The second treatment session was only possible late in the evening as well.
Seowoo still crossed the threshold with some hesitation, but he wasn’t as tense as the first day. That was because he had a general sense of what Hyeon would do.
He folded the thin jacket he’d worn over and draped it on the sofa, then stepped into the work space. The peanut-shaped armchair he’d sat in the day before was in exactly the same spot.
He sat down without a word, and Hyeon began working without much explanation either.
The sound of a brush scraping against the canvas slowly filled the studio. The pheromones, which felt a little thicker than yesterday, made Seowoo languid all the same. He had come fully resolved not to doze off today — but in spite of his determination, his eyelids kept growing heavy.
Seowoo straightened his back and willed his eyes open, holding out as long as he could before deciding it was no use and getting up from his seat. He opened the fridge and was looking for something to drink when he turned around.
“Would you like something to drink?”
Hyeon gave no answer, absorbed entirely in his painting. Remembering that this was simply how he was when he worked, Seowoo took out the ginger ale that filled an entire shelf of the fridge and poured it into a glass with ice. He’d seen it often at the studios in Gyeonggi and Seoul three years ago, so he figured it must be Hyeon’s preference.
He picked up the glass and walked closer, and Hyeon, sensing someone nearby, stopped his brushstroke and turned his head.
“I thought you might want this.”
Hyeon reached out and took the glass Seowoo held out. The tips of their fingers brushed briefly and then parted — and in that instant, Seowoo’s eyes instinctively went to that point of contact.
“Thanks.”
Feeling strangely off, Seowoo curled and uncurled his empty hand as he returned to his seat. Is flinching at something as insignificant as that just what it means to be a helpless slave to pheromones?
His own pheromones were drifting out as if welcoming Hyeon’s, mingling into the space around them. Seowoo cast his eyes downward and took a long sip of the ice-cold drink, cold enough to make his teeth ache.
All while idly thinking — if pheromones had a visible color, this might look rather indecent.
* * *
As expected, Dano’s refusal to go to daycare continued for several days.
To avoid making things worse, Seowoo made sure never to let Dano see him in contact with Hyeon, and deliberately walked with Dano alone on the way to daycare. But no matter what he tried, nothing worked. Dano would bury his nose in Seowoo’s chest and sniff, and in the end would look up with anxious eyes and cry that he didn’t want to go. Watching that, Seowoo began to wonder if maybe Dano could sense Hyeon’s pheromones too.
Throughout that stretch of days, Hyeon continued the lukewarm treatment without a single sign of displeasure. Even taking photos with Dano tagging along counted as part of the treatment, so the days kept stacking up in Seowoo’s favor alone — and the weight pressing on his heart grew heavier and heavier because of it.
And to make matters worse, today it was drizzling on top of everything else. The rain was heavy enough that taking Dano out to shoot photos was out of the question. The cloudy, damp air was exactly the kind of weather that invited colds. Seowoo knew from experience that if Dano caught a cold on a day like this, the suffering that followed would be three, four times worse.
Hyeon had invited both Seowoo and Dano up to his studio.
“All the flowers will be gone soon. Summer already, it seems.”
“It’s further south here, so summer comes earlier.”
Hyeon stood at the window gazing outside, entirely at ease. Chief Han standing beside him was the same. Whether Hyeon’s claim of coming down for a vacation was actually true, the two men looked unhurried, as though enjoying a leisurely retreat.
Only Seowoo felt out of place — suddenly turned up at Hyeon’s studio with Dano in tow.
Dano, who had entered Hyeon’s studio for the first time, had long since finished his surveillance tour and was now eyeing Hyeon’s paints and drawing tools with great interest.
“You can’t go in there.”
“Dano wants to draw too.”
Seowoo shook his head with a troubled expression. He still didn’t quite understand why Hyeon had told him to come to the studio with Dano. He really was an impossible person to read. Or rather — it felt as though not a single trace of the person Seowoo had once known remained.
“Let’s draw at home with Dad later. There are no crayons here either…… how about Dano watches Pororo instead? Dad will make an exception.”
Seowoo was pulling out his phone to find a video when Hyeon walked over and held out a sketchbook and oil pastels.
“There are plenty of drawing supplies right here — why go all the way home to draw? I’ve heard you’re not supposed to let kids watch videos all the time.”
“Oh, but we can’t just — these aren’t things for children to use.”
“It doesn’t matter if he ruins everything.”
“……Still.”
“Things like this don’t even register as something for me to worry about.”
While Seowoo fretted, Hyeon simply set everything up right in front of Dano. He tore off large sheets of paper and spread them generously around Dano, then pulled out a heap of oil pastels and colored pencils and set them down. Grateful as Seowoo was for the generosity, it didn’t make him feel any easier — everything Hyeon had laid out was clearly expensive material.
In the end, Dano began drawing to his heart’s content. Seowoo sat beside him keeping watch, and Hyeon stayed alongside them with what looked like genuine interest.
Rather than simply sitting and watching Dano, Hyeon pulled out a small sketchbook of his own and started sketching something quickly. Seowoo tended to Dano while growing curious about what was inside Hyeon’s sketchbook — but from where he was sitting, he couldn’t see. He didn’t quite have the nerve to get up and go look either. Chief Han, standing behind Hyeon, wore an expression that seemed rather intrigued — which only added to Seowoo’s idle curiosity.
About an hour had passed like that. The space around where Dano was sitting had filled up with colors, and Seowoo had gradually stopped feeling awkward, when the phone in his bag rang loudly.
“……It’s Donghyeok. Dano, Dad’s going to take this call for a sec.”
The moment he picked up, Donghyeok’s urgent voice came through.
— Seowoo, you need to come down to the shop.
Seowoo was on his feet before the sentence was even finished. From the moment Donghyeok’s name — someone who almost never called — had appeared on screen, he’d had a gut feeling something had gone wrong.
— There was an ordering mistake, and when I was copying your order form last time——
“Is it President Yeongseon’s order?”
— I’m sorry. I think I added an extra zero.
The regret in Donghyeok’s voice was palpable, but that didn’t stop the world from tilting in front of Seowoo’s eyes. This was one of those accidents that should never happen. Not only would there be a financial loss — it meant being stuck with excess inventory, and if it couldn’t be moved, even disposing of it would cost money. Over the line, Donghyeok kept repeating his apologies.
“I’m on my way right now.”
Seowoo grabbed his bag, and Dano somehow sensed it and scrambled to his feet in an instant.
Leaving the child here and going alone had never even crossed his mind. Even so, watching Dano shuffle over toward him, ready to follow wherever he was headed — it made something in Seowoo’s chest ache. No matter what happens, Dad would never go anywhere and leave you behind — yet whatever nameless anxiety Dano carried was surely Seowoo’s fault too.
Hyeon had been listening to the call and had already pieced together the rough situation. He looked at Seowoo’s face, now drained of color, and rubbed his jaw. The friends who said they were there to help didn’t seem particularly reliable.
“Shall I come with you?”
In the middle of all his panic, Seowoo’s eyes went wide as a rabbit’s.
“No, it’s fine.”
“It doesn’t look fine.”
“It is. I’ll be back soon.”
Seowoo blinked at him as if to say, why are you getting involved? Hyeon, out of things to say, snapped his sketchbook shut and waved him off — go on, get down there.
“Alright. Go quickly. Don’t worry about me.”
Hyeon stood and saw Seowoo off as he headed out the door. Seowoo took Dano’s hand and started down the stairs, then apparently too impatient, scooped the child up and went clattering down at a run. In that urgent motion, something was briefly visible — a glimpse of what Seowoo had been carrying all this time, raising a child alone.
* * *
In the now-quiet studio, Hyeon walked back to the window. Ji Donghyeok was outside in front of Blue Giraffe, pacing anxiously, and a moment later Seowoo appeared and the two began talking. When Min Sangoh came out as well and took Dano into his arms with the ease of someone used to it, Hyeon looked away.
On the floor, the oil pastels that small hands had been holding until just moments ago were scattered here and there. Seowoo’s pheromones lingered faintly over the drawings Dano had left behind. Perhaps because of the scent that gently filled the space, the colors of the drawings came through vividly to Hyeon’s eyes. The pictures the child had left behind carried a presence large enough to hold his gaze.
