Episode 2: Fraudulent Ability
Even though the murderer was caught with a sketch more accurate than a montage, Kang Lim made several visits to the hospital. He thought, “Shouldn’t that murderer be the one coming here?” but he couldn’t complain, being trapped in a child’s body.
“It’s hyperthymesia.”
The doctor said, but his mother didn’t quite understand. She just hugged Kang Lim tightly and kissed his forehead.
“What is that?”
“Can you recall the exact design of the clothes worn by the person you had dinner with the day before yesterday?”
“No.”
“If you look at the picture Kang Lim drew, not only did it match the criminal’s face, but even the number of stripes on the clothes he wore was accurate. Normally, people can’t remember things they’ve experienced so precisely. But people with this condition can recall even the most trivial memories as if they were happening right now.”
“So, you mean he has a good memory?”
“I can’t just simplify it as having a good memory. People with this condition often describe their minds as being like a junkyard. Unwanted and painful memories stay with them, and the real problem is that they also relive the negative emotions like shame, frustration, and fear from those times.”
“No way.”
Hearing this, his mother started to shed the tears that had been welling up. Kang Lim, watching his hair get wet with her tears and snot, thought,
“Wow. I didn’t know my mom’s arms were this strong. She’s skinny but really firm.”
With her almost suffocating grip, the doctor added fuel to the fire.
“It will be very difficult from now on. He will have to live with those memories for the rest of his life. There’s a reason they say forgetting is a blessing from God. He might become much more sensitive than other children, so you’ll need to be very attentive. This was a traumatic event that would be hard even for an average person to handle.”
Adding more to their worries, the doctor seemed like he was feeding them concerns with a ladle instead of a spoon, which made Kang Lim angry.
“No! You’re wrong, idiot. I just went through regression.”
Had Kang Lim said those words out loud, he would have been labeled as having an even greater mental problem, and his mother would have wailed louder.
“It’s strange that having a good memory would make me better at drawing. I wasn’t bad before, but…”
The doctor, as if reading his mind, spoke.
“What’s unique is that he has a talent for art. There’s something called ‘savant syndrome,’ where autistic individuals with extraordinary abilities also exhibit this kind of abnormal memorization skill. Kang Lim seems to have a specialized learning ability for memorizing images.”
“What is that…”
“There was someone on TV who could recreate New York City perfectly after seeing it from a helicopter just once. Kang Lim seems to have a similar memorization ability. Actually, hyperthymesia isn’t related to memorization skills, so it might be savant syndrome.”
“So, are you saying Lim might become an autistic child?”
“Well, if he were autistic, you would have seen signs of disinterest in his surroundings or repetitive self-talk from a much younger age, but Kang Lim doesn’t show those traits. This is the first case like this I’ve encountered, so I can’t give a definitive answer. It’s also strange that his drawing skills improved suddenly after this incident.”
“Doctor, no. Lim can’t be sick.”
As his mother hugged him tighter, Kang Lim shook his head at the doctor. Despite his composed expression, which would make one think he hadn’t experienced anything significant, the doctor just looked at him with pity.
Kang Lim felt so frustrated he wanted to hit his chest with his small hands, but he refrained, fearing they would declare it a seizure.
He thought maybe the reason mental hospitals couldn’t cure patients was that they viewed them as mentally ill. It might sound like nonsense, but experiencing it firsthand made him think so.
Time proved that some of what the doctor said was true.
“Half of what he said was right, and half was wrong.”
What was right was that the memory of that day with the doctor was already 15 years old. He could still count the dots on the doctor’s tie and determine the font size of the name embroidered on his coat.
What was wrong was that recalling memories didn’t affect his emotions.
It was like playing an old music video on mute. Just as a flower without scent can’t evoke feelings, a music video without sound couldn’t stir emotions.
So, on the day he went to the hospital, he couldn’t remember how cold the doctor’s voice was or how salty and hot his mother’s tears were. He could only infer from expressions and conversations that “it must have been tough back then.”
Memories didn’t flood his mind chaotically. It felt like having a vast library in his head, where he could take out and read books he had read before.
“Son! Our brilliant son. You really are a genius.”
Of course, now, 15 years later.
Hearing his parents call him so brightly, he realized that forgetting was indeed a blessing from God.
“Gosh, they used to shudder at the word ‘genius’ when I was young. Now they say it themselves. They even kicked out the Genius Discovery team with harsh words when they asked to film me… They’ve come a long way.”
He wondered how his life would have been if he had become famous early and received special education through the media back then.
“Maybe I could have succeeded much faster.”
But Kang Lim agreed with his parents’ choice.
He believed there was a greater reason for starting a new life, especially starting as a helpless child. He knew too well how child prodigies thrust into the spotlight often ended up disappearing under society’s pressure.
He needed to take his time and strengthen his own thinking.
Art isn’t something taught by others. It’s always something you research on your own.
During his childhood, he learned languages and read numerous books.
Not only that, he tried various methods of drawing and made new attempts.
That was enough.
In this life, he would achieve his dream without being swayed by other people’s lives.
He wanted to become an artist who comforts and moves many people.
Maybe…
He felt he could reach that dream, which seemed as distant as the stars in his previous life.
“With the current me, it’s possible.”
Kang Lim resolved to continue working like crazy.
“Only a little time left until the exam. Are you sure it’s okay to prepare alone?”
“Hey, you haven’t sent me to any academy until now, and suddenly you’re saying that after the exam registration ended.”
“Haha. I’m just a bit concerned since it’s so hard to get into that college without private education.”
“They say the exam format changes every year, so academies can’t predict it. Since only geniuses go there, Kang Lim should be fine. Right?”
His parents made a valid point. The university Kang Lim was applying to was the Korean National University of Arts (K-Arts).
Korean art universities had largely failed to produce world-class artists.
Despite numerous graduates, the number of successful artists was significantly low.
“That’s why Korea still clings to Nam June Paik as the only world-renowned artist…”
The reason for failure was often the entrance exams for Korean art schools, which rigidly shaped students’ creative minds.
Art should be about being different, but Korean entrance exams often penalized students for being different.
In response, the Korean National University of Arts was established.
This institution didn’t accept students influenced by typical entrance exams.
The government invited internationally active artists to teach and allowed students to enter without taking the national university entrance exam, based on their own tests.
This national school aimed solely to cultivate artists who could shine on the global stage.
“Many graduates indeed went global afterwards. I’ll be attending the same school as those people I read about in the news.”
Kang Lim looked at the small room he had been using as a studio.
“Ah, being an only child is great. If I had siblings, I couldn’t have used that room as a studio.”
It was a place where he had accumulated drawings from 15 years of research.
The day would come when they would see the light, if he found someone who recognized their value.
“Are you really okay preparing alone?”
At his parents’ repeated question, he finally spoke up.
“Tomorrow. I’ll attend an academy for just one day, on Monday. I want to check where I stand among the other kids.”
“Phew.”
Stepping outside, the bright sunlight and cool autumn breeze tickled his ears. He quickly walked down the hill, happily passing by brick buildings. Turning back,
Kang Lim felt satisfied seeing his house as the only new building. Some might call it a modest home, but it would become a memory. “Ah, I used to live in that kind of house back then.”
“Perfect preparation for art high school and university entrance exams, A&A Art Academy! Come to Exit 4 of Mokdong Station!”
After taking the rattling bus, he arrived at the academy he had heard about in the advertisement.
Taking the elevator up, the automatic doors opened onto a clean marble floor.
In front of the door was a flyer listing the names of students who had entered universities this year.
Nine to Seoul National University in 2014, twenty-three to Hongik University, seventeen to Kookmin University, seven to Ewha Womans University…
Kang Lim smiled, thinking about how nervous he had been the first time he came here.
“Hello.”
He greeted the woman at the counter with a bow, and she approached. She was the academy manager.
The manager looked Kang Lim up and down. A student coming suddenly just before the entrance exams could only mean one thing.
“Ah, you’re here for the joint evaluation, right?”
“Yes.”
At that time, there was something called the national joint evaluation. Like mock exams for the university entrance exam, art academies nationwide would come together for a joint evaluation, and on the years when renowned university professors came to evaluate, even art high school students would come to take the test. This year was one of those years.
“The students will come soon, so warm up. Take the drawing paper from the storage.”
He entered the university entrance exam class that the manager directed him to.
The walls were filled with sketches and watercolors of still lifes and plaster casts.
Kang Lim grabbed one of the easels lined up in the right corner.
Creak, clank.
The easel unfolded energetically, resonating in the quiet studio.
