SIYUN - In her brain.
SIYUN - In her brain.
Teacher Go Min-su stood there holding Si-yoon's painting, mouth agape, unable to finish a sentence.
The superstar every young person in the Republic of Korea knew: Kim Si-yoon.
Most of Si-yoon's friends' profile pictures showed her dressed as the nine-tailed fox from that last shoot.
But the teachers at Seoul Private Elementary School all knew a certain fact.
This little kid who casually painted right in front of you possessed far too much talent.
They said she had every last scrap of that "talent" everyone wishes they had at least a bit of, as if she'd monopolized it.
In the past, Si-yoon hadn't been that way about painting, though.
Her skill level had been lacking in many areas, even against those merely preparing for Korea Comprehensive Arts University—the ones who really were just preparing and never managed to pass.
Of course, I acknowledged she had an overwhelming ability that could hold its own against high schoolers studying art.
But compared to the talents I'd heard about from the other teachers...
For example, if what the music teacher said was true, then music was the right path for Si-yoon.
Furthermore, Go Min-su himself was confident he could easily overwhelm her in art alone—he could paint eight works in the time Si-yoon painted one and still win with a random pick.
That is, until exactly one year ago...
Si-yoon had been steadily compensating for her deficiencies.
And after encountering the tool called oil paint, that seed of "talent" had begun to bloom at a terrifying pace.
"....."
Watching a brushstroke free of hesitation or uncertainty, Go Min-su could feel the very essence of Si-yoon's tranquility flowing into him.
What Si-yoon, who made tranquility her goal, wanted... what he himself had wanted...
Yet a view of the painting as a whole delivered a suffocating, oppressive sensation.
Darkness... no, this was underwater.
Bold blues...
It imparted a feeling that the viewer, too, ought to hold their breath, but simultaneously offered breathtaking landscapes...
The sunset seen from underwater illuminated building after building, and the light fell evenly even upon the tiny people.
That meticulousness, ignoring not one small detail, was Si-yoon's signature painting habit.
Because of Si-yoon's uniquely tranquil brushwork, the suffocating painting would somehow, before he realized it, wrap his body in what no longer felt like suffocation but a gentle embrace.
When Go Min-su came to his senses, goosebumps covering his whole body, he felt a sensation as if his very blood had stopped and then started flowing again.
Now Go Min-su could say it clearly and definitively to the music teacher.
I've seen it too, that overwhelming talent you said you witnessed...
I handed the painting to Teacher Go Min-su and was fiddling with watercolors, acting as if nothing had happened.
This was a painting I'd started to develop my expressiveness while practicing brushwork.
A painting I'd immersed myself in and completed over five days.
The feeling of being evaluated by someone after investing all that time was, unexpectedly, nerve-racking.
When Teacher Go Min-su couldn't take his eyes off the painting for several minutes, I seriously started to worry.
'Ah... is it really that weird? It does feel like I overdid it... I should say I painted it in a day...'
Just then, I heard Teacher Go Min-su take a deep breath.
"Si-yoon..."
"...Yes?"
"As I thought... you... must pursue painting."
I got the feeling Teacher Go Min-su's personality had suddenly changed, just like the music teacher's, but I answered awkwardly.
"...Yes?"
"Good heavens... no, this is... first, just keep on painting. Your teacher is going to be very busy, so..."
"...?"
"Right! The professor, the professor's phone number..."
The teacher, who'd been mumbling, abruptly fetched a cloth from the storage room and began handling the painting I'd given him with extreme care.
"...?"
And then the teacher went out.
"...?"
I stared at the doorway for a moment, utterly bewildered, then began a new painting in watercolor.
Go Min-su drove frantically to his alma mater.
Korea Comprehensive Arts University, boasting a campus immense enough to match its reputation.
And there, a building full of paintings.
Go Min-su accepted people's greetings, then entered the studio carrying the canvas.
"Professor Ahn!!!"
A figure who represented the Republic of Korea with a single painting.
The master painter Ahn Jun-tae.
Ahn Jun-tae was drinking coffee in his studio when he was startled by the person calling him Professor Ahn.
He checked the face and saw it was Go Min-su, a student he was fond of.
"Yes, what is it?"
"This... my student... haah..."
"Catch your breath first, then speak."
Go Min-su, who had been his assistant, had gone to a private elementary school for the money.
It had been a regrettable decision, but also such an outstanding one that Ahn Jun-tae hadn't stopped him.
A student at an elementary school... wondering what could possibly make him so frantic, Ahn Jun-tae asked.
"Alright, have a glass of water. What's going on?"
"...Hah... please look at this painting."
The professor, who took the canvas with a puzzled expression, slowly began to uncover the painting.
"...This isn't your brushwork... Who painted this?"
"My student."
"...? An elementary schooler... you say?"
"Yes!"
Adjusting his glasses, Professor Ahn scrutinized the painting intently.
"...An elementary schooler handles oil paint this effortlessly?"
"Yes!!!"
Professor Ahn didn't believe it at all, but he couldn't dismiss it as a lie, not with the serious look on his student's face.
"Is it true...?"
"This is her entry for the upcoming International Student Competition!"
Professor Ahn carefully touched the canvas and studied it intently.
"The grand prize is a certainty..."
Professor Ahn looked at the expectant Go Min-su.
"Would it be possible to meet your student?"
"Yes!"
Setting aside his schedule, Professor Ahn followed Go Min-su and set out for Seoul Private Elementary School.
Following Dad, who had come to pick me up early today, I was heading to the JSM headquarters.
The Dreaming members greeted me when they saw me.
"Aah~! Si-yoon~~ I'm really enjoying the drama!"
"Yeah."
When I held out my hand, they pressed candy into it as automatically as a vending machine.
The Dreaming members always carry candy around; maybe their brutal schedules leave them sugar-deprived.
'Or is it because of me?'
I put a lollipop in my mouth and walked along holding Dad's hand.
Jang Seong-man, greeting me in a crisp suit.
"Hey, Uncle."
Dad had gotten a call from the school and stepped outside for a moment.
"Si-yoon, did you see this?"
The expression on Jang Seong-man's face as he tried to show me something on his phone was one of amusement.
"What is it?"
The social media feed Jang Seong-man showed me was full of bragging over the drawings I'd given out.
Even more strikingly, the next photo showed one of them already up for auction.
"Oh... a million won..."
The minimum was one million won, while the paintings bearing single-digit numbers and the portrait I'd drawn of Dad commanded overwhelming prices.
"Wow... Si-yoon could make a living just by drawing, couldn't she?"
Of course, they weren't prices placed there simply because someone genuinely liked the art.
Those insane figures came from the label "Kim Ji-ho's daughter" attached to my name.
Even after I became famous for movies, dramas, and my looks, the label "Kim Ji-ho's daughter" still followed me everywhere.
"I gave them away in good faith, but people are selling them?"
"Well, with odds of two thousand to one, aren't those prices to be expected?"
I had separately taken care of the VIPs in Dad's fan café, and the drawings distributed to the VIPs weren't even on the auction block.
Those people weren't strapped for cash.
The drawings I'd created over three months totaled 137, including the one I gave Teacher Go Min-su. Even just at the minimum prices, that breaks a hundred million won.
'Whoa.'
SIYUN - In Her Brain 57. 3,560,000 won.
That was the piece where I'd painted Alpha and Beta.
The key thing was that auctions were happening overseas too, and especially for my recently completed works—I'd thrown in all the practice pieces as well.
Since the quality had shot up, the prices were getting steeper and steeper.
"I knew Si-yoon drew well, but I didn't expect this level."
"I didn't know either."
Oil paint was certainly convenient for painting exactly what I wanted.
Watercolor has its own charm, but oil paint suited my hand far better.
I painted everything in meticulous detail, and the way oils rendered light—something watercolors had never captured well enough—now stood out as a defining feature.
Dad, who had apparently finished his call, looked at me and said,
"The art teacher is looking for you. I said it'd be good to see him at school tomorrow."
"Okay."
Dad looked at Jang Seong-man and said,
"What were you looking at?"
"Ji-ho, look at this."
Dad had the same reaction I did, like he found it offensive.
"...It wasn't given away to be bought and sold... Si-yoon worked so hard on these..."
Jang Seong-man looked at Kim Ji-ho with a grave expression and said,
"You're trying to buy them all back right now, aren't you...?"
"....."
"You lunatic! Why would you buy them back! Are you some kind of philanthropist?!"
I stared at Dad, aghast.
"Dad, that's overkill... and I was originally just going to throw them away, so don't buy them."
"....."
"Answer me."
"Okay."
Jang Seong-man let out a sigh and then finally returned to the main topic.
"Hoo... more importantly, we got a call from Hollywood."
"...Pardon?"
"They want to know if Si-yoon is available to film a movie. They're thinking of adding an Asian hero, and they want her as the childhood version."
I was sick of movies by now and shook my head.
"I'm not doing any movies or dramas. Maybe later..."
Jang Seong-man nodded as if he'd expected as much and looked at Kim Ji-ho.
"And you got a call from the Krammy Awards."
Though Jang Seong-man said it lightly, Kim Ji-ho shook his head.
"When Si-yoon is older."
"You father-daughter pair are both absurd... I mean, it's something people aim for their whole lives and still can't achieve... honestly..."
Dad had targeted the Billboard charts and released a few songs.
When he swept the Billboard charts, he'd gone all day without eating, staring at his rankings like a man possessed.
Dad only shared what he was up to through occasional variety show appearances, music videos, or vlogs.
"I actually do want to go on a trip to America, though."
"Ah..."
"Together with Da-yeon's family."
"Th... then... should we?"
"Yeah."
From behind, Jang Seong-man kept signaling his gratitude to me.
The moment I arrived at school, Teacher Go Min-su was waiting in our classroom.
"...?"
"Si-yoon! I've already spoken with your homeroom teacher. Let's go to the art room together."
"...What for."
Led by Teacher Go Min-su's hand, I stepped outside, and an old man who'd spotted me looked utterly astonished.
"You... you're the child actress Kim Si-yoon, correct?"
"...? Can't you tell by looking?"
Upon hearing my reply, the old man whispered so only Teacher Go Min-su could hear.
"Is that child always that kind of personality?"
"Yes, Professor... please try to understand..."
I was led by Teacher Go Min-su's hand toward the art room.
"My bag... it's heavy..."
Teacher Go Min-su took my bag off my hands, said he'd hang it at my seat, and then disappeared.
"...?"
I watched Teacher Go Min-su walking further away, and the old man watched me.
"This work is yours... isn't it?"
The old man showed me my drawings that had gone up for auction.
I pointed to the number at the bottom right, and the old man, who'd been checking my picture, nodded.
"Good heavens... after 137 attempts... you drew something like that..."
"And who are you, sir?"
"I am Ahn Jun-tae. You don't know me?"
I tilted my head, thinking his name sounded vaguely familiar.
"Ah... you're the one who wrote that book 'What Is Light?', right?"
Seeing that I remembered him by a book, not as a master painter or artist, the old man seemed to realize I didn't show much interest in people from the art world.
"Ahem... would you possibly draw me just one picture?"
"Right now? All of a sudden?"
"Yes... use my tools."
The old man brought his own paints and canvas.
The paints were in a wooden case he'd carried in with him.
This was the brand Dad had tried to buy for me. The one where each individual color cost a minimum of a hundred thousand won...
The oil paints I'd thought were just stupidly extravagant.
Sensitive to money, I picked up one of the paints.
"Do you know what this is?"
"Dad tried to buy it for me, and while I told him it wasn't necessary, I know perfectly well what it is."
"You may use as much as you like."
I nodded and picked up the wooden palette.
It was heavy, and when I moved to set it on a chair, the old man set up a stand for it.
As I began dabbing the brush and laying strokes without looking at any particular reference,
the old man, who had set up a camera at some point behind me, was recording while focusing intently on my painting.
"Um... that's kind of uncomfortable, could you just leave the recording equipment and step out?"
"Ah! Of course I shall."
After the old man went outside, I proceeded to paint the picture I had in mind for my next work.
A woman I had met back when I was running around as a mercenary under Taebaek.
I began to paint that pure-hearted woman who'd smiled even at my halting, clumsy English.
That woman, who in the end was taken and killed by the mafia for no reason other than being seen with me...
I was sorry, endlessly sorry, but I had no time to even think of her. The people around me kept dying, and I had lived even busier, wanting to forget.
Of course, later, I did what I'd considered the futile act of revenge.
And for that moment, at least, it hadn't felt futile at all.
Even if I forgot everything, it wasn't easy to forget the woman named 'Amy Allen'.
A woman as short as I was, who looked at me, an Asian, without any preconceived notions.
One day, she said she'd step out for a bit and then, so senselessly...
she came back to me as a cold corpse.
Her brilliantly sparkling black hair, like a jewel.
Her warm red lips, her large dark eyes, the beauty mark beneath her eye, even her pure white skin—all of her had turned cold.
And now, after being reborn, I remembered it all even more vividly.
As if she were right before my eyes...
I don't know how much time had passed, but she was there, right in front of me.
She, made blurry by my tears, was among the lilies.
Holding onto the welling emotions, I drew the blurry number '138' at the bottom.
When I stretched, the clock somehow already read 6 o'clock, and the two of them were waiting when I stepped outside.
"...? You've been here all this time?"
Teacher Go Min-su laughed and said,
"No, we only just got back."
I looked at Teacher Go Min-su, then spotted Dad approaching from behind and waved my hand.
"Ah! I used the paints well. Professor, the painting... um... keep it. It's for the cost of the paints."
I passed by the waiting adults and ran over to Dad.