Chapter 41 – Understanding Comic Direction (1)
The next morning, at nine o’clock when first period began.
“M-Min-hyuk-kun… are you… okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
When Oh Dong-gyo, sitting next to him, asked with a face full of worry, Min-hyuk forced a smile and answered.
His eyes were bloodshot red, dark circles hanging all the way down to his chin.
It had only been the second day since enrollment, yet Min-hyuk’s condition had already collapsed overnight because…
‘I’ll just plan a little more and then sleep.’
Last night, even though he kept telling himself to sleep, sleep never came—so he ended up spending the hours doing this and that.
He’d opened his memo app under the phone’s light to review Brave King’s future developments and direction flow one more time…
‘Next thing I knew, the sun was…’
The pressure of knowing his opponent was Yang Jae-han must have kicked in, because he’d gone full throttle from the start and ended up like this.
If this had been middle school, he could’ve just passed out and slept it off.
‘But doing that here would be… kind of bad, right?’
He had to see these teachers for three whole years. Falling asleep in class on day two and ruining the relationship would be troublesome.
Besides, there were multiple paths to becoming a comic artist. No reason to deliberately close one off just because he skipped class.
In the end… there was only one answer.
‘I chose this all-nighter—so I’ll grit my teeth and endure!’
Min-hyuk bit his lip hard and powered through.
“Okay, the novel we’ll cover in today’s first period… someone read it aloud.”
“Ah, yes.”
First period was language class.
At least compared to other subjects, listening was relatively easy—thank goodness.
‘General education classes total 13 hours a week, and the remaining 16 are specialized comic-related subjects…’
29 hours per week in total.
Classes end at 4:30 p.m.
On paper, for a “specialized high school,” it might even sound light—like “that’s all?”
The real problem was…
The so-called “autonomous drawing time” that ran until midnight afterward.
Similar to after-school self-study at regular high schools, except instead of studying, students could use it for drawing or entrance-exam art.
That meant the “official” weekly schedule for AniGo students totaled 66 hours.
A hardcore regimen that laughed in the face of the standard 50-hour workweek.
Of course, Min-hyuk had come here precisely because he liked that intensity…
‘B-but right now… it’s a little tough.’
The more general classes dragged on, the more he felt his body wilting.
Struggling against overwhelming drowsiness, he barely survived the 50-minute period and reached break time.
Oh Dong-gyo adjusted his glasses and grinned.
“Huuu… ‘Understanding Comic Direction.’ Aren’t you excited for this subject, Min-hyuk-kun?”
“Yeah… I am. Direction studies are fun.”
He meant it.
Especially for Min-hyuk.
He had never been properly taught direction—he’d learned it all self-taught by referencing other comics.
He was genuinely curious: how did others think about comic direction, and how would this school—full of former pros—teach it?
Plus, seeing that periods 2 and 3 were consecutive blocks for this subject…
The school clearly treated it as extremely important.
‘Well… direction really is half of what makes a comic.’
Especially for high schoolers at this stage.
Many of them might have strong drawing skills from lots of practice, but because they didn’t yet understand the medium of “comics,” they struggled to create their own stories.
A short while later, the bell rang…
“Salute to the teacher.”
“Hello!”
Soon, the teacher in charge of “Understanding Comic Direction,” Choi Jung-an, stood at the podium with a gentle smile.
Min-hyuk focused his tired eyes and stared straight at her.
‘So direction class is with homeroom teacher Choi Jung-an… yeah, that makes sense.’
She might look laid-back and easygoing…
But beneath that, she was an active pro who had won the 2004 New Artist Award and had been serializing the romantic comedy <Hello> in Jump Comics ever since.
Famous for her exceptional dialogue and her ability to push character emotions to the extreme through direction.
Even after the Korean comic market fully shifted to webtoons, she maintained a solid fanbase and consistently delivered high-quality work with respectable results.
So it was only natural to have high expectations for her class.
“How was today’s class so far, everyone?”
“Yesss.”
“Math was boring.”
When one student said it lightly, small laughs rippled through the room.
At that moment, Choi Jung-an smiled softly and asked,
“So… what do you all think comic direction is?”
“Um… like, making cool scenes stand out by putting emphasis on certain panels?”
The girl who answered sounded a little unsure.
Choi Jung-an nodded slowly.
“That’s part of it. But it’s not the whole picture.”
She walked around the front of the classroom, then turned back to face them.
“Direction is… the way you control the reader’s gaze and emotions through panels, cuts, angles, pacing, layout—everything. It’s about guiding the reader exactly where you want them to look, feel, and think at every moment.”
She paused, letting the words sink in.
“In other words… direction is storytelling through visuals. Not just drawing pretty pictures, but ‘telling a story’ with every single panel arrangement.”
Min-hyuk nodded unconsciously.
He already knew this deeply.
But hearing it explained so clearly, from someone who had lived it professionally, still felt different.
Choi Jung-an continued.
“So today, we’re going to start with the absolute basics: panel composition and reader flow. Everyone, take out your sketchbooks.”
The students rustled as they pulled out paper.
“We’re going to do a very simple exercise. I want each of you to draw a three-panel sequence showing a character opening a door and being surprised by what’s inside.”
She smiled mischievously.
“But here’s the rule: you cannot use any dialogue or sound effects. Convey the emotion and story only through panel layout, angles, and character expressions.”
Murmurs of surprise and interest spread through the room.
Min-hyuk cracked his knuckles and leaned forward.
This was going to be fun.
When the student in the front row answered in a slightly unsure voice, homeroom teacher Choi Jung-an nodded gently and said,
“That’s part of direction, yes. But that’s not the core of what I think direction really is.”
She walked over to the whiteboard on one side of the classroom, picked up a marker, and began writing.
‘Dialogue’ · ‘Spacing’ · ‘Layout’.
“Well… every comic artist has their own slightly different thoughts, but when I think about the three core elements of direction in comics, these are the ones that come to mind. How you use them completely changes how you express the author’s ‘intent’ in the work.”
“…”
Most of the students tilted their heads, clearly not understanding yet.
Choi Jung-an moved the marker quickly again.
“Let’s start with dialogue. Look closely—what does this look like to you?”
“The night sky?”
A rough sketch: stars floating in a night sky, with a square building below.
Choi Jung-an drew a speech bubble and wrote inside it: “Zzzzz…… Zzz…….”
“Now what about this?”
“Someone’s… sleeping inside that building?”
“Exactly. But if we change the content like this…”
She erased the content and wrote in rough, jagged letters: “Somebody heeeelp!!”
“Now it looks like someone got mugged on a dark street, right?”
“Ah…”
Everyone nodded.
“Unlike novels that only have text, or illustrations that are only pictures, comics are the combination of text and image.”
“The way those two meet can completely change the meaning, and it opens up infinite ways to express what the author wants to convey.”
“And if we go even more extreme… if I place the speech bubble far away from this panel, it feels like the incident is happening far in the distance. But if I erase the bubble entirely and just overlay text directly on the picture like this… it feels like the incident is happening right here, close up, doesn’t it?”
Min-hyuk stroked his chin and nodded unconsciously.
‘She explains it… really well.’
She was breaking down unconscious techniques he’d been using in a way that was easy to understand.
The exhaustion he’d felt just moments ago seemed to vanish—his mind snapped awake.
“Then let’s move on to spacing. This one’s a bit easier.”
After that, Choi Jung-an’s explanation continued smoothly.
The students who weren’t very familiar with comics listened wide-eyed, as if hearing it all for the first time.
“Naruhodo…”
“Yeah, exactly.”
Oh Dong-gyo, Kim Rok-hee, and others who had already drawn comics nodded vigorously in agreement.
“…”
Han Yu-ra, meanwhile, looked bored.
Her expression seemed to say, ‘Why are we going over stuff I already know?’
‘Wow… she really does have a bad personality.’
Anyway, over the next twenty minutes or so, Choi Jung-an used the marker to show off her impressive drawing skills while successfully planting the most basic concepts of direction into everyone’s heads.
“Okay then—that covers the very basics. Now let’s move on to practice.”
“Practice?”
“Yes. It’s 10:25 right now, so we’ll work until 11:20 and then do presentations. No separate break time—anyone who needs the bathroom can go on their own…”
Clap!
Choi Jung-an clapped her hands.
“Let’s form groups first.”
“…Huh?”
She scanned the classroom, making eye contact with each student before continuing.
“Group 1: Kim Rok-hee, Kang Chae-hyun, Kim Jae-young, Song Hyun-hee, Do Min-ho.”
“…”
Kim Rok-hee and the four others whose names were called tilted their heads in confusion.
Choi Jung-an continued quickly.
“Group 2…”
The names for Group 2 flew by just as fast.
“Group 3: Han Yu-ra, Choi Jae-rim, Shim Chae-hyun…”
Groups 3 and 4, including Han Yu-ra, were called out rapidly.
Watching this, Min-hyuk nodded as he roughly understood.
‘She put one ace in each group.’
Han Yu-ra, Kim Rok-hee.
And the others called first in each group—he’d overheard they were students who had performed quite well in practical exams.
“And finally, Group 5: Oh Dong-gyo, Kang Min-hyuk, Shin Kyung-ah, Park Jae-hee, Shin Min-ah. Six people in this group.”
Once everyone’s name had been called, Choi Jung-an placed a stack of A4 paper on the podium.
“Each group, send one person to take five sheets of A4 paper. Then rearrange your desks so you can sit together as groups.”
Scrape, scrape.
The students pushed desks together and settled into their groups.
Choi Jung-an wrote on the whiteboard again.
<Villain and Hero’s Love>
The title hung there in bold marker strokes.
Min-hyuk stared at it for a moment.
‘…Interesting.’
He cracked his knuckles and leaned forward.
This was definitely going to be fun.
“Villain? Hero?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
When everyone tilted their heads in confusion, Choi Jung-an smiled softly and said,
“That’s the theme I’m giving you. For the next hour, the five of you put your heads together and draw a storyboard. Minimum 20 cuts, maximum 30. Time’s short, so you’d better hurry.”
“Uh… um… who’s drawing the storyboard, seonsaengnim?”
“That’s up to your group to decide. You can split the work, or one person can take the lead—whatever works.”
The students looked visibly flustered by the sudden assignment, but Choi Jung-an just shrugged with an easy smile, as if it didn’t matter to her either way.
Then one student raised a hand and asked,
“Seonsaengnim, is there a reason we have to do this in groups?”
It was Han Yu-ra—her expression completely blank.
Min-hyuk’s lips curled upward slightly as he watched.
‘She’s probably thinking, “I could do this perfectly fine on my own—why do I have to work with these extras…?”’
Harsh. Brutally direct.
People with real talent really are like that, huh.
Throwing a fastball straight to the face.
Of course…
“Hmm… if I told you the reason right now, this whole lesson would lose its meaning. So for now… let’s just proceed like this, okay?”
“…Yes.”
Choi Jung-an didn’t back down one bit either. Even though Han Yu-ra looked dissatisfied, she had no choice but to cooperate.
“Then—begin.”
Choi Jung-an clapped her hands to spur them on.
Min-hyuk rolled his eyes left and right.
“Hmm… what should we do.”
“I’ve got no clue either…”
Everyone seemed hesitant to take the lead, just glancing around awkwardly.
‘Well… no helping it.’
Min-hyuk raised his hand slightly and spoke.
“Let’s each come up with one idea first.”
“Huh? Min-hyuk-kun, one storyboard each? Isn’t that going against seonsaengnim’s instructions…?”
When Dong-gyo adjusted his glasses and asked, Min-hyuk shook his head.
“Five minutes? Ten if we need it. Everyone writes a short description of a simple idea. Then we each present briefly, vote on one, and turn the winner into the actual storyboard. How’s that?”
“…Sounds good.”
“I like it.”
“Let’s do that.”
“Then until 10:35—brainstorm ideas and we’ll present.”
At Min-hyuk’s suggestion, the group nodded and opened their sketchbooks, starting to scribble furiously.
‘Better to move than just sit around wasting time.’
And anyway, throwing out rough ideas quickly makes it easier to find something usable.
Just like that—Group 5 dove headfirst into ideation.
Meanwhile…
“I’ll quickly storyboard it and show you. Then you guys give feedback. Sound good?”
In Group 1, Han Yu-ra raised her hand and spoke in a cold voice.
“Uh… yeah, that seems fine.”
“Well, Yu-ra’s probably the best at this anyway.”
The others nodded in agreement.
Since no one doubted Han Yu-ra’s skill, they probably figured this was the fastest way to get the highest-quality result.
And right next door…
“I want something cute! It has to be cute no matter what!”
“Me too!”
“Agreed!”
Group 2 had already been completely swept up in Kim Rok-hee’s “cute things only” agenda and was now overflowing with fighting spirit.
Up at the front of the room—
Choi Jung-an sat casually on the edge of the teacher’s desk, arms crossed, observing each group.
‘Now then… what kind of storyboards are we going to get today?’
I hope they do well.
A thick layer of anticipation settled across her face.
Thank you for the chapter
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