I Became an Artist in a Romantic Comedy-Chapter 102

What Sara truly wanted was Sanya, but that wasn’t something I could give her.

Instead, I had fulfilled every other request she made of me.

I’d considered asking my master for help, but, well… I doubted he’d create anything functional.

The man who wouldn’t even make corrections to my masterpieces wouldn’t be reliable for this.

What could I expect?

After finishing Sara’s piece, I was close to wrapping up the work on [Cerberus] as well.

"Phoenix!"

Just as Sara exclaimed, the [Phoenix] had arrived in China.

It had been sent here for protection during the chaos of the U.S. presidential election.

‘Works for me.’

It saved me the trouble of traveling to the U.S. again.

If it hadn’t come here this time... the thought alone made me happy.

Of course, the "phoenix" Sara was calling out to wasn’t the [Phoenix]. It was just a red bird I had painted for her.

If you ask why I did it—

‘Just because.’

Even though the project was technically complete, something felt lacking, so I added the bird.

It was inspired by the [Phoenix], but I couldn’t capture its full majesty.

To replicate it properly, I’d probably have to stay here for an entire year.

That’s assuming it’s even possible.

Still, for someone as energetic and headstrong as Sara, adding a companion animal seemed to create decent synergy.

If I had to justify it, that was about the extent of it.

After chatting briefly with Sara, I left. Staying longer wouldn’t accomplish much.

And there was no way I was going to play games like pat-a-cake with Sara. That was Yena’s territory back home, where she’d smother me with affection.

"Woof!"

"Yeah, yeah."

With the work on [Cerberus] nearing completion, even it seemed to be in a good mood.

I scratched its neck lightly before stepping out.

I’d been making it a point to show my face at least once a week. Otherwise, the artworks might sulk.

‘The idea of a painting sulking is ridiculous, but still.’

Then again, the way artists and regular people perceive paintings is fundamentally different.

You know how some people name their cars and treat them like their children?

It’s kind of like that for me. The difference is, I can actually talk to mine.

‘Or can I?’

Sometimes, it feels like I can’t really communicate with them at all.

This mundane routine was starting to wear me down mentally.

"…I need dopamine."

Back in Korea, I could at least enjoy the drama of watching Lee Do-Yoon’s love life unfold.

Now, I was stuck in my studio, buried in artwork. Life had never felt so monotonous.

Despite my hollow feelings, my hands kept moving.

"[Phoenix] is here?"

"Let’s go check it out."

As I leaned against the hallway window, sipping a canned coffee for a quick break, I overheard the staff talking.

"Dopamine crisis averted," I muttered.

Looks like I had more work to do now. Something in my chest felt like it was being chipped away.

How much longer am I going to keep doing this?

—"Don’t worry, my dear disciple. There’s still one left in France. Oh, and don’t forget [Dragon]."

I could almost hear my master’s insufferable voice.

Sighing deeply, I tossed the empty coffee can toward the hallway trash bin.

The can bounced off the rim and clattered onto the floor.

"Nothing’s going right today."

Times like this are exactly when you shouldn’t leave the comfort of your blanket.

***

[Phoenix].

Without a doubt, the thickest-skinned individual—or painting—I’ve ever encountered.

"What are you staring at?"

"Just haven’t seen you in a while."

Scratching the back of my head, I stared at the fiery red bird—no, [Phoenix].

True to its nature as the demon of sloth, it lay sprawled lazily in its nest.

"Clean your room, for god’s sake."

The charred cave, burned by its flaming feathers, wasn’t exactly a pleasant sight.

"Too much work…"

It blinked lazily and buried its head again, making my blood pressure spike.

Why hadn’t this thing changed at all, even after all this time?

Then again, it wasn’t as if it had ever been interested in me to begin with.

Wait… was this thing always female?

"Hey, were you a girl?"

"…Just wanted to switch things up."

Except for a few strategically covered areas, it was almost entirely bare skin. How has this thing not made the news yet?

Surely, there must’ve been some men who approached it.

Apparently, it hadn’t killed any of them.

To sum it up, [Phoenix] is just… lazy. Breathing? Eating? Too much effort.

"What are you even planning to do with your life?"

"…Is that really a question that matters to me?"

It spoke in a voice that seemed on the verge of falling asleep, making me sigh deeply.

"Oh, by the way…"

"That… never mind."

At this rate, even a turtle would speak faster than this thing.

"Recently, the dragon head came by…"

"Dragon head?"

If [Phoenix] is calling it a dragon head, it could only mean one thing.

That crazy woman who breathes fire at everyone she meets.

I painted her, but I can’t describe her any other way.

"She said her house burned down, so she came looking for me."

"Her house… burned down?"

What kind of nonsense is this?

"You know, those activist types…? They said some of them attacked her place."

"...?"

Wasn’t that the same group that vandalized the Mona Lisa?

…Come to think of it, there was another incident like that in the news recently.

Surely, that couldn’t have been [Dragon], right?

"Whatever you’re thinking, Master, it’s probably true…"

"…Oh, for crying out loud."

Just a few days ago, there was a report about another attack by activists.

Apparently, this time they’d gone overboard, and an entire exhibit hall burned to the ground.

‘How does a fire-breathing creature lose its home to a fire?’

Paintings can’t move, but somehow, it survived.

Not that I wanted it dead, but that creature really needs to learn a lesson.

Hopefully, this incident has humbled it a bit.

But wait—if the house burned down, could it mean…?

"Did the painting itself get destroyed?"

"Probably…"

In other words, the [Dragon] painting had disappeared from this world.

‘Damn…’

The beings inside my masterpieces always find a way to survive, no matter what happens.

Whether the painting is destroyed or burned to ashes, it’s just their "home" that’s gone.

Their emotions remain intact. But where do those emotions go when their home is gone?

Where else? They go to their friends’ homes.

"Where is it now?"

"…It probably went to the youngest’s place."

"The youngest, huh…"

That would be [Angel]. If it went there… Hmm.

"Poor activists… That must’ve cost them a fortune…"

"Yeah, probably. But wow, you’re talking a lot today."

"......"

Realizing this, it immediately shut its mouth again.

That’s just the kind of personality [Phoenix] has.

‘I wish it would change its appearance.’

When I think of a phoenix, I imagine, you know, a burning bird.

So seeing it suddenly transformed into a woman is a bit jarring.

It’s only natural to feel taken aback.

"At least put some clothes on."

"Zzz…"

This is why [Siren] and [Gumiho] are so much easier to deal with.

[Sara] was fine too—acceptable, even.

But [Cerberus], [Phoenix], and [Dragon]? You can’t reason with them.

At least [Cerberus] tries to read the room. These two don’t even bother.

Even when their long-lost creator shows up, all they do is nap. The world’s going to hell.

‘What a ridiculous situation.’

And yet, here I am, tasked with fixing this nonsense.

Like every masterpiece I’ve made, this one comes with its own baggage.

Not that there’s such a thing as a baggage-free existence.

‘Man, I’m hungry.’

Leaving the dozing bird behind, I exited the world.

The form felt oddly familiar—seemed like it had taken inspiration from [Siren].

If you put the two side by side, you’d think they were sisters.

…Well, technically, they are. They were both born from my hands.

‘Saying it like that feels… weird.’

Forget it. I’ll just go eat.

***

"Happy birthday to you~."

Not long after Yena’s birthday, it was time to celebrate Hong Ye-Hwa’s.

"Happy birthday~."

"Why are you the only one singing in Korean?" Choi Ye-Seo asked, raising an eyebrow.

I shrugged.

"It’s special."

"Whatever."

She smirked, pulling out a gift she’d been hiding behind her back and handing it to Hong Ye-Hwa.

Hong Ye-Hwa’s eyes softened as she accepted it.

"Thanks."

"It’s embarrassing, so open it later when you’re alone," Ye-Seo said, her cheeks slightly flushed as she stepped back.

For her, it was probably a perfectly normal way of giving a gift.

But from the perspective of the parents watching, it wasn’t the same.

"Oh my~," Hong Ye-Hwa’s mom chuckled, clearly pleased.

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"Here."

Next, it was Ha Soo-Yul’s turn. She pulled out something she had prepared.

‘Cookies?’

"Homemade cookies."

Upon closer inspection, there were a few shark-shaped cookies among them.

So that’s what she’d been busy with in the kitchen recently.

"Try one."

At her suggestion, Hong Ye-Hwa picked up a cookie and took a bite.

Her eyes widened briefly before a small smile spread across her face.

"They’re good. Thanks, I’ll enjoy them."

Watching this made me wonder—do girls always celebrate birthdays like this?

If it were guys, it’d probably go something like this:

—"Forget gifts. I don’t even have money for in-game purchases."

—"It’s your birthday, so you’re paying for food, right?"

—"Yo, grab him! Let’s ride the motorbike!"

Something like that. Then again, it’s partly my fault for never hanging out with guys much.

Maybe I should ask Lee Do-Yoon to round up a few friends next time.

After Soo-Yul’s turn, all eyes were on me.

"I’ll go last," I said, shrugging and letting the adults take their turn first.

This was all part of the plan.

The adults gave simple yet thoughtful gifts—things suited to students her age.

Though, to be honest, they were gifts anyone would like.

‘Money!’

Or so I thought. Turns out I was way off.

The adults’ gifts were just… standard, nothing flashy.

When it was finally my turn, Hong Ye-Hwa looked at me with curiosity.

What would I do?

The answer was simple.

Just like for Yena’s birthday, I’d perform a little magic trick.

But this time… yeah. This one was something only a man could pull off.

Who told me to do this? Right, my sister did.

Originally, I was just going to give her some paint or something.

Sighing internally, I went up to the third floor, changed clothes, and came back down.

The most foolproof gift a man could give—

"Ha… hahaha."

Crossdressing.

Crunch.

Something inside me shattered.