Seowoo peered into the shopping bag with a flustered expression. Inside, a few neatly folded articles of Lee Hyeon’s clothing were tucked in — and the moment he brought his face close, a heavy, rich scent hit him, as though an entire bottle of perfume had been poured over them. There was no mistaking what it meant. Lee Hyeon had left behind a temporary measure for his pheromone treatment.
Should I call this thoughtful, or just thorough?
Gratitude aside, knowing that treatment could be managed this way left him feeling, inexplicably, a little hollow.
Chief Han had been watching Seowoo check inside the shopping bag before giving his brief reply.
“He had personal matters to attend to, so he’s gone up to Seoul for the time being.”
“Ah, I see.”
“He left this with me before he went — asked me to pass it along to you.”
“And his schedule?”
“That, I’m not sure of myself.”
His tone was as efficient and unadorned as ever. Chief Han studied Seowoo’s expression for just a brief moment, then added:
“That said — the fact that he made sure to leave the pheromones before going would suggest he intends to be back before you need them, wouldn’t it?”
There was something vague about the remark, and Seowoo’s brow furrowed slightly. Personal matters. Could it really have nothing to do with the argument yesterday? Standing there with clothes soaked in pheromones in his hands, he couldn’t quite settle.
Having lost his purpose, Seowoo gave Chief Han a brief glance and made his way toward Blue Giraffe. He sent Donghyeok a message telling him he didn’t need to come in, then threw open the green door.
It had been well over two weeks since he’d handed the opening duties at Blue Giraffe over to Donghyeok — all so he could focus on assisting Lee Hyeon and his own treatment. The shop was something he’d built with his own two hands, and there wasn’t a corner of it he wasn’t fond of. Sweeping and wiping it down after such a long absence left him feeling calm and composed.
Just past noon, as he was stretching out the stiffness in his body from all the cleaning and debating lunch options with Sangoh, two male customers in suits walked in. Their air was entirely different from Blue Giraffe’s usual clientele, so Seowoo moved to approach them right away, thinking they might need help finding something.
But what came out of their mouths was something he hadn’t expected at all.
“We’re here about a bulk production order. Is the owner available?”
“Uh… I’m the owner. Why don’t you have a seat over here?”
With a bewildered look, Seowoo guided them toward the café seating area. They’d barely exchanged basic pleasantries before a contract and a work order were being thrust right in front of him.
The moment he began flipping through the pages, the first thing that caught his eye was the name of a travel agency he recognized — one that operated large-scale filial piety tour packages in the surrounding area. In other words, what they were asking of Seowoo was a commission for souvenir production to accompany their package tours.
That alone would have been surprising enough — but among the items on the order list was, by a strange coincidence, the very product that had been involved in the fulfillment accident. And it was a bulk order large enough to move every last piece from that mishap, with plenty left over.
“We hope you’ll consider it favorably.”
The employee across from him said in a polite, measured tone once the explanation was done. Seowoo finished reading through the contract but still felt unmoored, and shot Sangoh a helpless look. When Sangoh, who had carefully read through all the documents, gave a nod as if to say there was nothing out of the ordinary, Seowoo finally registered the deposit amount and the sale price.
“We look forward to working with you.”
“No — thank you. I’m the grateful one.”
The signatures were exchanged and the contract concluded in no time. The travel agency employees departed with the kind assurance that the advance payment would come through by the end of the day.
The moment the door shut, Seowoo held the contract and read through it again and again.
“Wow — what on earth just happened.”
“Lucky timing. Business walked in right when you showed up to work.”
At Sangoh’s words, Seowoo found himself turning involuntarily to look up toward Lee Hyeon’s studio. I suppose so, he murmured under his breath — but his eyes were searching for Lee Hyeon.
Sangoh, who had been quietly watching that gaze, tapped the table twice to bring him back.
“You’ll need to contact the factory first. Quickly.”
Seowoo snapped to attention at that.
“Right, right!”
* * *
Tsk, tsk.
Donghyeok clicked his tongue, and Dano immediately mimicked him — tsk, tsk — right after.
The sound coming from that tiny little tongue was surprisingly convincing, and Sangoh, who had been wiping cups behind the café bar, burst out laughing.
“Hey, don’t do things like that in front of the kid. He copies everything.”
“What did I do.”
“Just now.”
“The tsk-tsking?”
“Tsk, tsk.”
“Dano, that’s a sound you only make when you’re looking at someone really pitiful. Don’t copy it.”
“……Is Daddy pitiful?”
The adults were left without a word to say when those round, innocent eyes blinked up at them with that guileless question. Donghyeok, who had been sitting across from Dano, suddenly let out a loud Aaaaah!
“You adorable little thing! Where did this come from?!”
Even the over-the-top fussing was apparently familiar to Dano, who didn’t startle at all. He simply grinned and basked in the affection with complete ease — the unwavering, confident belief that he was, obviously, the most precious thing in the world, invited kisses.
“Move aside.”
Seowoo came over from across the room and peeled Donghyeok, who had plastered himself to Dano’s cheek, away. He used the napkin he’d brought to wipe the white smear of ice cream from the corner of Dano’s mouth, then cleared away the cup and spoon. Dano handed the spoon over without making a fuss or demanding more, and Sangoh smiled at the sight.
Toward the back of Blue Giraffe, rows of glass pieces that hadn’t yet dried were lined up along the worktable, and beside them, packaging boxes and heaps of cushioning material were piled up like a small mountain. Even Seowoo’s fingertips were coated in dried pigment.
Ever since taking on the bulk souvenir order, the past week had flown by in a blur.
Seowoo had thrown himself into the work from morning until night, skimping even on sleep. The pieces that had nearly been buried in a warehouse after the fulfillment accident had been given a lucky second chance — and now that they were finally getting to see the light of day, the finished results looked especially beautiful to him.
Seowoo, who had never imagined the phrase a blessing in disguise would apply to his own life, felt both glad and slightly dazed. And so, not just on weekday nights, but on his days off too, he came in to work at the shop.
“But still.”
Donghyeok spoke up again, propping his chin on the counter.
“I thought things were actually working out.”
Back at the worktable after taking a moment to tend to Dano, Seowoo tried his best to ignore that remark — and failed. Painting intricate patterns onto glass crafts with a fine brush was already the kind of work that demanded full concentration. Seowoo narrowed his eyes and shot Donghyeok a look.
“What is.”
“What do you mean, what. Lee Hyeon, obviously.”
Sangoh shot Donghyeok a warning look, but he didn’t stop.
“No, I mean — I was already wondering how on earth you got him to agree to the treatment just like that. That guy with the obsessive aversion. Says he’ll do it, then tells you not to come anymore. Why did he even come here in the first place. Huh?”
Tsk, tsk. This time it was Sangoh who clicked his tongue, and Dano immediately followed suit.
“Tsk tsk tsk!”
“Waaah! You adorable little thing!”
“Kyahahahak!”
With all the noisy commotion, Seowoo glanced around the shop. Thankfully, no customers were coming in, and outside on the street it was quiet, not a soul walking by.
He turned his eyes back to the worktable — but his mind had long since flown somewhere else entirely.
That’s the opposite of what happened, you idiot. You’ve got it completely wrong. Seowoo swallowed what he wanted to say to Donghyeok.
Obsessive aversion, whatever — Lee Hyeon hadn’t refused the treatment. If anything, the problem was that he was far too eager. The one who had stepped back was himself.
It had been a full week since the incident where he’d been thrown out of the studio — since Lee Hyeon had left for personal reasons. Seowoo hadn’t sent him a single message. Not because he was still sore from the argument, but because he himself needed time to think. He’d also been busy.
Lee Hyeon, for his part, had also gone completely silent. Seowoo had thought that if Lee Hyeon had called first, he might have had an excuse to talk — but that was an entirely self-serving thought.
“Is he even eating properly.”
Seowoo muttered the words to himself, and Donghyeok whipped his head around to look. When Donghyeok yelped at him what is it with you and caring so much about him, Dano startled and blinked his eyes wide.
“Haa……”
Seowoo let out a sigh and stepped outside the shop.
Repetitive, monotonous work is supposed to clear a person’s head. Yet somehow, an entire week’s worth of nothing but worry had piled up inside his.
That night three years ago — it was my first time, and it was his first time too. We were both in the same position, so why am I the one feeling guilty?
Because it was my heat cycle? Not a chance. He may have been the one to light the fuse — but Lee Hyeon had every chance to cut the wick and walk away. Seowoo remembered clearly that Lee Hyeon had consented, and had even been the more eager one.
“And since when is a first time such a big deal — is it gilded or something? Isn’t that just something that can happen in the course of living? Huh?”
Why make it into something so weighted with meaning?
Seowoo’s expression crumpled as he kicked idly at the ground with the tip of his shoe. He told himself the reason his face wouldn’t smooth out was the sunlight.
“Haa……”
