"Draw, Antonio. Draw again, don't waste time."
– Words written by Michelangelo on a copy of his sketch made by his student, Antonio Mini –
"...Hmm? Combine what?"
"These two."
"Huh?"
"I told you. This piece is one and two at the same time."
There was one important fact.
Kang-seok's live stream was still ongoing at that very moment.
[Anyone understand what they're saying?]
[Even with lip reading, I don't think we can catch that conversation from this distance... it's too far.]
[Agreed. I use sign language and still can't make it out.]
As usual, the microphone was turned off to account for the loud carving sounds.
The only thing visible in the livestream was Kang-seok pointing at his work and Yang Seon-gu reacting with surprise.
[Whatever he said, it must've been an amazing proposal or explanation.]
[I think so too.]
[If you didn't pick that up, then...]
The viewers clamored to know what Kang-seok had said. Of course, it was a futile effort—the conversation couldn't reach the two men on camera.
"...Well, I could contact them, but it's late now. Maybe early tomorrow morning? Is that okay?"
"Sure. It's not urgent."
"Alright, alright. They're early risers anyway, so we'll get a reply soon enough. Then... does this mean the piece is finally done today?"
Kang-seok stroked the grinder in his work bag on the floor and set down his hammer and chisel. He nodded.
"Yes."
He wiped the sweat from his forehead and neck with a towel and looked at the sculpture.
"For now."
With a satisfied sigh, Kang-seok walked over. Still wearing his work clothes, his sweat-drenched hair from winter exertion swept back. He turned the camera to face him and turned on the microphone.
The camera's built-in mic began to capture ambient sound. Though Kang-seok couldn't see it, the chat began to scroll rapidly.
[He's wrapping up.]
[(₩1,000) Where will it be exhibited?]
[(₩1,000) Please tell us, man.]
[(₩1,000) Where will this sculpture be shown? 😭😭😭 Please, just that info! 😭😭😭]
[Please let it be in Korea this time.]
[Last one was overseas, so probably Korea this time. Or at least a domestic temporary exhibition.
[(₩3,000) Please 😭😭😭 If I'm not wrong,
[Younger sibling...?]
[There's a dude next door.]
Kang-seok bowed slightly toward the unseen chat as if to greet them, then spoke.
"Hello, this is Kang-seok. This piece was inspired by the folktale The Woodcutter and the Fairy. The title is Flight (飛騰), and it will be displayed at the outdoor hot spring pool of the new [Baekya] Hotel being built by the Sangang Group. I hope you'll come and see it."
[(₩1,000) So fast! He speaks so fast!]
[He's going to end it!]
[(₩10,000) I always follow your work, Kang-seok. Please hold a signing or something someday. I'd love to speak with you, but never get the chance.]
[Please, don't go. Let's talk more...]
[I'm a mom of a 5th grader and want them to study sculpture professionally. Could you tell me where you trained? How did you get into Cheonghwa Arts High?]
[Don't go, hyung.]
The chat exploded—with people marveling at the sculpture behind him, admiring his face, asking questions they'd been waiting to ask, and begging him to stay.
[(₩1,000) Please hire a manager. The chat's chaos.]
[Drop your address.]
[Please publish a book.]
[(₩1,000) Don't go, don't go, don't go, don't go.]
[Love the piece!]
[Always in awe.]
[(₩50,000) Great stream again. Hope to see you next time.]
But Kang-seok was too tired to respond to them all.
Having poured out all his energy, he ended the stream while trying to maintain a courteous demeanor.
"I'll return with another live stream next time."
With that final goodbye, the stream ended.
Yang Seon-gu approached, telling him he'd done well.
He held a waterproof tarp in his hands.
There was no forecast for snow, but Korean weather was too unpredictable to trust the forecast. Yang Seon-gu told Kang-seok to go rest while he covered the sculpture and they'd clean up tomorrow.
Late at night.
Kang-seok bowed his head in gratitude several times and entered the room. His face met the thick, warm blankets. The warmth had already filled the room, soaking into his cold skin.
So nice.
In the dark room, like a cocoon, Kang-seok crawled into the blankets and closed his eyes.
It was a peaceful night.
January 1st.
A new year, early dawn.
Kang-seok left behind his sweet sleep, lured out by the sound of something swishing outside.
Perhaps because he had finished his work, even though he hadn't slept long, his body felt oddly refreshed. It felt like he had shed something old.
Creak. Stepping onto the floor, he saw Yang Seon-gu in the yard—still dark with night's energy—waving a wooden stick around in clothes that weren't quite traditional hanbok but similar.
"...Teacher?"
What are you doing? Kang-seok held back the question and simply watched. Without any embarrassment, Yang Seon-gu laughed like a Taoist hermit and replied,
"I'm going to watch the sunrise. I heard from the folks down the hill that the view from that small mountain is amazing... hmm. You're already up—want to come with me?"
"Watch the sunrise?"
"It's a new year—seems like a good idea, no? Now that the piece is done, it's a perfect time to take a breather... unless you don't want to?"
"Oh, no. Sure... let's go."
Dressed in sweats, Kang-seok walked over slowly. Yang Seon-gu said, "Great," and picked up a cookie box from the porch floor to bring along.
And just like that, Kang-seok found himself on an impromptu hike with Yang Seon-gu.
...
It wasn't really a hike—the hill was so low they reached the top in no time.
At a rough bench on a small plateau—hardly a summit—Kang-seok sat and looked ahead. He had brought a pencil and sketchbook on a whim, and the view made it feel worthwhile.
"This is nice."
He was glad he'd come.
Yang Seon-gu opened the cookie box and munched as Kang-seok looked out ahead, waiting for the slow sunrise. Kang-seok took a bite of a cookie—sweet, with large white chocolate chips embedded in matcha-flavored dough. Tilting his head, he wondered—
Come to think of it, where does Teacher Yang get these cookies?
When working, Kang-seok often munched on bread or cookies—it was easy and convenient even while sculpting.
But now that he thought about it, it was strange that this remote mountain home always had such treats.
He couldn't recall any bakery nearby that sold these cookies... Kang-seok looked at Yang Seon-gu with curious eyes.
"Sir, where on earth do you get these kinds of cookies?"
"Hmm?"
Yang Seon-gu, who had stopped mid-bite, asked back in surprise.
"What are you talking about?"
"The cookies. It seemed like there were always tons of bread or cookies whenever we were working…"
"Ahh, you mean these?"
Yang Seon-gu stroked his beard, looking intrigued.
"I knew you had an unusual level of focus, but I didn't think you had no memory of it at all. It wasn't me. Not me—your friends, and that guy... what's his name again? Jo Dong-beom. That Jo fellow brought them."
"...What?"
"That guy often brings cookies and bread he baked himself. These cookies too—he made them. He said, 'Please take good care of Master Kang'... he came several times, but I guess you don't remember."
How could a person concentrate so well?
Yang Seon-gu clicked his tongue in amazement.
Kang-seok stared at the cookies, astonished by Yang Seon-gu's words.
Kang-seok had always been the type to completely lose sight of his surroundings when he focused. It felt like everything vanished except for what he was concentrating on, so he really hadn't known.
'...So the chairman brought these himself…?'
As he looked at the cookies, Kang-seok recalled Jo Dong-beom's face—the man who always respectfully called him "Master." He'd always found it impressive how someone older could be so devoted, calling him "Master" like that… And then it happened.
Suddenly, a boy's face flashed through his mind—one that resembled Jo Dong-beom when he smiled. It wasn't someone from this life. It was a face from a previous one. A face from a bond that was long, yet brief.
Antonio Mini.
Around the year 1522, a boy like sunlight had come to him, wanting to learn sculpture. That face of Antonio Mini flickered through Kang-seok's mind.
'A disciple is really something…'
Kang-seok twitched the corner of his lips with a strange emotion. The sun was gradually rising.
The world seen through reddish-brown eyes was breathtaking.
Snow piled atop the nearly black earth looked like a white ocean, and the red-and-yellow sun rising in the greying sky resembled a single flower blooming above the sea.
"It's beautiful. What the people in the village said wasn't a lie, right?"
Kang-seok nodded in agreement to Yang Seon-gu, who sought his opinion, then picked up his pencil. As he watched the sunrise, he began sketching without hesitation in his drawing pad—a peony.
A peony viewed from above.
A peony viewed from below, as if picking the flower.
A peony viewed from the side.
A peony viewed from a diagonal angle.
'The chairman always struggled to depict petals unfolding gently.'
Kang-seok quickly sketched fluttering petals from various perspectives, and before the sun had fully risen, he had already filled four pages with clusters of blossoms.
'Maybe I'll lend this as a teaching tool when I return to Seoul…'
Drawing this a thousand times would surely lead to improvement. With that thought, Kang-seok tapped his knee lightly with his pencil.
'How much did that old sketch sell for again?'
That sketch of a mourning woman had apparently sold at a 2001 art auction for 8 million dollars. With the exchange rate at the time, that would've been around 10.23 billion won. Hmm. Lending it out for now would be the better choice.
As he recalled the tragic end with Antonio Mini, Kang-seok rolled his pencil around.
In his past life, he'd had countless disciples, and had to part ways with many—but the end with Antonio Mini had left a particularly bitter aftertaste. Not that any parting was easy. Kang-seok took a deep breath.
Jo Dong-beom strangely reminded him of Antonio. While Kang-seok was now living a very different life from his previous one… maybe, just maybe, the ending could be different this time.
With that thought, Kang-seok slowly rose from his seat.
The sky had turned blue, and the sun continued to be tinged red and yellow.
It was a color scheme not easily forgotten.
By age, he was now twenty—a new year had begun.
As soon as Kang-seok came down from his mountain hike, he contacted Park Seon-woo. The sculpture was finished, and he told him to come see it.
It didn't take long before Park Seon-woo arrived at Yang Seon-gu's hanok, bringing along Director Jin Do-uk and Executive Ryu Jung-hyeong.
That was on January 3rd.
Considering how hectic the year-end and New Year period is for businesspeople, it was a remarkably quick meeting.
"Our artist Kang-seok! Long time no see!"
"CEO Park Seon-woo, long time no see."
Park Seon-woo smiled brightly and threw an arm around Kang-seok's shoulder. Kang-seok returned the foreign-style greeting awkwardly and guided the group into the hanok.
"Long time no see, Artist Kang."
"Artist Kang, I came too."
"Executive Ryu, long time no see. Director Jin, it's only been a week for you."
Though Director Jin was here thanks to Park Seon-woo, he exchanged meaningful glances with Kang-seok, clearly wanting a private word.
"Haha. That's right. By any chance, Artist Kang… could I have a moment with you later to talk...?"
"Talk?"
Meanwhile, Park Seon-woo's group was being gently guided toward the piece. Park Seon-woo nudged aside the persistent Director Jin and took the spot beside Kang-seok.
"I was surprised you contacted me ahead of the deadline. Our Artist Kang is just… you're perfect for me. Makes me want to keep working with you."
Since there was still some distance from the gate to the courtyard, Park Seon-woo seemed to choose to focus on Kang-seok instead of the not-yet-visible artwork.
"If the opportunity comes."
Kang-seok gave a mild smile, subtly evading him. That's when it happened—Park Seon-woo, as if expecting it, pulled out a white document. Kang-seok's eyes lit up at the thick bundle of papers inside an L-shaped folder.
"This is…?"
"Yes. A contract."
Without hesitation, Park Seon-woo handed it to Kang-seok.
"Before seeing the piece?"
"That's what makes it meaningful."
Park Seon-woo smiled.
If Kang-seok had completed the sculpture, it meant he was satisfied with the result. At that point, what use would a businessperson's judgment be regarding its value? The very act of securing a work by the Kang-seok brand was meaningful.
Besides, they had been monitoring the piece through livestreams. It was already more than satisfying. That's why Park Seon-woo didn't bother playing petty negotiation games with the building he'd intended to hand over anyway—better to give and earn points.
"We've resolved the capital gains tax issue cleanly. By the way, for the acquisition and property tax…"
As Park Seon-woo trailed off, Kang-seok gave a reassuring smile.
"There's no need to worry."
The time of nervously stressing over whether he could afford taxes was over. At his calm reply, Park Seon-woo nodded.
"That's a relief."
Looking at his now-empty hands, Park Seon-woo pursed his lips with a twinge of regret. A young man, not even three days into being twenty, was now the owner of an eight-story building in downtown Seoul—Renaissance Mall.
The world really is something… Though, of course, Kang-seok fully deserved it. After all, this world runs on capitalism.
But more than anything, Park Seon-woo was afraid.
Afraid of Kang-seok's talent—one that defied wealth and climbed at a terrifying pace.
This must be what true talent is.
Thinking of his relatives who boasted about "learning art with money," Park Seon-woo gave a hollow laugh.
Then, a thought suddenly struck him.
"Ah, right. Come to think of it, I heard from Director Seol Yeo-jin of the Peony Gallery—apparently you've leased the entire 7th floor. Is there a plan for that? As the former owner, I'm genuinely curious… Mind telling me?"
Between us, hmm?
He nudged Kang-seok's side playfully. Ryu Jung-hyeong and Jin Do-uk turned back too, clearly interested.
"Ah."
Kang-seok smiled.
"Well, I was thinking of maybe opening a gallery or something."
The seventh floor.
Kang-seok planned to make that space his playground.