The day after the mural assignments.
Before the sun had risen, the sky was a dark blue dawn.
In front of the Renaissance Complex Shopping Mall, kids wearing work clothes awkwardly passed through the entrance.
"Move to the 8th floor, move to the 8th floor!"
"Everyone, almost all moved! Let's go! One more!"
"The elevator's leaving...! Anyone else want to load?"
"Just one more box!"
The loud voices echoed through the lobby. Whether on the escalator or elevator, the boxes were packed full of something.
"What is all this?"
One of the kids looked confused and glanced sideways. The student caught looking back also shook their head, not knowing. It wasn't just because many people were unfamiliar with the items.
The materials they were moving were bizarre beyond belief.
"Move it to the 8th floor!"
One student's eyes widened as they watched people roll up their sleeves and carry boxes. The word "sand" was clearly written in large letters on one box.
...Sand?
One after another, objects that looked like they belonged on a construction site passed by the students.
What on earth did they order? One of the kids standing awkwardly in their work clothes muttered to a staff member, "8th floor?"
"8th floor, 8th floor — isn't that Kangseok senior's spot?"
There was only one mural on the 8th floor.
"...Kangseok senior ordered all those? I saw there was some plaster powder too."
"Plaster? Like the plaster statues?"
"There was lime too. But how do these have anything to do with murals? Are these even mural materials?"
"They probably are. I think I saw some pigments too."
"They ordered that much sand. Maybe they're planning to do sand art or something."
Plaster, lime, sand, pigments. The combination made no sense. The first-year students' expressions twisted in puzzlement as if seeing something strange.
But it wasn't just the first-years at Cheonghwa Arts High School.
Kim Donghwi leaning on the escalator down to the basement, and Park Hye-yeon just entering the mall with Jin Se-hyun — their expressions were strange too.
"Heading to the 8th floor again!"
The entire Cheonghwa Arts High School mural club witnessed the materials being sucked up to the 8th floor like a black hole. It was a strange morning.
"What? What arrived?"
The strange news quickly reached Joo Sarang, who was reviewing drafts in the 2nd-floor lobby. She rubbed her ears as if to confirm she'd heard correctly.
"There was lime powder, sand, plaster, bricks — I thought it was a construction site."
Park Jonghyun from the Graffiti team poked fun at Joo Sarang's disbelief. Joo Sarang, baffled, asked again:
"Who ordered all that?"
"I told you. Kangseok. The one in charge of the 8th-floor mural you mentioned. I heard it last night when we were drinking. He majors in sculpture."
"Oh... but..."
"Maybe he's going to make a plaster statue and attach it to the wall."
"Attach... what...?"
Joo Sarang stopped talking and stood up, her vacant gaze fixed toward the elevator.
Looks like she was going up to the 8th floor. Park Jonghyun watched her and followed, sensing something interesting was happening.
...
When Joo Sarang reached the 8th floor, it was already a madhouse.
Because the initial order of materials was quite large, many staff were involved in moving the loads, and because the materials were so unfamiliar, many Cheonghwa Arts High students had come to watch.
Joo Sarang and Park Jonghyun also joined the crowd. But Kangseok, the cause of the chaos, showed no interest in his surroundings.
Kangseok punched the wall hard. No sound came, but his hand hurt — it was definitely concrete, not gypsum board.
He had guessed it yesterday evening when they removed the wallpaper and paint and saw the dark gray color underneath, but now he was sure.
He could work here right away.
As Kangseok moved to get more materials for his next work, a voice was heard.
"Oh my gosh...!"
It was Joo Sarang's voice, rare with surprise.
Kangseok glanced at her briefly, seeing a look as if she was thinking, "What on earth is all this?"
"Kangseok."
For the first time since Kangseok joined the club, Joo Sarang called him by name directly. Kangseok stopped lifting a sack of compressed cement.
"Yes?"
"What is all this?"
She asked, clearly wanting an explanation. Kangseok looked at her with a reluctant expression.
"Materials...?"
He seemed genuinely puzzled by the question. Like, "Isn't this obvious?" Joo Sarang was left dumbfounded.
What on earth was he planning to do with such ridiculous things? That thought hovered on her tongue.
Materials? This is material? Still, Joo Sarang took a closer look at the boxes scattered around on the 8th floor.
What she thought was cement was actually lime powder. The sand looked surprisingly fine.
There were ladders nearby, and a large basin at the end was filled with water. Other boxes showed pigments packed inside. The materials were unusual.
Looking at it, a sudden thought struck her.
...Fresco?
Buon fresco.
An old Italian mural technique where plaster is applied to the wall, and before it dries, pigment mixed with water is painted so the paint bonds with the wall.
Now that she looked again, the materials Kangseok ordered aligned perfectly with those used in fresco painting. Joo Sarang, who had painted on walls all her life, immediately recognized it.
The materials were so obvious only someone like her would catch it. She asked in disbelief:
"You're planning to do the mural using the fresco technique?"
Kangseok nodded.
"Yes. I want to use the fresco technique."
Hearing that quietly, Joo Sarang felt a surge of alarm. Kangseok attempting fresco was more serious than just a poor painter.
"Bad painting and unfinished work are totally different...!"
Fresco is a notoriously difficult technique.
The materials are tricky to prepare, the lime and sand ratio has dozens of variations, the dough consistency must be just right, and pigments are mixed in water for painting.
Even today, fresco is so difficult that university students and modern artists rarely attempt it.
And he planned to do it in 15 days?
"Unless Michelangelo Buonarroti or Leonardo da Vinci come back to life..."
Impossible.
Joo Sarang thought briefly of these great masters and shook her head. It was absurd.
Moreover, fresco allows no second chances.
Buon fresco involves applying plaster and painting before it dries. Once dry, the pigment no longer absorbs.
Unless the plaster is scraped off and reapplied from scratch, the painting cannot be redone. Mistakes and laziness are not allowed.
"He's really going to do that...?"
Joo Sarang stared in disbelief at the huge wall behind Kangseok.
Cheonghwa Arts High's perennial last-place student wanted to attempt what even professional painters struggled with.
But Joo Sarang didn't voice her doubts. She believed in letting things be if the results were good — that was how the mural club coloring team won.
She had no right to criticize Kangseok, who hadn't shown results yet.
Kangseok looked at her twitching lips and slowly sidestepped like avoiding something unpleasant.
He looked like someone trying to avoid a strange person. Joo Sarang, staring at him dumbfounded, barely found words.
"...You, um... have you planned the design?"
The strained question about the design came out with difficulty. Joo Sarang felt a pang of self-doubt but also relieved herself for at least asking.
I should have at least seen the draft.
A mural needs a draft. Whether it's a pencil sketch, a paper stencil pasted on the wall, or a projected image traced onto the surface, a draft is essential.
If Kang-seok was doing this without even a draft, Jusarang would have the right to complain without waiting for the result. Thinking this, Jusarang reached out her hand. She was asking for the draft.
Kang-seok raised a finger and pointed.
"The draft is over there."
Naturally, Jusarang's eyes followed Kang-seok's fingertip. Following the tip, she saw a worn-out sports bag and, next to it, a sheet of tracing paper.
Underneath the tracing paper lay numerous sheets of rice paper, as if he really intended to paint the mural using the old-fashioned method.
Jusarang approached the tracing paper while observing Kang-seok. She knew his practical skills weren't great, but his theoretical knowledge seemed sharp. It was a moment she discovered a fact she hadn't known all year.
Watching Kang-seok pour compressed cement into a plastic container, Jusarang slowly unfolded the tracing paper. At the same time, neat pencil lines gradually appeared.
...Huh?
Jusarang's eyes widened. The drawing was something no art major could fail to recognize.
.
.
.
After seeing Kang-seok's draft, Jusarang quietly disappeared with Park Jong-hyun.
There was no distrust in her eyes when she looked at Kang-seok, silently telling him to proceed however he wanted.
Like something very precious she had never once looked at before. Jusarang's eyes were smiling.
Kim Dong-hwi recalled that face in a corner on the 8th floor. He was frustrated. So frustrated he couldn't move.
The staff who had already moved all the materials went down the 8th floor looking relieved, followed by the students who went down to prepare the mural drafts. Now, Kim Dong-hwi had to go too.
Although not as much as Kang-seok, he was assigned a large wall and had no time to waste if he wanted to finish it within 15 days. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to take a step.
This was the second time. Kim Dong-hwi looked at Kang-seok with a strange expression.
Once two days ago on Friday, during the sketch class.
And now, this moment.
This was the second time Kim Dong-hwi felt inferior to Kang-seok.
Recently, Kang-seok no longer seemed like the worst in practical skills he used to be. Like he changed overnight. It was strange that no one else found it odd.
It wasn't just that his skill improved; that timid guy seemed like a completely different person… So why did no one notice that?
Kang-seok wasn't the type to do such eccentric things. The timid guy who was only diligent, what the heck. Kim Dong-hwi watched Kang-seok for a long time.
Then slowly, very slowly, he turned his back.
.
.
.
Finally, he left.
Kang-seok sighed wearily. That guy had been staring like a stalker from behind for who knows how long. Weird dude. Kang-seok clicked his tongue.
He was marking chalk lines on the measured spots with a string line. The speed was so fast that anyone in construction would be shocked.
After drawing the chalk line all the way to the floor, Kang-seok lifted a prepared Baekgopa brick he had placed nearby. Spreading the mortar smoothly was a professional's skill.
'If only we could use all stone walls like before, it would be so much easier.'
While working on the stone bricks over the concrete wall, Kang-seok sighed. The reason for working with stone bricks was one: fresco painting had to be done on stone walls.
Fresco is a delicate work.
If done directly on concrete or cement surfaces, impurities could damage the fresco. Then the permanence of fresco, the eternal mural, would just fade away like dusty memories.
Therefore, Kang-seok had to carefully fill all cracks on the concrete wall with compressed cement bricks. On top of that, he planned to mix lime and sand in a specific ratio with water to make pure mortar and spread it.
Store-bought mortar wouldn't do. Because it's mixed with cement and sand, impurities were inevitable.
That's why he ordered lime powder, fine sand, and even fetched water himself.
After attaching all the bricks, he had to do the first layer 'trucilla' and the second layer 'arricciato' mortar work. Then finishing with intonaco work and painting—it was a long way ahead.
Kang-seok moved quickly, with no time to rest. Fifteen days was too short and tight. But the reason he was doing this was because his prepared draft could only be perfected with this process.
Fresco… It's really been a long time. The more his hands moved non-stop, the calmer his mind became. And two frescoes he had painted under the pope's orders came back to mind.
One was the Sistine ceiling, and the other was the mural called The Last Judgment.
Counting the years devoted to these two works, it totaled ten years. Those murals were a huge waste of time in his life as a sculptor, but in his later years, they helped him understand painting greatly.
Kang-seok shook his head.
Life is something hard to understand even after knowing. I never wanted to see murals again, but here I am rolling up my sleeves for five million won.
I wonder what my family would look like if I brought them a surprise gift of five million won. Probably their eyes would widen like rabbits, then cry with joy.
They always have big reactions. Kang-seok hummed while working. Somehow, he felt good.
Painting a mural while humming—a first time in both his previous and current lives. Kang-seok was excited without even realizing it.
"Is he doing well?"
"Who?"
"Kang-seok sunbae. Isn't it strange that no one has seen him for a week? Jusarang teacher and the others haven't visited him either. Isn't the 8th-floor mural totally ruined?"
Yoo Mi-kyung rolled her eyes as she went up to the 4th floor of the Renaissance complex shopping mall with Kang Ji-won. It had been a week since the material incident. Now, only about eight days remained to work on the murals.
"Hmm… Is that so?"
Jusarang and the graffiti teacher had practically abandoned Kang-seok. Among the kids, rumors spread that the 8th-floor mural was given up on.
No matter how big the 8th-floor mural was, there were 29 other murals anyway, so it didn't matter if one was of low quality. That sounded reasonable, but Yoo Mi-kyung felt otherwise.
From what she saw, Jusarang trusted Kang-seok. It was only her own thought, but she didn't voice it.
"He'll manage."
She had neither the strength nor time to care.
"Aren't you curious though?"
But Kang Ji-won wasn't like that. Yoo Mi-kyung sighed. For the past week, Kang Ji-won had been like this.
He seemed very interested in the 8th-floor mural, which could have been his. Maybe because he lost the chance to own the 8th floor. Sometimes, he even looked like he was waiting for news that the mural was a total failure.
When Kang Ji-won muttered, "If I had taken it, I'd have done well..." it gave Yoo Mi-kyung goosebumps like watching a B-grade horror movie.
The assignments were already done, so what did the past matter? Yoo Mi-kyung couldn't understand Kang Ji-won's obsession with the past.
"Mi-kyung, let's go up."
"Jusarang said to finish the daily quota and then rest."
"That'll only take a moment. Let's just go, okay?"
Yoo Mi-kyung sighed as she watched Kang Ji-won tug at her sleeve. This time too, she had no choice but to be pulled along. Reluctantly, she took a step forward.
"Just a quick look, right?"
"Yeah, just a quick look...!"
Kang Ji-won hurried to the elevator, and Yoo Mi-kyung followed. The elevator stopped quickly on the 8th floor amid Kang Ji-won's chatter.
"It must be ruined."
Kang Ji-won chuckled, waiting for the ding and the door to open. Yoo Mi-kyung shook her head, clearly tired of his antics.
Then the elevator doors opened. As expected from an old shopping mall, the metal doors moved slowly.
Ah. How to describe this.
The doors opened to the sides, and at first, light shone in. The first thing Yoo Mi-kyung saw was the sky.
The sky.