially announced that Chloe Choi would be the main judge.
The entire Korean art world buzzed with excitement.
Students felt immense pressure and worked even harder.
Amid all this—
Yeji quit her art academy.
“Ugh, it’s so expensive.”
At an art supply store in Seoul, Dahye complained while shopping.
But she was shocked to see Yeji.
Yeji was filling her basket with large 200ml paints—without hesitation.
“That alone must cost around 500,000 won…”
“That’s why I quit the academy.”
For Yeji, spending on materials was more worthwhile.
Especially since she had her own “teacher”—herself from her past life.
Private academies felt like a waste.
“…Yeah, that makes sense.”
After buying their supplies, they left the store.
Dahye sighed.
“It’s complicated.”
Art required money.
That burden always followed students.
“I’m going to the academy. What about you?”
“I’m going back to school.”
