Chapter 43

Chapter 43

"Um, Artist Do Hwa-in. Could I get your autograph?"

Faces that still hadn't completely lost their baby fat looked up at me with sparkling eyes.

"Ah, sure."

Such an enthusiastic reaction....

It was a little embarrassing, but I couldn't say I disliked it.

It was the first time in my life I'd been welcomed this warmly by people from my own university.

Even when I was in college, I was always busy with sculpture and family problems. I barely talked properly with my classmates....

Now that I'd graduated and found myself surrounded on all sides by juniors, it felt awkward and strangely surreal.

It really made me realize how much my situation had changed.

"Yes! Thank you! Please sign the back of my phone case!"

They handed me a marker as though they'd been waiting for this exact moment.

I took it and signed.

Even if it felt embarrassing, I'd already become the successful senior in their eyes.

I decided I might as well act relaxed about it.

"Me too! Please sign mine too!"

"Ah, sure. Where would you like it?"

"On my back! My back!"

"Uh... your shirt looks pretty thin. I hope you're not bare-skinned underneath."

"It's fine!"

After that, I signed all kinds of things.

The sensation beneath the marker changed every time, making it a surprisingly fresh experience.

Some juniors also used the time while I was signing to sneak in questions.

"I heard that when you made <Gate of Heaven>, you didn't coordinate with the architect beforehand. Is that really true? The architect made the building separately and you made the sculpture separately, but they fit together perfectly. I don't understand how that's possible."

"The wood used in <Pilgrim> was Sacred Wood, right? I want to make something with Sacred Wood someday too! It was so, so beautiful! I personally think the material gave even more depth to the meaning of <Pilgrim>."

"Artist Do! Aren't you going to hold an exhibition? I'm ready to go through the revolving door over and over!"

Since they were art students, most of their comments and questions focused on the sculptures I'd publicly revealed so far.

Their impressions.

Things they were curious about.

Stories from behind the scenes during production.

There wasn't much time, so I could only answer briefly.

Even so, most of them left satisfied.

The loudest reaction came after I answered the last question.

"Thanks for your interest. Actually, I'm preparing an exhibition for this year."

"Kyaaaah!"

There were actual screams.

Still, it made their enthusiasm for my work obvious.

The students nearby immediately began whispering among themselves, apparently trying to guess what pieces would appear in the exhibition.

Just as the atmosphere started getting too heated, Professor Park Su-ung, who had been watching from a distance, finally stepped in.

"All right, all right. Stop holding onto your precious senior. Disperse! Looks like everyone who wanted an autograph got one."

"I still haven't gotten one!"

"Fine. You too. Hwa-in, you're okay with that, right?"

"Of course."

While I signed one final autograph for the brave last student, the others turned their boos toward Professor Park.

"Boooo! Professor! We deserve time with our senior too!"

"Nonsense. Before he's your senior, he's my student."

"Boooo! That's unfair!"

"Quiet, you brats. Disperse already! Your senior has to go drinking with the professors."

The juniors' expressions immediately filled with conflict at the words professors and drinking.

Then they fled in a hurry.

Almost as though staying any longer might get them dragged along.

"Are you unpopular with students these days, Professor? My classmates and I used to drink with you all the time."

"It's not that I'm unpopular. There just aren't any other professors around."

For the sake of preserving Professor Park's dignity, I didn't say anything else.

After that, I exchanged a dizzying series of greetings with the art professors.

By the time I regained my senses, I was sitting in a kalguksu restaurant with Professor Park Su-ung and the dean of the College of Arts.

It was a famous restaurant around the art department.

I could see several familiar student faces at nearby tables.

Every one of them kept glancing over with shining eyes.

Unlike earlier, though, none seemed willing to approach.

Probably because of the dean sitting across from me.

I didn't know the dean of the College of Arts was from the art department....

I knew full-time professors from different departments rotated into the dean position.

I just hadn't known the current dean was from fine arts.

The dean had thinning hair and a broad build.

For some reason, he kept looking at me with a distant, nostalgic gaze.

It was uncomfortable.

I quietly looked away and lifted the water glass in front of me.

Then the dean spoke.

"So... you're Master Painter Do Jae-hwan's grandson?"

"Yes? Ah, yes...."

My eyes naturally moved toward Professor Park beside him.

Professor Park glanced at the dean, then scolded me instead.

"You brat, what's with that look? Of course the dean was active in the same era as Master Painter Do Jae-hwan more than I was. The dean was also the one who told me Master Painter Do Jae-hwan had students."

Professor Park added that he'd only asked the dean privately.

"I wasn't going to complain. It's not exactly a flaw that I'm Grandfather's grandson."

"Exactly, exactly. Do Jae-hwan contributed a great deal to the art world."

The dean nodded along.

Then his nostalgic gaze drifted away from me and toward the window.

"Before Gates appeared, a group of artists who were just beginning to make names for themselves once did a joint project. We'd all work on the same theme within a set time and display the works together. I suppose you'd call it a curated group exhibition."

"..."

"Those kinds of exhibitions were popular back then. Participatory exhibitions too. That's when I met him. We got along well. We even drank together a few times."

"..."

The dean paused.

Then he cleared his throat and began eating.

Naturally, the conversation stopped for a while as everyone focused on the meal.

Come to think of it, I haven't interacted much with fellow artists.

It wasn't that I suddenly became fascinated with the joint projects the dean said had been popular when he was young.

Rather, I realized that after university, I hadn't really exchanged opinions with colleagues.

Not about art.

Not about individual works.

I'd had almost no outside stimulation from other artists.

Though the fact that there are barely any artists as successful as me right now probably contributed to that.

Still, this university had seniors who had earned reputations in the past.

And my first sculpture was nearly complete.

After that, I'd prepare for my second trip.

I've already decided on the theme of the next sculpture.

For this next work, I intended to reveal myself.

Three of the unreleased pieces in the exhibition would form a connected series.

Through them, I wanted to show Father and the other viewers why I had no choice but to sculpt.

The first work contained my past, represented through Father.

So the next sculpture would contain the present me.

In the end, I was the one who broke the silence.

"I have a question for my two seniors."

Both men immediately looked interested.

They even set down their chopsticks.

I followed suit and straightened my back.

"What do you usually do when inspiration won't come?"

"Oh? Someone like Artist Do Hwa-in must already have his own methods."

"I was curious what other artists do. I'm preparing another inspiration trip, but I still haven't decided where to go."

"An inspiration trip... Traveling is good. No matter where you go, simply leaving a familiar place refreshes your mind. It makes you think things you've never thought before."

I quietly nodded.

Professor Park enthusiastically suggested several methods first.

Watch stories with strong narratives.

Take walks.

Look at other artists' work.

Find something that could become a muse.

But unexpectedly, the words that stuck in my head came from the dean.

"I heard Artist Do has mainly sculpted all this time. Is that right?"

"Yes. I learned painting too, but I focused almost entirely on sculpture."

"Hmm. Then why not try something completely different?"

"Something different? You mean physical exercise?"

"That wouldn't be bad either. But I meant another kind of art."

The dean paused.

"Pottery, perhaps."

Pottery?

"The more I think about it, the more I'd recommend ceramics. Shaping clay on a wheel, decorating it, firing it... every step requires a great deal of work by hand. In some ways, it resembles sculpture."

"Pottery...."

"It's different, yet similar. Similar, yet completely different. Artist Do mainly uses traditional methods and works in stone and wood, correct?"

"That's right."

"Then handling materials you haven't used much could also be valuable. Of course, clay is a basic sculptural material, so I'm sure you handled plenty of it in university...."

The dean spoke with confidence.

"But sculptors and ceramic artists treat clay differently. I think it would feel different enough to you."

The dean picked up his chopsticks again.

I watched his hand lift a large bundle of kalguksu noodles and quietly nodded.

Just because the theme was myself didn't mean the answer had to be found only in methods I'd already used.

There would definitely be a version of me that I could discover through something new.

And ceramics does sound interesting.

At last, the first sculpture was complete.

I carefully adjusted the lighting.

Click.

I turned off every existing light and left only one on.

Like a spotlight on a stage, it illuminated the sculpture.

The exhibition would use the same angle.

The light stretched the statue's shadow long across the floor as though it were sunlight.

The shadow staggered as it walked.

Combined with the face obscured by darkness, it created a heavy atmosphere.

The face looked young.

Yet the shadows were so deep that the light above seemed to possess weight, pressing down on the statue.

But when I moved to the side...

The shadow changed.

Curves and grooves invisible from the front altered the statue's impression and posture.

In an instant, the face seemed older.

A young man now walked with his head lowered.

Still, his steps looked straighter than before.

The shadow that had once seemed tilted now looked like nothing more than a man walking with his hands in his pockets and his head down.

I moved again.

To the back of the statue.

I couldn't see its face.

But from the atmosphere alone, I could tell the figure had aged again.

Details hinted at age.

A back grown slightly broader and wrinkled.

Rounded shoulders.

The shadowed nape of the neck.

Subtle differences transformed the statue from a young man into someone middle-aged.

Strangely, the head that had seemed tilted and bent forward now appeared to be looking straight ahead from behind.

As though the shoulders had simply curved under the weight of life.

As though the head had naturally pushed slightly forward.

But still facing ahead.

It was an illusion created through light and shadow.

I lost count of how many times I turned the lights off and on to create these differences.

Then I moved to the other side.

Because of the lighting angle, it wasn't visible during the first viewing.

It was hidden in shadow.

Only when the viewer reached the darkest side did the statue reveal its true face.

An old man.

The lines and grooves I'd carved to create shadows now became the wrinkles of age.

The old man's face no longer held the anguish that had followed the statue throughout the viewing.

As though he had finally shaken it all away.

His eyes seemed to gaze not directly ahead, but toward the past he'd already crossed.

Or perhaps toward some distant destination he would eventually reach.

Yet the old man's expression didn't read as pure peace or happiness.

Because the moment he'd finally cast aside his worries was also the moment the spotlight had disappeared from his life.

A heavy burden.

His prime.

A conviction.

Whatever the light represented would be up to the viewer.

What would Father think the light meant?

I started trying to imagine it.

Then stopped.

Click.

The workshop lights all went dark.

I widened my view and took in the workshop as a whole.

Chaeri fluttered over and landed on my shoulder.

I raised a hand and scratched the fluffy feathers she was wearing today too.

"Let's go."

"Chaeri packed Dad's bag too!"

"Isn't it heavy?"

"This much is fine."

"Thanks."

I turned my back on the workshop that would remain empty for a while and stepped outside.

The guards accompanying me on this trip were waiting in the yard.

"It's been a while, Artist Do."

"We'll be going with you this time! Please take care of us!"

In Yeonhae and Hunter Choi Hyeong-seok.

I'd met In Yeonhae when I went to receive my Hunter license, and again at Yeonwoo Guild's departure ceremony for the massive Sudden-Type Gate.

I'd met Choi Hyeong-seok in the hospital on the day Yeonwoo Guild returned after clearing that massive Gate.

He was the Hunter who thanked me, saying the Green Dragon Crescent Blade had saved his life.

After exchanging greetings with In Yeonhae, I immediately turned to Choi Hyeong-seok.

"How's your body?"

"Oh, completely fine. You saved my life, Artist Do. It'd be disgraceful if I didn't recover properly. I got back into shape quickly and I've already been running Gates again."

His reactions were just as dramatic as they'd been in the hospital.

"You're heading to Jeongmyeong City this time, correct?"

"Yes."

Jeongmyeong City was a new city created after reconstruction split apart a larger pre-Gate city.

During reconstruction, oversized cities had been divided into smaller administrative regions to make management easier.

It was in Gyeonggi Province, but I'd never visited before.

I chose Jeongmyeong because it contained the pottery village closest to my home.

Apparently the village had existed even before the Gate Era, which meant it had quite a long history.

The quality of clay was essential in ceramics.

Since the village had managed to remain in the same place all this time, there was probably good pottery clay available around Jeongmyeong.

"Uh...."

But the expressions on the two guards' faces weren't good.

"What's wrong?"

"Well, Artist Do... do you know what kind of place Jeongmyeong City currently is?"

"...No. Is there a problem?"

"Among Hunters, it's quietly rumored to be a conflict zone."

"A conflict zone?"

There was somewhere like that in South Korea?

Apparently my expression was too transparent, because In Yeonhae elaborated.

"I don't know the details either. The information spreads very quietly. Maybe because the source is unclear. Anyway, I've heard Jeongmyeong is practically lawless. Something about an old criminal organization and a small or medium guild fighting for influence...?"

"Those two groups sound completely different."

"Exactly."

In Yeonhae shrugged, saying that was all she knew.

"Do you still want to go?"

"To be honest... I do. As long as it's not too dangerous."

A pottery village that had survived in an age when art had become rare.

It was difficult to imagine a place that interested me more.

And it seemed like the perfect place to experience ceramic art.

Of course, safety still came first.

"If there were truly serious problems, it probably would've become a much bigger public issue by now.... And since you're not going there to enter Gates or fight monsters, I think it should be all right. You said your destination is the pottery village, correct?"

"Yes. We'll get lodging after arriving in Jeongmyeong, then go straight to the pottery village."

"I heard about that pottery village when I was young too. My parents said they bought flowerpots there before the Gate Era. It still exists?"

"From what I found, the pottery village is still there."

"Wow. That's impressive in itself. Cities collapsed and addresses changed everywhere. Remaining in one place isn't easy."

I nodded in agreement and walked toward the car first.

Choi Hyeong-seok quickened his steps and opened the car door for me.

I bowed lightly and got inside.

He grinned confidently.

"Still, I don't think anything serious will happen. What sane Korean would mess with you, Artist Do? And you've got me and Team Leader In Yeonhae with you."

"Is that so? Either way, I'm counting on you."

"Leave it to us!"

Well, the name Yeonwoo Guild itself was intimidating.

Their Hunter ranks were intimidating too.

And naturally, the fact that I possessed the world's only S-Class production skill wasn't exactly weak protection either.

Something might happen if people failed to recognize me.

But after they realized who I was?

It would be difficult for any incident to continue.

That was obvious.

Common sense, really.

There was just one thing we'd overlooked.

Everywhere in the world...

There were always lunatics who didn't care about common sense.