Michelangelo had to produce drawings in preparation for the frescoes of the Sistine Chapel.
Generally speaking, it would have been sufficient to simply trace poses entirely relying on nude models. Everyone assumed Michelangelo would do just that.
But Michelangelo didn't.
He didn't rely solely on nude models for the hundreds of poses needed for the Sistine Chapel.
He didn't need to—his head was already full of ideas.
For example, antiquities from Florence and Rome… especially the Greco-Roman reliefs in Rome and the ancient carved gemstones that Lorenzo de' Medici treasured in Florence.
Or even Michelangelo's sketch, figura serpentinata, which was a variation of Laocoön?
In any case, his mind was alive with countless drawings and sketches he had done throughout his life. His exceptional memory for images made it possible.
All he had to do was pull from what he'd already stored in his head—and quote it.
And so he did.
[Do you see Kang-seok's pupils trembling as he sculpts the hand? He's chasing an afterimage. What is it, you ask? I don't know. But from what I can tell, just carving that one hand, he's flipping through countless references stored in his memory. Can he really do that? I mean… he is doing it right now, isn't he?]
Three days after Kang-seok had resumed his work—
Videos analyzing Kang-seok's sculpting began to flood in. Most were made by major YouTubers.
And there was a reason for it.
Kang-seok broadcasted his work live, in real time. And during the streams, he never once looked at a phone or computer. He didn't even glance at printed references or books.
Not even a quick look at a photo.
In other words, Kang-seok was working without looking at anything.
[(Kang-seok doesn't look at anything, but he still sculpts with shocking realism.)]
[(Seriously, I've never seen him look at a reference while sculpting. Is this even possible?)]
[(What if there's a hidden projector or a massive screen off-camera? There's no way he's sculpting without looking at something!)]
[(Are you kidding? He has cameras all over, switching angles randomly. Not once have we seen anything like that on any of the livestreams. Not once, in all three streams.)]
[(…Wait a sec. Isn't this actually insane? Kang-seok is basically functioning like a 3D printer, creating his sculptures from nothing.)]
[(…Yeah. That's exactly what he's doing.)]
It had started as casual admiration in the chat.
Someone praised Kang-seok's brilliance as usual—only to realize, upon saying it out loud, how implausible it all was.
Some, believing true originality didn't exist, tried to reverse-engineer his references using Google image search.
They failed.
There was nothing. No exact matches. Not even anything similar.
Even when someone found a similar hand pose, it was always dismissed as too slender, too feminine, or lacking in muscle.
A brief theory that he might be using his own hand as a model rose and fell just as fast—image comparisons revealed that the youthful hand of the high schooler Kang-seok was nothing like the sculpted hand in the marble.
That's when people began seriously analyzing how he worked. And YouTubers turned that analysis into content—hence, the current frenzy.
[...But seriously, how much input must he have absorbed to be able to do this? This isn't something you can do after a few sessions of life drawing or croquis sketching. Just look at it. That callus, that wrinkle—I mean, that's undeniably the hand of someone who's trained hard. It's like a real lumberjack's hand. But how would a nineteen-year-old have even seen a hand like that up close? I mean... what was I doing at nineteen? Skipping classes to play Diablo at a PC café…]
Art YouTubers all came to the same conclusion: they couldn't believe it, but they had to admit it—he was doing it.
Meanwhile, unaware of the chaos he was causing, Kang-seok simply kept carving, hammering away with concentration.
What flashed across Kang-seok's mind were the hands of countless gym members he'd seen over months of training.
Hands that gripped bars, pulled, held, resisted, pushed far, lifted high—like modern-day lumberjacks swinging invisible axes.
Having absorbed such prime reference material, Kang-seok processed it all into mental data, shifting poses as he liked, choosing hand shapes to match body types, even assigning habits to those hands so he could craft the muscles those habits would develop. Calluses? He moved them around at will.
Like digital editing in Photoshop, Kang-seok's mind adjusted and refined the image. After blinking once or twice, he struck his chisel with the hammer again.
That was how he made hands.
It was a method only Kang-seok could manage.
With no one able to peer into his mind, Kang-seok's secret sculpting method continued to produce works of stunning realism—just with hands.
As the hand, shaped with desperate longing to grasp something, took form under his tools, people cried out.
They begged to see the final piece.
But once again, those pleas went unanswered.
— "That's it for today's stream. I'll see you next time. I've got somewhere to be. Until next time."
[No, don't go!]
[Not like this!]
[Please! Just a little longer! I'm losing my mind! Please! Don't stop now! Aaaaagh!]
With a short goodbye, Kang-seok shut off the stream without hesitation.
That was December 9.
December 11.
A night where brown trees peeked out from the darkness.
Kang Chae-young sat at the large walnut table her brother insisted on buying himself. She tapped away at her laptop keyboard, swinging her feet happily beneath the table.
She no longer sat on the edge—she had a seat of her own now. The wide table that hosted morning, noon, evening, and late-night conversations had become her favorite place in the house.
Though it was Kang-seok who insisted on buying it with his own money, it was Chae-young who seemed to use it the most.
'Well, works for me.'
"Heheheh."
Watching her hum and type, Baek Myung-hee smiled as she peeled fruit.
"Looks like you're happy your brother's home."
"Of course."
Chae-young answered vaguely, still glued to her screen.
Click.
Baek Myung-hee pressed the button on the soda maker.
With each press, gas from the connected cylinder entered the tumbler. A sharp hiss finally indicated it was full.
She released the leftover gas, then poured the sparkling water into a glass mixed with homemade citron and green tangerine syrup.
Beside it was a plate full of rabbit-shaped apple slices, fork laid neatly on top—everything handcrafted by Myung-hee in various pottery workshops over the years.
It was a sign that life had become a little more relaxed.
Ever since Kang-seok's sculpture Cradle of the Boramae Family became a symbol of good fortune, his career had blossomed—and so had the lives of Baek Myung-hee and Kang Hyun-do.
Kang Chae-young typed away at her computer.
Myung-hee asked with a smile:
"So, how's the part-time job going?"
"Good. Smooth sailing."
Running a fan café had improved Chae-young's foreign language skills—and now she was putting them to use.
She and Yoon Yoo-ran hadn't let their language skills go to waste. Through a freelance marketplace, they'd begun picking up small translation gigs.
Chae-young, who often translated Korean into English for international fans, now did freelance work converting Korean texts into foreign languages.
Because translating into foreign languages paid better than the other way around, Chae-young was doing particularly well.
Her pay rate: 16 won per Korean character (excluding spaces) for Korean-to-English translations.
Still a high schooler, she wasn't yet eligible for high-paying or urgent assignments—but more and more clients were seeking her services.
"But what's oppa doing, anyway?"
After dinner, Kang-seok had retreated into the small studio in their Seongbuk-dong home—and hadn't come out since.
Myung-hee shrugged, carrying the fruit plate and citrus soda away.
"Who knows. Your dad said he's working on some side income for Miami Beach or something… I don't know."
Chae-young watched her mom walk toward the studio, then turned back to the screen.
"Well, I'm sure he knows what he's doing."
Bathed in warm light, Chae-young kept typing on her laptop.
It was a cozy evening.
December 12.
The heart of winter.
Morning, at Incheon Airport, gathered for Art Basel in Miami Beach.
Director Jin Do-uk blinked in surprise.
"What's with the suitcase?"
Seeing Kang-seok dragging two suitcases, Jin Do-uk was taken aback.
He'd never seen Kang-seok care about appearances—yet here he was, hauling a full set of luggage for an overseas trip.
He thought Kang-seok would travel light. Wasn't this his first trip abroad?
Kang-seok smiled and said it was no big deal.
"They sell merchandise at art fairs, right? That's what President Jo said…"
President Jo—Jo Dong-beom.
So someone not too familiar with art fairs had given Kang-seok advice? He must've done his homework.
Jin Do-uk nodded.
"Well, yes, that's true."
"So I made a few things."
Jin Do-uk blinked and approached Kang-seok.
"C-Can I see?"
"Of course."
Carefully, Jin Do-uk reached for the suitcase Kang-seok offered.
Inside were small, signed boxes—and on the other side, something long, transparent, and vibrantly colored, wrapped in bubble wrap.
"What is this?"
Before the suspicion that flashed in his mind could leave his lips, Director Jin Dowook's hand moved first.
The first thing he did was open the roughly rectangular paper box.
Inside the paper box was a small, square glass bottle with a lid.
Even just seeing that much, Jin Dowook felt like he knew what it was. No way. With slightly hurried movements, he pulled out the glass bottle. His eyes widened more and more as he drew it out.
The bottle held a sunset.
A very familiar kind of sunset.
"
It was clearly an ink representation of the twilight from the Sunset series.
Having some knowledge about fountain pens and ink, Jin Dowook gently shook the bottle.
"Is it pigment-based?"
"Dye-based."
Dye.
That meant it was a water-based ink that diluted in water.
...Thick enough to be used like paint, and it's dye-based?
Fascinating.
Though he said it was dye-based, it was so rich and viscous that one could easily mistake it for an oil-based pigment ink. No, it was more than that. The ink had a thick, almost paint-like texture. At least, that's what it looked like through the glass.
Jin Dowook shook the bottle this way and that, rolling it in his hand.
Strangely, now it gave off a watercolor-like transparency. In any case, being dye-based meant the ink would write smoothly without breaking the flow.
"This rich texture and it still writes that smoothly? If that's true... it's incredible."
As he marveled and turned the bottle in his hand—
Sunlight from Incheon Airport poured through the windows.
As the light hit the bottle, the ink shifted colors depending on the angle.
"...Sheen."
When an ink changes color depending on the amount and angle of light, or when it dries with an iridescent outline in a different hue, it's called a sheen ink. That technique had clearly been used here.
And from within, something else emerged like the spreading stars of a galaxy—shimmer that wasn't visible in the shade.
"This is..."
"Shimmer. While working, the stone dust scattering reminded me of stardust in the night sky. I thought it would be nice to include that in the ink too. Because, you know, beyond the sky, there are stars."
Kangseok's excited face turned childlike as he explained.
He added that he'd purposely kept the shimmer light, letting it settle gently below the sheen. He wanted to capture even the landscape beyond the sky within the ink.
Jin Dowook stared blankly at the ink bottle.
Creating a sheen ink was hard enough. Making a shimmer ink wasn't easy either.
Of course, there were brands that managed to incorporate both in one ink. But they were brands—Kangseok was an individual.
Jin Dowook looked dazedly at the ink bottles.
"They're... all the same color, right?"
"Yes. That's right."
This much quantity... And he got the formula right mixing both techniques?
"...Have you, by any chance, made fountain pen ink before?"
"Nope."
"Then when did you start preparing this...? Was it when you said you wanted to go to Art Basel Miami Beach with us at Bloom Art Museum? Or since you made the
Forgetting it might be rude, Jin Dowook kept talking.
Those who knew Jin Dowook would be shocked at how calm his tone was—he was never one to let go of tension or fear. But they weren't here.
Kangseok, used to being asked questions, answered in a relaxed tone.
"Three days ago."
"Three... days?"
Three days ago would've been right after the livestream ended at Teacher Yang Seongu's hanok.
Even considering the time it took to return home, it must've been less than three days. No, he had to visit glass artist Cho Dongbeom's workshop to make the dip pen—so more time must've been used there.
Wait—
Since it was his first time, he would've needed to learn how to make fountain pen ink from scratch.
Ha.
And despite that, this is what he made?
Jin Dowook suddenly felt a wave of dizziness, like the kind you get after pushing your body past its limit.
The sunlight at Incheon Airport seemed to be resting on Kangseok's head. It felt like someone meant to be a star in the sky had been mistakenly placed on Earth. Was this even within human ability? Had he stolen the hand of God? It made no sense. The only thing circling in Jin Dowook's mind was denial.
It wasn't just impressive—it was frightening.
And then there was the decision to include sheen and shimmer.
Most fountain pen users prefer standard inks without those features. But if you're selling a limited edition of 100 sets with dip pens, people would prefer something more unique like this.
Did he realize that instinctively and choose accordingly? Even if he did sense it, how was he able to pull it off? These techniques take time to master...
Calling this a success would be an understatement.
If, after his publishing success, this merchandise also took off—especially once people learned how little time it took—the world wouldn't leave Kangseok alone, even if he wanted peace.
Every businessperson in the world would break down his door.
Because Kangseok had just proven not only his artistic talent—but also his business acumen.
"Then..."
Director Jin Dowook turned toward the bubble wrap. If that was the ink, he could guess what the colorful, transparent item was.
As he removed the wrapping, a glass dip pen was revealed. The inner wrapping was done meticulously, so all the items here were likely the same.
Jin Dowook lifted the pen.
"C-could I try using it?"
Attached to the end of the dip pen was a glass figure. As he stared, his eyes widened again.
It, too, looked familiar.
"Ah. These are part of a limited 100-set run, so we can't use them—but I have a tester."
100 sets.
Come to think of it, the Sunset sub-series
Jin Dowook's eyes turned to the ends of the wrapped pens. He noticed that the shape and color of the glass humans were all different.
No way...
"Oh, yes. I modeled each of them after the 100 glass figures in
As he handed over the tester dip pen and ink bottle, Kangseok smiled lightly. The upward curl of his lips showed the satisfaction of someone who knew he had made something good.
Jin Dowook accepted them with a dazed expression.
"Here's some paper."
As Kangseok opened a notebook, Jin Dowook's lips trembled slightly in disbelief.
...Not bad, huh?
Did he really just ask if it was not bad?
"Heh... Ha... Haha."
Jin Dowook opened the bottle and dipped the pen. Watching the ink climb up the pen, he noticed something different—unlike the 100 pens, this one had a clear glass human at its tip.
Clearly, this wasn't part of the main collection.
Is he thinking of a follow-up product after this limited edition?
"Haha..."
This wasn't just 'not bad.'
It was a revolution.
As he lifted the pen, the thick ink with shimmer and sheen clung beautifully to the tip. As he brought it to the paper, his lips moved.
All inks in the world had names.
So what was this?
A primal curiosity welled up.
"Does this ink have a name? Inks usually have names, don't they? Like 'Deep Sea' or 'Mountain Chestnut'...?"
"Ah. It's called
"
Murmuring the name, Jin Dowook drew a bold line with the pen. His gaze slid to where the ink flowed from the pen.
It might have been intentional—or surely it was. He flattened the nib he had angled at 45 degrees.
Even though it was a glass dip pen, the ink flowed like water from a bucket. That was only possible because this glass nib had the same kind of hollow groove as metal dip pens do to hold extra ink.
The ink spilled and began to scatter like a wild sunset on the paper.
The paper was saturated with clouds, a setting sun, and fading red hues. A twilight—落照—a dying light.
As if the sunset had been cut out of the sky and pressed onto paper, the page was dyed flawlessly in beauty.
There was no need to write anything.
As the ink flowed from the tilted pen, Jin Dowook thought:
"He said
It was a hauntingly perfect name.