By Zephyria 
Thump, Seo Yi-kyung’s back sank into the cozy bed. Clutching his drawers, he looked up at Han Seung-jae. Han Seung-jae, who had been holding his arm, loosened his grip and looked down at Seo Yi-kyung.
Cold eyes carefully scanned Seo Yi-kyung’s face. A pale complexion and pupils trembling with bewilderment. A lower lip twitching, perhaps out of surprise.
The more he looked, the more Seo Yi-kyung felt as if Han Seung-jae were licking his cheek with a tongue. Unable to bear it, Seo Yi-kyung spoke.
“Let me go…”
“Why are you so scared?”
“…I’m not…”
To avoid provoking Han Seung-jae, Seo Yi-kyung answered haltingly, without avoiding his gaze.
And anyone would be scared if they were treated like a piece of luggage.
In the original story, Han Seung-jae at least maintained a facade of being mannerly and gentlemanly in front of ‘Seo Yi-kyung,’ but the current him had long since cast off such a shell. He no longer bothered to package himself as a good person.
“You have the look of someone terrified that I’m about to shove my cock in you.”
Seo Yi-kyung couldn’t even imagine what his eyes looked like. He simply tried to pull his hand, which was gripping the drawers, out of Han Seung-jae’s large grasp.
“You seemed to enjoy it earlier.”
“…?”
Doubt clouded the eyes of Seo Yi-kyung as he lay on the bed.
Not clearly understanding what Han Seung-jae was talking about, Seo Yi-kyung pulled his freed hand toward his chest.
Han Seung-jae did not stop him as he sat up and ran into the bathroom.
* * *
He didn’t know how much time had passed. Time was flowing slower than usual for Seo Yi-kyung. Keeping his entire body stiff with tension, he held out in the bathroom for a while.
Click. Opening the door and peeking his head out, Seo Yi-kyung scanned the room. Han Seung-jae was nowhere to be seen. Seo Yi-kyung’s rigid shoulders slowly relaxed.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Seo Yi-kyung recalled the words he had exchanged with Han Seung-jae a moment ago.
—You seemed to enjoy it earlier.
Even reflecting on the words, it was difficult to fathom the meaning.
Was he talking about when they were eating? What was his expression then?
Or…
A memory suddenly flashed through his mind. Was he talking about when he was painting—that is, when he was with Seon-yu? Given Han Seung-jae’s behavior, there was a high probability that a report had already reached him.
Seo Yi-kyung scratched his forehead. Min Ra-hyeon would return eventually anyway.
Then, all of Han Seung-jae’s interest in him would vanish and shift toward Min Ra-hyeon. Seo Yi-kyung pondered what choice he should make when that time came, but no clear solution came to mind.
President Han Yechan of the Myeongjun Group and Min Ra-hyeon’s father, Min Chae-ho. Since their fathers had deep ties, the relationship between the two men was also strong.
Han Seung-jae, who was cold and heartless to everyone else, was infinitely indulgent and generous only toward Min Ra-hyeon.
After all, wasn’t it Han Seung-jae who brought Min Ra-hyeon into this house?
That must be why ‘Seo Yi-kyung’ felt an inexplicable sense of anxiety.
* * *
The next day, Seo Yi-kyung left the bedroom after noon. Although he had traveled by car, he had stayed in his room all morning, exhausted just from that small amount of movement.
After eating a late lunch and strolling through the garden, he finally turned his steps toward the painting studio with a determined face.
He looked at the painting he had done in the park the previous day. He was satisfied with the piece, which delicately captured the view looking down from a hill.
Seo Yi-kyung let out a soft sigh. If Han Seung-jae had accepted this, he wouldn’t have to worry any further. He couldn’t understand why this wasn’t to his liking. It wasn’t easy to paint something this perfectly.
Standing before the canvas for several days, struggling as he painted, Seo Yi-kyung had fully realized how much skill was required.
He only became more convinced that he absolutely could not paint such a picture.
Seo Yi-kyung reached out and touched the painting.
“Oh.”
Seo Yi-kyung looked at the green paint smeared on his fingertip. It seemed it hadn’t dried yet.
Come to think of it, he was told it takes time to dry. And that he had to layer over it.
Seo Yi-kyung stared intently at the painting. He felt like he didn’t necessarily need to do that.
He felt as though he might ruin it if he touched it unnecessarily. It was a painting Han Seung-jae wouldn’t even accept.
Han Seung-jae had demanded that he paint directly inside this house. It was no easy task to satisfy Han Seung-jae, who was becoming increasingly fastidious. He didn’t let a single thing slide…
With a look of resignation, Seo Yi-kyung’s gaze lingered on the work table. More accurately, he was looking at the canvas leaning against its leg.
Looking at the painting that looked like an earthworm crawling up a mountain, he clutched his head. A throbbing headache naturally washed over him.
Clack. He heard the sound of the studio door opening behind him. Sensing who it was, Seo Yi-kyung spoke without looking back.
“Butler Do. I had a late lunch, so I don’t think I’ll need dinner.”
“Do you usually skip meals like that?”
The hand covering his white forehead slowly lowered. A smudge remained on his fingertip.
Seo Yi-kyung turned his head. Han Seung-jae, dressed in a dark suit, stood with his back to the studio door.
“Why? Did I come somewhere I’m not allowed?”
As he asked, Han Seung-jae’s gaze landed on Seo Yi-kyung’s forehead. A long streak of green oil paint was smeared there. While Seo Yi-kyung stood there dazed, Han Seung-jae raised a finger and pointed to his own forehead.
“Why don’t you wipe that off?”
Seo Yi-kyung raised his hand and felt his forehead. Consequently, the green smudge increased to two.
Han Seung-jae took a step forward. As he shifted his gaze to the work table, Seo Yi-kyung snapped out of it and tried to hide the sketch leaning against the table with his leg.
“Come here.”
“Wh-why?”
As if being stubborn, Seo Yi-kyung pressed his weight firmly onto one leg. Han Seung-jae absolutely must not see this painting.
The difference in quality compared to ‘Seo Yi-kyung’s’ painting leaning against the wall was too great. With Han Seung-jae’s keen eye and sense, there was no way he wouldn’t notice.
As Han Seung-jae reached out an arm wrapped in a dark suit, Seo Yi-kyung’s shoulder flinched. The long arm brushed past his shoulder and reached the work table. Han Seung-jae pulled out a tissue and tried to wipe Seo Yi-kyung’s forehead. Unaware of this, Seo Yi-kyung jerked his head back.
However, Han Seung-jae used his other hand to grab and hold Seo Yi-kyung’s small head in place. Seo Yi-kyung’s pupils trembled slightly. Han Seung-jae gently wiped Seo Yi-kyung’s forehead with his fingertips.
“I’ll do it.”
Only then realizing Han Seung-jae’s intention, Seo Yi-kyung raised his hand and grabbed the man’s firm hand.
Han Seung-jae withdrew the hand that had been cradling the nape of his neck. A smudge had transferred to the back of his hand as well. Seo Yi-kyung pulled a tissue from the table, moistened it in the water used for cleaning brushes, and scrubbed his forehead vigorously. He was scrubbing the wrong spot.
“A bit more to the left.”
Following Han Seung-jae’s words, Seo Yi-kyung’s hand moved. Moreover, he was scrubbing so hard that reddish marks were appearing horizontally.
“What are you painting?”
Seo Yi-kyung’s hand stopped abruptly. Han Seung-jae’s gaze moved slowly. It lingered on the canvas hidden by Seo Yi-kyung’s leg, then stared at the painting brought from the park the previous day.
“It’s not dry yet. You shouldn’t touch it.”
Hearing Seo Yi-kyung’s words, Han Seung-jae slowly turned his head. Seo Yi-kyung lowered his hand. He wanted to ask why this painting wasn’t to his liking.
It was a high-quality painting that was flawless from any angle. He recalled Seon-yu’s hand, painting boldly in such a short time. It could never be compared to the mess he had painted.
But there was no way he could say such things out loud.
“I don’t like it.”
Seo Yi-kyung blinked, his tongue flickering behind his pressed lips. He felt like he could ask now. No, the feeling that Han Seung-jae might actually answer grew. Eventually, unable to hold back, he opened his mouth.
“What part?”
“All of it.”
Unlike Seo Yi-kyung’s complicated thoughts, Han Seung-jae’s words were utterly monotonous. No emotion could be felt in his flat voice.
Seo Yi-kyung suppressed a sigh that was about to escape. He hadn’t thought he could satisfy Han Seung-jae, but he had hoped he would at least accept it…
As expected, even a high-quality painting like this didn’t meet his standards. Then how could he possibly show the painting at his feet?
As Seo Yi-kyung looked at the canvas, Han Seung-jae raised a large hand and gave the painting a flick, knocking it over. Thump. The canvas fell over along with the easel and lay sprawled. Seo Yi-kyung’s lips parted.
“What are you doing?”
At Seo Yi-kyung’s words, Han Seung-jae tilted his head slightly. That alone made Seo Yi-kyung shrink back.
“From now on, you’re painting a new one.”
Seo Yi-kyung’s fingertips trembled. Han Seung-jae continued with an expressionless face.
“In front of me.”