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Translator: penny
Chapter: 006
Chapter Title: Ep 2. Mural
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6.
Summer Art Festival.
Simply put, it's a festival held during the summer.
That said, it's not for the locals.
It's a festival hosted by the county for the tourists flocking to Namhae Island during the upcoming peak season.
From a night market that doesn't usually open, to pop-up stores you rarely see around here,
a beer festival seemingly inspired by trendy Yangyang,
plus a super luxurious headline performance and busking.
And fireworks to top it off.
"Hmm."
I bit into the last of my hotdog while scanning the details on the festival flyer.
I knew better than to take promo hype at face value, but slapping a "super" in front of luxurious had me wondering who they'd even get.
Some idol group or what?
"Starts in ten days, huh."
Wonder if it'll draw a crowd.
Thankfully, there are no pensions near where I live—plenty of empty houses nobody occupies—so people won't swarm my area.
But the beach right by my place? That could get packed.
It's the closest one from the market, after all.
And conveniently, there's that ridiculously huge, Insta-worthy cafe there too.
Hold on.
Does that mean people might flock to the mural I painted?
"Hmm."
Before I knew it, I'd finished the hotdog and was gnawing on the stick, lost in thought.
I didn't mind folks snapping pics with my mural as a backdrop, but a mob right in front of my house? No thanks.
Maybe put up some signs, just in case?
Like, guidance signs where people could line up.
Overkill, maybe, but with the road right at my doorstep, any accident could turn into a real mess.
Couldn't exactly ask the village head for help, either.
"Yeah, better safe."
I tossed the chewed-up stick and headed home on my scooter.
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I connected the sticks end to end, then attached the illustration I'd drawn on top.
The sign read: "Line starts here."
I set up a few of them along the sidewalk and road, careful not to block anything, and nodded to myself.
Yeah, this should keep things smooth for passersby and me.
"Good."
Signs done—now for the opposite wall.
I changed into clothes that could handle paint or lacquer splatters, slipped on a mask, and headed to the blank wall.
First things first: dust it off.
I'd power-washed it spotless on moving day, so I just swept away the accumulated grit with a broom.
Made sure it was pristine—no dust to mess with paint adhesion—then started sketching with chalk.
The last mural was a whale shark gliding through a night sky.
This one? A "wall crumbling into the sea" vibe.
Lean against the wall for a photo, and it'd look like you're plunging into the ocean.
To nail that falling sensation, it had to be massive—using the entire wall.
I sketched huge with chalk, then refined the details.
Like the crumbling edges, etched with precision.
"Whew."
Bigger scale than before—sketching alone took over three hours.
I wiped the sweat from my brow and stepped back to eye the whole thing.
Oh, not bad at all?
Just a chalk outline, so it felt empty in spots, but filling those voids with color... it's gonna be epic.
"Feels like my drawing's improved since before."
I muttered while chugging a fresh Zero Pepsi from the fridge.
I'd always drawn, but never this smoothly.
Skill leveled up in the meantime?
Or ditching everything freed me from the pressure?
Come to think of it, that song from yesterday felt sharper too.
"Ah, oppa! You're here!"
Right before mixing paints, mid-rest and musing, a familiar voice piped up.
I turned to see a girl in school uniform.
"Ah, right. The one whose photo I took."
It was the bob-haired girl from before, gym clothes layered under her uniform despite the mild weather.
She beamed at me like something great had happened.
"You know what? Oppa, you're seriously amazing!"
"Huh?"
"Look at this! That photo you took? Over a thousand likes!"
"Whoa."
That's huge.
A thousand likes? Influencer territory, maybe—but for a regular person, that's elite.
"Congrats."
"All thanks to you."
"Nah."
"No, really. Comments are all about how gorgeously it's shot. Friends keep grilling me on who took it. Even Rua—y'know, the super pretty friend I mentioned? She asked too."
I smiled warmly at her bouncing with excitement.
Not because she was cute, but because my photo had earned real props.
"And look here! Baek Sang-yeon liked it too!"
"Baek Sang-yeon?"
Who?
"You don't know? Model and actor. He's blowing up on TV and his YouTube channel's massive."
"Don't really watch TV or YouTube."
Quit cold turkey now; back then, only stuff I cared about, and even that stopped after variety shows went full observation mode.
"Eh, whatever. Point is, he's a big deal."
"Got it."
Some celeb hit like—cool, I nodded vaguely.
"Whoa, is this the next one?"
She'd wandered to my work wall, murmuring at the sketch.
Like last time, zero focus.
Adult ADHD or something?
"Yeah. Next mural."
"Incredible. Knew it last time too—you're one heck of an artist."
I cleared my throat at her genuine awe.
Lack of focus aside, seemed like a good kid.
"Yeah? Think it's good?"
"Super good. Pass that mural all the time—never seen one this killer."
"Makes me proud hearing that."
"Ah, this your house, right? Who's the artist?"
I feigned nonchalance at her question, stepping to the paints.
Mixed some in a paper cup for my shade, casual as ever:
"Me."
"Huh?"
"I'm the one who drew it."
Ooh, great reaction.
Jaw on the floor.
I chuckled lightly at her over-the-top but endearing shock and got back to painting.
Over the chalk lines, with blended paints.
Brush strokes.
Lines connecting.
Building the image.
"Whew."
Deep focus.
Or the heat.
Either way, sweat-soaked.
Shook out my damp hair and checked the work.
Still a ways to go.
Wanted to keep at it, but night had fallen.
Even lantern light was dim—not ideal.
"Tomorrow for the rest."
Take it easy.
Slowly.
Not rushed by deadlines or demands—just my whim.
My tempo, my pace.
"Alrighty."
Now, late dinner?
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After that, Woohyun's days fell into a routine.
Morning: wake, wash, prep meals for the day, grab the paint-lacquer-brush bucket, head to the wall.
Work away: check from afar, snap progress pics, beach walk if stressed—otherwise, glued there all day.
But no rushing.
Leisurely as could be.
Headphones blasting favorites: stroke a line, zone out; hold brush, lost in song.
Progress? Glacial.
But details? Polish? Top-tier.
To the point where...
"Hey, check that out."
"Whoa, another mural going up."
"Trick art this time?"
"Like getting swept into those waves?"
"Yeah."
Passersby halted, staring blankly at Woohyun's work.
Not a bustling neighborhood, and his road wasn't a main drag—folks were sparse.
But anyone passing or there for the first mural? They stopped, watched him paint.
"Excuse me—when's this one done?"
Some asked about the timeline.
"Mind if I film you working? For YouTube with the mural. Oh, my channel's this."
Others sought permission to record.
Woohyun nodded every time.
Secret filmer already around, and he planned to edit his own footage for his channel later.
"Have this while you work."
Occasional gifts: coffee, chocolate.
Deep bows and thanks, devoured on the spot.
One week.
No days off.
"Done."
Amid rising heat, flapping his drenched tee, Woohyun beheld his mural.
Wall crumbling into the abyss.
Not photoreal, but the meticulous crumbling? Spot-on plunge vibe.
And the deep sea—gorgeous.
Clean sky-blues bleeding into inky black.
Anxiety—shattered wall—chaos—ocean depths.
Feelings from trainee days, chasing hazy debut and glory.
His art.
Snap.
That day, Woohyun updated his KakaoTalk profile pic.
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Baek Sang-yeon.
Model. Actor.
Photographer.
The last was hobby-only—no pro gigs—but serious enough for exhibitions.
"Here it is."
These days, more YouTube than acting—mil-view vids every drop.
He smiled at the wall before him.
A massive whale shark cruising the dark night.
Snap.
Spotted on Insta by chance.
Camera from home in hand, he snapped the mural, pleased.
'Gotta see this in person.'
Grinning at his shot, he shifted for another angle—then froze at the right wall by the door.
It pulled the eye instantly.
Harmony of ruin and depths.
"...Who's the artist?"
Capturing it on camera, Baek Sang-yeon murmured to himself.