Chapter 32
Chapter 32
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 31
Chapter Title: It's Okay Because I'm a Genius Even with a Time Limit
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A new week had begun.
Just as I'd resolved the night before, I got up early and headed to the training gym.
Back when I was Lee Do-hyun, I'd been a pretty diligent gym rat, so the screeching friction of the machines and the sharp tang of sweat felt strangely nostalgic.
Should I start with some chest work?
I approached an empty machine and was just about to unwrap the towel from around my neck when—
"Park Ha-yul. You do morning workouts too?"
"Oh, what's this?"
Two familiar faces greeted me casually.
It was Baek Sa-young and Lee Dae-ho, both already drenched in sweat.
Well, of course...
These two were like resident ghosts haunting the gym, so this encounter was too predictable to call a coincidence.
I played it cool.
"Trying to start today."
"Ooh, what's got you motivated?"
"Nice. Let's do it together then. Way better than going solo."
As someone who knew gym sessions could surprisingly feel like a team sport, I couldn't turn down the offer.
Plus, I was curious about the workout routines of these top-tier superhumans.
"Sure, sounds go—"
But then I spotted the black silhouette piling up behind them.
More precisely, the countless barbells loaded onto the bar.
My mind changed in an instant.
"—od, but I'll try solo first."
"For real? Bummer. Hit us up if you need a spot."
"Heh, just psych yourself up. We'll shape that body for you."
But seriously, are these guys insane?
There were three 30kg plates, then ten...
I couldn't even calculate the total.
Anyway, I was just getting seriously into my workout... or about to start.
"Is that all the weight he's using?"
"Nah, probably just warming up."
...Warming up?
My ears were annoyingly sharp, picking up even their whispers.
It was getting distracting, so no choice.
I had to move to a quieter spot.
I fiddled with my phone for no reason and stood up.
"Hello?"
* * *
Mondays featured personal sparring classes.
Designed around anti-demon combat, they focused mostly on one-on-one fights, with students pairing off to test their skills.
But for the first two weeks, it doubled as orientation and theory, so nothing special.
I half-listened while practicing the Three Talents Technique, then slipped out of the classroom first.
Dragging my shaky legs—the aftermath of the morning workout—I trudged toward the dorms.
The usually solemn plaza in front of the main building had turned into a bustling marketplace.
"Junior! How about the Equestrian Club? Light riding, and we take care of the afterparty. That's why we're 'Unbridled Colts'!"
"Come on, I'm single. Join the Astronomy Club 'Andromeda' then. Gotta stargaze with someone special."
Ah, club recruitment.
Third week already, right on time for promotions.
Clubs held a special place at Taehak.
There were nearly 200 of them.
Juniors could join starting second year, serving as the sole link between seniors and underclassmen—rivaling any university in activity.
One club per person was mandatory, so I wasn't exempt.
I'd already picked mine.
"Exploration Club is a must."
Joo Ah-rin, Baek Sa-young, Cheon Seo-yoon, Lee Dae-ho—all the Class A heavyweights had joined, and every outing led to major incidents.
That meant quests, so I had to dip a toe in.
"And..."
A bit of a hassle, but I'd join a few more.
Top picks: volunteer work, language conversation, and kendo.
Volunteer for Baek Sa-young, conversation for Joo Ah-rin, kendo for Cheon Seo-yoon—key episodes there I couldn't miss.
"But three might be..."
No matter how I crunched it, time was tight.
So, just conversation and kendo.
Volunteer took daily sign-ups, so I could tag along as needed.
Decision made—no dragging feet.
I headed to the plaza. Straight to the first kendo tent I spotted.
"Excuse m—"
The vibe was off.
One stroke, two cuts. Only the strong survive.
Just a thick-brushed slogan and one buzz-cut guy seated primly in lotus position below it.
He sensed me and cracked an eye.
"Applicant?"
"Yeah?"
"Over there."
"...?"
"Application forms are there."
"Ah, got it."
The curt exchange threw me, but recalling the original story helped me nod along.
That buzz-cut was probably the kendo club president of One Stroke Severance.
A sword master archetype, he'd later guide the club's sole flower, Cheon Seo-yoon, in swordsmanship.
Near-immortal virtue, but his sparse words made conversation tough.
"Here."
"This way."
"...Later then."
Not worth noting yet, so I dropped the form in the basket his gaze lingered on and slipped out quietly.
"Next..."
Spotted the conversation club booth and approached.
...
But stepping in felt weird.
"Conversation club..."
I'd quit art after dropping my pursuits, yet here it was again.
Like facing an ex.
Awkward, yet tempting if an excuse arose—that mixed love-hate.
No one to blame, though.
I'd insisted on art for Joo Ah-rin's character to Yoo So-young.
I circled a bit, then gripped the doorknob.
"No one I know anyway, and I won't be active."
Eased the door open to fresh lighting and a subtle paint scent hitting eyes and nose.
"Not much time left. Wrap it up."
"A-already?"
Unlike the empty kendo club, this place buzzed with applicants.
A young-looking girl—model?—in the center, surrounded by students sketching in a circle. Familiar scene.
Portrait practice?
Reminded me of art prep school; a smirk slipped out.
"Applicant?"
A senior girl approached.
I nodded; she looked troubled.
"Hmm, tricky. Test already started, as you see."
"How much time left?"
"About 30 minutes. Come back tomorrow..."
"Can I just do it now?"
No confidence in returning.
I'd sketch roughly anyway.
"Well... it's not impossible."
"I'll do what I can and submit."
"The test?"
Her incredulous look hit just as—
"What's going on?"
A graceful beauty intervened.
Her rare green-tinged long waves gave her away.
Conversation Club Dodam president, Jeong Ae-ri.
Second daughter of the prestigious Jeong family in aesthetics—art and politics elite.
Wide network, political savvy; she'd later claim student council president. Ultimate socialite.
Childhood friends with Joo Ah-rin—sisterly bond.
"No, it's..."
Senior explained; Ae-ri's face shifted wildly.
Glaring at me disapprovingly, she turned.
"Just give him a spot. Seems he wandered in clueless about 'Dodam.'"
Die-hard art fanatic—pride in the club immense.
"Follow."
Senior led me in with a wry smile.
"Hurry. Fail the test, you're out. No hard feelings."
I nodded lightly and sat.
30 minutes.
Tight, so pencil first.
...Three years?
A small scar between thumb and index stood out today.
Eh, not for exhibition. Simple portrait—easy.
Plus, vital club for future main episodes—must-join.
Pencil touched canvas.
Barely glanced at model's pose and face.
Staring would make it real...
Just captured fleeting impressions; hand moved boldly, no hesitation.
Lines formed where hand passed; lines built shapes.
No time—bold on details.
Pure inspiration from model.
Like a late-blooming pink wildflower on gentle hills—rough, yet oddly uplifting.
That alone.
No color.
Rough or soft lines for outlines only.
Time passed.
.
.
"Time's up! Pencils down. Check name and department bottom right."
End call brought a sudden 'Ah' of regret.
Meant to half-ass, yet slipped in like drizzle soaking clothes—lost myself at the end.
Body ached like I'd used mana unconsciously.
Bitter smile; set pencil down.
"This is a sickness too."
Self-mocking, stood and left without lingering.
Acted like nothing happened; hit Exploration Club for application.
Simple sans Class A folks.
Off to training grounds.
Half relieved, half unsettled, I left the plaza.
* * *
At twenty-two, Jeong Ae-ri ran a major domestic art gallery—pro manager and art lover.
Her eye was sharp, she admitted...
"Fail."
"This one?"
"Lame too~"
This batch was brutally mediocre.
Even at art exam level, nothing stood out.
Judging felt like shackles—boring.
"Gonna rest."
About to grab phone when murmurs rose.
"What's with this? No color. Incomplete auto-fail, right?"
"Yeah, but... weird. This one pops. Keeps drawing the eye."
"Really? Lemme see."
First two, then three, four.
Her art-savvy panel dithered over one piece.
Like appraising a masterpiece.
"What's the fuss?"
She intervened; one rushed over with it.
"Ae-ri, check this. Hard to judge."
Sigh escaped watching.
"Kids, this isn't drawing issue—it's about appreciating art..."
Words stuck.
...What is this painting?
Exceptional, almost arrogant.
Black lines only, yet evoked more vivid emotion than any colored work.
Primal, thus concise, thus direct—intense impact.
Connoisseur of countless masterpieces, she saw its worth instantly.
No amateur hand.
Beyond externals, captured inner essence—and conveyed it fully. How many artists could?
"Ae-ri, you okay?"
"Y-yeah, hold on."
She swallowed dryly, eyed the bottom signature...
...D.H?
D.H?
That's it?
"Who the hell is this guy?!"