Was it really that surprising that Seon Eunhu was using an assistant? As far as I was concerned — having been coerced into being here against my will — I could only find it puzzling.
The seniors who had been looking back and forth between me and Seon Eunhu exchanged a quick glance among themselves. After a brief silence, an uproar broke out, and the atmosphere instantly became as loud as a marketplace.
“Wow — Eunhu! When we lined up and said we’d assist you, you didn’t even blink. Didn’t you say you weren’t the type to use an assistant?”
“You wouldn’t let us so much as touch your work, and now you’re calling in someone who just barely shed their freshman image to be your assistant. Taerim, I’m not dismissing you — I’m taking it up with Eunhu. You know that, right?”
“Hey, whatever happened to the senior who said he worked better alone?! Weren’t you the one who shot us down when we asked if we could watch and learn from you?”
The seniors didn’t hold back, venting their grievances with obvious hurt feelings — it was clear they’d built up a fair amount of frustration with Seon Eunhu over time.
Only then did Seon Eunhu stop working and turn around. Taking in the dissatisfied faces staring back at him, he gave a light laugh. To Taerim, these people were seniors — but to Eunhu, a returning student, they were endearing juniors several years below him.
“That’s why whenever you asked me to look over your work, I did. Didn’t I assist each of you at least once? I just didn’t work on my own projects with you beside me.”
“It feels kind of upside-down to say Eunhu assisted us, but yeah, you did help us a lot. Still — it’s honestly shocking that you flat-out refused us but turned around and called a junior in to help you.”
“Does that really bother you that much?”
Seon Eunhu said it quietly, as if there were many things worth being bothered about, then turned back and set his hands to his work again. Those long fingers moved over the clay with deliberate care. Wherever the padded tips of his fingers pressed and passed, the piece clearly gained in refinement.
“Of course it does! Looking at it now, I guess you just didn’t like us. Boo. Seon Eunhu plays so hard to get, honestly.”
The playful tone drew laughter around the studio. Even the corners of Seon Eunhu’s mouth, eyes fixed on his work, briefly curved into a smile.
The fuss settled before long. In the studio where everyone had returned to their own work, I quietly observed the seniors around me. Even though I didn’t belong to this group, just being present in a space where people were working so earnestly gave me the strange illusion of spending time meaningfully. Despite being in an unfamiliar place with an uncomfortable person, I felt oddly at ease.
“Taerim. Be honest with me.”
Out of the quiet, one of the seniors suddenly called my name. She was dusting off a small plaster block with a dry brush, knocking away the powdery residue.
“What did you do to impress Eunhu? How did you win out over hundreds of Sculpture Department students to land a spot as Seon Eunhu’s assistant? Share the trade secret.”
“Nothing like that happened.”
“Nothing? Hmm. What could it be then. Is there some special connection between good-looking people?”
“I mean… yeah….”
“Excuse me?”
It was an answer I gave because I couldn’t think of anything better to say, but the seniors laughed and repeated it back at me. At the same time, Seon Eunhu stopped working and looked at me with what seemed like surprise. Was staring directly into people’s eyes just a habit of his?
Meeting his brown eyes, I held back the urge to tell him — of all people, you have no right to look at me with that expression. Should I just tell the truth and say the reason I was here right now was because of Seon Eunhu’s coercion last night when he tried to confiscate my spicy tuna? He was sitting there with the face of a passive audience member, not helping in the least, and it was infuriating.
He must have read something in my expression from all the staring. Seon Eunhu gave a short laugh and turned his head back to face forward. His voice slipped out through parted lips, teasing.
“That’s right. I begged and pleaded with him because I wanted to look at his pretty face, so I asked him to help with my work for just one day. But apparently he can’t do all day — only a few hours. Heartless and petty, right? After I humbled myself so completely.”
“A few hours? What is this, Taerim’s Cinderella? Don’t play so hard to get over an assistant spot with Eunhu.”
“Wow, that’s so tender. So tender. I have to post about this on the school forum. Sculpture Department alpha Seon Eunhu’s new man, Go Taerim. A star-crossed, time-limited connection that can never be.”
“Was that Sumin just now?”
Seon Eunhu asked without lifting his hands from the clay, still in his working posture. The gap between his easygoing tone and his not-so-easygoing intent made the seniors cackle.
“You know I’m joking, right? But when did you two get close? I’ve never seen you together.”
“That’s what I’m saying! Eunhu doesn’t drink, and Taerim doesn’t smoke…. Do they even share any classes?”
“Can the two of them even hold a conversation? Your images are complete opposites. Taerim seems quiet and gentle — just looks thoroughly kind — while the senior is, how to put it… hmm….”
“That’s Sumin choosing her words again, isn’t it.”
“Oh — no, I wasn’t trying to say anything bad!”
Amid another wave of laughter, the senior named Sumin quickly backpedaled. The core of it was simple curiosity — they wanted to know what two people who seemed so different in personality and interests could possibly talk about.
So we look like opposites to other people too. It wasn’t just something I thought — knowing that made me suddenly interested in the topic.
Seon Eunhu and I were like oil and water. Pour them into the same container and stir as much as you like — in the end, the layers separate. That was us: different in nature and disposition. You didn’t need to have a deep conversation with someone to know it. Seon Eunhu was the type who was always at the center of any group. I was the type who stood outside and watched the group from a distance.
We had both worked at the same café, and now we both lived in the same building — we had that in common. But nothing more. The unpleasant things that had happened between us carried far more weight than those coincidences, so there was absolutely no way we’d ever close the distance from opposite ends like this. It wasn’t just our first impression that was bad — the middle impression and the last impression were all bad too. How could people like us ever get close?
And yet —
Even someone with no knowledge of the situation could see we were incompatible. So why did Seon Eunhu keep making a nuisance of himself around me?
It didn’t seem like he’d called me here to try something suspicious in a studio that anyone could walk into….
Holding onto several unanswered questions, I waited for Seon Eunhu’s response. He still hadn’t said anything in reply to what the senior had asked. Whether he was thinking, or whether he was thinking at all — he had been quietly absorbed in his work, but after a moment he slowly opened his mouth.
“Sumin. Why do you want to know what we talk about.”
Seon Eunhu asked it in a flat, even tone without taking his eyes off his work. Aside from the precise movement of his fingertips, there was no motion to him at all. Even his long lashes and the pale color of his eyes were locked onto the piece without a tremor.
Is he in a bad mood?
There was no reason for him to be, but with a reaction like that, I found myself nervously reading the air even though I wasn’t the one being spoken to. The other seniors seemed to feel the same. Sumin especially — the one who had asked him the question — blinked rapidly several times, visibly flustered, and cleared her throat.
She was on the verge of launching into an explanation. Then Seon Eunhu lifted his hands from the clay and eased his torso back with a long exhale. He narrowed his eyes and swept his gaze across the piece, examining it from different angles, and only then did his voice come out easy and unbothered.
“If you knew what kind of conversations we have, it’d be trouble for all of you. Can’t tell you. It’s dangerous.”
Oh — he wasn’t angry.
That was the first thought that came to mind watching Seon Eunhu’s deadpan act. He hadn’t been in a bad mood at all — he had simply been focused on his work.
It wasn’t just me who felt relieved. The seniors gathered in the center of the studio burst out laughing all at once.
“Really? What on earth are you talking about that makes it sound like that? You’re not out there committing crimes, are you?”
“Don’t be curious. If it leaks, you’ll all get dragged off to NASA or something. That would be absolutely terrifying.”
Seon Eunhu seemed to just say whatever drifted through his mind. Whether people behind him were watching his reactions or not, he rotated his piece in different directions, assessing the overall level of completion.
Then, quietly, he called my name.
“Go Taerim. Do you know where the third-year cabinet room is?”
“Yes.”
“As soon as you go in, turn the corner to the right and you’ll see my name. Take out the plaster bowl, two knives, and the splitting bowl from there. Everything else is already here, so that’s all I need.”
“What’s the cabinet code?”
“I didn’t put a lock on it, so just go ahead and take them.”
“Okay.”
I leapt to my feet as if I’d been waiting for exactly this. Sitting stiffly in an unfamiliar space trying to read the room had been uncomfortable, so being given something to do was a genuine relief.
“We should start heading out too. The plaster came out better than expected — nothing to fix. Ugh, my back.”
As I crossed the studio, the seniors rolled their hunched shoulders and stretched. They all had the look of people who’d had the energy drained out of them from tip to toe — likely from spending so long being hyper-aware of Seon Eunhu’s every mood. The groans and sighs they let out as they stretched and made their way out continued right up until I stepped out of the studio myself.
Did Seon Eunhu know he made people that on edge around him?
In the middle of these scattered thoughts, I forgot which way he’d told me to turn at the corner. So I wandered slightly in the cabinet room — and when I finally spotted the name “Seon Eunhu,” I felt an unexpected flicker of gladness, and was immediately annoyed at myself for it. Feeling glad to see Seon Eunhu’s name. My pride took a hit.
