Chapter 33

[Ha Soo-Yul: Where are you?]

[Me: On my way.]

Thanks to my mom driving, I easily made it to the school gate.

But I only had five minutes left.

Deciding it wasn’t worth rushing, I chose to walk instead.

‘Who cares if I’m a little late to the entrance ceremony? It’s not like there’s a penalty.’

The Private Comprehensive Arts High School.

This was not only the school I would be attending but also the main stage of the original story.

If I hadn’t had an interest in art, I probably would’ve followed my previous life’s path and gone to a general high school.

The arts high school was divided into five departments:

Performing Arts

Fine Arts

Creative Writing

Music

Physical Education

Naturally, I was in the Fine Arts department. Ha Soo-Yul was in Physical Education, and Choi Ye-Seo joined the Performing Arts department.

Honestly, I still didn’t understand why an arts high school had a physical education department, but apparently, it was because of the “Comprehensive” in its name.

‘I guess I’ll figure it out as I go… Anyway, where’s the auditorium?’

Looking around, there were large buildings everywhere.

With no map in sight, I reluctantly pulled out my phone to check the school’s layout.

“Let’s see, from here…”

I finally found it after rounding one more building—the main auditorium.

“Whoa, this place is massive…”

Its size was no joke, befitting a primary stage for major events.

“Hey there, are you a freshman? The ceremony’s already started.”

A well-dressed woman standing at the auditorium’s entrance called out to me.

Her name tag identified her as a staff member.

It read: Lee Ah-Reum, Painting Division Instructor.

I wasn’t reacting just because I recognized her from the original story—I’d seen her name in the news.

If you had to name a few masters in the Korean art world, Lee Ah-Reum would definitely make the list. And now, she was standing right in front of me.

“Can I still go in? I don’t think I’m that late,” I asked.

Lee Ah-Reum smiled and nodded.

“Of course. Just be quiet when you enter. The chairman is giving his speech.”

“Thank you.”

She gestured for me to go in, her smile tinged with subtle amusement.

‘She knows who I am.’

It was obvious she had seen me on YouTube.

Given all the buzz and controversy, it was only natural that someone from the art world would recognize me.

Passing by her, I opened the door and stepped inside, greeted by a sea of heads.

The entrance ceremony wasn’t much different from the ones I’d attended before. The only unique aspect was…

‘Pink, green, blue, and orange hair everywhere.’

The variety of hair colors stood out.

‘Ah, there they are.’

I spotted Ha Soo-Yul and Choi Ye-Seo. Perhaps as a gesture of consideration, they had left an empty seat between them.

Though I tried to move discreetly, I still drew some attention.

“Phew…”

“Why are you so late?”

The moment I sat down, I was met with a scolding.

“I stopped by the studio.”

Ha Soo-Yul frowned, then suddenly widened her eyes.

“Sniff, sniff. Smells like… a girl.”

“What are you talking about?”

I waved casually at Choi Ye-Seo before turning my attention to the stage.

The chairman, hunched over with age, was giving his speech, followed by the principal and vice-principal.

‘Come to think of it, isn’t this school run by the S Group?’

The thought made me chuckle. What a coincidence.

The ceremony itself wasn’t very long—likely out of consideration for the students.

Afterward, the class assignments were announced.

‘The assignments were probably decided in advance.’

At this school, placements were determined purely by skill, starting with the practical exams during admission.

As names were called, I was placed in Class 1.

After saying goodbye to Ha Soo-Yul and Choi Ye-Seo, I stood and made my way to the assigned room.

I thought it would just be another ordinary day, but…

“…Long time no see.”

On my way to Class 1, I ran into Lee Do-Yoon.

…Why was he in the Fine Arts department?

What I knew about Lee Do-Yoon was this: he had no talent for art and never joined the Fine Arts department in the original story.

Instead, he had entered the Performing Arts department, relying on his looks.

But here he was, in Fine Arts.

“Why are you here? Why not Performing Arts?”

We hadn’t been in touch lately, so I never got the chance to ask about his plans.

“Ahaha… I didn’t think I could handle Performing Arts,” he replied.

His personality had mellowed out, so much so that it felt like he was a different person.

“Alright, it’s your choice. I won’t pry. See you around.”

With the bell about to ring, I waved him off and continued to my classroom.

“…Yeah, see you.”

Do-Yoon’s awkward smile lingered.

‘Something must’ve happened.’

Baek Yoo-Seol likely joined the Music department, as per the original story.

There was no way she’d deviate from her path like Do-Yoon had.

The original plot was already starting to unravel.

Had Ye-Seo met Do-Yoon at a concert? Did Hong Yea-Hwa give him a towel?

Various thoughts swirled in my mind, but I shook them off.

Getting involved would only bring unnecessary trouble.

As I entered the classroom, I saw a mix of students, including some who looked like foreigners and others with an air of wealth.

But the most eye-catching of them all was Hong Yea-Hwa.

‘Of course she’s in Class 1.’

I expected it, but seeing her in person was still something else.

Half a year ago, my name had started to fade from the spotlight. Now, it was her turn as “God’s Hand” to take center stage.

The entire class was focused on her as she calmly sketched in her notebook, exuding an aura of elegance.

I decided not to bother and moved to an empty seat by the window at the back of the room.

The classic “delinquent’s seat” felt oddly comforting.

‘This spot is the best… Wait, why is she looking at me?’

As I nodded in satisfaction, I met Hong Yea-Hwa’s gaze.

When I returned her stare with a questioning look, she turned away.

What was that about? Her character was certainly distinct.

I averted my gaze and pulled out my phone.

Any school that makes students study on the first day is no longer a school—it’s a prison.

I was about to kill time with some webtoons when…

Clack.

“Oh my! Yea-Hwa, isn’t it?”

A loud voice from the door made me look up again.

“Go away,” Hong Yea-Hwa growled, her tone sharp.

Despite her hostility, the girl with the braided bun smiled brightly.

Who was she? I didn’t recognize this character.

How was I supposed to remember every minor detail in a story?

As I watched curiously, the girl suddenly locked eyes with me.

“!”

She recoiled in surprise and quickly looked away.

What was that about? I didn’t do anything wrong.

The classroom grew noisier until a teacher entered and restored order.

“Hello, everyone! I’m Lee Ah-Reum, and I’ll be your homeroom teacher for the next year!”

‘I figured as much, but it still feels strange.’

The class erupted in cheers—understandably so, given how young and attractive she was.

Even the girls seemed to admire her as a role model.

“Ahem! Should I introduce myself first?”

What happened to starting with today’s schedule?

“My name is Lee Ah-Reum! I’m still a young 25-year-old woman, okay?”

I already wanted to go home.

“I’ll be in charge of Fine Arts Class 1. Let’s get along, everyone!”

Her lively introduction was met with applause. Most of the students already knew who she was, so the excitement was natural.

“Now, let’s start introductions from the front row on the left.”

And so began the relay of introductions. While waiting for my turn, I idly played with my phone under the desk.

Eventually, it was Hong Yea-Hwa’s turn.@@novelbin@@

“My name is Hong Yea-Hwa. I like drawing, and I don’t particularly dislike anything. I’ll be staying in the dorms.”

Her brief introduction left the room in silence. But honestly, that’s how introductions should be—short and simple.

Next was the girl with the braided bun, who seemed close to Yea-Hwa.

“Hi, everyone! I’m Kim Ji-Ah! I—”

A typical introduction for a typical name. I had no idea who she was.

Finally, it was my turn.

“I’m Lee Ha-Eun. I like my sister. And, uh…”

What else was I supposed to say? Did people even do introductions anymore?

Did I have to?

Just then, I met Lee Ah-Reum’s gaze.

“Ha-Eun won first place in the Drawing Korea competition, right?”

Why bring that up, teacher? Everyone who cares already knows.

“Yeah, I did…”

“That’s amazing! The entries in that competition were all high-level.”

“They were, but not as high as mine.”

Telling me not to be arrogant doesn’t work—I’m allowed to be.

But why was Hong Yea-Hwa staring at me? I had no idea.

“You also run a YouTube channel with a huge following, right?”

“Yes, though I don’t handle the management myself.”

“With your talent, shouldn’t you compete internationally?”

What was with this teacher? Why was she so fixated on me?

Still, the question wasn’t hard to answer, so I responded honestly.

“I’m planning to enter the World Art Prize this July. It’s an international art competition.”

“Oh? I’m participating too! We’re rivals now, huh?”

Was her mental age lower than it should be? She felt impossible to communicate with.

“Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time. You can sit down now.”

Thankfully, that ended my introduction.

I was starting to wonder when we’d get our textbooks.

And as if on cue…

“Next, we’re heading to pick up your textbooks! Follow me!”

The class got up and followed Lee Ah-Reum. I trailed behind, lost in thought.

The World Art Prize, this year’s international art competition, would be held in Grand Rapids, Michigan, as it was every year.

However, unlike the previous timeline, it was scheduled for July instead of September.

The prize money had also changed. The base prize had increased from $200,000 to $1.2 million.

It wasn’t just the World Art Prize; other international competitions had also diverged significantly from what I knew.

Was it because this was a romantic comedy world? I wasn’t sure.

Tap, tap.

Someone tapped my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts. It was Hong Yea-Hwa.

“You’re Lee Ha-Eun, right?”

“I introduced myself earlier.”

“…Are you good at drawing? How good?”

“Wouldn’t you already know?”

Why was someone who’d clearly seen my work asking this?

“Then come to my house.”

…What?

My first conversation with Hong Yea-Hwa, and she was already proving she wasn’t normal.