New Normal - Chapter 33

Without thinking, Jisoo’s gaze drifted in that direction before quickly shifting to his neatly handsome face.

Jeon Sangyeong wasn’t just a successful artist—he was also known for his striking looks.

“Professor Shin is right. I thought of ritualistic structures first, too,” said Kim Sooyeon, picking up on Jisoo’s point. “Maybe it’s because of the way the movement is guided—it made the message feel more direct. By the way, Jeon, I heard the piece you’re working on now is called The Archetype of First Love. Is that part of the same trajectory?”

She held her glass with grace, and every slight motion of her fingers caught the light, reflecting off her nude-colored nails.

“I briefly saw the setup in your studio, and… how should I say this? The composition of the objects didn’t feel like a mere lineup of forms. It was more like a reconfiguration of accumulated memories. It felt like you were summoning an impression rather than recreating the original.”

Her tone was friendly, yet refined. Even in this informal setting, her gaze was as sharp as ever when she spoke about art. A hint of cool detachment lingered in her expression—above all, she still carried the air of a critic.

“May I ask?” Jisoo leaned in slightly, “how are you treating the concept of ‘archetype’? Are you exploring the structure of the emotion itself, or trying to materialize a kind of origin? And if it does come from real experience, what texture do you think that emotion holds? What was your first love like?”

Jeon Sangyeong leaned back, taking a sip of his tea.

His eyes—dark and direct beneath his thick brows—pierced Jisoo for a second. She felt her breath catch.

“My first love? Hmm. Let’s see…”

He tilted his head, eyes lowered. His long lashes cast shadows across his sharp features.

Then, in a low, husky voice, he murmured,

“She was a b1tch. A real, goddamn b1tch.”

Jisoo choked, coughing into a napkin to muffle the sound.

What the hell…?

After a long moment, when she’d finally stopped coughing, Jisoo lowered the napkin and forced a smile.

“She must have been… something.”

Her composed remark defused the tension. The awkward pause gave way to laughter. Professor Yoon Jongchan, his face red from several rounds of drinks, let out a booming laugh.

“No kidding! For Jeon to say something like that, she must’ve been quite a piece of work. But you know, artists need those kinds of emotional upheavals in life. Back when I studied in Paris, I got tangled up with some pretty proud, high-handed women. The French—always so assertive, right? A bit full of themselves, even. Am I wrong, Jeon?”

“Wouldn’t know. She was Korean,” Sangyeong replied flatly.

Professor Yoon didn’t seem offended and smoothly changed the subject.

“Anyway, I met a lot of people during those days. Some really well-known artists, too. Oh! You all know Professor Whitman from NYU, right? The guy who brings up ‘the times’ in every sentence and critiques art with every breath. Would you believe he read my dissertation and—”

Jisoo quietly lifted her glass.

Yoon’s drunken monologue was veering toward self-congratulation.

Before, in a setting like this, Jisoo would’ve tried hard to stand out—to impress.

But now, she felt rare composure. Her thoughts were consumed by just one person.

Jin Jungeun.

Only that woman.

***

Later that afternoon.

The first-floor cafeteria of the student building was sparsely populated with late-lunching students.

Jisoo, tray in hand, looked completely out of it. She wandered a bit before dropping into a corner seat, alone.

The fried egg atop her hot stone bibimbap had slid off to one side, as if to mirror her own disarray.

“Professor Shin, you look a bit startled. Do you know Chae Juwon?”

“Ah, not really well. I met him once before. But… will he also be at the meeting with Jeon Sangyeong?”

“No, not this time. It’s just a casual get-together with the department head and Jeon. The rest of the team will be at the kickoff meeting. You’ll all be formally introduced then.”

Still a little tense from her first encounter with Professor Kim, Jisoo hadn’t eaten all day. But the moment she heard Chae Juwon’s name, her appetite vanished.

Seok Doryeong’s words echoed in her mind.

“Once you confirm it, the rest will resolve naturally. You can’t resist fate.”

Jisoo slumped, staring at her food. Her head was buzzing.

Am I really involved with that guy? Is this for real?

With a heavy sigh, she half-heartedly stirred her bibimbap.

She’d been so thrilled about this opportunity—and of course, it had to be him.

She tried to shake the thought, but couldn’t.

Things just kept getting messier.

“Especially for this project, architecture plays a big role.”

She never imagined it would be like this.

Running wasn’t an option anymore.

Her lips tightened. No—better to apologize and end things cleanly than let them fester.

Resolute, she put down her spoon and picked up her phone.

“Shin Jisoo?”

She looked up. A woman stood before her, wearing a crisp summer suit and a scarf around her neck. With sharp eyes and an ageless face—it was Jin Jungeun.

A professor in A University’s Department of Art Education.

And the woman her father had chosen.

“What are you doing here? Doesn’t look like you’re here for a conference.”

The cold look in Jungeun’s eyes chilled Jisoo’s bl00d.

She had completely forgotten that this was A University.

She set down her phone and calmly picked up her spoon.

Her hand trembled slightly, but she forced herself to stir the rice. She didn’t look up.

“Lunch. What about you?”

Even though Jisoo’s tone lacked politeness and dodged the question, Jungeun didn’t seem bothered. She leisurely sat down across from her, placing her tray on the table with a clatter.

“The faculty cafeteria’s closed today. I come here sometimes too. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

She pulled out her chair with a careless grace and sat down.

Jisoo lowered her eyes and took a bite.

The rice felt rough and dry in her mouth.

Jungeun stared at her, then spoke nonchalantly.

“Looks like you’ve been eating well. Must be busy.”

“Of course. No reason to starve.”

Jisoo’s flat answer earned a smirk from Jungeun.

“How’s the museum? Still working there?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

Jisoo looked up. Jungeun’s face was unreadable.

She lowered her head again and forced herself to eat tasteless bites.

“You already know the Hansong situation, Professor. After all, you’re on the board.”

“Oh, right.”

Jungeun clicked her tongue and tapped the table lightly with her fingers.

“I heard you switched teams. How’s that going?”

The slight edge in her tone made Jisoo glance up.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing special. Just what I heard.”

Her voice remained eerily calm, but her tone dripped with sarcasm.

“It’s fine. I can handle it.”

Jisoo’s curt reply made Jungeun laugh dryly.

“Really? That’s impressive. You’re tough, Jisoo. Resilient.”

Jisoo clenched her jaw. A troubling suspicion flashed in her mind.

Jungeun looked at her a moment longer, then smiled sweetly.

“I was just a little surprised.”

“About what?”

“Just… all the things you’ve been doing. Grad school, theory, working at the museum. Got a role model or something?”

“Not really.”

Jisoo swallowed her emotions and lowered her gaze again.

“Still in touch with the Assemblyman these days? He still sending money?”

The question struck hard. Jisoo froze, then slowly raised her head and met her eyes.

“Is it wrong for a father to send money to his daughter?”

She let out a small, scornful laugh.

Jungeun’s smile gradually faded.