“The princess has arrived!!”
“Make way for Princess Go, the saint of our nation!”
“Behold the grand arrival of Her Grace, who has spread the spirit of Korea even to distant Japan-!”
“Peasants, clear the way! Make way!”
“…”
My face was on the verge of exploding with embarrassment.
‘It’s been a while since my classmates suddenly begged to carry me on their shoulders just once, but… this? What is this?!’
Despite my protests or lack thereof I was (forcibly) carried on someone’s shoulders by the middle school art students, who proudly marched down the hallway with me.
Following behind us, music students played the Korean national anthem on their respective instruments.
– ♪
The grand sound of the anthem echoed through the middle school hallway of Hanul Integrated Arts School. The teachers, startled by the noise, peeked out into the hallway, only to chuckle and go back inside.
“Her Majesty the Princess!”
“It’s the princess!”
The passing middle school students exaggeratedly stepped aside while laughing at the spectacle. Then, a second-year female student escorting me on my right suddenly shouted at the first-year students ahead of us.
“You wretches! How dare you not bow your heads? How dare you meet Her Majesty’s gaze?!”
Of course, everyone understood this wasn’t real and was just a playful act.
The first-year girl quickly waved her hands in panic.
“Oh, no! I was just carrying paints and—! Please have mercy on me!”
“What are these paints for, might I ask?”
“They are for the princess to use in her next painting class!”
“Very well! I shall grant you my forgiveness!”
“Thank you! How can I ever repay this kindness…?”
“By shouting three cheers for the princess right here and praising her boundless generosity.”
“Long live the princess!”
“L-long live!”
– Long live!
– Long live!
– Long live!
Freed by the cheers, the “servants” (or so they called themselves) rushed into the hallway, crying out in joy. The crowd watching the scene burst into applause, showering me with praise for my benevolence.
Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap!
– “As expected of the princess!”
– “Even to the servants, she is so merciful!”
– “How could she be so kindhearted…!”
For the record, I hadn’t said a single word in the last ten minutes. This unscripted comedy sketch was entirely the result of these extras’ impromptu performance, which showed no signs of stopping.
“…”
I was at a loss for words over the whole situation.
Truly, this was a display of Korean humor at its finest. Without any prior coordination, everyone effortlessly followed the flow, exchanging lines straight out of a historical drama.
‘Is it because fusion historical dramas have been trending in Korea lately…?’
It was half a joke—a setup designed to tease me, no doubt. But hidden within this absurd event was a kind of genuine admiration, even fervor, directed toward me.
When I first entered as the youngest special admissions student, their reaction was mostly, “Oh, how impressive for a little kid.” But as I found success through solo exhibitions and exchange projects, more and more students began to take pride in me.
“Who are we? Alumni of the same school as Go Hana!”
Hanul had always been an elite school, but for years, it lacked a unifying icon to bring a sense of connection and pride to its students.
Even the staff seemed quietly pleased with the current situation. They likely believed that having a figurehead befitting an elite school was essential to fully embodying the weight of the institution’s prestige.
‘Senior Yujin from the high school division is incredibly diligent, but her steady, step-by-step progress hasn’t made much of an impression.
And Mari, with her overwhelming background as the granddaughter of a chaebol family, hardly interacts with other students, making it impossible for them to feel any connection with her.’
In such circumstances, I someone who participated earnestly in classes and school events while bearing the attention-grabbing title of “youngest admitted student”—had naturally risen as Hanul’s new icon.
Thanks to this status, I ended up receiving all kinds of benefits in classes and scholarships. But instead of resenting me, my peers accepted it, saying things like, “Well, if it’s the princess, that’s only natural.”
“…”
Honestly, I didn’t know what to think.
It felt almost like hero worship. It was a cheesy, old-fashioned form of collectivism, yet because of that, it seemed to deliver a deep, primal satisfaction.
You could call it an instinctual reaction.
And the art students were completely giving themselves over to this instinct, continuing their improvisational play.
“Long live Her Majesty the Princess!”
“Her Majesty has arrived!”
“Three cheers for the princess!”
As the ridiculous atmosphere carried on, the hallway, now half-filled with students half-lost in their theatrics, was abruptly interrupted by the sound of the bell signaling the start of the next class.
Ding, dong, dang, dong!
“!”
“!”
“!”
The marching students finally snapped back to their senses.
“What?! The bell already?!”
“Hey, isn’t our next class in Building C?”
“Run, run!”
Not wanting to be late, the students carrying me on their shoulders suddenly took off in a full sprint.
“W-wait a second?! Let me walk now!” I protested, clinging to their shoulders.
“It’s faster than walking on those short legs of yours!”
“Yeah, especially since you’re so tiny.”
“I grew 1cm recently!”
“Still the shortest!”
In the end, we all arrived late to Professor Jung Jeonjin’s class and were punished by having to clean the entire art studio after class.
When I tried to pick up a broom to help, my classmates immediately lifted me back onto their shoulders, insisting that the princess should never do manual labor.
From my precarious perch, I cried out for help.
“Mizzy! Help me!”
“!”
“!”
The self-proclaimed steeds turned their sharp gazes toward Mizzy, who hesitated for a moment before backing away.
“S-sorry…!”
Realizing she couldn’t push through the “royal guard” to rescue me, Mizzy fled the scene.
*
The homeroom teacher for the 2nd-year middle school art class, Ms. Lee Nayeon, called me to the teacher’s office after the end of the day’s wrap-up session.
“It’s nothing major, but Hana, there’s another sponsorship inquiry for you. This time, it’s from an organization called the <Korean Cultural Appreciation Society>. I don’t know much about them, but it seems like they’re based somewhere in Gyeonggi-do.”
“…”
The paper the teacher handed me detailed an inquiry from the mysterious <Korean Cultural Appreciation Society>, offering to sponsor me with 5 million won, under certain conditions.
Since I returned from Japan,
starting from early July, these kinds of inquiries have been nonstop.
‘I didn’t mind quietly accepting no-strings-attached sponsorships, but there are more and more people trying to negotiate conditions like this.’
Thinking about that, I spoke up.
“…No matter how you look at it, this seems like one of those situations where they’re asking for some TV promotion in exchange for sponsorship.”
“You’re exactly right. They want you to appear in programs related to their organization all day long. They even want to borrow your name for their ads… I’ve already hinted that it’s unlikely, but I thought it’d be better to consult with you before rejecting them outright.”
“I’ll refuse.”
Ms. Lee folded the paper neatly in half with a decisive motion.
“Alright, I’ll handle it. Oh, and by the way, there are three other inquiries asking for you to do advertisements, and one about appearing in a sponsored program. What should I do about those?”
“For the time being, I’d rather not take on any ads or sponsorships…”
“Really? That’s surprising. I thought you didn’t mind things like that since you’ve done crayon commercials before.”
“Back then, I needed money desperately to buy art supplies, even if it meant scraping the bottom of the barrel… But now, I’m not sure how long this image will last, and I want to handle things more cautiously.”
Ms. Lee chuckled softly as she looked at me.
“You’re right. It’s rare for someone to stay in the spotlight for long after riding a wave of public attention. I’ll explain the rest of the matters properly.”
“I feel bad leaving all this to you, teacher. It’s not like you’re my manager…”
“Oh my, were you actually worrying about that? Don’t be. It’s totally fine.”
And with that, the conversation ended.
After bowing to Ms. Lee in gratitude, I stepped out of the teacher’s office. The cool breeze of the air conditioner inside the office gave way to the blazing heat of July, just before summer vacation.
-Cicada cries-
I stood blankly in the hallway, the sound of cicadas chirping somewhere in the garden of the Hanul main building providing a sort of background music.
“…”
Attention brings money.
That’s something I’ve been feeling acutely these days.
‘…Even if that attention is overwhelming.’
Turning off my constantly buzzing phone, I found it difficult even to ride a bus without drawing too much attention. The trade-off for this newfound fame had brought me a lot.
TV programs eagerly waited for me to make even a single appearance.
Suspicious organizations flooded me with ad inquiries, asking me to promote their name. Some companies and groups, desperate for me to remember them, sent unconditional donations.
And that’s not all.
The prices of paintings I had once auctioned off skyrocketed by over ten times their original value.
The big collectors who had already bought my work began trading them for sums several dozen times higher than what they’d originally paid.
As a result, in less than two weeks since returning from Japan, my assets had quintupled. The wealth I once thought comparable to a second-place lottery prize now rivaled that of a first-place jackpot.
It was, quite literally, the difference between being a “promising young artist” and a “nationally recognized genius girl.”
‘I’ve been saving up the profits from my paintings separately, and the sponsorships and scholarships, after deducting tuition, are being sent to my HU Securities account… So, in the end, I’m still living off competition prize money and my uncle’s allowance.’
I believed the “investment funds” sitting idly in my HU Securities account would multiply someday. As a result, financial hardships were now a thing of the past for me. Not that I ever had a habit of wasting money to begin with.
At that moment, my phone buzzed with a notification.
Ding-dong!
I opened my phone.
[Uncle: I sent you some allowance. Buy yourself something tasty.]
“…..”
My uncle, as always, continued to send me allowance without fail. He diligently saved up the money he earned from his auto repair shop and sent it to me. And with the shop’s business improving, the amounts were only getting larger.
I had once tried to have a serious conversation with him about it.
– Uncle, I can now cover all my tuition and living expenses with scholarships. You don’t have to worry about me anymore.
His response had been absolutely absurd.
– Why should I stop taking care of my kid?
– W-what do you mean by that?
– Just trust your uncle, the master of one-room apartments in Mapo-gu, who rules over bathrooms and boiler rooms alike.
In the end, I gave up trying to argue with his stubbornness and decided to accept the money without complaint, all the while promising myself that, once Mr. Kang’s “big project” succeeded, I’d shower him with thanks.
‘Anyway, what should my next piece be about…?’
Having turned down the proposal from Lao Hu Agency and with the whole country’s attention focused on me, I wanted to create something grand—something free and diverse, like a festival.
Meanwhile, in the teacher’s office at Hanul High, chaos ensued.
The head of the academic affairs office shouted, practically frothing at the mouth.
“We need Go Hana! Go Hana! Put Go Hana’s name on it, no matter what!”
“P-please calm down, sir…”
“Do I look like I can calm down?! Do you know how many angry comments I had to endure from journalists who criticized us for leaving Go Hana’s work hidden in some corner at the Hanul Exhibition, even though she caused a sensation in Japan?!
And how much nagging I got from the principal, the Minister of Culture and Tourism, and the Minister of Education, calling me blind and incompetent?! We can’t repeat that! Put Go Hana’s name in right now!”
The cold stares of contempt that seemed to mock him for not recognizing the genius in front of him still haunted him.
‘They didn’t even know what Go Hana was up to until her work made headlines in Japan, yet they only criticize me?! Why am I the only one getting yelled at…?!’
“Just submit it with Go Hana’s name!”
“Well, uh, for the youth artist recommendation, we need to include two names… Who should take the other spot?”
“Doesn’t matter! Just write Go Hana’s name first, and we’ll figure out the rest later!”
The paper the academic affairs head tossed onto the desk was an information packet distributed by the Ministry of Culture and Tourism.
It detailed the upcoming New York Contemporary Art International Expo set for this fall.
The back page contained a list of recommended artists for the Korean Pavilion. The guidelines specified that artists from various age groups needed to be selected.
At the very top of the youth category was the name, ‘Go Hana’.