By Zephyria 
The front door opened, and cool air flowed out from within, as if the refrigerator door had been opened.
The interior was plenty cool, but Joo-han Hyung, who had opened the door, was not wearing a t-shirt.
“Just leave your shoes on. It’s Western style.”
Hyung, dressed in black skinny jeans ripped in various places and sturdy boots, turned and walked into the room, stretching his arms wide. His hair still held droplets of water, suggesting he had just finished showering.
“Honestly, I just live like this because cleaning and wiping is a hassle.”
He added with a chuckle, turning back to me.
For the place to draw, I wanted the place where Hyung felt most comfortable, and naturally, he chose his home.
The officetel, overlooking the Seosomun overpass connecting Chungjeong-ro and City Hall, offered a rare, unobstructed view in Seoul, and was conveniently located, allowing for a commute to Phantom in about 30 minutes even during rush hour.
“The CEO gave this to me as a place to live when I became a full-time employee at Phantom. Baek Yuni lives upstairs, on the 23rd floor.”
Hyung said, pointing his index finger at the ceiling. His apartment was on the 21st floor.
“You said you wanted to see it, but I told you not to come so I wouldn’t disturb your work. Let’s see, drinks… I only have beer, want some?”
Peering into the refrigerator, which looked empty at first glance, Hyung asked, turning to me. I, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, replied that it was fine and pulled my bag off my shoulder.
The sound of Hyung opening a beer can with its pull-tab was crisp.
“So, what do I need to do? If I have to hold one pose while you draw, I should warm up beforehand.”
“Just… please be comfortable, as you normally are. I want to sketch various poses until the image I want to draw becomes clear.”
Hyung, fiddling with the piercing on his lip, looked around the small room and then picked up one of the two guitars that had been carefully placed on a stand along the wall next to the bed. Seeing no dust on them, I knew he took good care of them.
“Then I’ll just play my guitar for a bit.”
It was not a very large studio-style one-room apartment, but the absence of large furniture prevented it from feeling cramped. The entire living space consisted of a curtain-style loft bed that took up one entire wall, a single bed opposite it, and a round table placed in front of the full-length window with a good view. Even if he didn’t clean often, the minimal belongings made it look tidy.
“Want to sit there and draw?”
Hyung placed a small amplifier, about a palm’s length in each direction, on the table in front of the window and connected it to the guitar. He then gestured with his chin towards the bed.
“Or I can play on the bed while you draw here? The conditions for drawing are a bit poor.”
Hyung looked around the small room with a perplexed expression.
“Today, I’ll just do a simple sketch, so it’s fine. I’ll bring an easel next time if needed. It’s best if you’re comfortable.”
“Working according to the model’s comfort, you’re quite an unusual artist.”
Hyung let out a small laugh, opened a clear file with sheet music, and began tuning his guitar. I, too, took out my sketching tools from my bag and sat down on Hyung’s bed.
Looking around Hyung’s room again, I noticed there wasn’t a single torn-out magazine photo or poster. Considering his past as a Punk band member and his clothing style, the room was nothing like the image I had arbitrarily imagined for someone living there. It was different from being neat; it felt more like a space for sleeping and leaving.
“Come to think of it, is this the first time we’ve been alone like this?”
Hyung said, his long, slender fingers, adorned with more than five rings on each hand, forming chords as he kept his gaze fixed on the guitar.
“Except for when we’re working, I think so.”
“Reminds me of when we first met.”
As if recalling their first meeting, Hyung chuckled, shrugging his bare shoulders. I laughed along, remembering how he had cursed involuntarily, startled by my appearance.
Back then, I hadn’t known I would officially start working at Phantom, let alone that I would become a Phantom artist and draw again.
I met Teacher Suki Kim, and Morae and Hyung left Korea. I fell for someone, and I pushed myself into a complex relationship to define.
It had only been from early spring to mid-summer, yet so many things had changed, it felt surreal.
As Hyung’s fingers moved, electronic sounds filled the room. It was my first time hearing an electric guitar up close; the melancholic tone characteristic of string instruments, amplified by a delicate vibration, was quite captivating.
Whatever the song was, it wasn’t Punk. The slow, languid notes resonating through the space expressed something beyond simple emotions like joy and sorrow. My expectation that Hyung’s music would be more aggressive, cool, and direct was proven wrong. As complex notes created tension, a phone ringtone cut through.
“Can I take it?”
“Yes, please feel free to move.”
“You’re a generous artist.”
Hyung chuckled, got up, and picked up his phone from beside the sink. His lips curled upwards as he checked the caller ID. It was a villainous smile.
“Yes. I’m modeling right now. No, drawing, not photos.”
He plopped back onto the chair and downed the beer on the table.
“Today? It’s a bit sudden… What time? …Around then should be fine… What will you do for me if I come?”
Hyung’s expression grew more suggestive. Whatever the response from the other end, his shoulders bobbed. I watched him, not moving my hands.
This was very different from the Hyung I saw when he worked at Phantom, or when it was just the three of us with Yooni Noona, or when he was with other Phantom staff. It felt like his private life. The expressions he wore and the voice he used were ones I hadn’t heard when he was with us.
I had asked him to be my model, thinking I knew more about him than about Noona, but I began to doubt if that was just a superficial thought.
As proof, the sketching wasn’t progressing at all. I had lost my direction since entering this house, unsure of what or whom to draw.
“Ah… I’ve been really stressed with work lately, so you’re lucky, mister? Just wait there.”
Hyung ended the call with a light laugh and tossed his phone onto the mattress. He then picked up his guitar again and glanced at me.
“You look shocked?”
“No, not really shocked… You told me about it before.”
“Ah…”
Recalling the time they met at a bar in Hongdae that had a cat, Hyung laughed sheepishly and rubbed his recently cut hair.
“It must have been quite surprising for you too, hearing that from someone you’d only known for a short time.”
It was the opposite.
“I actually felt like I got to know Hyung and Noona better, so it was good… I’m not good at talking about myself.”
Although I was clearly fond of Yooni Noona and Hyung, my cautious nature towards strangers and my introverted personality meant I hadn’t made a consistent effort to nurture that fondness. I was grateful that they had approached me first.
Hyung looked at me for a moment, shrugged, and looked back down at the sheet music.
“It’s not a big deal. Something I could tell a stranger on the street. I do tend to talk a lot, you know.”
Perhaps.
Since Hyung wasn’t like me, he might be able to talk about that incident, which seemed like the most horrific conflict possible between parents and children, as casually as getting caught in a random street fight.
However, even if his tone was light, or if he had spoken with a light heart, the events themselves could not be light. At least, through that story, I felt Kwon Juhan as an individual more concretely.
As if about to play again, Hyung took a sip of beer, hugged his guitar, and hesitantly began to speak.
“This is a bit of a pathetic story… but actually, I felt a sense of kinship with you at first.”
“……”
“Everyone at Phantom is talented, and the artists we meet through work, and many of our clients are creators… people full of talent and flair. Being surrounded by such people all the time can honestly make you feel a bit intimidated.”
My hands completely stopped at the unexpected statement. To me, Hyung was also one of those shining individuals.
As he gently swept his fingers down the guitar strings, creating a pleasant sound, Hyung said,
“But you seemed like an ordinary person my age, so I felt a bit relieved when you came. It gave me a basis to think that you and I were ordinary, and everyone else was excessively brilliant.”
Having said that, Hyung took another sip of beer and placed his fingers on the guitar’s fretboard. Then, he glanced at me playfully and said,
“But in the end, you were brilliant too. Traitor.”
“No, I haven’t… shown anything yet. I’m not even sure if I can live up to expectations in the future. You, who are skilled at Phantom work and even run Old Future, are much more…”
“I started Phantom because they provided room and board, and Old Future is really Baek Yuni’s. I’m just a perverted punk who got lucky meeting good people and ended up playing a role more impressive than I actually am. And you were handpicked by the CEO. If there’s one thing the CEO is good at, it’s discerning potential, so you can trust him. He’s discovered and nurtured many artists who’ve grown the gallery’s size.”
A perverted punk who got lucky meeting good people and ended up playing a role more impressive than I actually am. I hadn’t realized that the confident and bold-seeming Hyung would judge himself so harshly.
Looking at it from that perspective, I was merely a coward who had been given a chance by chance, meeting good people. What had sustained me before was Morae and Hyung, and now… it’s Joo-han Hyung before me, and many others, and one special person.
I was the one who had felt my own insignificance amidst strong individuals like the CEO, the Director, Noona, and Hyung. Hyung seemed like someone who didn’t need to feel that way, but I knew better than anyone what that feeling was.
As if struggling with something, Hyung repeatedly played a short melody. It was a melody that touched a deep emotion.
“And actually, I liked that painting too. Your work that was hanging in the CEO’s living room. Although I enrolled in the Western Painting department, it was just because my parents paid for college entrance consulting, so I wasn’t really interested in art. Especially abstract art, I thought it was pretentious and empty, but I didn’t like it. But that one… looking at it made me feel comforted. Like, ‘You’re not the only one struggling with life, hang in there!’”
At the end, Hyung briefly looked up and smiled at me. Then, the familiar melody repeated.
Regardless of his own assessment, Hyung still seemed brilliant to me, able to share these stories honestly, without pretense.
Hyung’s long, slender fingers moved quickly and precisely on the fretboard, pressing the strings to create notes. To my eyes, his hands were the most beautiful, but… his hands, so thin that the bones were clearly visible on the back, had another charm.
A fragility that seemed dry and cold, yet moved delicately, pleading for companionship…
Perhaps music, like art, is closer to poetry than to novels. Though I, an amateur, couldn’t explain it logically, listening to Hyung’s performance, I knew. He wasn’t a light, shallow person who was merely lucky, as he described himself.
As I switched to a harder pencil to focus on depicting Hyung’s hands, abandoning the full-body croquis, the practice gradually transformed into a performance.
The individual bars, broken into pieces and repeated several times, seamlessly connected into a melody, taking on a consistent color and forming a single flow. Whether it was the feeling Hyung imbued or the original nature of the song, it was a piece that painted a story even with just the melody, without lyrics.
I stopped my pencil and asked.
“What’s this song called?”
“It’s a song called
Hyung replied with the most vibrant expression I had seen since entering his room today.
“Jeff Beck. He’s one of the three greatest guitarists in the world… Well, there are differing opinions on who the top three are, but anyway, it’s his song.”
With a flushed face, like a child talking about dinosaurs, cars, or favorite anime characters, Hyung even sent me the guitarist’s name, album title, and song title via messenger.
“Download the album and listen to it. If you like this song, the other tracks on the same album should be good too. Make sure to listen to the original.”
There were still about two hours left until our 6 o’clock meeting, but during that time, I could only sketch Hyung’s external appearance. It was a sketch of a mere shell, no different from a still life. Like the drawings in the notebook I had shown him. I thought I knew Hyung a little, and therefore could draw him, but the Hyung I had come to draw today was not here.
At 6 o’clock, Hyung casually threw on a t-shirt and preened in front of the mirror, suggesting we go out together. He was transforming, little by little, into the Punk figure full of confidence and playful defiance, the Kwon Juhan I knew.
Standing in front of the mirror, adding more piercings to his ears, Hyung said,
“Did the CEO say he’d pick us up?”
“……Yes.”
“A date?”
I was flustered by the unexpected question but told myself it was just my conscience pricking me and maintained my composure.
“He just said he wanted to recommend an exhibition…”
“Isn’t meeting alone on a weekend evening for an exhibition a typical date? Though I don’t know much about typical dates.”
Saying that, Hyung shrugged and looked at me through the mirror with a mischievous grin.
“Must be nice, Seo Yi-hyun.”
“……”
He seemed to know something. While I stammered, unsure how to react, Hyung turned to me with an even more perplexed expression.
“Hey, your reaction makes me more flustered. Was liking the CEO a secret?”
He spoke as if there was no need to confirm the truth with me. Hyung was completely convinced.
“How… how did you…”
“How what? On the barbecue day, every time I touched the CEO, you made a face like the sky was falling. That’s how I knew. But… this is truly a sky-falling expression you have now.”
Hyung comforted me, saying that Noona wouldn’t have known since she wasn’t present, and the Director was usually oblivious to romantic matters, so he probably hadn’t noticed. But at the same time, he pinched my cheeks, pulling them sideways, saying I was too obvious for someone trying to hide it.
“I thought you wanted to broadcast it to the world because you were so obvious. Like, ‘I like the CEO. The CEO is mine! So Hyung, don’t touch the CEO!’”
That day, I had indeed envied Hyung and his intimate physical contact, but I had never imagined he would be so aware of my gaze. The thought that I was so transparent with my emotions was… quite shocking.
Or perhaps, when it came to my feelings for him, I couldn’t hide them. Even Hani Hyung sometimes couldn’t stand my lack of expression and would get angry.
“But what, are you seriously in love? Not just admiration like for a celebrity?”
Seeing my bewildered reaction, Hyung’s expression also grew serious. He ruffled my hair and crossed his arms, sighing lightly.
“Well, you probably don’t even know what it means to like someone casually.”
Having never liked someone before, I was also insensitive to my feelings for him. I was more confused because I had no information about what state I would be in when I liked someone, or what I would want from the other person.
Yet, Hyung, who is an outsider, simply says what he thinks I would be like. I felt like asking him instead how I would like someone.
“But I never thought you’d even consider someone like the CEO as a romantic partner. It’s really unexpected.”
“……”
Towards Hyung’s back as he turned back to the mirror, I asked with my expression the reason for his thought.
“The CEO, as a boss, as an elder, is comfortable, doesn’t hold grudges, takes good care of things, and doesn’t make a fuss about it. In many ways, he’s good and has much to learn from… but honestly… he doesn’t seem like someone serious about romance. That’s why I thought, if not anyone else, you would never fall for him.”
As I watched his back, connecting the eyebrow piercing and lip piercing with a thin chain, I lowered my gaze to the phone in my hand. About ten minutes later, his message arrived on the screen with a light vibration, stating he would arrive in front of the officetel.
“He’s eloquent, his manners are refined, and his appearance is… well, honestly, fantastic. I admit the CEO has a charm that captivates people.”
Hyung, who had attached the chain to the ring-shaped lip piercing, turned towards me.
“Isn’t someone more stable and understanding more your type? Or, what. Did you, in the end, falter because of Lau Wikun’s external conditions?”
And perhaps to lighten the mood, he came closer and playfully shook my shoulder.
There were times I found it strange how Hyung and his sister could not like him. I even imagined they might be suffering from a fierce unrequited love in secret.
But with this, it became clear that at least Juhan Hyung did not like him.
If he liked him, and had more opportunities to observe him closely, he could not have described him as someone lacking in understanding and unstable.
Hyung, who had let go of my shoulder, which had been swaying limply like a doll’s, without any particular reaction, sighed and slumped down next to me. The narrow mattress of the bed swayed, bouncing back Hyung’s weight.
“Hey, I’m not usually the type to give advice on other people’s relationships. I’m more the type to cross my arms, watch, and then laugh and enjoy it when things start to go wrong. But you… you say it’s love, but you’re not the type to just indulge in emotions and film a drama. I’m telling you this because I don’t want your heart to get hurt and suffer…”
As if confessing a heavy secret, Hyung hesitated and continued with difficulty.
“If this is just the stage of feeling excited and your heart fluttering, then by all means, try to let go of your feelings.”
Compared to his hesitant preamble, the advice to let go of his feelings was delivered without hesitation, so clearly it sounded like an indirect command.
I felt strange.
Whether I had passed the stage of feeling excited and my heart fluttering for him, I couldn’t even know that first. Just thinking of him sent an uncontainable tremor through me, and while that could be called excitement, it was accompanied by a sensation of plunging downwards as if I had missed my footing on a high place.
Moreover, I didn’t have enough experience to collect various cases of the development process of liking someone and organize them into stages by finding consistent patterns.
I hadn’t necessarily wanted encouragement, like saying he seemed to like me too, so we should try to make it work, that we looked good together. But after receiving such clear advice from someone who knew both of us, I, for the first time, thought about the external gaze on our relationship.
Perhaps… we didn’t seem like a good match.
While I debated whether to explain to Hyung about the recent subtle changes in our relationship, Hyung rubbed his short hair, got up from the bed, and took a new beer from the refrigerator.
“From your perspective, do Baek Yuni and I seem very close to the CEO?”
“……”
Hyung, drinking the beer like a seasoned drinker, roughly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“But we know almost nothing about the CEO. His private life, too. However, we know he hasn’t had a proper relationship since we started working together. He might be selective about who comes, but he’s definitely the type not to hold back those who leave. You shouldn’t expect a serious relationship.”
After saying that, Hyung swallowed several gulps of beer at once, looking like someone forced to say something they didn’t want to.
Hyung’s guess was partly right and partly wrong.
If it were the old me, I would probably have agreed with his assessment of him. But if the person Hyung was talking about now was laziness, unwilling to define relationships and take responsibility, then I, too, had not been much different during the time I had come this far.
On the bed, he prioritized my pleasure over his own desires, and through long, devoted caresses, he awakened not just my genitals but every corner of my body with pleasure. Afterward, a more embarrassing aftermath than sex followed, and his kisses were sweet enough to cause delusion.
There was nothing that made me suffer. That’s why I could remain cowardly for so long.
Even while liking him, I had felt a sense of comfort within the ambiguous state of not clearly conveying it, deferring responsibility.
If he continued to treat me like this, without causing me any pain, without revealing himself with someone else or treating someone else specially, and just like now… it would be good if this state were maintained.
Therefore, the evaluation of irresponsibility should also apply to me to be fair.
Each time Hyung beside me brought the beer can to his lips, the metallic friction sound of his lip piercing hitting the can made a clicking noise. I wondered if I should ask for a beer too. I also felt like smoking a cigarette for the first time in a while. But I didn’t ask Hyung for either. I just fiddled with the phone in my hand.
“The CEO knows everything about me… about me meeting older men and having casual encounters, not just physical ones. But he never interferes. He might say he’ll hold Baek Yuni back if she goes abroad, but if the moment truly comes, he won’t say anything like ‘you should do this or that.He pathologically avoids interfering in other people’s lives. The CEO is kind and affectionate. I’m very grateful for that. But… he never tries to get to the real depths, nor does he let anyone in. That’s Lau Wikun.”
As he spoke, emptying the last of his beer in one go, Hyung’s profile seemed to be talking about his own feelings, not mine. It seemed like a complaint about Lau Wikun, who never tried to get into the real depths of others, nor let them in.
Turning his head, Hyung wore an expression like a young child who had grown tired and hurt from craving the attention of parents or teachers.
When he told me that Hyung and his sister didn’t know Suki Kim was his mother. I had thought it was unexpected and was a little surprised. Perhaps that was the cold distance he spoke of. However, the way he behaved towards his sister and Hyung could not be dismissed as mere kindness.
I, too, saw a distorted illusion of Juhan Hyung, Hyung saw of me, and Hyung saw of him. Or we distorted parts into the whole. And the old me was the same regarding him. Perhaps I still am.
But I wanted to know more. I wanted to see him closer to reality.
At the same time, I wanted to show myself to him, to these people. Even if my reality was that of a coward who tried to protect myself by cutting off my connection to the world, and that was all I could show now.
I didn’t want to close myself off like my father and sink into that closed world. I had to at least struggle, in my own way. For the sake of those who silently stayed by my side, and for the sake of the one who told me to break free and speak up again as before…
“Hyung.”
“……”
“If it’s okay with you for the next sketch… could you do it… nude?”
Hyung’s eyes widened. It was probably because I had suddenly changed the subject.
“Nude?”
“Yes, if you’re okay with it, Hyung.”
Hyung fiddled with the empty beer can, gnawing on his lip piercing with his upper teeth. His face was lost in thought.
“I want to draw it… in the CEO’s garden.”
Then, he chuckled and looked at me askance.
“Even outdoor play?”
I laughed along with Hyung.
“It seems the artist has an image in mind. He’s a kid whose parents have disowned him, so there’s nothing he can’t do. It’s for art, not obscenity. I’ll do it. Let’s do it!”
Slapping his thigh with his palm, Hyung completely crushed the beer can. He looked more vibrant than when he had talked about his favorite guitarist just moments ago.
He no longer spoke of his imperfections that made him unsuitable as my romantic partner. As if he had never mentioned it, he chattered excitedly about the concept and pose for the next sketch.
As we left Hyung’s officetel side-by-side, I suddenly recalled Hyung, who had raised his voice that day we had a barbecue, saying it was a heartless act if In-woo Hyung’s interest in me was genuine.
Perhaps back then, Hyung had wanted to talk about my relationship with him, using In-woo Hyung as an example.
“Man, I must really not be normal.”
Inside the elevator, Hyung slung an arm around my shoulder and chuckled.
“Why did you suddenly get so excited when I said nude? When you said you were coming to draw today, it was just vague. But now I feel interested, my blood is pumping.”
Perhaps Hyung’s change was a perfectly natural reaction. I myself was vague about what to draw, and now… it had become clear.
As we left the lobby, his sedan, parked on the roadside in front of the main entrance, was immediately visible. As we slowed our steps upon spotting the car, he, dressed in a casual shirt with rolled-up sleeves, jeans, and teal loafers, stepped out from the back seat.
Just seeing him in my sight was enough, and because I liked it, this feeling of my blood rushing towards him… according to Hyung’s expression, it was excitement and a fluttering heart. At least, it was a sensation very close to excitement.
He, too, who was softening the muscles of his face as he looked towards me, was likely not much different from me, I could feel that now.
“Dressed up like that, where are you going at this hour?”
He greeted Hyung first.
“To seduce an old man.”
And he burst out laughing at Hyung’s reply.
“Behave yourself. You’ll get stabbed again.”
“I’ve already had a falling out with my parents, so where else is there to get stabbed? I have no more estranged relationships, so I should just enjoy myself.”
At Hyung’s blunt remark, he slightly furrowed his brow and glanced at me.
“Lee Hyun knows too. That I got stabbed and kicked out.”
He shook his head as if he couldn’t stop him.
“I have a question. If you get older than those older men you date now, will the age range of your preferred older men also increase, or will men of the current older men’s age still be your type then?”
At his joke, Hyung tilted his head and laughed this time. But perhaps because I had heard Hyung’s story, it wasn’t a laugh that could be seen as purely playful as usual.
“Well, I’m still young and vibrant, and thirty feels a long way off. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
Saying that with a deliberately annoying expression to tease him, Hyung patted my shoulder and stepped back.
“I’m leaving. Have a good… exhibition viewing.”
Then, he glanced at his face and secretly winked at me. It was hard to tell if Hyung was worried about this situation or amused by it.
“The exhibition is until 8:30. Shall we hurry?”
He checked his watch and opened the car’s rear door. As we crossed the crosswalk, I looked back at Hyung, who was flagging down a taxi slowly approaching from the opposite side, and nodded before getting into the back seat.
The driver who had brought me here a few hours ago was in the driver’s seat. I had never owned a car, but riding in a car driven by someone else was even more awkward. It would probably always be awkward. Even taking a taxi was a luxury for me until now.
On the other hand, he always accepted the presence of someone in the front seat naturally. Like in Hong Kong, where a sedan with a sliding blind between the driver’s and rear seats was prepared, he didn’t seem to consciously consider the driver’s presence, though he didn’t attempt passionate kisses or caresses.
Most of the cars he owned, except for SUVs, were chauffeur-driven, focusing on the comfort of the rear seats. They were cars for people who entrusted driving to someone else and wanted to rest fully in the car or even use that time to review things and make decisions.
From that, the difference between us was stark.
Me, for whom walking about ten bus stops was a perfectly normal daily routine, and him, who comfortably accepted the back seat of a luxury sedan as his personal room.
Our car merged into the stream of tail lights densely filling the weekend evening road. Inside, a violin concerto played at a moderate volume. It was a famous piece by Tchaikovsky.
“Did you draw well?”
He asked, slightly turning his body towards me.
“…Yes.”
Although the result of the drawing was not very fruitful, it wasn’t something I needed to report in detail to him, so I nodded.
He looked at my face with a smile he couldn’t hide, nor tried to hide, about the enjoyment of our time together.
It’s different from just looking. He ‘looks into’ my face like this these days. With his head slightly tilted, his eyes observing the interesting and commendable event unfolding before him with a pleased gaze.
When I faced this expression of his, I wasn’t anxious. If he wanted to draw a line, as Juhan Hyung said, he wouldn’t need to act with such an expression.
My anxiety subsided not just because of such deductions.
It must have been since the barbecue party, which also served as a housewarming.
That day, in his study, we were more intensely aroused than usual, and in the chaos caused by that overheating, we revealed our desire for possession and restraint over each other. It was clearly different from the simple sexual remarks we had exchanged in bed until then. The fear of being rejected by him did not control me that night.
He, too, surprised me with a bold statement, wishing I would just become a fool who knew nothing but sex with him. He was talking about sex, but it wasn’t about sex. It was an impulsive greed born from an overwhelming, too strong possessiveness that surged towards the person before me, even though I knew it was a foolish idea. I didn’t dislike it.
“Are you tired? You’re quiet.”
“……”
Leaning his arms on his crossed legs, he slightly bent his upper body and reached out his left arm to stroke my hair.
“You weren’t a chatterbox to begin with.”
He added that, feeling he had said something silly, and laughed. He then tucked my hair, which had grown quite long compared to when we first met, behind my ear and withdrew his hand.
Perhaps my expression was more rigid than usual because the conversation with Juhan Hyung earlier was weighing on my mind. I, too, was afraid of giving this relationship a clear name, and by not refuting him at all in response to Hyung’s words, I felt sorry for making him seem like a ‘bad guy.’
“I’m not tired. The exhibition… I’m looking forward to it.”
I pulled up the corners of my lips to show an expression that proved my words were not a lie. Although I said I was looking forward to the exhibition, it was actually anticipation for the time I would spend with him this evening.
“I’ll do better.” Whether it was a conscious effort because of those words or not, he paid more attention to me than before. Still worried, he wanted me to contact him before and after going out, and even for the shortest distances, I had to use his car, but he didn’t stop me from going out altogether. Especially in the evenings, he took me out almost every time and bought me delicious dinners.
A few days ago, I went to the art supply store and met him to coincide with his quitting time. Although a driver was waiting outside, still, while waiting for him at the cafe after finishing my errands, I felt a bashful sensation, wondering if this was what a normal couple’s date was like.
“In the afternoon… what did you do, Representative?”
Noticing my clumsy attempt to keep the conversation going, a smile deepened around his eyes and mouth.
“A trainer came to the house, and I worked out.”
He trained his muscles intensely for an hour or two, two or three times a week, with a trainer who visited his home. Though I didn’t know the details, from what he said, he seemed proficient in various sports like tennis, horseback riding, and swimming. On the other hand, all I did was simple calisthenics in my room every day to give my muscles a moderate tension.
He suggested we try working out together, saying that irregular lifestyles while painting tend to lead to a decline in stamina and strength.
“If weight training is boring, how about we try some other active exercises together? I’m worried you might feel cooped up just staying at home…”
Ah… so that’s why he took me out almost every evening recently.
I looked at his face, which was watching me with a worried expression, his elbow resting on his crossed legs, his chin propped on his hand. My gaze fell on his left hand, which lay naturally on the seat. After a moment of hesitation, I gently took hold of his fingers.
He raised his upper body from where he was resting his chin, his face looking a little surprised.
“Hmm… what kind of service is this now? I’m getting a little scared for no reason.”
Even though he said he was scared, he seemed to be enjoying my sudden display of affection. My hand, which had lightly held his middle and ring fingers, was now clasped tightly by his large hand. His hand felt pleasantly cool, perhaps from the air conditioner’s chill.
With an expression that seemed to be forcing a smile back into his face, he raised our clasped hands and kissed my fingers. Without immediately pulling away, he met my eyes for a moment.
“……”
Then, he reached out with his other hand and pinched my lower lip. It was our own… form of intimacy, a substitute for a kiss.
Even that alone made my head spin. Lately, I had been wanting him with an unusually strong desire. Even now, with just this much physical contact, heat rushed between my legs, leaving me flustered.
As if sensing my arousal, he glanced towards the driver’s seat. Then, with a face full of regret, he lowered his voice and whispered,
“If I knew you’d show me this face… I should have driven myself. I gave up driving thinking I might have a drink.”
While releasing my desires was certainly thrilling, this restraint wasn’t bad either. It just led to troublesome situations because it was a little… hard to bear.
“Ah, should I just go home?”
He sighed, his voice laced with a playful tone as he squeezed my hand tighter. A chuckle escaped me.
Perhaps, starting a relationship now, or saying let’s be lovers, wasn’t absolutely necessary. Without such clear benchmarks, it was as if we had both implicitly agreed that an obligation towards each other had arisen (the obligation not to date or be intimate with others).
Looking at his face as he gazed at me like this, a sense of certainty naturally settled in my heart. Along with a cautious prediction that this might be the right direction and pace for him and me.
I also squeezed his hand tighter. Tchaikovsky’s violin solo in the concerto was building towards its climax.
■ ■ ■
The exhibition, held in a small, experimental gallery housed in an old detached house far from the bustling city center, was themed ‘Silence and Lies.’
According to the pamphlet, the artist, born in Helsinki, had no formal art education. She had the opportunity to receive world-class training after her talent was recognized by an authority in the art world, but she refused the offer.
She was known for never signing exhibition contracts with large galleries and donated a significant 30 percent of her income from selling paintings to various women’s and children’s foundations.
Due to her free-spirited style that completely disregarded traditional artistic techniques and her unconventional actions, the art world’s evaluation of her paintings was polarized. The pamphlet also stated that she was unreserved in expressing her critical stance on the contemporary art scene.
While her attitude outside of her art was social, the works filling the exhibition space, composed of several small rooms, were strongly personal. The pieces, which delved terrifyingly deep into the inner self, gave the feeling of meeting eyes that stared up from the abyss, eyes that reflected things as they were, almost mechanically, without concealing or minimizing anything.
By the time I exited the last room, I felt completely drained. It was similar to the fatigue one feels after watching a suspenseful movie that grips you from the title sequence to the end credits.
I emerged into what must have been the main hall, likely the living room when it was a residence before being converted into a gallery, but he was nowhere in sight. We had parted at the exhibition entrance, agreeing to meet after viewing separately, and our paths hadn’t crossed since.
He was someone who stood out anywhere, not just because of his looks but also his tall stature, so if he were in the same space, I would have seen him. Holding the pamphlet, I looked around amidst the bustling crowd.
“Seo Yi-hyun.”
“……”
I reflexively turned towards the direction of the voice. He was standing at the entrance, calling me, holding coffee in both hands. It seemed he had finished viewing earlier and gone down to the cafe on the lower floor to buy coffee.
Since that night, he occasionally called me without the ‘Mr.’ prefix, and each time, my neck would prickle as if being tickled, but the feeling was different from when he called me that in the privacy of our home.
Unable to move, frozen by the fluttering sensation, he walked towards me with a smile. It wasn’t my imagination; everyone in the hall was looking at him. Whether openly staring or glancing, everyone was looking at him. Even though I understood and accepted that it was natural… I disliked it a little. Why was I being so childish?
“It’s crowded, probably because it’s the weekend. Shall we leave for now?”
I took the refreshing iced Americano he offered and we navigated through the crowd. Unlike indoors, the air outside the door was muggy.
Stepping out of the gallery entrance, which had its boundary with the alley removed, a car was waiting about ten meters away. He always had the car drop me off at the entrance and wait for me upon leaving, so I felt awkward about the fact that I never had to walk and got into the car.
The car immediately exited the alley and merged onto the road. As the sun was setting, the heat had subsided somewhat compared to midday, but the people passing by the car window were fanning themselves or directing the faint breeze from their portable fans onto their faces, looking exhausted by the midsummer heat.
“I feel like I haven’t really felt the heat much this year.”
“Hm?”
He raised an eyebrow, showing interest at my offhand remark.
“In Hong Kong too… and after I returned, not long after, I moved into your place and we’ve been moving around by car… so I don’t think I’ve really experienced summer.”
“You’re gardening. That must be hot.”
“That’s something I do because I enjoy it, for short periods. If I called that hot… it would be too much of a complaint.”
With his permission, I had been tending to the garden lately. It was just a hobby, like light pruning, weeding, and watering, but even a garden created with a plan provided a significant change of pace. The garden, which my Hyung and Noona had criticized as gloomy, now showed clear signs of human care.
“…Are you feeling stifled?”
After a moment of silence, he asked in a low voice. I shook my head vigorously.
“No, that’s not what I meant…”
I had no complaints about my current life, and I had spoken without much thought while looking out at the street. Seeing the regret and distress reflected on his darkening face, I wondered if I had said something I shouldn’t have.
It was I who was living under his kindness and consideration, to an extent that went beyond mere politeness and even felt like guilt. Yet, whenever such topics came up, he wore a pained expression.
At times like these, the age difference between us felt starkly apparent. Socially, economically, in terms of experience and wisdom… I felt impatient with the fact that I was insufficient to be his support and still lacked the ability to offer him anything substantial in return. My art. I had to paint quickly. That was all I could do for him right now.
He looked at my face in silence for a moment, then let out a soft sigh and gently took my hand.
“Just a little… please bear with it a little longer.”
“I’m not someone who enjoys going out or is active by nature, you know that. And Representative, you take me out often… It wasn’t because I felt stifled, so please don’t worry too much.”
Hoping to see him smile again, I smiled first. He reached out, brushed my hair aside, and gently pulled my nape to press his lips against my forehead. It was the first time in Seoul that we had engaged in physical contact beyond holding hands, with the driver present.
I was conscious of it, but I didn’t want to push him away. His lips on my forehead felt pleasant, so I rested my face against his wrist, which had reached for my neck, and remained silent.
Meanwhile, the car slowed down and entered the entrance of our destination.
“This is…”
It was the hotel where I had met Great Uncle with Hyung and Morae. Not far from his house. Come to think of it, the gallery earlier was also about a ten-minute drive from his house.
“I chose a place where we can have a light meal and drinks, as you haven’t had much of an appetite lately. Today, I won’t stress you out by telling you to eat this or that.”
The places he took me to were always high-end restaurants with expensive-looking dishes, which inevitably made me feel burdened, but I didn’t want to spoil his mood, as he had put thought into it. My thoughts were complicated, but I smiled back at him as he tried to lighten the atmosphere.
Entering the hotel lobby with him felt strange.
It was a place I had visited just two weeks ago, but the person I was with, my emotions, and the situation were all very different. Morae and Hyung were scheduled to arrive safely in Bali in a few days, and Great Uncle hadn’t contacted me since I repaid the debt. While not everything had necessarily fallen into place, I no longer needed to feel anxious about being chased. It was all thanks to his help. Yet, why did he seem to feel sorry towards me?
As we descended the wide stairs leading down, just in front of the main entrance, people coming up from the opposite direction glanced at him and whispered about him.
“It’s a casual izakaya located within the hotel, so the atmosphere will be relaxed.”
He himself didn’t seem bothered at all. After all, if he had to pay attention to others’ gazes every time, having lived his whole life under such scrutiny, his daily life would be impossible.
As he explained, even luxury hotels in Seoul these days were trying to refresh their image by adopting trendy interiors and menu compositions aimed at a younger clientele, increasing psychological accessibility. As soon as we opened the door, the atmosphere felt ‘more approachable’ than expected. At least, it didn’t have the arrogant aura typical of hotel restaurants. Perhaps it was also because being with him added to the comfort.
“Mr. Rau, thank you for visiting. We were expecting you.”
An employee with a pleasant smile approached him immediately and greeted him. Like in many other restaurants I had visited with him, here too, he was treated not as a stranger but as an important client.
“The atmosphere is still nice. This is my companion for today.”
“Welcome. I am the manager here. Please feel free to tell me if you need anything. I will escort you this way.”
When he responded in Korean to the English greeting, the manager, without missing a beat, switched to Korean and exchanged greetings with me with an unwavering smile.
The interior wasn’t very spacious. There were about ten counter seats where one could watch the chefs cook, and about five or six tables, making it rather cozy. However, the calm yet sophisticated ambiance did create a sense of tension for me.
Our seats were at the very back, at a table nestled cozily under a sloped ceiling reminiscent of stairs leading to an attic. Since the chef’s recommended course had been pre-ordered when making the reservation, there was no need to choose from the menu. I had never tried sake, a Japanese rice wine, but at his recommendation, we ordered a low-alcohol, easy-to-drink variety.
“Please omit the dish explanations today. I want to focus on our conversation.”
“Yes, we will prepare it that way.”
The employee responded with a smile to his request and withdrew.
“Representative… English is your most comfortable language, isn’t it?”
After the employee left, I asked him, fiddling with the stark white wet towel.
“I suppose so. I received my formal education in English, and since both my parents’ common language was English, I had to use it for family conversations.”
“But you speak Korean very well too. I was surprised when I heard you hadn’t lived in Korea… your Korean skills are flawless, with no awkwardness…”
As if embarrassed by the compliment, he lowered his gaze sideways and smiled. His face, cast in deep shadows by the dim indirect lighting, was even more attractive than usual. Gazing at the shadow cast by his long, thick eyelashes on his cheek, I focused on his story.
“I also used Korean continuously when talking with my mother alone, and my parents actively interacted with Korean friends, so I naturally became accustomed to it. Being continuously exposed to Korean culture through various programs and events also helped a lot, making the culture itself not unfamiliar… And… my mother had a large collection of Korean literature, so I was familiar with the written language, but I learned the vivid spoken language mostly through Korean friends I made at school.”
He paused for a moment, then frowned with a displeased expression.
“I made a few friends like Choi In-woo. Guys who taught me vulgar words and curses first.”
Imagining Hyung In-woo and his school days, I chuckled along with him and then cautiously continued. Since the topic had come up, it seemed like a natural opportunity to ask.
“Writer Shushu… is she from the same school?”
He paused his answer, raised his glass to moisten his lips, and then set it down again. During that time, he didn’t take his eyes off me. A mischievous smile played on his lips. He even cleared his throat, which was rare.
“Hmm… why do I feel like you’re concerned about Shushu? Is it my imagination?”
Given our current relationship, I knew Shushu and I weren’t in the kind of relationship I had imagined and agonized over. Still, I didn’t feel as comfortable with her as I did with the Phantom family or Hyung In-woo. I was still conscious of Shushu. Knowing that it wasn’t a particularly healthy or mature emotion, my face flushed as if my secret had been exposed.
However, he leaned towards me, biting his lower lip slightly, and looked amused. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Be a little more jealous. What is your relationship with Shushu? Isn’t it more than just a gallery owner and an affiliated artist? Interrogate me, question me… and then, no matter how much I explain that it’s not, you just grab my arm and kick me…”
“I, I don’t do things like that…”
The seat right next to us was empty, as if reserved, but I glanced at the couple one table over and quickly denied it in a low voice.
“Hmm, I’m still okay with it.”
Whether it was sincere or a joke.
He leaned forward, resting his chin loosely on one arm with a slight frown as if disappointed. Because the table wasn’t very wide, his face was very close. His playful face, resting his chin comfortably as if pressing his cheek, was slightly below my eye level.
I felt the urge to reach out and touch his handsome face, but given the place and my personality, it wasn’t easy to act on it.
“Is your possessiveness towards me still only at that level? Last time, you so explicitly said I shouldn’t do it with someone else… what was it. Kissing, or… putting fingers in…”
“Excuse me, CEO!”
Unlike me, who was sitting with my back to the wall facing the hall, he only had me in his sight. Noticing the manager approaching, I was so flustered that I grabbed his hand on the table and stopped him from speaking.
He widened his eyes and looked at me once, then at the hand I was holding, alternating between the two.
“The exhibition, it was truly wonderful.”
“……”
He soon broke into a smile, understanding the reason for the abrupt change of topic, as awkward as a child who had just learned to read aloud.
Knowing he wouldn’t make the clumsy mistake of being overheard in a private conversation, I wasn’t yet experienced enough to enjoy such moments as a thrill rather than anxiety.
He squeezed my hand once, then let go, straightening his back. As if timed perfectly, the manager stopped beside our table.
“We will serve the appetizers first.”
Salmon salad with cucumber was served, and the manager immediately brought a tray with glasses of various shapes and colors, letting me choose one I liked. Still unable to escape the lingering embarrassment that made me sweat, I just grabbed whatever caught my eye.
“I’m sorry. I went a bit too far.”
Once we were alone again, he pulled his chair closer and met my gaze.
“It seems Seo Yi-hyun gets a little jealous, so I got excited.”
“……”
As a mature adult, he would likely find immature and consumptive emotions like jealousy bothersome. He would also find the psychological warfare of trying to fulfill unhealthy desires to possess and bind each other through a partner, which comes with romantic feelings, tiring. His portrayal in Juhan Hyung’s story didn’t deviate much from that image.
But what he was saying now was turning the surrounding people’s evaluations of Lau Wikun into mere prejudice.
I suddenly wondered. Were these kinds of conversations his usual way of interacting? Or was this an exception?
“Your reaction was… so cute, I couldn’t control myself. You’re not angry, are you?”
It wasn’t his intention to tease me; I could tell he was enjoying this time. I couldn’t help but know it from his expression and gaze. And now that I was aware of it, I felt like I too might start enjoying this frivolous and childish banter.
Feeling a ticklish sensation at being called cute, I shook my head. The director, Yooni Noona, and Juhan Hyung also said things like that sometimes, but I never felt this way then.
He gave a soft smile as if relieved and picked up his chopsticks, offering me some food.
“So, how was the exhibition, really?”
After swallowing the salmon I was chewing, I answered a little belatedly.
“It was very… intense and impressive.”
His reaction was as if he had expected it.
“Seo Yi-hyun, you want to face yourself completely open, pouring all your energy into painting, right? You want to sit in front of the easel with a light heart, thinking, ‘What should I paint today?’… That’s why I thought you’d like this artist’s work.”
“It’s not that I think paintings drawn with a light heart are bad… Nor is it that I only painted about my most intimate pain… It’s just that for me, painting is a means to be honest… I just often express my emotions or thoughts through it.”
I wasn’t sure if I was conveying my thoughts accurately, but I felt I could talk to him without fear of misunderstanding.
He nodded and said, “I know. It’s just that each artist has a different style, without needing to distinguish what’s more valuable. That’s what makes art richer. Although most critics and powerful galleries like to rank levels.”
The conversation paused as the drinks arrived. Cold sake, chilled and placed in a bowl filled with crushed ice, was served along with tataki, a dish of lightly seared tuna.
The sake, which I tried for the first time at his recommendation, was easy to drink, with fruity aromas like strawberry and apple. The round, transparent glass with a bluish tint that I had picked out by chance reminded me of his eyes.
After a brief conversation about the taste of the sake, the topic returned to ‘Silence and Lies.’
“And the fact that the theme was so clearly expressed in the paintings was very different from my own work, which was refreshing. It was more attractive because the artist seemed unhesitating in expressing their own emotions and thoughts.”
“Your paintings seem bold enough, too, with more complex emotions implied.”
“……”
Leaning back comfortably against the table, he toyed with the rounded bottom of his glass with one hand, sending me a suggestive gaze.
“To the point where I can’t imagine your usual quiet demeanor just from your work.”
“Actually, the work is much closer to how I am in bed,” he added, bringing the glass, which was half full, to his lips. Watching his enigmatic smile, I too felt thirsty and tilted my glass.
As the conversation deepened, the number of times we tilted our glasses far outnumbered the times we moved our chopsticks.
After the tataki, neatly fried tempura and several types of skewers were served in succession, but we both only picked at them. However, the 720ml bottle of sake was already nearly empty.
Meanwhile, the adjacent table, which had been empty, also found its owners, and the restaurant buzzed with the sound and aroma of grilling skewers and the lively chatter of people enjoying their weekend.
From the adjacent table, which seemed to be a gathering of friends meeting after a long time, I felt glances cast his way, but he didn’t let his attention waver for even a brief moment. As if we were alone in a quiet space, as if I were the only one in his sight, his complete focus on me allowed me to gradually erase everything else.
“Between silence and lies, which do you think is more violent?”
He asked, not looking at me, as he skillfully separated seared scallops with yuzu sauce from a skewer and placed them on my plate.
He immediately corrected himself.
“No, personally, which do you detest more?”
It was a topic that anyone who had seriously viewed the exhibition would have pondered at least once. Since I too couldn’t help but dwell on it while viewing the exhibition, answering wasn’t difficult.
“Lies are perhaps… better.”
He looked surprised.
“Silence’s value changes depending on the situation… but if it’s silence about the truth, like what that artist was trying to express… silence is more… not violent, but cowardly… that’s the feeling.”
It wasn’t easy to articulate my thoughts, and the words I strung together carefully to be precise ended up sounding like a jumbled mess.
He gazed at me for a moment with a heavy look, then shifted his gaze away and poured the remaining sake into my glass.
“Usually, people perceive lies as much more negative than silence, don’t they? Especially in Korea, where the influence of Confucian culture is still deep, there’s an atmosphere where silence is golden and words should be few.”
“I’m not much of a talker myself… but if it’s about one’s stance on truth, between silence and lies, I’d rather have lies.”
He rested his elbows on the table, covering his lips with his loosely clasped hands, and asked, “Can I… hear the reason?”
It seemed to be a birthday celebration for someone, as the next table was busy taking out a cake and lighting candles, but seeing his serious face, intent on listening to me, I could continue my story without interruption.
“Lies themselves can certainly be a violence that creates wounds… but where there are lies, there also seems to be a movement to uncover the truth as a counteraction. However, if the phenomenon occurring on the opposite side of truth is silence… that feels much more bleak… and that the dark ages leading up to the revelation of truth would be longer and more brutal, that’s what I think…”
Actually, I was thinking of my father.
I was answering while thinking about the weapon of silence my father chose to protect himself, or perhaps, to punish and destroy himself. And the result, the present where no one could be happy, that it brought.
“It’s just my limited thoughts… and a very… personal opinion.”
Had I dragged the conversation too far into heavy territory? Was he worried, sensing something ominous from my expression or tone? I tried to brush it off with a laugh, pretending it was just an impression of the exhibition, and brought the glass to my lips.
I thought my slowing speech was due to the weight of the topic, but it might also have been the alcohol gradually taking effect. We had finished a bottle quite quickly between the two of us, so it was understandable.
But it wasn’t an unpleasant intoxication. Feeling my thoughts and body dissolve hazily, I relaxed my posture further.
“I didn’t want you to reach an absolute conclusion; I wanted to hear Seo Yi-hyun’s opinion from the start… You don’t need to add words that belittle yourself like that. It’s an original perspective, and it’s quite interesting.”
He said that, his expression stunned as if he’d been hit, and fell silent for a moment, lost in thought.
We ordered another bottle of the same sake, and until the first glass of the new bottle was emptied. Until the conditions for stable conversation were met again, his eyes were deeper and darker than usual, turned inward.
Rolling the empty glass in his hand, he looked down towards my chest and opened his mouth.
“While turning away from the truth, or while hiding the truth… can it be possible for lies not to be involved in that process? In that sense, silence… could be seen as already containing lies in some aspects.”
The sake glass, larger than a typical soju glass, felt even smaller in his large hand. I looked at his clean hands, free of any rough spots, then shifted my gaze to his face.
Though it was just a guess, it didn’t seem like he was just talking about the exhibition’s theme. His expression suggested he had either been a victim of silence that contained lies, or conversely, had experienced embracing it.
So, in the end, it felt like he too was criticizing silence more than lies.
“While one may not be able to stand on the side of truth every moment… ultimately, it’s important whether one makes excuses for silence or lies and becomes desensitized, or… whether one continuously feels the prick of conscience and strives to approach the truth… That’s what’s important, I… think so.”
It wasn’t a statement made solely to comfort him.
Although I answered his question thinking of my father, I didn’t believe I had always stood on the side of dazzling truth. No, in a way, I wasn’t much different from my father. Perhaps I was just a diluted version of him.
So, my words were an excuse for both him and me.
He slowly raised his gaze to meet mine, as if lifting something heavy. Though he was smiling faintly, it was a bitter smile, literally.
“It’s… more painful than I thought.”
“……”
“For a cowardly adult who can’t live without silence and lies… it’s quite… hitting a nerve.”
He said it like a joke, but I knew I had touched a nerve. Following his lead, I quickly emptied my glass. Twice today, I had made him out to be a ‘bad guy,’ and I couldn’t pretend to be an innocent victim, a pure lamb.
“Even if I’m legally an adult… I’ve never really thought of myself as an adult… but it’s not just… adults who are cowardly. If it’s the cowardice of silence, I have… a lot of that too.”
He chuckled and glanced my way.
“Compared to the cowardice of silence I possess, Seo Yi-hyun’s cowardice… must feel as refreshing as morning dew.”
“It’s not.”
Perhaps due to the slight intoxication, my tone was quite firm. It might not have been silence or cowardice that caused harm by entangling with others, but that was likely because I wasn’t in a position of social responsibility, not because I was closer to the truth than he was.
Even if entangled in various relationships and bound by many expectations and obligations, could I guarantee that I wouldn’t draw silence deep into my life?
As if trying to shake off the somber mood from moments before, he leaned towards me with a subtle smile.
“Oh really? You have a dark, murky, fishy-smelling silence? In this clean and pretty body?”
“……”
I was momentarily speechless by the conversation that had taken an unexpected turn. After quickly wiping my face, which was flushing with heat from the sudden, unguardedly lewd remark, I took another sip of the drink.
“I welcome you drinking, but… please eat something while you drink. If you neglect eating because you have no appetite, your stamina won’t hold up at crucial moments.”
He separated a chicken breast skewer with wasabi into bite-sized pieces and placed them on my plate. He no longer seemed inclined to continue the conversation on the previous topic.
He seemed quite concerned that I had lost my appetite lately, as if I had heatstroke, though I rarely exposed myself to the heat. To be precise, it wasn’t so much a lack of appetite as a feeling of aversion to food at times, making me wonder if it was mild gastritis, but I figured it was better to say I had no appetite to avoid worrying him.
The chicken he served was tender and moist. It was a dish made with fresh ingredients, yet the inherent smell of chicken occasionally bothered my stomach. Still, it was bearable. Knowing it was my condition, not the food, I nodded, saying it was delicious, and offered some to him.
“Regarding Choi In-woo’s work, you said it revealed honesty about one’s own dishonesty. You said that before, didn’t you?”
Instead of picking up his chopsticks, he refilled two empty glasses and said.
“I know Seo Yi-hyun, like that artist, confronts the deepest part of herself when she paints… but you don’t have to force yourself to paint extremes every time. If it’s difficult to face your own depths right now, try painting about yourself that you feel is cowardly. If that’s the Seo Yi-hyun of today, wouldn’t it be meaningful to leave that behind?”
“……”
He seemed to have grasped what I had been struggling with since I started painting. So much so that I briefly fumbled, wondering if I had ever confided my worries to him…
“Not only the noble conclusions reached after enduring hardship are art,” he added with a slight smile as he raised his filled glass to propose a toast. Looking back from when he first suggested I paint again until now, he had been a remarkably insightful person who accurately pinpointed my psychology. Bringing out the Suki Kim card was also a suggestion made possible because he understood me so well.
After our glasses clinked, we each drank about half. I didn’t put my glass down but held it tightly.
“CEO.”
His gaze softened and turned towards me.
“Juhan Hyung’s sketch. I want to draw in the garden next time… is that okay?”
He raised an eyebrow and asked, “Hmm, my garden?”
“Yes.”
“Of course, you can use it anytime, as much as you want.”
“Um, that is… I plan to draw… a nude….”
“……”
His hardened expression, looking at me, seemed to wish he had misheard.
“A nude? Kwon Juhan’s nude?”
I nodded, and he turned his wrist, swirling his sake glass, and remained silent for a moment with an inscrutable expression. He pursed his lips several times as if about to say something, but instead of speaking, he refilled and emptied his glass twice in a row.
And he asked if I wouldn’t want dessert now if I was skipping the meal course. I was already feeling tipsy and had no appetite for a meal, so I agreed. Matcha ice cream served in neat tableware was brought out quickly, and he focused on scooping the ice cream with his spoon as if he hadn’t heard our previous conversation. At least, that’s how it seemed.
Our eyes met, and seeing me waiting with nervous tension for his answer, he sighed as if resigned and relaxed his shoulders.
“If you said you were going to draw Kwon Juhan’s nude… I figured I’d jump up and down protesting, so that’s why you told me in advance, right?”
“Uh… um….”
I mumbled, fiddling with the handle of the spoon. I couldn’t deny it, but it was also awkward to admit it was true.
“If that’s what you thought, then you saw correctly.”
It was an unexpected confession. He sighed self-deprecatingly and placed the spoon on the plate.
“I’ve lived surrounded by art since I was born, and I’ve been doing this for years, and now… I can’t even distinguish between my work and my personal feelings, and I’m going to get worked up over someone saying they’ll draw another guy’s nude… I really didn’t know.”
“……”
I was a little surprised by his direct emotional expression and dropped my spoon, fumbling for a moment.
“Don’t make that face. It’s just how I felt, it doesn’t mean I won’t let you draw it. Fortunately… I still have that much discernment. For now, at least.”
He reached out and lightly pinched my cheek, forcing a smile. It didn’t hurt, but I found myself giggling as I rubbed the spot he’d pinched.
“If you just wanted to draw a nude, I’d offer myself instead… but that’s not it, you want to draw Kwon Juhan as a nude, don’t you.”
Even though he said he wouldn’t stop me, his expression was still displeased.
Would he really show jealousy over something like this? I, who had sometimes dismissed my own worries as overthinking, felt relieved that he wasn’t angry, but his face, openly showing his displeasure and jealousy, kept making me laugh.
Perhaps he mistook my efforts to suppress my laughter as mockery of his jealousy, he scratched his forehead and said as if making an excuse.
“I know it’s pathetic… I’m feeling jealous now, something I’ve never even felt in my teens. Yes, I’m incredibly jealous. But because I know you knew I’d be jealous and you still cared, I think I can stop at mild jealousy without becoming more pathetic. So… I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me in advance about things like this in the future.”
“I… get jealous too sometimes.”
“……”
His eyes widened. Then, a smile full of anticipation spread across his face. He rested his arms on the table and leaned towards me, as if asking me to elaborate.
It was partly due to the alcohol, and partly due to the courage I gained from his earlier confession. He wasn’t the only one being the bad guy, and the burning heat of jealousy wasn’t his burden alone.
Holding my spoon upright, I aimlessly scraped the plate holding the ice cream, and this time, I revealed my childishness to him.
“My sister and Hyung… I like them a lot, and I know it doesn’t mean anything, but….”
“But?”
“I wish you wouldn’t… carry them on your back, or things like that.”
“……”
As soon as I said it, it sounded like an incredibly childish request, no, a tantrum. When he carried my sister on his back, or when he was casually affectionate with Hyung, I felt envious and petty emotions surge, but I never thought of asking him to stop. I knew it was a foolish feeling.
Looking down at the melting ice cream, I glanced at him, who was silent.
“Just… pretend you didn’t hear that….”
He grabbed my wrist as I was about to put down my spoon. His grip was firm, not entirely playful.
“Are you going to make me the only one who’s childish? Then is it okay for me to carry Baek Yuni on my back every time she gets drunk?”
He wanted me to admit it. To not hide the ugly desire to possess the other person completely, even knowing the feeling was unreasonable, by being wary of the model for my painting or even my acquaintances. Looking at his face, which demanded I become childish with him, I slowly shook my head.
He released my wrist with a satisfied expression.
“How does my face look right now? Isn’t it hideous?”
His serious face, acting out by touching his own cheek, made me chuckle.
“It must be hideous. Isn’t it the face of a twenty-two-year-old trying to suppress a smile stretching from ear to ear because he’s happy someone is jealous of him?”
He brought his face close to mine, asking me to look closely, and I gazed at it, then cupped his cheek with my hand. It took more courage than his confession earlier.
“You’re just… handsome.”
Perhaps it was a compliment he’d heard so often he might be tired of it, but he stared at me, frozen, as if he’d heard the compliment for the first time in his life.
He slowly looked from my left eye to my right, then gently placed his hand over mine. It was embarrassing, but for a moment, I felt cut off from all surrounding noise and gazes. The illusion that only the two of us existed. Strangely, in that moment, I realized this was a date.
“The poolside and garden here are quite nice. Shall we take a walk before we go home?”
No matter how much he saw me as a pure, innocent lamb, I was worldly enough to grasp the meaning in his gaze and feel a light flutter of anticipation.
I met his eyes and nodded.
I felt his curious gaze from the next table, but it no longer bothered me. The sudden lowering of voices made it even more apparent that they were talking about us, and the words Alpha and Omega were occasionally mixed in.
Perhaps they saw him and me as an Alpha and Omega couple.
Alphas and Omegas could legally marry regardless of their primary gender. It was a society where Betas made up an overwhelming majority, but Korea had deeply rooted emotional resistance towards such matters, so the legal system had only been fully established within the last ten to fifteen years. Currently, there was an active movement in the country to legally recognize all relationships capable of pregnancy, not just those between Alphas and Omegas.
Regardless of legal allowance or effect, public prejudice against same-sex unions still existed, but among the upper class, who valued the interests arising from marriage more than the heterosexual compatibility of their primary gender, unions between same-sex Alphas and Omegas were already common.
It was especially not uncommon in marriages between chaebol families or celebrities, and even though homosexuality was still ostracized in mainstream society, dramas and movies featuring same-sex Alpha-Omega couples were hugely popular, and it was common for Alphas or Omegas with same-sex partners to be active broadcasters.
The gazes from the next table, which held a light of curiosity rather than disgust, were likely influenced by such images exposed in the media. Perhaps one of them, as an Omega, felt attracted to him. Though it wasn’t only Omegas who felt attracted to him.
The society I had experienced was limited to school and the military, both groups operating with clearly identified secondary genders, so I had never been mistaken for an Alpha or Omega. Looking back, such misunderstandings began when I left my village and started working at Phantom.
While feeling an awkward discomfort at their gazes, which seemed to mistake me for an Omega and see me as his Alpha partner, I found myself secretly imagining myself with him as an Omega.
The memory of once begging him for knotting during a night together, and for a fleeting moment, anticipating the changes that might occur in our relationship if I were capable of pregnancy, made me uneasy.
That kind of self-negation wasn’t a pleasant experience, so I quickly cut off the imagination and followed him, gathering my things.
After settling the bill, we left the restaurant and took the escalator down one floor. He explained that there was a club downstairs, which was a bit noisy, but it seemed like more than just that tonight.
As if someone had caused a disturbance, screams and shouts from out of our sight, along with warning sounds trying to restrain them and requests for backup via radio, mixed together in a chaotic manner, accompanied by an unusual tension.
People on the escalator going up were also turning back towards the source of the commotion, murmuring to each other.
As the escalator moved further down, a small crowd gathered at the club’s entrance, which had no separate door, came into view. Through the gaps between the club staff and hotel security surrounding a bench placed against the wall, I caught a glimpse of two or three men and women slumped on the bench.
They were loudly proclaiming their dissatisfaction with their sexual arousal being interrupted, using explicit language. Words like pheromone, heat, and sex felt like misplaced props in the elegantly decorated hotel interior, jarringly out of place.
From the radio transmissions, it seemed the hotel intended to hand them over to the police and was waiting for their arrival. They were trying to stop them and silence them, but it didn’t seem easy.
“There are sometimes Alphas or Omegas who come to places like this without taking their suppressants on purpose. They think that when they’re in heat and drinking, it substitutes for drugs.”
He seemed to be trying to exclude personal feelings as much as possible, but he couldn’t hide his intense disgust.
By the time we reached the bottom of the escalator, we could see them more clearly.
Stout security guards were restraining them as they groped themselves and tried to undress. One of the troublemakers even lunged at a guard, rubbing against him and spewing lewd words with glazed-over eyes. Even covering their mouths and shouting threats, they were relentless.
Even though I didn’t want to look, my gaze was drawn there.
They were certainly… different from the drunk Betas I had seen.
There was no intoxicating, hazy feeling that Shushu the artist described Joo-han Hyung talking about, nor did they seem noble. It was just uncomfortable… like being forced to witness someone’s extremely private moments in bed.
He put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close, as if protecting me from something harmful.
“It’s not exactly the atmosphere for a quiet walk. Shall we just… walk home?”
He was trying to smile, but he seemed to be having a harder time enduring the situation than I was.
We immediately turned back and took the escalator upstairs again. As the commotion downstairs faded, my mood gradually returned to normal. There was no reason to let unrelated people ruin the lingering good time I had with him.
We sent the driver and car away first, and then we started walking slowly. It was a leisurely ten-minute walk to his house.
The temperature was high, but a breeze occasionally blew.
I think this was the first time I had walked with him since returning from Hong Kong.
Perhaps it was the sweet intoxication of the sake, which I had tasted for the first time, different from beer, soju, or wine, or perhaps it was the awareness that I was walking with him, but I found myself giggling uncontrollably, and he kept turning his head to check my face, as if finding me amusing.
After passing a short shopping street right in front of the hotel, filled with a mix of high-end tailor shops and old, humble hair salons, the atmosphere of the street completely changed. In the upscale residential area, lined with large houses surrounded by tall, long walls, cars passed very rarely, and there was no sign of people.
As we passed a mansion with walls built of large, rock-like, light gray bricks, he lightly grasped my exposed arm below my short-sleeved shirt. He slowly stroked my arm down and found my hand, then clasped it.
Walking hand-in-hand with him on the night road felt more unbelievable than kissing or having sex with him, so I raised our joined hands to shoulder height several times to confirm it with my eyes.
He looked back at me and chuckled, and I, feeling giddy, consciously pushed his shoulder, aware of my intoxication.
“Why… do you keep… looking?”
He suddenly pulled my hand and led me behind an SUV parked in the designated spot in front of the gray brick mansion.
Leaning against the wall, he hugged me and raised a finger to his lips. Before I could say anything, he pressed his lips to mine. It wasn’t a deep kiss, but a shallow peck that repeated several times with a soft sound, and during that time, I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Uh… um… why are you laughing like that?”
Even though I was laughing more, I asked him the reason for his laughter, clearly drunk.
“When I’m with someone pretty, I can’t help but laugh. What can I do? It doesn’t feel like my fault.”
I chuckled at his nonchalance, and our lips met again. This time, the sensation of his warm tongue licking my lips made the back of my neck shrink. From his tongue tickling my lips, I could taste the fruity scent of sake along with the sweetness of the ice cream I had for dessert.
“You really laugh a lot when you’re drunk. If you were to visualize the word ‘beaming,’ it would be exactly this face.”
He said, clasping his hands behind my waist.
His voice, lowered to a whisper, made me tense up, even though there was no one passing by. Or rather, because it was so quiet with no one around, he had to lower his voice.
“If I smile… you like it?”
“I do. You don’t usually beam this much.”
He said, rubbing his nose against mine.
The sound of a car approaching from below and its headlights made me flinch and instinctively press closer to him. He pulled me into a tight embrace, as if hiding me, and pressed his lips deeply against my temple.
When I was with him, whether in the living room, his bedroom, the kitchen, or the studio downstairs, I never felt restricted in terms of physical contact, so this felt different.
He was someone who could immediately create a space completely shielded from prying eyes, even outside his home, and since his house was only five minutes away, there was no need to hide in the dark shadow behind a parked car, lowering our voices, and regretting short kisses and hugs, wondering when we might be discovered.
But I didn’t dislike it.
I looked up at his face, thinking that this was probably similar to how most people my age dated, lingering at the front of the house, reluctant to part, hiding in a secluded spot to whisper.
When our eyes met, I couldn’t help but smile again foolishly. Recalling his words that he liked my smiling face, I didn’t avoid his gaze. He was looking at me with an expression that seemed to be meticulously tracing every inch of my face.
“I wish I could keep making you smile like this…”
As if oscillating between the simple joys of dating (at least with him) and the worries and anxieties it brought, I wanted to erase the shadows that flickered in his eyes, which would sometimes darken.
“Well, then… if you kiss me again… that would work…”
I don’t know where that came from… I wanted to blame it on the alcohol.
Seeing his blue eyes widen, a suffocating shame and regret crept in, squeezing through the gaps in my tipsiness. I should have drunk more to say something like that.
“If you can smile that much, I’ll kiss you all day.”
His eyes curved softly, and he pulled me tighter around the waist. I placed my hands on his chest and leaned into him more, and he tilted his chin, pressing his lips to mine deeply.
A kiss continued, our lips parting and closing, nibbling and releasing each other’s mouths. Beneath our half-lowered eyelids, we didn’t break eye contact.
My hands, which had been stroking the broad, firm pectoral muscles curving in a gentle arc, moved up my shoulders and neck to cup his cheeks. He grabbed my wrists and turned his head, rubbing his lips against my palm. I could feel his hardened erection against my lower body.
I, too, wanted deeper contact. I became impatient, yearning for his scent that teased my nose before receding.
“Tonight, I want to sleep together without having sex.”
“……”
He whispered calmly, rubbing his cheek and lips against my palm.
At first, I didn’t immediately understand what he meant. As I looked up at him with a questioning face, he smiled and lightly flicked my forehead with his finger.
“Ah.”
He pulled my hand away from my forehead, kissed the spot, and chuckled in a low voice.
“When did you get so used to sex?”
He teased me, who had come to accept this atmosphere leading to sex as a natural progression, but it was understandable. Recently, we had been having sex almost every day.
Right after entering his house, we sometimes stopped at petting or foreplay, being a little cautious, but lately, it had become a routine for kisses after dinner to lead to sex.
That change had definitely started after the barbecue party and that night in the lace underwear, because on that day, we had decided to cross a line we had only skirted around and hesitated at before, and no longer hide our seriousness towards each other… at least, that’s how I understood the reason for the change. As time passed, I became increasingly sure that he felt the same way.
When I was alone drawing during the day, it was fine, but after eating dinner together, talking… when I was exposed to his gaze, which was aware of me and desired me, and his heavy, provocative scent, I couldn’t control myself. These days, neither of us initiated it first.
That’s why I didn’t immediately understand what he meant. Even now, his penis was hot and hard. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to have sex.
He rubbed my forehead for me, tilted his chin up, and gazed into the air, muttering playfully.
“Once we start, it’s impossible not to insert… and if we insert, we end up knotting, which puts a lot of strain on Seo Yi-hyun’s body.”
“Um, but… lately, we’ve been knotting almost every time… and, we’ve even knotted twice in one night…”
“…….”
It wasn’t that I wanted him to apologize for knotting, but he looked down at me with a complicated expression again. It wasn’t as if he alone had wanted the knotting.
“Even though we’ve done it so often… my body was fine. That’s what I mean…”
He cupped the back of my head and pulled me closer. As I neared his nape, his ‘scent’ mixed with a few perfume scents became clearer.
The force with which he held me was so strong that my torso ached, but I didn’t feel uncomfortable or dislike it at all. My earlobe where his lips touched was warm.
“I want to be with Seo Yi-hyun too, so badly. I always want to. But… just once. What it’s like to have you next to me when I wake up in the morning… I won’t ask for much. Just once for me too…”
I still couldn’t fully understand how not having penetrative sex, or not knotting, was related to staying together until morning, but thinking about it, despite having had so many passionate nights together, we had never actually fallen asleep together.
While I loved having sex with him very much… I was just as interested in what it would feel like to go to bed without sex and wake up together in the morning.
“I will.”
Since I was leaning against the wall, I couldn’t fully wrap my arms around his back, but I gently held the back of his arm and whispered towards his nape.
I wanted to ask more about why we couldn’t sleep together after having sex, but the alcohol made clear thinking difficult. My thoughts would form a shape, only to crumble and collapse shortly after. They melted away in the deep heat of his scent.
“Seo Yi-hyun.”
His voice whispering my name by my ear overlapped with the voice that had called me when I was looking around for him. If I were to lose him, I hoped he would find me like that, call out to me. And I hoped I could do the same for him.
I answered his call by burying myself deeper into his nape, quietly feeling the pulse of his chest against mine.