I Became an Artist in a Romantic Comedy

Chapter 77: [Gumiho] (1)

“Take a seat, and step away from the wall while you’re at it.”

“…Understood.”

I clicked my tongue in disappointment, though I never actually intended to draw on the wall.

I’d only played a little prank after hearing footsteps in the hallway.

Still holding the pen, I sat down across from Chairman Lee Ji-chul.

“…You could at least put the pen away.”

“I feel calmer holding it, so please bear with me,” I replied.

The Chairman eyed me warily, as if afraid I’d actually start scribbling on the wall. He sighed and finally spoke.

“Whew… First, I’ve handled the matter you requested. Thankfully, Japan had significant internal pushback.”

“Told you it wasn’t worth the hassle for them to keep it.”

“More accurately, the higher-ups couldn’t agree. Whether to keep [Gumiho] or get rid of it—they were at odds.”

That’s right. Chairman Lee had traveled to Japan to deal with [Gumiho], the masterpiece I had asked him to retrieve if possible.

And he had brought it back to Korea.

I didn’t know how he’d managed it, but with his resources, I could imagine.

Unlike [Siren], [Gumiho] wasn’t a painting you could deal with easily.

[Siren] was relatively docile, only inviting people into its illusory world if they explicitly wished for it.

But [Gumiho]—and other masterpieces like it—was different.

They enjoyed playing tricks on people, tormenting them for fun.

Not all masterpieces were like this, but many, including [Siren], looked down on humans.

“Japan was eager to rid themselves of [Gumiho]. The moment anyone looked at the painting, it led to a cascade of casualties.”

“Well, Korea was the one that sold it off, and Japan foolishly took it. Neither is blameless.”

Master had warned governments about the dangers of these paintings. But nations rarely listened.

It was no wonder I had grown disillusioned with them.

Of all the masterpieces, [Gumiho] was the eldest—the firstborn.

Being a fox, it had a mischievous streak and an uncanny talent for beguiling people.

Unless it was another masterpiece, my master, or myself, [Gumiho] generally hated people getting close. It would sooner harass than tolerate them.

“As a greedy fox, the damages it caused were inevitable,” I remarked.

“If it’s beyond human control, it’s bound to be a headache. You plan to rework [Gumiho], don’t you?”

“Yes. I intend to remake all of the masterpieces.”

“I see… You want to work quietly this time too, don’t you?”

He was spot on. After reworking [Siren], the painting had been returned to its original resting place—the tomb of Lee Aram—without attracting media attention.

I planned to quietly transform all the masterpieces before revealing them to the world.

Dealing with resistance halfway through would just be a hassle.

“I’d appreciate your help again,” I said.

“Understood. But in return, I’ll expect you to fulfill one of my requests.”

“As long as it’s within reason.”

“It won’t be too difficult.”

With that, the Chairman rose from his seat.

“[Gumiho] hasn’t arrived yet. It’ll likely take about a week, but if it comes sooner, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks. At least I won’t have to go to Japan myself.”

“This matter aligns with my own interests as well. I’ll do what I can to accommodate you. After all, Master Woo-hwa insisted on it.”

“You should’ve ignored his ramblings, but alright. Thanks again.”

I stood and bowed slightly before leaving the Chairman’s office, a peaceful smile on my face.

A Quiet Start to December

Winter had arrived in full force, bringing memories of the previous year.

Around this time last year, I had sworn to paint Heo Mu-seol—a decision that felt like it had been made just yesterday.

A lot had happened in the past year, the biggest event being my victory at the PRIZE competition.

“Wow! Oppa, look over there!”

Walking beside me, my younger sister, Ha Yoon, pointed excitedly.

A towering Christmas tree, hidden until now by the surrounding buildings, stood revealed.

“That wasn’t here last year. Must’ve been put up recently.”

The tree in the middle of the plaza was enormous—practically a seven-story building.

“By the way, Oppa, what are we doing for Christmas this year? Staying home again?”

Our family usually kept things simple for Christmas—eating out or going somewhere fun.

It wasn’t extravagant, but it suited us just fine.

However, Ha Yoon’s question hinted at something else.

“Probably.”

She was talking about our little tradition: a Christmas pajama party.

It wasn’t my idea, but something she had pushed for years ago.

“This time, let’s invite everyone!”

“Our house isn’t exactly spacious, you know.”

“Just the girls will do it!”

Ah, such wisdom.

Winter walks with Ha Yoon were always filled with chatter, a simple tradition we both enjoyed.

It wasn’t that I had nothing to do—far from it. But time with family was priceless, and I tried my best to honor their requests.

This was no exception.

“Oh, let’s invite Yehwa unnie and Teacher A-reum this time too!”

“Sounds like it’ll be livelier than ever.”

Our parents were at home, so it was just the two of us.

Why? Well, Ha Yoon had insisted on spending some time alone with me.

As we strolled along, trading playful banter—

“Huh? Aren’t you Ha-yoon and Ha-eun?”

People occasionally recognized us. Being approached by fans was common, and we didn’t shy away from impromptu signing sessions.

Still, they were considerate enough to keep things brief, so we weren’t held up for too long.

“Hehe. Now I want to host a fan meeting!” Ha Yoon said, her excitement evident.

“Start small. It’s better that way.”

“Huh? Wouldn’t bigger be better?”

“You’d get overwhelmed. Plus, you’d get tired fast.”

“Oh, yeah… That makes sense. Too bad, though.”

Her shoulders drooped, only to perk up seconds later as she sprinted ahead, her eyes sparkling.

Though the snow hadn’t fallen yet, I didn’t bother scolding her.

Following after her, I found myself at a small exhibit displaying famous artworks on tiny monitors.

The place was quiet, with only the two of us inside.

“Oppa, oppa, look at this.”

Ha Yoon waved me over to a specific monitor.

“Do-won-hyang? Looks like it’s from an awards ceremony.”

“Out of all the artworks they could’ve shown, isn’t it amazing that one of yours is here?”

“Probability-wise, yeah, I guess it is.”

“Are you a T?”

Her pointed question caught me off guard. I hesitated, and her narrowed eyes locked onto mine.

Carefully avoiding her gaze, I pointed toward the street with one finger.

“I saw someone selling cotton candy earlier. Want to check it out?”

“Really?! Let’s go!”

So simple. Ha Yoon’s eyes lit up at the mere mention of cotton candy, and she grabbed my hand eagerly.

“Hey, slow down, or you’ll trip.”

“It’s fine! Cotton candy will save me!”

The subject of her sentence felt misplaced, but maybe that was just me.

Either way, her enthusiasm lifted my spirits. That was enough.

A Sudden Call from Chairman Lee

[Chairman Lee: I have a favor to ask of you.]
[Me: Right now? I’m at home.]
[Chairman Lee: …Couldn’t you make an exception? It’s urgent.]
[Me: Where should I go?]

Our relationship was transactional, so refusing outright felt awkward.

Reluctantly, I left home and headed downstairs, where someone was already waiting.

“Uh… hello?”

“Please, get in. I’ll drive you.”

Chairman Lee’s secretary had come to pick me up. He must’ve known I would accept.

Living this kind of life was a first for me.

[Chairman Lee: Where are you now?]
[Me: Just got in the car. What’s going on?]
[Chairman Lee: My granddaughter has been abducted.]

What the—? Then why call me? Did he want me to get abducted too?

[Chairman Lee: It’s about [Gumiho]. Looks like Soo-rin accidentally looked at it.]

Ah, so that’s the situation. I guessed she must be trapped in the illusion.

This was serious.

Hadn’t he mentioned earlier that [Gumiho] would take about a week to arrive?

[Chairman Lee: It happened this morning while they were moving the painting.]

Fair enough. For a moment, I felt a bit slighted.

Still, there was no need to panic. After [Siren], [Gumiho] was the next most docile of the masterpieces—or at least, it was “relatively” tame.

The others? They were loose screws, each in their own way.

But that applied to ordinary people. I was an exception.

[Gumiho] resembled a mischievous child—playful, bored, and constantly seeking entertainment.

If Lee Soo-rin was with it, she likely wasn’t in danger but would probably be mentally exhausted. Playing with [Gumiho] could drain anyone.

Honestly, [Gumiho] felt more like a puppy at times. Occasionally, it had a cat-like vibe too.

I needed to see it for myself to be sure. That was the point of bringing the painting back from Japan—or rather, retrieving it, since it was originally mine.

“Retrieve” felt like the more accurate term.

These idle thoughts faded as the car stopped in front of Chairman Lee’s workshop.

Outside the entrance, Chairman Lee and several people were gathered, his face etched with worry.

Let’s resolve this quickly and get to work fixing it, I thought.

After all, I hated tedious situations.