Chapter 18 – The End of the Contest
Yu-ra’s eyes widened.
‘He… drew that?’
On the desk was a single drawing filling an entire manuscript page.
In the darkness, a middle-aged woman stood bound in chains from head to toe, bathed in a spotlight.
It was just one panel of a comic.
Yet… an overwhelming, eye-grabbing aura emanated from it.
‘He was bragging about first place… and it’s actually pretty good.’
Skill that could confidently be called pro-level—not middle school.
But that was just momentary surprise.
No tension or agitation remained on Yu-ra’s face.
She merely snorted.
‘Well… that’s all it is.’
If every page of his manuscript maintained this level, then maybe this Min-hyuk kid could actually be her rival.
But she had no reason to be nervous.
Han Yu-ra knew the nature of comics far too well.
‘If you pour too much energy into one panel… you won’t be able to keep the quality consistent. No—you probably won’t even finish.’
It was obvious.
He’d likely spent the entire morning on that single panel.
If he kept putting that much power into every cut, forget 18 pages—he wouldn’t even finish half.
Yu-ra’s mouth curved upward as she said loudly enough for him to hear,
“Cute.”
“Huh? Me?”
Min-hyuk tilted his head.
“I meant your confidence is cute.”
“Confidence?”
“Yeah. Confidence.”
She walked past without another word, leaving the classroom.
‘What was that about?’
It rubbed him the wrong way.
Min-hyuk tilted his head.
Just then—
Grrroowl!
His stomach rumbled loudly.
“Phew… time to eat.”
To finish on time, he needed fuel…
‘And since this will be my school… I should check the food quality too.’
A relaxed smile spread across Min-hyuk’s face as he left the classroom.
***
A little later, inside the cafeteria of Korea Animation High School.
At one table, manhwa creation department teachers and students sat eating trays piled with food.
“Phew… this is exhausting.”
“Tell me about it.”
The teachers grumbled with tired faces.
Just then, Department Chair Ma Dong-hyun spoke with sharp eyes,
“So… any promising kids?”
“Promising? Plenty were fast with their hands.”
“In my room, the kids were all pretty good. So many academy-trained ones…”
“Ours too—really impressive.”
The teachers casually chimed in excitedly.
Just then—
“Are your eyes just for decoration?”
Ma Dong-hyun said expressionlessly.
“…”
Instant silence.
The balding vice-chair adjusted his glasses and asked,
“W-what did you say, Chair?”
“…Huh? What did I say?”
“You just said something about eyes…”
“Huh? Vice-Chair, I don’t know about eyes, but your ears seem to be going. Did I say anything? Heh heh!”
“N-no, but…”
You definitely just said it! “Are your eyes just for show?”
An wronged expression crossed the vice-chair’s face.
Just then, the round-faced, clear-eyed female teacher—Choi Jung-an—smiled faintly and said,
“There were… two.”
“Oh, really, Teacher Choi?”
“Yes. Both the storyboarding and layout skills… you could tell they’d drawn a lot of comics. I think the grand prize will come from one of those two.”
Choi Jung-an rolled her eyes.
Her gaze naturally landed on two students sitting in the corner of the cafeteria.
“Ahem! Delicious, so delicious!”
A chubby (?) boy inhaling a mountain of rice and side dishes.
And…
“…Hehe, cute.”
A girl giggling as she rearranged rice grains and greens on her tray into a bunny shape.
They didn’t look ordinary at first glance.
Dong-hyun scanned them with his eyes, nodded, and said,
“Yeah? Haha! If Teacher Choi says so, I feel relieved!”
“…”
Why is the reaction so different from when we said it?
As everyone made incredulous faces, Choi jung-an’s eyes sparkled as she asked,
“Then, Chair—what about you? Anyone catch your eye?”
“Of course.”
Ma Dong-hyun’s mouth curved upward. He turned his gaze toward Han Yu-ra, sitting in the far corner of the cafeteria.
She’d barely put any rice on her tray—just poking at it.
Her forehead still creased, deep in thought.
Seeing her, Dong-hyun smiled faintly and said,
“In the near future… the raw diamond who’ll become Korea’s knight on a white horse.”
“As expected! Then this contest was worth holding!”
“Yeah… you could say that. Starting today… Korean comics will come back to life.”
“Yes! It definitely will.”
Smiles spread across both their faces.
As if they were in a different world from everyone else—a strange vibe!
‘Isn’t that a bit over the top?’
‘No matter how you look at it… it feels forced…’
But the other teachers watching could only let out faint sighs.
Meanwhile…
‘Is this… what animation high schools are like?’
The friends here were, how should he put it…
Overflowing with individuality.
Min-hyuk, who had been diligently eating his lunch among the eccentrics mentioned earlier, tilted his head in confusion.
***
And just like that, the afternoon session began again.
Scritch-scratch!
Swoosh! Swoosh!
The students’ pace began picking up in earnest.
Here and there, people inking lines, trimming screentone.
Faces showed fatigue, but determination rose—creating a fairly intense scene.
Of course, separate from that intensity…
Nine out of ten were mentally broken or on the verge of tears.
‘Shiiit… at this rate, I won’t finish in time!’
‘I’m screwed, screwed!’
More than half hadn’t even reached halfway.
‘Story… how the hell do I end this?’
‘What am I even supposed to say about parents…’
Even those who had been steadily pushing through their page counts now found themselves stuck, unsure how to connect the remaining parts of their stories.
16 pages of manuscript.
Even seasoned professional artists needed a full week to barely finish that—so asking a bunch of third-year middle schoolers to do it naturally led to scenes like this.
But to Ma Dong-hyun—and the animation high—it didn’t matter.
The more the wheat separated from the chaff…
The clearer the reason he’d personally funded this contest became.
Scritch-scratch!
A trimming sound caught his ear.
Dong-hyun’s mouth curved faintly.
‘Look at her.’
On the desk.
Contestant #60, Han Yu-ra, trimming screentone.
Of course, limited time meant limited use…
But considering many had only just finished sketching, her speed was monstrous.
‘Gutsy too—using screentone in a contest like this.’
Truthfully, using screentone in a contest wasn’t smart.
Pre-printed patterns (often mocked as “stamp tones”) could lower your score.
Pattern tones for hair or texture required know-how and took too much time.
You needed the “scraping” technique to push back parts for highlights.
Peeling just the tone layer thinly without cutting the paper required delicate control.
In short…
‘Screentone is overkill in this contest.’
If Dong-hyun were competing, he’d stick to ink and pen.
In a contest with insane volume and limited time—selection and focus were essential.
Yet Han Yu-ra was trimming tone anyway.
Meaning she’d thrown efficiency out the window.
Or…
‘She’s the real deal—no half-measures.’
Stubborn, uncommunicative.
I’ll go my own way.
Full-on my-way-or-the-highway!
Just that sight conveyed Han Yu-ra’s comic spirit (?) intensely to Ma Dong-hyun.
‘Now I’m really looking forward to it.’
What kind of comic, what level of quality would she show?
Saliva gathered unbidden, his legs trembled faintly.
Just as Ma Dong-hyun’s excitement reached its peak—
Scritch-scratch!
Another trimming sound.
He turned his gaze—eyes narrowing.
‘Why is that kid trimming tone too?’
#59, Kang Min-hyuk.
The show-off who’d started manuscript without storyboarding.
Now trimming tone just like Han Yu-ra—naturally making Dong-hyun tilt his head.
‘Is he also betting everything on manuscript completion?’
Well… the trimming looked fairly skilled.
But Dong-hyun knew the difference.
Han Yu-ra doing it and Kang Min-hyuk doing it were completely different.
Not storyboarding was like building a house without blueprints.
Slapping good exterior materials on a house built without direction or purpose—what was the point?
‘It’s obvious even without looking.’
Forcing story and characters into pre-divided panels without plan… it’d become a mess.
Harsh, but that was pro comic artist Ma Dong-hyun’s honest assessment.
‘In the end… the only promising one in this room is Han Yu-ra.’
Well… that’s enough.
He shook his head subtly and slowly walked back toward the podium.
***
Tick-tock, tick-tock.
Contest in full swing.
‘Ruined. I’m ruined! I’m not even halfway.’
‘Not bad?’
‘Good, page 5 done.’
All sorts of expressions on the students’ faces. The digital clocks now read exactly 6:00 p.m.
BAM!
Ma Dong-hyun pounded the podium and shouted heartily,
“Everyone—pens down!”
“Aaah…”
“I’m not finished yet…”
Sighs and regrets echoed here and there.
They’d all struggled desperately, but most hadn’t completed the eight-hour marathon.
Meanwhile…
“Phewww…”
Han Yu-ra set down her pen, brushed hair from her cheek.
“Ugh, my arm hurts…”
Kang Min-hyuk set down his pen and massaged his hand.
Mixed relief and regret on everyone’s faces.
Ma Dong-hyun smiled faintly and said,
“Even if you didn’t finish, judging is at the judges’ discretion—so don’t worry too much.”
“…”
“Okay—if you understand, pack up and leave!”
The kids packed their art boxes and filed out.
“Ugh… hope I at least get an encouragement prize.”
“Encouragement? I’m hoping for excellence…”
Creak. Thud!
All students gone, only Ma Dong-hyun and one assisting student remained.
Dong-hyun handed over a bundle of envelopes.
“You collect that side. I’ll get this one.”
“Yes.”
The student nodded and diligently gathered manuscripts into numbered envelopes.
Meanwhile, Dong-hyun…
“Hmm…”
Quickly skimmed the kids’ works, while repeating the same task.
‘Honestly… their drawing skill isn’t bad.’
Just looking at pure art, quite a few were decent.
But the art was all stamped out like factory copies—lacking individuality…
‘No sense of direction, terrible dialogue, stories a complete mess.’
Everything else was the problem.
Some had even drawn comics completely unrelated to “parents.”
Probably just regurgitated what their academies crammed for the contest.
‘Damn academy brats. They all need to be rounded up.’
They do nothing for Korean comics.
Irritation surged; he sighed heavily as he collected manuscripts.
Just then, approaching one desk… Ma Dong-hyun’s mouth curved upward.
The label on the top right.
[#60 – Han Yu-ra]
‘Heh heh… looking forward to this.’
The one he thought most likely to be a genius.
A fragment of that talent lay right in front of him—natural reaction.
‘Let’s read it.’
Ma Dong-hyun picked up Han Yu-ra’s manuscript and slowly began reading.
Then—
‘Ooh.’
The corners of his mouth began trembling.