Reluctant to mention this time last year, Liu hesitated, his gaze faltering for a moment before he tilted the water bottle to his lips and wet his throat.
This year, he had attended the same art fair in Hong Kong as last year. He had managed the fair without a hitch with the new members, and with a year’s growth, he had achieved even better results than the year before. But to Liu, Hong Kong—at least, Hong Kong at that time of year—was now nothing but memories of Yeehyeon.
A time when they still knew so little about each other, when they would steal glances and probe, guessing at the other’s intentions by their own standards, feeling disappointed for their own reasons or looking down on the other for reasons unknown… and yet, in the end, a time when they couldn’t take their eyes off each other.
The touch of a body against his chest as an arm reached out, asking to see a photo, or the single gaze they had exchanged through the smoke of a first-ever cigarette, which had made him bite his lip gently… At the time, he had tried not to look too closely, and even if he had realized, he would have only laughed it off, refusing to admit it, but looking back, it was all, in the end, a memory of a quiet young man who had continuously stirred an undeniable curiosity, and of an attraction.
It was also the memory of how, when Yeehyeon’s fingertips brushed across the surface of his pheromones, which had lain placid and still for a very long time, ripples would spread in layers, chasing his scent.
Puffing his cheeks before letting out a long sigh, Liu set the water bottle down and picked up his chopsticks. Inwoo, who had come over after a rare night of working late at the hospital, must have been hungry, as he was already lifting a spoonful of glistening brown rice.
“I got a week off in the middle of your vacation. Do you think I could use your mother’s studio in Gangwon-do then?”
“If you’re taking someone, I wouldn’t recommend it. It’s not the kind of glamorous, sophisticated place the people you date casually would expect.”
Inwoo’s chopsticks, which had been lifting some japchae, slowed. Then, still leaning over his lunch box, he turned only his head to look up at Liu with a displeased expression.
“That’s not the kind of ‘work’ I was asking to borrow it for, you know.”
Shrugging at the aggrieved Inwoo, Liu feigned ignorance and broke off a corner of the tteok-galbi with his chopsticks.
“Even if I wanted to focus all my energy on that kind of work, it’s not like I have the time. I’m just going to paint during my vacation. Lately, I find myself envying full-time artists.”
“……”
“Ah… If it weren’t for the hospital, I would’ve tried applying for ‘The Hands’.”
Liu, who had glanced at Inwoo upon hearing he would focus only on painting during his vacation, shifted his gaze back to the tteok-galbi. But the piece of food he had broken off seemed unable to find its way to his mouth.
“Are you already starting to prepare for the joint exhibition in the second half of the year? You’ve changed, Choi Inwoo.”
“No, I’m preparing for a solo exhibition.”
“……”
This time, Liu’s chopsticks stopped completely.
Liu had always sensed that Inwoo had talent, that things he wanted to say and pour out through his art were simmering quietly within him. But until now, Inwoo had treated painting like someone maintaining a careful distance from an unrequited love, drawing a line and worrying about falling in too deep, convinced there was no hope between him and his crush.
His output had increased since the end of last year, and his style had been gradually changing, but Liu had never expected to hear that Inwoo—who had only ever worked a little at a time in his spare moments and presented two or three pieces at the joint exhibitions—wanted to hold a solo exhibition.
“You’re not planning on holding a solo exhibition with just two or three pieces, are you? Do you have some works you’ve kept aside?”
Instead of commenting on each and every one of these changes, Liu asked in a casual, offhand tone, as if it were nothing.
“That’s why I’m planning to skip the group exhibition in the second half of the year. I’m going to focus on a solo exhibition early next year.”
“I’m against just churning out pieces to meet a quota for a solo show.”
“That’s the last thing I want.”
Not long after Liu had returned from New York, Inwoo had come to his house first.
A fair amount of time had already passed since Yeehyeon had found out about the situation, but they didn’t know each other so little that they needed to explain the meaning of every word and action. Nevertheless, Inwoo, uncharacteristically, had pointed out his own faults one by one and offered a formal apology.
For passing judgment on the Changing as if he were some impartial judge, and for the overly aggressive, hurtful words he had said.
But even though heightened emotions had been mixed in, Liu himself thought that what Inwoo and Shushu had said wasn’t fundamentally wrong. However, when it came to the matter of him kissing Yeehyeon, he couldn’t be so… generous.
「That’s something you should apologize to Seo Yeehyeon for, and since Seo Yeehyeon has forgiven you, that’s the end of it.」
He had said, trying to act cool, but perhaps it had also meant that even if Yeehyeon had forgiven him, he shouldn’t expect forgiveness from Liu himself.
Once Inwoo had emptied his bottle, Liu offered him coffee. His own lunch box was still half-full, but he brewed coffee for two. While the coffee was brewing, he leaned casually against the cabinet where the coffee maker sat and gazed out at the window, where the rain was still pouring.
This rain wouldn’t last all night, and from what he had checked beforehand, the typhoon’s wind speeds weren’t particularly threatening. His flight tomorrow morning would probably be unaffected.
“Are you… really not going to tell Yeehyeon?”
“……”
Liu unfolded his arms and looked back at Inwoo behind him. He was looking this way with a firm expression that demanded a serious answer, but Liu showed little reaction, turning back to pour the freshly brewed coffee into two mugs.
Taking the mug from Liu, Inwoo wrapped both hands around it. Perhaps because of the air conditioner blasting to combat the humidity, the warmth of the mug seemed welcome despite it being the middle of summer.
“Yeehyeon has the right to know what kind of existence he is, too.”
“Without a Ghost by its side, a Diamond Dust is just an ordinary beta.”
Taking a sip of coffee, Liu set his mug on the table and stood up, walking over to his desk. He picked up the remote and adjusted the air conditioner’s temperature as he continued.
“He’s probably overwhelmed just trying to make it as an artist in a foreign country right now. What’s the point of confusing him with something he doesn’t have to worry about at the moment?”
“Don’t you want to see the twenty-three-year-old Seo Yeehyeon?”
“……”
Turning to look at Inwoo, who had abruptly changed the direction of the conversation, Liu raised and lowered his shoulders with a displeased expression and let out a sigh. Then, he took the mug he had left on the coffee table, returned to his desk, and began to sort through a pile of documents.
After staring intently at Liu’s profile for a long while as he organized his desk, occasionally remembering to lift his mug and drink his coffee, Inwoo’s expression softened. He let out a low chuckle and stood up from his seat.
“That was a stupid question. Have a good vacation.”
He didn’t know how the people around him perceived his longing for Yeehyeon or his attitude of not contacting him, but Liu himself was not trying to forget Yeehyeon, nor had he given up on him. And he certainly wasn’t trying to stop loving him.
He could only know that now was not the time. He was simply, as he had told Yeehyeon, protecting his own truth and waiting for the right time.
Just as he was finishing up dividing the sorted documents into a shopping bag and a briefcase, someone knocked on the open door. It was Juhan.
Liu glanced up, signaling for him to come in. Juhan approached, uncharacteristically hesitant, and held out a file.
“What’s this?”
“Um, you could call it a sort of business proposal.”
Liu glanced at Juhan, who was deliberately making a playful face and scratching his cheek with his index finger to hide his awkwardness, and took the file.
It was a proposal with the rather meaningful and ambitious title: <A Proposal for Phantom’s Tomorrow: Achieving a 30% Increase in Annual Visitors!>.
“You said you’d support me if I showed some initiative. So I thought about it. About how Phantom can be reborn not as a place that exhibits art as a luxury for a special few, but as a friendly space where the public can embrace art as a part of their daily lives! Well, of course… you might not be pleased with customers dropping by the gallery just for coffee, Director, but the era of high-and-mighty art is over. If the public comes into frequent contact with art like that…”
“Did you show this to Section Chief Han?”
“Huh? Yes.”
The proposal, which he skimmed through while standing, seemed quite plausible, including presentations of similar cases, a budget estimate if the proposal were to be approved, and even expected revenue projections.
Liu tightened his lips to suppress a smile and put the file into his briefcase along with the other documents.
“Alright, I’ll think about it during my vacation.”
“……Pardon?”
“I said I’ll review it and give you an answer.”
“Ah… Yes. Thank you…”
Juhan, who must have prepared a passionate pitch expecting to be shot down on the spot, looked more bewildered than pleased at Liu’s words. He looked like someone who had braced for a fight only to be met with an embrace.
“Um, Director, thank you for the business class ticket.”
Only when he reached the door did Juhan turn back and call out to Liu, as if he had just remembered something he’d forgotten to say.
“Bring me back a gift.”
“Thank you for the pocket money, too.”
Zipping up the briefcase, which was so full there wasn’t room for another sheet of A4 paper, Liu nodded. Juhan, who was leaning against the doorframe and fiddling with the doorknob, spoke in an effortless voice, as if it were nothing special.
“I’ll go buy Yeehyeon something nice to eat.”
“……”
Liu finally stopped what he was doing and sat leaning against the desk. Rain was still streaming down the window in front of him. He could hear the excited murmurs of the staff, on the verge of a long vacation, as they left the office.
Looking up at the ceiling, Liu took a breath and wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. The next moment, he looked down at the floor and exhaled. Without lifting his head, he glanced to the side, and his hair fell, covering his eyes. He picked up the mug by its rim with his long fingers. Even though he had set the air conditioner to a warmer temperature, the coffee had gone completely cold in the meantime.
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