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Translator: penny
Chapter: 009
Chapter Title: Ep 2. Mural
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Ksee Enter.
The name no one in Korea who cared even a little about the entertainment industry could ignore. Even people with zero interest knew it. It was the nation's top entertainment company.
And Ksee Enter's Visual Director was looking for me.
"Why?"
I muttered it sincerely, unable to wrap my head around it.
A Visual Director wasn't just some employee. They handled everything visual for the agency's singers—the music video concepts, photobooks, album art, all the eye-catching stuff.
It was an incredibly high and important position.
And this guy had come all the way to Namhae Island because he wanted to meet me. I sipped my coffee as I recalled the unbelievable story I'd heard from Representative Lee Si-yeon.
Slurp.
"Ah, damn."
I'd already finished it.
Before I knew it, my cup was empty, so I headed to the counter for a refill and returned to my seat. It wasn't like I was nervous and chugging coffee or anything.
I was just bored.
Living while avoiding SNS and YouTube Shorts as much as possible meant times like this left me with nothing to do. At home, I always had chores, so I never got this bored.
I should carry a notebook next time.
[2:01 PM]
About thirty minutes until the appointment. I killed time checking my phone clock over and over, then glanced around the café.
The ocean-view spot where we'd set up the meeting.
Today, like always, it was empty—not a soul in sight, giving it that hollow feeling. As I scanned the place, the door opened. In walked Representative Lee Si-yeon with a long-haired man.
Ah, is that him?
I set down my straw to stand and greet them. Spotting me, Representative Lee Si-yeon approached with the long-haired man.
"How have you been, artist?"
"Fine. And you, Representative?"
"Ugh, I've been swamped. But the festival's a huge success—such a relief."
I gave a light smile at her happy grin, despite the bags under her eyes. The festival really was booming.
The market in town was packed every time I went out.
And our house front was mobbed with people too.
"No trouble with the mural?"
"Plenty of people, but it's fine. They're all polite—snapping pics quietly and leaving."
"Phew, good to hear. We stressed that big time. Oh, right—mind your manners. This is Ksee Enter's Visual Director, Kim Jin-gyu. And Director Kim, this is artist Woohyun."
Artist, huh.
I'd felt it before, but titles like that made me uncomfortable. I hadn't even gotten paid—it was just a hobby. Did I really qualify as an artist?
"Ah, so you're the one. Woohyun artist?"
"No, Woohyun's fine. Hyun."
"Ooh, got it. Got it."
I'd always thought my name was a bit unusual myself, but suddenly Director Kim Jin-gyu grabbed my hand. His eyes sparkled intensely—almost too much to look at—as he stared at me.
"I've been dying to meet you, artist."
His voice carried even more weight than his gaze.
"Oh... really?"
"Yes. I'm a huge fan of yours. From the moment Sang-yeon first showed me your work, it was like electricity shot up my spine—zzzt. Not just some mural, but real art, sublimating your pain into paint. Especially that crumbling wall plunging into the deep sea... such anguish..."
Hmm, that one?
I made a vague face as Director Kim Jin-gyu kept praising my paintings nonstop, tireless. I had no idea what expression to wear in a situation like this.
Just smile?
"Hey, let's sit and talk first."
I was pondering my reaction when Representative Lee Si-yeon mercifully cut in. I quickly sat, and as she grabbed her phone, she said,
"I'll get drinks. You two chat."
I watched her head to the counter, then turned to Director Kim Jin-gyu. He was still staring at me with that intense gaze.
"So, uh, you said you wanted to see me?"
I cleared my throat awkwardly and spoke up.
He nodded.
"Yes. Like I said, the instant Sang-yeon showed me your art, I had to meet you. I became your biggest fan."
"Ah, I see."
A fan.
Weird.
I barely had any fans back when I was a band vocalist. And now a mural I'd painted for fun had one?
Was painting my real talent all along?
"But it's not just fanboy stuff that brought me here."
I entertained that ridiculous thought for a second before Director Kim Jin-gyu lowered his voice. His tone felt heavier now, and I looked at him.
His face was dead serious—not a hint of play. This was his pro mode.
"I asked Representative Lee Si-yeon to introduce us because I want to commission you."
"Commission?"
"Yes. High New's coming back soon, with an art-inspired concept. I thought your paintings would be perfect as the backdrop, so here I am."
A commission.
I furrowed my brow at the unexpected offer.
"Just one painting, on a large canvas. No need to move—you can work right here comfortably."
"Hmm. Timeline?"
"One month. We'll match your fee as best we can. Possible?"
"Hmmm."
I let out a low hum.
The terms were great—really great. But could I do it? I'd never painted to someone else's specs.
"What kind of painting?"
My style was super limited. I wasn't some master artist or professionally trained.
I'd gone to art classes as a kid, but that was pre-trainee days. After, it was just a hobby—no teachers, just self-taught stuff.
So if it was beyond me, I'd decline.
"Whatever you want."
Another curveball answer.
"My choice?"
"Yes. I respect freedom. The theme fits that. Just one request: make it a bit dark. Like overcoming melancholy."
"Dark vibe's okay?"
"Yes."
I closed my eyes, thought it over.
Then opened them and nodded slowly.
"Sure, why not."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Thank you! We'll provide all the tools you need. Anything else for the work, just say."
After signing the contract, that was my one request.
The song.
The track that would use my art. To paint for a song, I needed to know it first.
"The song? Got it. But absolutely no leaks."
Director Kim Jin-gyu stressed "no leaks" a dozen times, then sent it over. Not the final recording, but a guide with full lyrics.
I sat on the bench, staring at the massive canvas he'd sent.
Plugged in my earbuds and hit play. Cranked it loud to drown out the photo-snapping crowds outside.
—Scared of the future, sometimes anxious.
High New, a girl group, but the melody started so dark it was hard to believe—slowly brightening. A song cheering on the youths hiding from the world, choosing what the media called "just a break."
I frowned slightly.
Something felt off. Hard to pinpoint, but empty somehow. The song itself wasn't bad.
"Eh, good enough."
At least I knew the vibe.
I stood slowly.
Approached the huge canvas and started sketching with pencil. Mistakes could be erased—no fear. Just draw the image in my head.
Sealed window, blackout curtains drawn, a figure on a dark bed. But a door cracked just a sliver, light sneaking through.
My past self.
Top to bottom, left to right.
Lines drawn, intersecting, forming shapes.
Unlike the previous murals.
Those were just thoughts I'd painted. This was my actual old story. So I drew more delicately, more boldly.
Loneliness.
The emotion of living alone, away from family. Feeling like no one in the world was on my side. I rendered it in dark blue.
The light I'd craved, the "someday I'll be recognized" future—through that cracked door.
Dark blue and white in harmony.
Mixing colors to fill the center.
A warm, textured pink hard to define in words. That's the person. The one pretending "I'm fine alone," but can't live solo—fighting loneliness.
Before I knew it, I pulled out my dead earbuds and kept painting.
"Hmmm, hm."
Then, strangely, melodies flooded my mind. Sweet ones first, then aching, then soothing.
All kinds of tunes rising.
Sparking ideas for the painting.
Then more tunes, more ideas. Looping endlessly.
Painting and song interacting.
In that virtuous cycle, I painted on. Spraying color, stamping with paper, even dipping my hand in non-toxic paint for handprints.
'Ditch the idea that brushes or spray are the only tools. No need.'
Like those free-spirited artists in movies.
Art must be free.
I hadn't gotten it before. To me, art—music—was something I had to squeeze out. But now it clicked.
Art is free.
It has to be.
In Seoul, nothing I made satisfied me.
My songs sounded like noise.
Eventually, I couldn't create at all.
Worried I'd never make music again. Total wreck. That's why I ditched it all and left Seoul.
Now? I'm having fun.
The painting flows my way—better than imagined. The broadened vision and expression from the last two murals help. Techniques and colors I couldn't do before come alive.
So that's why I needed another art form.
Melodies keep coming.
Hands won't stop.
Like dancing. Rhythmic strokes, painting nonstop. The image shifted a bit.
Started dark-heavy.
Now it's bright.
This darkness exists to be overcome—a hopeful color harmony saying I can escape. Lost in the zone, I finished.
A room in cold blue tones, an orange figure's back. Heart filled with pink and red somewhere in between.
And warm white light through the open door crack.
Click.
I snapped a photo of the completed work and sent it to Director Kim Jin-gyu.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Sunday.
The day every office worker rests.
💬 KAKAO TALK!
The alarm shattered that sweet Sunday rest. Kim Jin-gyu sighed. Sundays weren't true rest days for a Visual Director—no real days off anyway—but this weekend he had home-based work, so he'd hoped to relax a bit.
"Who the hell messages work Kakao on a day like this."
No manners.
Grumbling, he pulled out his work phone. The moment he saw the alert, he bolted up and frantically called someone.
"Yeah, it's me. No, not a scam—Kim Jin-gyu. What's the fastest way from here to Namhae? Yeah. Book it now. No, I have to go see this myself."
On his phone screen: the photo of Woohyun's painting.