26
Chapter 26 Simple Is Best
‘They really took it.’
Do Minho let out a hollow laugh when he saw the missing canvas.
‘Broadcast people really have no sense.’
“Hyung… I’m sorry…”
The younger kids felt overwhelming guilt for failing to protect his painting.
“It’s fine. I can just paint another one. The thief is the one at fault, not you.”
He remained calm.
“I was thinking of throwing it away anyway.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll just paint something better. It feels like I’ve improved already.”
It had only been two months since his second life began, but a lot had changed.
His childlike brain, now flexible again, combined with the experience of his previous life and unlocked talents he hadn’t even realized before.
Art was the biggest example.
It was as if a predator that once hunted with a mask had finally taken it off.
‘Now that I think about it, I might have been born to paint.’
In just two months, what had once been a stress-relief hobby turned into something he poured effort into to move people’s hearts. His talent had awakened to the level of a true prodigy.
Most importantly, he no longer wandered aimlessly in the vast ocean of art.
By simply moving his hands, he naturally found the right current—hyperrealism—and produced works incomparable to his past life.
His skills had improved even while waiting for paint to dry, practicing with watercolor.
That was why the missing oil painting was his best work so far.
But even now, his skills were still growing.
“Do you need a canvas?”
“Yes.”
“Wait a bit! Our staff went to buy some!”
“No need. I already have plenty. The older kids bought them for me.”
Minho took out a canvas from a cabinet.
“…Then should we buy you paints and brushes?”
There were already oil paints, but there was no reason to refuse goodwill.
“Then what do I have to do?”
The staff’s intentions were obvious.
“You’re not planning to pass a proposal just for some paint, right?”
“Of course not! We just want to film you painting.”
Every broadcasting team had brought cameras, hoping for footage.
“Alright. That’s fine. But oil painting takes time.”
“That’s okay. This isn’t live.”
They were prepared to stay as long as needed.
In fact, they welcomed it.
This was their chance to verify his rumored talent.
Soon, cameras were being set up everywhere, even inside the container.
“Let’s take turns!”
“We got here first!”
“No, we brought Minho here!”
But suddenly, Minho walked out.
“Aren’t you painting?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“It’s lunchtime.”
“…Ah.”
“And it’s too noisy. Just set up the cameras and share the footage.”
“…Alright.”
“Or you can all leave my workspace.”
“No, no! We’ll just set up!”
Even the most aggressive reporters were silenced by a single sentence.
“But ABS should step back, shouldn’t they?”
“Why?”
“They’re the ones who stole the canvas!”
“Any proof?”
“Right there.”
The ABS cameraman lowered his camera with a sigh.
“I’m fine with it.”
Minho spoke casually.
“They brought it back anyway.”
He chose to let it go.
Unlike his previous life, where he lived calculating every loss and gain, now he allowed room for forgiveness.
‘People can improve.’
Still, that didn’t mean he would tolerate everything.
‘If it continues, I’ll cut them off.’
“Who’s that?”
A middle-aged man with permed long hair stood beside Kang Jiseop.
---
“Did you really paint this?”
Professor Yoo Yeonwoo from Shinseon University looked at Minho with disbelief.
He knew nothing about Minho’s fame.
“Yes.”
“Can you paint it again in front of me?”
“That’s a failed piece.”
“What?”
“I tried my best at the time, but I don’t like it.”
The professor was stunned.
‘An eight-year-old painted this?’
He couldn’t believe it.
But with so many people gathered, it had to be real.
“Do you know Shin Soyoung?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I’m a fan.”
Hyperrealism was simple in direction.
Paint like a photograph.
But even within that, some artists stood out.
Shin Soyoung was one of them.
“So you’re a fan? You’re better than her.”
“Thank you.”
Minho stayed humble, but in terms of detail, his work could surpass hers.
Still, art wasn’t that simple.
“Do you want to study under me?”
“No.”
Minho answered calmly.
“I don’t think art should be broken down like that.”
The professor frowned.
“My painting is about the artist painting.”
He explained.
“Picasso, known for Cubism, painted his children realistically.”
“That’s true.”
“I think he wanted to give them something beautiful and easy to understand.”
“That’s an interesting thought.”
“Maybe he also wanted their recognition.”
“…What?”
“Even great people want to be acknowledged by their children.”
Minho walked over and drew a few quick lines on the canvas.
“This is a squirrel Picasso supposedly drew with just a few strokes.”
“…Oh.”
“That actually looks like a squirrel.”
He then drew another simple figure.
“Someone once offered Picasso millions to draw a woman with a few lines.”
The adults watched, impressed.
The kids laughed.
“I could do that!”
“Easy money!”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I don’t think Picasso is the greatest painter. But I respect his confidence.”
The room went silent.
“I can’t paint simply like that. I worry my intention won’t be understood.”
The professor nodded unconsciously.
“I chase realism, even though I know I could just take a photo.”
‘This kid…’
“My painting is a self-portrait.”
He pointed to the canvas.
“It’s about someone trying to be recognized.”
“What do you mean?”
“Instead of copying reality, I can create something beyond it.”
That was the difference between a camera and an artist.
“Simple is best.”
Even the professor was impressed.
‘His thinking is on another level.’
Kang Jiseop looked around in frustration.
“Why aren’t you filming this?!”
The staff scrambled.
But they were already late.
“Professor, what do you think?”
Minho asked.
“…Everyone here seems satisfied. My opinion doesn’t matter.”
He avoided answering.
“Then what about Shin Soyoung’s work?”
Minho pressed further.
“…Next time.”
It was a complete victory.
The professor didn’t want to risk comparing himself.
And Minho knew it.