Chapter 47

47

* * * *

The shaded glass workshop.

Gangseok, who had been gazing at the pale pink heart, lifted his hammer and brought it down. Thud! Squish, crunch. Crack. Something soft and solid was torn apart as if crushed by the hammer's stone.

Gangseok, striking the hammer with a blank expression, resembled Michelangelo, who had once smashed his own works with a hammer because they lacked a soul. Though his face appeared expressionless, it was filled with anger, and his eyes burned with a passion for perfection.

It was his obsession with his work.

Gangseok pushed aside the squished alginate and began sprinkling more alginate powder into the bowl.

* * * *

February 28th.

The last day of February.

On an afternoon when the rain had cleared, revealing the scent of the grass on the street, Jo Dongbeom quickened his pace. He pulled a suitcase with one hand and clutched a box to his chest with the other, his face brimming with satisfaction.

"It was fun."

The box in Jo Dongbeom's hand was the source of his three-day business trip. The wave glass workshop in Busan's Haeundae, which claimed to create works inspired by the sea and waves, was so well-packaged that Jo Dongbeom couldn't resist buying one.

He regretted it immediately after, but what could he do? This was part of the charm of a business trip. Jo Dongbeom thought about where to place it in the office as he recalled the contents of his suitcase.

"I hope he likes it."

He had brought back a lot of things to share with his master, from all the trendy breads in Busan to a set of famous fish cakes. He had packed so much that he had to step on the suitcase to close it. The amount of travel gifts was enough to last a week of three meals a day.

Feeling a sense of accomplishment, Jo Dongbeom hummed a tune and looked down at the box again.

Naturally, his thoughts turned to the wave-shaped glass bottle inside the box.

While most of the workshop's items were blue and teal, which was a bit disappointing, the blue-tinted glass was quite well-made.

Recalling this, Jo Dongbeom sighed.

Three months ago.

If he had visited the wave glass workshop three months ago, it would have been better. He would have enjoyed the craftsmanship, thinking, "It's no wonder the good stuff sells." However, Jo Dongbeom couldn't do that.

Throughout the three-day trip, he kept thinking about his master, and his entire schedule was a mess.

"Our master would have done better."

"Our master would have done it this way. Our master could have done even more. Our master wouldn't have made it like that."

"Our master...!"

From start to finish, all he could think about was his master. Why did it end up like this? Well, Jo Dongbeom knew the reason best.

His eyes were glued to his master's feet.

He felt that he had to follow at least the level of his master's feet for his work to be considered good. It was a big problem. At thirty, how could he have such high standards? Jo Dongbeom sighed.

Of course, part of him thought it was a good thing. It meant his taste and knowledge were improving. To survive in the workshop, he had to be sensitive to trends and research better classes.

So, it was fortunate that his taste had improved. Of course, this was possible only because he had watched thousands of glass moldings at his master's side, even if only for a short time.

"Is this why old apprentices revered their masters like fathers?"

It seemed to make sense. Just a few days ago, he had thought such outdated ideas were ridiculous, but how did it end up like this? Jo Dongbeom, amazed at himself, opened the garage door.

The moment he stepped into the space converted into a workshop, Jo Dongbeom felt one thing.

It was cold.

It was so cold that it felt warmer outside. Just as he was about to turn around, a breeze blew, and a shadow quickly covered the workshop, as if a cloud had blocked the sun.

"Master?"

Jo Dongbeom took a slow step forward.

After a few steps, in the darkness where his eyes hadn't yet adjusted, he followed the light visible behind a hidden object and suddenly something hit his foot.

A bead? Jo Dongbeom looked down unconsciously. Even in the darkness, it was clearly white. But was it a bead? It seemed a bit too large. As he slightly moved his foot, a squishy sound was heard, and something soft was stepped on.

A white substance popped out from under his foot. Ah. Ah! The sensation made Jo Dongbeom shiver as if bugs were crawling all over his body. He blinked. What was stuck to his foot was an eyeball.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Jo Dongbeom hopped around like a grasshopper. Ah! Ah! I stepped on it! I stepped on an eyeball! Ah! No way! Ah! AAAHHHHH! Jo Dongbeom shuddered as if bugs had entered his body.

At the same time, a rustling sound was heard. Footsteps were approaching quickly. Jo Dongbeom, pale with fear, looked towards the light. As he covered his mouth in terror,

"Ah, you're here?"

Gangseok appeared from the darkness.

"Ma, Master?"

"Is it already the 28th?"

Judging by his lost sense of time, it was really his master, Gangseok. Jo Dongbeom rushed towards Gangseok.

"Ma, Ma, Ma, Master!"

"Excuse me?"

Jo Dongbeom, who had thrown off his shoe that stepped on the eyeball, stomped his foot and clung to Gangseok's pants.

"AAAAHHHHH, eyeball, AHHHHH! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!"

Gangseok looked down at Jo Dongbeom, who was sobbing loudly, as if asking if he knew what had just happened. He was also startled by the sight of a man in his thirties gagging, but the main reason for his furrowed brow was that he couldn't understand a word.

What is he saying? Gangseok narrowed his eyes and tried to focus, and then he noticed something white under the discarded shoe. A shiny white substance with red lines like blood vessels and a round shape reminiscent of an eyeball.

Ah.

"It rolled over here."

I couldn't find it no matter where I looked. Gangseok, who thought he had forgotten about it, looked at the floor. At that moment, Jo Dongbeom's head lifted. Jo Dongbeom, who had been sobbing loudly, blinked.

Thinking about it, the only thing that had been in the workshop from the beginning was Gangseok. Jo Dongbeom, who suddenly stiffened, looked up at Gangseok. Then, as Gangseok was peeling off the white jelly-like substance from his shoe, he muttered,

"I have to make it again."

"Huh?"

What did you say?

Jo Dongbeom looked at Gangseok.

"What, what are you making again?"

Gangseok looked down at him with a puzzled expression and replied,

"Marktub 1 eye."

"Marktub? M, M, M, Marktub?"

Jo Dongbeom was surprised. If Marktub was the anatomical model Gangseok had said he would make, then was this it? Jo Dongbeom, shocked, looked at the squished eyeball.

...What on earth happened during the three days I was away?

* * * *

– "Did you complete a quest to ascend to a god while I was away?"

It couldn't have happened otherwise. This was what Jo Dongbeom said after seeing the practice results.

Gangseok laughed while drying his hair with a towel. It was always enjoyable to see someone be amazed by his work, even though he wasn't fully satisfied yet.

Gangseok, running his hand through his hair, walked towards the kitchen. On the kitchen table was a letter he had taken from the mailbox on his way home.

"But what's this letter?"

His mother, Baek Myunghee, who was cooking in the kitchen, turned around, looking puzzled. Gangseok immediately flipped the letter to check the sender.

Younghak Lee. It was Younghak Lee, the ornithologist who had sold the house where he lived with the money from the hawk owl sculpture. Inside the envelope were two photos, no letter.

A hawk owl.

He must have gone to take photos. Gangseok looked at the photo of the hawk owl with a wry smile.

"Grandpa Younghak sent this."

"Oh, really? Him?"

Baek Myunghee, who had put down the short ribs stew and sat opposite, took the photos. There was only one bowl of rice on the table.

Baek Myunghee had already eaten, and Gang Chae-young and Gang Hyun had gone to a nearby park to play with fireworks. Gangseok, taking the bowl of rice, greeted and picked up his chopsticks.

Only then did he notice the short ribs stew in his eyes. Why did Gang Chae-young, the short ribs stew killer, leave this? When his mother said she would make short ribs stew, he thought all the leftovers would end up in Gang Chae-young's mouth. Gangseok, surprised, picked up a piece of short rib with his chopsticks.

Reading the surprise in his eyes, Baek Myunghee explained.

"Chae-young said Ji-oppa couldn't eat much, so she had to guard the short ribs stew. She was like a complete freezer guard."

"Really?"

"That's what she said."

Gangseok momentarily glanced at Gang Chae-young's room. Even though they had gone to play with fireworks, it was still surprising.

How interesting. Gangseok nodded and ate the short rib. Then Baek Myunghee clapped her hands as if remembering something.

"By the way, the art school called today."

"The art school?"

"Yes. The sculpture school you attend."

Ah, the sculpture school. He had attended a well-known sculpture art school in Seogyodong, near Cheongdae. Gangseok nodded.

"Why did they call?"

"They asked if you were going to quit."

"......They called you to ask if I was quitting?"

"Apparently. You didn't go to the winter special lectures, right? They called about that."

"What?"

"They asked if you were quitting. They said it was a pity because it's an important time, and you have talent... They used to say your grades were good but your skills weren't improving, but yesterday they said what about preparing for Hongik University or Seoul University? They said sculpture is relatively less competitive, so it's possible. And they asked me about Mr. Go Dohan's solo exhibition."

Baek Myunghee, pouring water into the barley tea, said.

"Isn't that funny? Suddenly, Mr. Go Dohan's solo exhibition. How did it spread to the school?"

"Well, rumors spread quickly in the art school district."

Gangseok replied nonchalantly.

Art school for college entrance exams. Especially a well-known franchise art school for college entrance exams is at the forefront of rumors.

When you spend the entire vacation with art school teachers like family, all kinds of stories, true or not, circulate.

Moreover, the sculpture art school [Land] where Gangseok attended operated four branches in the metropolitan area. Most importantly, the [Land] where Gangseok attended was the main branch in Seogyodong, near Cheongdae.

There were several classmates from Cheonghwa High School's sculpture major in the same school. The news that he had participated in Mr. Go Dohan's solo exhibition must have spread hundreds of times in the school.

"But, Seok-ah. What are you going to do? Are you really going to quit the school?"

Baek Myunghee brought up a topic she had wanted to ask for a few weeks. While others attend the art school from morning to night, Gangseok didn't do that at all during this vacation.

At first, she thought it was for portfolio preparation and extracurricular activities. But watching him take the hawk owl sculpture commission from Professor Minhyuk and the mural work from the Peony Gallery, she couldn't help but notice.

Gangseok had never planned to attend the winter special lectures.

"Hmm."

"Is it okay not to go to the school?"

Baek Myunghee knew that Gangseok had an incredible talent. Anyone who wasn't blind could see it. However, unfortunately, college entrance art was a different matter.

Universities want to break free from the typical college entrance art mold, but they can't. That's why art schools always make money. It means that Gangseok's free art might not work in college entrance exams.

Can you do college entrance art without attending an art school? Baek Myunghee looked at Gangseok with a worried expression. It was a bitter reality in South Korea.

"It's fine."

But Gangseok dismissed such concerns.

Why is college entrance art necessary? It's necessary to get into an art university. And Gangseok had a plan for that part, though he didn't intend to explain it to his parents now.

"I'm going to quit the school. Is that okay?"

"......Is that so? The school is your choice, Seok-ah. What are you going to do? Should we go to the school together? Should we tell them you're quitting and then go eat something delicious?"

Baek Myunghee, who had some extra money in the household budget, suggested. In the past, she had struggled to balance the budget, but now she could spend it loosely and still have money left over.

Things had been going smoothly since Gangseok carved that cradle.

Baek Myunghee's eyes sparkled.

Gangseok, who had put down the short rib, tilted his head.

"Is there a refund for the school?"

"No? There isn't?"

"Then I'll go by myself."

There's no point in showing a good face when you're quitting. It's not a school. A college entrance art school is ultimately a place to make money. They are obsessed with hanging banners for how many students they get into college. They need every student.

"Still, wouldn't it be better to go together?"

They would say all sorts of sweet things to keep a student who applies to six schools through early admission and three through regular admission. Asking you to come to the locker to get your things is a way to catch you before you run away.

How much does a high school senior contribute to a college entrance art school? It's a goldmine. Gangseok, who had finished the short rib, said firmly.

"It's fine. I'll go by myself because I have to go to the studio right after, so it's more convenient. It's flexible."

"Okay? If the teachers say anything, call me right away, okay?"

Baek Myunghee, who looked worried, subtly placed the short ribs stew on top of the rice bowl. Gangseok had just finished eating the short ribs, but new short ribs were displayed on the white rice.

"Eat a lot. My son."

"Okay."

Gangseok's lips twitched.

Home is the best.

.

.

.

The next day.

Gangseok opened his sleepy eyes. After blinking a few times, the blurry image became clear. It was a refreshing morning. What time is it?

Gangseok's head turned to the phone on the bedside table. The light in the darkness pointed to 10:30 AM. It was the day before the start of school, March 1st.

It was time for the college entrance art school to take a break.

Since it was a public holiday, it felt a bit awkward to visit the glass workshop.

Most importantly, school was starting tomorrow.

Gangseok stared blankly at the ceiling.

Such leisure, it's been a while.

Although his schedule wasn't leisurely, he thought so. What should I do today? The sound of the refrigerator hummed through the closed door. It seemed the family had all gone out, and only the white noise of electronic devices stimulated Gangseok's ears.

Then,

Beep, beep.

The phone rang.

"Hello."

He answered without checking who was calling, his voice hoarse. For a moment, it seemed the other person was surprised by the low voice, but then they got to the point.

"......Seok, Seok-ah?"

"Hey, teacher."

The caller was Teacher Jeong Byungkwon. What's up, teacher? Gangseok, who had been lying down, sat up. Sitting on the bed, Gangseok cleared his throat.

"What's up?"

It's not even the first day of school yet. Checking his phone, it was indeed March 1st. What's going on? Just as curiosity arose in Gangseok's mind, Jeong Byungkwon got straight to the point.

"Can you handle marble?"

48. When Michelangelo was six years old