“Earlier, you were trying to get away from me like you’d seen a ghost.”
“Ah, that was……”
Gulp. Seowoo swallowed dryly and sidled sideways, quietly slipping out of Hyeon’s reach.
Then he made a beeline straight for Dano.
“Dappa! Ppa!”
“Hey hey, Appa’s here. You waited a long time, didn’t you.”
The moment Seowoo referred to himself as Appa, Hyeon and Chief Han exchanged a glance.
Seowoo was none the wiser, his attention entirely swallowed up by Dano.
As he scooped the small body up and pulled him close, the trembling in his hands gradually settled.
Watching Dano sitting between Hyeon and Chief Han just moments ago, Seowoo had entertained a terrible, irrational thought for just a fleeting second — that Dano could be taken from him.
Though, if he were honest, Hyeon seemed more the type to want nothing to do with it than to take anything.
Still, the way Chief Han quietly stepped aside without a fuss brought Seowoo an immense — if brief — wave of relief.
It felt like he could finally breathe again.
Dano pressed his small fern-like hands against Seowoo’s stiff, cold face, and warmth spread through it.
Seowoo squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them, and spoke to Hyeon without managing to wipe the tension from his expression.
“Earlier — I really was grateful, earlier. I just wasn’t in any state of mind to…… I was startled, you see.”
Seowoo pulled Dano deeper into his arms.
It was an impulse he hadn’t been conscious of — the urge to shield Dano from Hyeon’s line of sight.
He needed to track where Hyeon’s gaze was going and what it was taking in, so for the first time he was holding Hyeon’s eyes in a direct stare rather than looking away.
He wouldn’t know. Surely not.
“Do you want to fall again?”
“Pardon?”
“Is stepping backwards a habit of yours? Why do you keep trying to run away. It stings.”
The unexpected words brought Seowoo to an abrupt halt.
He hadn’t even realized he was doing it until Hyeon pointed it out.
“I didn’t expect to run into you at a hospital. I didn’t think I’d be seeing you somewhere like this, so I was a little caught off guard……”
“You seem to find an awful lot of things surprising. Don’t you, Seowoo.”
“……”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No. No. Nothing like that……”
Hyeon tilted his head slightly and studied both Seowoo and Dano.
It became clear that the more Seowoo tried to evade, the more he only fed Hyeon’s curiosity.
If I turn around and bolt out of here right now, it’ll look really strange.
Seowoo quickly reconsidered and stumbled his way into an attempt at casual conversation.
“It’s…… it’s been a while. Hyeon.”
Hyeon’s brow ticked upward.
Something about it displeased him — and under that expression, Seowoo instinctively cast his eyes downward.
“So…… what brought you to the hospital? Are you unwell somewhere?”
“No, I came for a check-up. Though it seems I’m about to have something to be unwell about. Thanks to you.”
“Pardon?”
Just one exchange in, another unexpected remark — Seowoo’s head snapped up.
And right on cue, Hyeon extended his right hand, wrapped thickly in bandages.
“Did that happen because of me?”
“Of all things, the right hand.”
Seowoo’s eyes went wide as saucers.
Hyeon dismissed Chief Han with a look, then went and settled himself on the sofa.
He stared blankly at Seowoo, who was still standing, and gave a small click of his tongue.
“Stop thinking about running and sit down. Let’s talk.”
“I’m not trying to run——”
“……”
“……Never mind. I’ll sit.”
When Seowoo sat down, Dano squirmed in his arms and twisted his body toward Hyeon.
Seowoo, with no intention of setting him down, pulled him tight and blocked him — and Dano turned his head and stared at Hyeon with open curiosity.
He even broke into a gummy smile.
At that, Seowoo had no choice but to sit there anxiously watching Hyeon’s reaction.
“……I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what? Oh — this?”
Hyeon lifted the bandaged right hand and winced.
He still seemed to be adjusting to the injury himself.
That was how sudden today had been. From the encounter itself — all of it.
“I hurt myself catching you, so there’s nothing to be sorry about. I heard you went abroad to study — but looking at things now, that doesn’t seem to be the case. How have you been?”
“……”
“That was a bit of a foolish question, wasn’t it. Asking someone who’s holding the answer right in their arms. Right?”
“……”
“Are you going to keep saying absolutely nothing? If that’s how it’s going to be——”
Hyeon had been carrying the conversation alone, and apparently losing patience, he blew a short puff of air through his lips.
His fringe lifted slightly — and Dano burst into a shriek of delighted laughter.
“……”
“……”
Seowoo clapped a hand over Dano’s mouth in a panic.
Hyeon looked quietly at the two of them — at the pair that looked so identically alike.
“Ahem, right. That’s not what matters here anyway. Let’s get straight to the point. How are you getting by these days, Seowoo? Are you still handling gallery work like before, or do you have a different job?”
In front of a face that had visibly exhausted its patience, Seowoo moistened his dry lips.
“……No, I left the gallery work. I’m not currently employed anywhere.”
In truth there were a great many complicated things going on that would take too long to explain on the spot, but Seowoo kept it vague.
Raising a child cost money, so he was busier than anyone in the world.
This hospital visit, too, had been carved out of his time by sheer force — squeezed out drop by drop.
He simply didn’t want the conversation to go on any longer, and he didn’t want to bring up Dano, so he told a convenient lie.
Well, at least half of it’s true. I don’t do gallery work anymore.
Just then, Hyeon smiled — a crooked, sideways thing.
His eyes looked as though they could see straight through every one of Seowoo’s lies as he pulled out his phone and held it out.
“Then give me your updated number, and starting next week, come to the studio five days a week. Like three years ago.”
“……What? The studio?”
“My hand being like this means I need an assistant. You’ve worked with me before, so you know how I am. I paint when I want to paint, I hate being disturbed, I can’t stand having too many people around — I have a very long list of things I dislike, and top of that list is delays in my work schedule. And close behind that is having to give long-winded explanations for why my hand ended up in this state.”
But it was his right hand that was injured — and having an assistant didn’t mean someone could paint in his place.
“There’s nothing I can actually do to help with the work itself……”
“I won’t be making the unreasonable demand that you hold a brush for me, so don’t worry. Consider it a three-month trial, until my wrist is fully healed. Your pay will of course be provided.”
A trial — what was that supposed to mean?
With a broken wrist, he wouldn’t be able to paint anyway — so why did he need an assistant?
In the first place, the reason Seowoo had been in and out of the studio three years ago was because of exhibition planning — not to assist with Hyeon’s work.
And this was the same person who didn’t allow anyone inside while he was painting. So what exactly……
Seowoo couldn’t even begin to make sense of what was being asked of him.
He was frowning faintly, utterly unconvinced, when Hyeon added more.
“The pay will be more generous than what you earned at the gallery. Now that you have a family to look after, that seems only fair. Come to think of it, it might be better to move the studio somewhere more convenient for you as well.”
“You’d move the studio?”
“There are plenty of vacant buildings…… hmm, Chief Han would know best about that sort of thing, so I should call him in and ask. That would make scheduling easier too.”
“No! Wait — no. I can’t. I can’t do it.”
Seowoo grabbed Hyeon urgently as he moved to stand and call for Chief Han.
He pressed down on his shoulder with one hand to push him back down, then stood up himself instead.
“I’ve put my number in here.”
Entering his contact information into Hyeon’s phone and pressing the call button once — Seowoo’s movements were fluid and unhesitating, quick as water finding its course.
He returned the phone to Hyeon’s hand and bowed his head, just as he had on that last day three years ago.
“Please let me know the treatment costs, and the charges for using this room — I’ll transfer the payment.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I can’t be your assistant.”
Seowoo shook his head firmly.
“My sp— no, that is…… my partner is waiting for me in the parking lot. A lot of time has already passed, so I really need to go. That person doesn’t like this sort of thing. And, well — you’re an alpha too, so you’d understand. They don’t like other alpha pheromones, you see……”
“Huh?”
“I’m sorry. Thank you again for everything today.”
Seowoo quickly snatched his bag from the table.
Right on cue, a phone ringtone rang out sharply from inside it.
It was the moment a strange credibility was lent to his hastily cobbled-together lie.
Seowoo glanced at Hyeon and answered the call, delivering a rather warm-sounding “Yeah, I’m heading out now. Sorry, have you been waiting?” before hanging up.
He gathered Dano into his arms, slung the bag over his shoulder, and looked back — to find Hyeon gazing up at him with an unreadable expression.
It really was eerily similar to that last day three years ago.
Compared to then…… this time the excuse was at least pretty convincing.
It had been a remark thrown out blindly in his desperate scramble to escape the situation — but perhaps because of the urgency, it had been a surprisingly clever idea.
“Take care, Hyeon. It was good to see you again today.”
Don’t let us meet again. Please.
Resolving that no matter how badly his illness tormented him, he must never come to this hospital again, Seowoo bowed deeply at the waist.
Dano, who understood none of it, thought his father was playing a game and bubbled over with laughter like little bells.
Any other time, Seowoo would have stopped whatever he was doing and laughed along at that sound — but right now, all he could think about was getting away.
