By Zephyria 
Seo Yi-kyung stepped inside the house. His shoulders were slumped. He knew exactly what kind of person Han Seung-jae was. In particular, the facade of being a well-mannered man—like in the original story—had long since been discarded. He would definitely try to get that painting.
‘How on earth am I supposed to paint it…’
Not only did he know nothing about art, but he couldn’t paint to save his life.
As Seo Yi-kyung trudged along, Butler Do approached him. He took the shopping bag from Seo Yi-kyung’s arms, observing the young man’s sunken expression.
“Did something happen?”
The attitude of the people from the previous day had been weighing on him. He worried that Seo Yi-kyung might have been hurt. Butler Do’s face clouded with concern. The young master he knew was someone who buried everything in his heart and suffered in silence.
Seo Yi-kyung slowly raised his head.
“Well…”
Suddenly, the frames hanging on the wall caught his eye. In an instant, Seo Yi-kyung brushed past Butler Do. He hurried to the frames on the wall and examined the paintings closely. He lifted an arm clad in his suit.
“This painting… I didn’t paint this, right?”
“Pardon?”
Butler Do, who was a bit further away, didn’t seem to hear him clearly. He handed the shopping bag to an assistant and walked over. Seo Yi-kyung scanned the paintings on the wall one by one.
“Are you looking for something in particular?”
The things hanging on the wall were undoubtedly Han Seung-jae’s property. Technically, everything in this house belonged to him, but there were things that could be definitively called his own.
‘Why didn’t I think of that?’
As Seo Yi-kyung stepped forward, Butler Do followed behind. Taking a low breath, Seo Yi-kyung opened the door to the painting studio and looked around slowly.
It seemed things would resolve more easily than he had thought. Since everything here could be claimed as his own. Seo Yi-kyung stepped inside.
‘I don’t need to paint it myself. Everything here is a painting.’
Passing a painting of a languid afternoon hanging on the wall, he headed toward the canvases placed on one side. He meticulously checked the one on the easel and the tilted canvases resting on the floor.
“Which one would be good…”
After browsing through paintings of rivers, trees, and natural landscapes, he picked one up.
“He said it’s for his office.”
Butler Do moved the painting next to it for him. Thanks to this, Seo Yi-kyung could examine the canvas more easily.
A landscape painting of a winter mountain. He felt this painting would suit Han Seung-jae’s office well. Didn’t it also fit Han Seung-jae’s image?
“Shall I hang it in your room?”
Butler Do carefully set down the painting he had been holding and gazed at the landscape painting in Seo Yi-kyung’s hands. Seo Yi-kyung smiled and shook his head.
“No. I’m going to give it to Seung-jae.”
Butler Do looked slightly surprised. However, seeing Seo Yi-kyung looking relieved—unlike the gloomy expression he had when entering the house—he nodded.
“I am sure he will like it.”
Seo Yi-kyung walked out of the painting studio while holding the painting. Declining Butler Do’s offer to help, he took the elevator to the second floor.
Passing through the long hallway, Seo Yi-kyung entered the bedroom at the very end alone. For some reason, he could feel an atmosphere in the house that was the opposite of the previous day. Still, the people in this house were generally soft toward him. He hadn’t realized it before, but he wondered if it was because Han Seung-jae was here.
Seo Yi-kyung looked around for a place to put the painting and set it on the bed. He unbuttoned his navy suit, took off the jacket, and sat on the edge of the bed. After staring at the painting for a long while, he reached out to touch it.
The winter mountain covered in white snow felt like it had a hard texture, but Seo Yi-kyung’s touch was as if he were stroking something.
* * *
It was late at night.
At the faint sound of the door clicking open, Seo Yi-kyung’s eyes snapped open. As he turned his head, a tall silhouette revealed itself.
The room was lit only by the light filtering in from outside the window. Despite that, Seo Yi-kyung had the illusion that his eyes had met the man’s in the darkness.
As Seo Yi-kyung pushed himself up, his pajamas slid down. Then, Han Seung-jae turned on the lights in the room. He was also wearing similar pajamas.
“Weren’t you sleeping?”
As Han Seung-jae approached the bed, he looked down at one spot. In the place where he was supposed to lie, something was already taking his place.
Seo Yi-kyung picked up the canvas of the winter mountain with both hands and held it out toward Han Seung-jae.
“The painting.”
“…”
Han Seung-jae didn’t take the painting immediately, instead appearing to admire the landscape. Seo Yi-kyung tried to wait with a calm face, but his insides were in turmoil.
Since evening, Seo Yi-kyung’s heart had been pounding incessantly. He had been so anxious waiting for Han Seung-jae that he couldn’t even fall asleep. He hadn’t painted it himself, but it could still be called his. So, it wouldn’t be a problem.
Han Seung-jae reached out with one hand, took it, and leaned it against the side of the bed.
Phew… Seo Yi-kyung let out a long breath internally. He felt as liberated as if he had escaped a debt owed to Han Seung-jae.
Since he had received the painting, wasn’t the matter of responsibility and everything else now over? Seo Yi-kyung gripped the blanket that had slipped from his chest.
As Han Seung-jae straightened his back, the wrinkles in his pajamas smoothed out. His eyes narrowed slightly.
By instinctive intuition, Seo Yi-kyung felt that Han Seung-jae was not pleased.
“You asked for a painting.”
Seo Yi-kyung looked at the canvas leaning against the bed.
“When did you paint this?”
Unlike a moment ago, Seo Yi-kyung’s lips, framed by long eyelashes, remained tightly shut. There was no way such detailed information would be in the original story. Regardless, it was painted by ‘Seo Yi-kyung.’
“Do you not paint these days?”
“…”
As if he couldn’t hear Han Seung-jae’s words, Seo Yi-kyung stared at the corner of the canvas. Like old, grime-stained art tools, the corner of the neglected canvas was damaged.
“If you don’t like it, I’ll bring you another one.”
There were quite a few paintings like this in the painting studio. Beautiful paintings of warm nature drenched in sunlight, soft leaves swaying in the wind, and cozy blooming flowers. Surely, among them, there would be one that would capture Han Seung-jae’s heart.
“I just brought it in too much of a hurry.”
Seo Yi-kyung tried to make a vague excuse and get up, but he couldn’t. It was because Han Seung-jae was pressing down on his shoulder. Seo Yi-kyung looked up.
“Do you want to pick one yourself?”
“No.”
Meeting his eyes, Seo Yi-kyung unconsciously gulped. Han Seung-jae withdrew his hand with a cold gaze.
“How long does it take to paint?”
Seo Yi-kyung’s heart thundered. It grew so loud it echoed in his ears. Because of this, he answered Han Seung-jae’s question impulsively without thinking.
“A month? …Ah, about six months?”
The landscape paintings he had seen in the painting studio unfolded like a panorama before his eyes. Such paintings could not be produced in a short time. And since he didn’t have the skill to paint something like that, he had no idea how much time was actually needed.
“Painting requires more attention than it seems…”
Seo Yi-kyung dragged out every excuse he could. Throughout this, Han Seung-jae just listened.
“I’m slow with my hands, and I tend to take a long time to paint…”
Furthermore, he might not be able to paint it even if he spent his whole life trying.
“So, I think it would be better to take one you like from the ones I’ve already painted…”
It didn’t matter which one he took. However, Han Seung-jae spoke curtly.
“Paint a new one. In my house.”
Seo Yi-kyung’s mouth hung open in shock. No words came out, only a series of wheezing sounds.
* * *
Early in the morning, Seo Yi-kyung’s face was depressed as he sat at the dining table. Butler Do felt suspicious seeing this, but he couldn’t ask because of Han Seung-jae, who was right in front of him. Butler Do set down the plates and turned to leave.
“Why are you like that?”
Seo Yi-kyung’s grip tightened on his chopsticks. He raised his lowered head and looked at Han Seung-jae sitting opposite him.
He hadn’t slept a wink all night. Meanwhile, morning had dawned, and Han Seung-jae had gone out to exercise. And he had come here after taking a shower.
Seo Yi-kyung chewed over the words lingering on his tongue. He thought it would be best to say he couldn’t paint. No, rather than that, six months was too short; should he say about three years? Five? He probably wouldn’t have that much time anyway.
“Is the food not to your taste?”
Han Seung-jae set down the glass he was holding. Only ice remained in the glass he had emptied, clinking softly. Seo Yi-kyung quickly shook his head.
“I’m eating.”
However, he unconsciously let out a deep sigh.
“Should I change the chef while I’m at it?”
The back of Seo Yi-kyung’s neck stiffened. He didn’t want anyone to suffer because of him. He had no choice but to lift his chopsticks and put food in his mouth.
Originally, these household matters were not Han Seung-jae’s concern. They were tasks that Seo Yi-kyung was supposed to handle. They were things that could be finished just by giving orders, but it seemed he had no desire to command others.
“If you have something to say, say it.”
After eating, he looked at Han Seung-jae once, lowered his eyes again, and then glanced at him. He seemed to notice that there was something the other wanted to say. But Seo Yi-kyung’s mouth simply wouldn’t open, even though his face looked like he had a lot to say.
Checking his wristwatch, Han Seung-jae stood up. Seo Yi-kyung put down his chopsticks and quickly stood up.
“Um…”
Han Seung-jae looked back.
“Have a safe trip.”
Instead of saying he couldn’t paint, Seo Yi-kyung brought up something else. Seo Yi-kyung didn’t notice that Han Seung-jae’s pupils shifted slightly. His mind was entirely filled with thoughts of the painting. Han Seung-jae turned and left the kitchen.
Seo Yi-kyung’s knees gave out, and he flopped back into the chair. He was doomed to have to paint.
* * *
Inside the large painting studio, Seo Yi-kyung moved busily. He set up two wooden easels side by side. Then, from the layers of paintings, he brought one of a mountain that looked like it had a low difficulty level.
Seo Yi-kyung took a short, deep breath. Just then, there was a knock, and Butler Do entered the studio. He placed a three-tier tray of desserts and some juice on the work table.
“It seems you’ve finally found the will to paint.”
Seo Yi-kyung tried to force a calm smile, but his cheek twitched slightly. As Butler Do unfolded an art apron to put it around his neck, Seo Yi-kyung reached out and took it.
“I’ll do it.”
Seo Yi-kyung put the apron around his neck. The beige apron hung down below his knees. Then, to prevent paint from getting on his clothes, he rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. Faint marks of thin strings remained on his wrists.
“Ah, I’d like to paint alone…”
Having set up the white canvas, Seo Yi-kyung looked at Butler Do. He nodded.
“Please call me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
Once Butler Do turned and left, Seo Yi-kyung stared at the canvas alone. To the left was the landscape painting of the mountain ridge, and to the right was a stark white, empty canvas.
‘I can just paint it exactly the same.’
Seo Yi-kyung picked up a pencil from the work table. I should draw the sketch first.
“I can do it if I just look at it.”
Swoosh. He boldly drew a line.
“…?”
Seo Yi-kyung’s upper body tilted to the left. His eyes darted back and forth, etching the image onto his retina.
Swoosh, swoosh. His hand moved smoothly, but then he grabbed the eraser and scrubbed it away vigorously.
Relaxing the strength in his fingertips, biting the inside of his lower lip, how long had he been trying to follow the lines as he saw them? Seo Yi-kyung slammed the work table. The pencil lead snapped.
“I’m screwed.”
On the canvas, earthworms were having babies.