Chapter 2 – I’m Really Back
‘I’m back. For real.’
Inside the room of an ordinary house, in front of a monitor.
Min-hyuk clicked the mouse absentmindedly, staring blankly at the screen.
The main page of Bluehouse’s search bar.
An old, cluttered UI from more than a decade ago greeted him, along with gossip about celebrities he could barely remember and advertisements for Flash games.
And most importantly…
“Hey, what’s today’s date?”
“July 18th, I told you.”
“July 18, 2005, right?”
“Yeah, I said so. Why are you acting so weird today?”
Sitting beside him on a small chair, a boy with a buzz cut tilted his head as he answered.
‘Oh Seung-heon.’
The kid he’d been close with since third grade simply because they lived in the same neighborhood—his so-called “ride-or-die” friend.
The very guy he’d first told the news to after becoming crippled in both arms.
And now that same Oh Seung-heon, in his childhood form, was right in front of him.
Min-hyuk had come straight to Seung-heon’s house instead of going to a PC bang to use a computer.
Because…
‘During summer break, this is what we did almost every day…’
Even though it was something from over ten years ago, the memory was vivid.
Seung-heon’s family had a computer, so during vacations Min-hyuk would borrow comic books and camp out here to hang out together.
Just looking at him made the fact that this wasn’t a dream feel even more real.
“Heh… heh heh heh…”
It was real. This had actually happened.
Monday, July 18, 2005.
The exact day summer break started in his third year of middle school—he had returned to that moment.
‘Why did this happen?’
He hadn’t been hit by a truck or heard the voice of a god, had he?
There were no particular signs or omens either.
He pondered deeply for a long while.
‘This isn’t even something out of a comic…’
Had all his talk about comics turned his actual life into one?
No matter how far he stretched his imagination, no answer came.
There were no clues to begin with—this was a sudden, inexplicable regression.
Then Seung-heon let out a big sigh and asked,
“Dude, seriously, what’s wrong? Did you have some crazy dream or something?”
“A dream… well, something like that.”
Min-hyuk scratched his forehead as he replied.
Whatever the situation was, it didn’t matter.
The truly important thing was…
‘I’ve come back to the past.’
Min-hyuk stared intently at his own hands, opening and closing them repeatedly.
The hands that were supposed to become crippled—hands that couldn’t even form a proper fist—were perfectly fine.
More than fine; if he exaggerated a little, they were as soft and smooth as a baby’s.
For a moment, his thoughts tangled like thread.
‘Whoa…’
Putting all the circumstances together, it was certain: he had returned to the past.
Something he’d only seen in webtoons or web novels had happened to him.
As he sat there dazed, blinking, another thought naturally crept up.
‘Now what… what should I do?’
If someone returned to the past, what would they do?
Most people would probably think of stocks or Bitcoin.
But for some reason…
“Ugh—!”
The moment those thoughts crossed his mind, nausea rose from his stomach and his forehead felt hot.
It was hard to explain, but it felt as though his very body was violently rejecting those ideas.
And soon—not much time passed before—he instinctively knew what he had to do.
‘I didn’t come back for that kind of crap.’
It was difficult to put into words, but a strong premonition washed over him.
This one chance he had wished for so desperately.
Whether it was a gift from God or some crazy alien somewhere, what they wanted… wasn’t playing around with money.
What he truly desired, what he had truly longed for, quickly filled his mind.
‘I can… draw comics again.’
The past he regretted.
All the things he had given up, blaming his miserable reality.
He could fix them with these hands.
Even that grand dream of becoming the world’s greatest comic artist.
And so many other things as well.
‘I can do anything now.’
The corners of his mouth lifted on their own.
He might be poor again, but to the Kang Min-hyuk who had lived to thirty-four and then regressed, an overwhelming confidence surged through him—the certainty that he could accomplish anything.
Because Kang Min-hyuk was the kind of person who, when he clenched his core and gritted his teeth, could do whatever he set his mind to.
Thump! Thump!
His heart raced, and energy coursed through his body.
It felt as though someone was pushing him from behind, telling him that the path he was imagining was the right one.
In this moment, an intense feeling washed over him—he could pour this newfound chance, this second life, entirely and without reservation into comics.
‘And on top of that, it’s 2005. The timing couldn’t be better.’
The webtoon market hadn’t even properly opened yet.
Artists in the traditional print manhwa industry looked down on webtoons, dismissing their potential. Because of that, only those who recognized the opportunity early survived and thrived.
In contrast…
‘I know webtoons are going to explode.’
That single piece of knowledge alone could let him achieve so much.
In the future, he could enter Bluehouse—the platform that would become a pillar of the Korean comics industry—right from its early days, without any risk.
He could also seize the countless opportunities and experiences he had missed out of fear before.
And that wasn’t all.
‘There are endless ways to use my knowledge.’
The various revenue models that would later be applied to the webtoon market.
Overall trends in storytelling and artwork.
Coloring techniques, drawing methods.
New tools and digital techniques…
If he utilized all the information he had accumulated from experiencing the future webtoon industry…
It wouldn’t just be the growth of one comic artist named Kang Min-hyuk—it could accelerate the development of the entire Korean comics market itself.
Thump-thump!
His heart pounded wildly at the thought of the future unfolding before him.
This situation could only be described as divine intervention.
He lifted his head and looked straight at Seung-heon.
“Oh Seung-heon.”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“…For what, all of a sudden?”
Seung-heon tilted his head, clearly baffled.
But in that moment, a memory from the past flashed through Min-hyuk’s mind.
—You want to be a comic artist? Quit your job for that? Man, you’re one crazy bastard…—
—Go for it, dude. Do it. You look like you’ll die if you don’t. If you ever run out of money, just tell your big bro.—
When he was over thirty and agonizing over wanting to become a comic artist again.
He remembered opening up to this guy about it.
Back then, too, Seung-heon had supported him completely.
Though it had ultimately ended with him becoming crippled in both arms, without this guy, Min-hyuk probably wouldn’t have even considered starting comics again.
But explaining that now would only make him sound insane—at best.
The gratitude he couldn’t fully express to the future Seung-heon… he could at least give it to the Seung-heon in front of him now.
“Just… thanks for everything.”
Min-hyuk grinned as he said it, and Seung-heon tilted his head again before replying.
“You’re saying that because you feel bad, right?”
“Feel bad? About what?”
“You didn’t bring any comics today.”
“Ah…”
Come to think of it, he hadn’t brought any.
Everything had been so chaotic that he hadn’t even thought about it.
Min-hyuk rummaged in his pocket for a moment, pulled out a single 5,000-won bill, and said,
“Hey, since you mentioned it—wanna go together?”
“Go where?”
“To rent some comic books.”
“You mean go outside? It’s too hot, I’m lazy…”
“Come on, let’s go. Today I’ll let you pick whatever you want—all of it.”
“Really? Then sure, let’s go.”
A suspicious look crossed the face of this notoriously stingy kid—'What’s gotten into him all of a sudden?’
***
On the bed in Oh Seung-heon’s room.
“Krrgh… this is so good. <Two Piece> never gets old, no matter how many times I read it. Right, Kang Min-hyuk?”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
Seung-heon, who had been rolling around on the floor, lifted his head slightly as he spoke.
The manga in his hand was <Two Piece>
The classic shonen manga about a boy who dreams of becoming the King of the Pirates, sets sail on a ship, gathers companions, and embarks on an adventure.
Its only flaw—if it could be called one—was that it still hadn’t ended even by the time Min-hyuk became crippled… but because he loved it so much, he had already read it dozens of times.
‘Still… it’s fun.’
Min-hyuk, flipping through a volume at the computer desk, turned his head for a moment.
Two empty 500-won cups of Yukgaejang instant ramen sat there, completely cleaned out.
And beside them, the thirteen volumes of <Two Piece> they had rented with the remaining 4,000 won.
The joyful sensations of his childhood bubbled up inside him like fizzy soda, and for no reason, his nose tingled.
‘Yeah… this was the feeling.’
The reason he loved comics.
The moment he fell into it became even clearer.
Even though those were poor and difficult times…
Whenever he came to Seung-heon’s house and read comics, a smile would naturally spread across his face.
‘I really do love comics.’
So much that he felt he’d go crazy if he didn’t draw it.
So much that he couldn’t imagine a life without it.
So much that the version of himself from childhood—who had avoided the dream of becoming a comic artist—now felt like an idiot.
Just as the corners of Min-hyuk’s mouth curled upward,
Seung-heon muttered while reading.
“Hey, Kang Min-hyuk.”
“Yeah?”
“So… what are you gonna do about high school?”
“High school? Why bring that up?”
“Didn’t the homeroom teacher call? He said we have to decide whether we’re going to a general academic high school or a vocational one.”
“Ah?”
In that instant, Min-hyuk’s eyes widened.
“Hey, come on, answer me! Where are you going? I’ll just follow whatever you pick.”
When Seung-heon asked again, Min-hyuk scratched his chin for a moment.
‘High school…’
There was definitely one place he had really wanted to go around this time.
“Animation high school.”
“Huh? What’s that…?”
“I want to go to an animation high school.”
“What? Out of nowhere?”
It wasn’t out of nowhere.
Even in his previous life, it had been one of the paths he’d seriously considered from the moment he dreamed of becoming a comic artist.
The only school whose curriculum actually taught comics, and whose entire entrance and advancement system was focused on getting students into art universities or comic/animation-related fields.
Of course, he could still draw comics without going there…
‘But I really… wanted to go.’
A big part of why he felt that way came from experiences after he became a webtoon artist.
—“Did you authors all know each other from before?”
—“Ah, we’re classmates from Korea Animation High.”
—“Yeah, we were even in the same class… and the same club.”
During his time serializing on Bluehouse, he had attended a few gatherings of webtoon artists.
Every single time, there were always groups of people who had gone to the same animation high school or the same university comic departments.
Among them were many of the “good artists” he admired.
Sometimes nearly half the authors at a gathering were alumni of that school.
His running joke back then had been “Damn Korea Animation High cartel!”
And most crucially…
—“For me, attending that school was a huge help. When it came to becoming an artist.”
The words a certain artist he admired had once said to him were nailed into his mind like a spike.
‘So I thought countless times that I wanted to go too.’
He could roughly guess why.
A place where kids of the same age with similar dreams were gathered together.
He had envied the unique bond they shared, and never quite overcame the sense of exclusion from not being part of it.
A space where students competed with one another—healthy rivals and competitors.
If he had drawn comics in a place where everyone loved it and dreamed of becoming an artist, wouldn’t he have grown even more?
That lingering regret had never fully gone away.
And above all…
‘I want to live a life without regrets.’
This second life he had been given.
He didn’t want it to be filled with regrets like the last one.
I’m going to become a comic artist.
Not just any ordinary one—Korea’s best… no, the world’s best comic artist.
His instincts were telling him.
To reach that goal, he had to go there now.
“Oh Seung-heon, let me use the computer for a sec.”
“Uh… sure, but why?”
Overthinking only delays decisions.
Min-hyuk immediately sprang into action.
Tap-tap-tap! Tap-tap-tap!
Min-hyuk tapped away at the keyboard, searching for information about animation high schools.
Seung-heon quietly slid into the seat next to him, scratching his chin as he stared intently at the monitor.
Ignoring him, Min-hyuk continued his search.
“There are four animation high schools…”
From what he found, there were currently four such schools nationwide.
Their curricula were all similar, divided into four departments: Comic Creation, Animation, Video Production, and Computer Game Production.
At that moment, Seung-heon raised an eyebrow and asked,
“Are you… thinking of applying to the Comic Creation department?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Do you even know how to draw? Just because you read a ton of comics doesn’t mean anyone can become an artist…”
“It’s fine. I can learn from now on.”
A strange expression crossed Seung-heon’s face.
If Min-hyuk had to interpret it…
30% shock, 70% pity.
Seung-heon’s face clearly showed worry.
Well, it was understandable.
If his closest friend, who did nothing but read comics every day, suddenly announced he was going to an animation high school, Min-hyuk would probably make the same face.
At least he wasn’t getting cursed out—that was something.
‘Anyway…’
Min-hyuk turned his attention back to the monitor.
The good news was that the tuition for these schools didn’t seem outrageously expensive.
About 500,000 won per semester for tuition, 150,000 won per month for dorm fees, and around 100,000 won for meals.
For his family at this time, 250,000 won a month wasn’t exactly pocket change, but with the mindset of a 34-year-old, it didn’t feel like an insurmountable wall. (He knew he had the mentality of a back-breaker.)
The adult Kang Min-hyuk from age 34 knew plenty of ways to make money if needed.
If worst came to worst, he could always take the “heretical” path common in regression stories—stocks or Bitcoin.
The real problem was…
“Hey, Kang Min-hyuk, your grades probably won’t even cut it.”
“Ugggh…”
Seung-heon’s single comment made a heavy sigh escape Min-hyuk’s mouth.
From what he read, admission was based on middle school grades, an interview, and a practical exam—ranked by total score.
The issue was that grades carried a huge weight, and his current grades… weren’t even close.
“Damn it, why do grades matter so much for drawing Comics?”
An unexpected obstacle twisted Min-hyuk’s brows.
“That’s just how the world works, you idiot. Does science high school only look at science? Does a history-focused school only care about history?”
“…You’ve got some weirdly sharp moments.”
“I’m sharp 365 days a year, moron. How many detective comics do you think I’ve read?”
That wasn’t the only problem.
‘To get in… I’d have to learn entrance exam art too.’
It was clearly stated in the practical exam section.
Comic Creation Department – Panel Comics (4-hour exam).
Even though he had been a pro artist before regressing, this was entrance exam art.
Different materials, different formulas—so he’d need at least some basic study.
That’s why prep academies existed, after all.
He couldn’t exactly start earning big money right now, and spending like this…
‘My family couldn’t afford it.’
His mom already disapproved of him pursuing comics.
There was no way she’d agree to this.
“Ugggh…”
“Don’t get all depressed, idiot. That’s just life. Heh heh!”
As Min-hyuk slumped his head and sighed, Seung-heon patted his shoulder and teased him.
Min-hyuk clenched his fists tightly, then let his shoulders droop.
‘Ugh… maybe this isn’t the path?’
He knew there were plenty of ways to draw comics without going to an animation high school.
Before the webtoon market opened, he could challenge the domestic print manhwa industry, or even look abroad and adapt to the Japanese manga market.
But…
‘I really wanted to go.’
This was the second chance he had wished for so desperately.
He didn’t want to let it slip away so meaninglessly.
And also… he hoped the path ahead in comics would be a little less lonely than his previous life.
Click-click.
Min-hyuk scrolled further through the
internet.
‘There has to be a way… something…’
If he was going to regress anyway, why send him back to third-year middle school instead of first-year? Why this timing?
A faint crease formed on Min-hyuk’s forehead.
“Huh?”
Suddenly, his eyes widened.
[Korea Animation High School announces the 1st Comic Contest to enhance incoming students’ practical skills!
Winners will receive prize money and special advantages in the admissions process!]
“…Found it.”
The lifeline that would get him into the animation high school.