“Is this okay for you?”
Meeting Do-gyeom’s eyes as he looked up at him, Gi-hyeon smiled warmly. He put his arm around Do-gyeom’s shoulder and led him down a path in full bloom with roses.
Perhaps because it was midday on a weekday, the festival was quiet. Looking at the roses blooming on all sides, Gi-hyeon let out a small sigh. He had expected something special since it was the festival’s first year, but Gwok Un’s garden seemed more beautiful. Gi-hyeon looked at the roses with dissatisfied eyes, then glanced sideways at Do-gyeom. The flowers weren’t as beautiful as the ones he saw every day, but thankfully, Do-gyeom was taking them in with sparkling eyes. Gi-hyeon found him beautiful like that. Even having come all the way to a festival, his gaze still chased after Do-gyeom — until a stall caught his attention. He reached out and caught Do-gyeom by the wrist.
“They’re selling street food over there. You must be a little hungry.”
“A little.”
“Let’s go.”
Gi-hyeon scanned the food at the stall. It was stacked full of tempting hot dogs, sausages, and churros. After a brief moment of deliberation, his eyes lit up at the sight of the churros. He smiled, reminiscing about a childhood memory.
“Whenever we went to the grand park when I was little, my parents always bought me churros. I think the last time I had them was in middle school — it’s nice to see them here.”
After the words left his mouth, Gi-hyeon’s expression stiffened at his own thoughtlessness. That wasn’t something he should have brought up in front of Do-gyeom, who had endured alone in Gwok Un’s estate without parents. Gi-hyeon blamed himself for his lack of consideration and glanced carefully at Do-gyeom. But Do-gyeom’s face was calm, as though he felt no sense of loss over things he had never been allowed in the first place.
“Here are your churros.”
“Ah, thank you.”
Gi-hyeon took the churros from the vendor and placed them in Do-gyeom’s hand. Unlike Gi-hyeon, who bit into his with ease, Do-gyeom stared intently at the snack in his hand. He examined the churro as if it were something curious, then carefully brushed the sugar off its surface.
“Is this a roasted tree branch?”
“Have you never had one before?”
“No — what’s it made of?”
Do-gyeom bent his head down to smell it.
“It’s cinnamon.”
“It’s a stick-shaped bread. Sweet and delicious — try it.”
Even with Gi-hyeon’s encouragement, Do-gyeom hesitated before finally taking a bite. As the sugar and sweetness spread through his mouth, his eyes went wide.
“It’s good.”
Do-gyeom murmured in a voice full of wonder. The food at the estate was surely better, and the flowers in the garden more beautiful — yet Do-gyeom came alive at everything. Having finished the churro in no time, Do-gyeom kept glancing at the one in Gi-hyeon’s hand. The sight of him, eyes shining like a child’s, made Gi-hyeon burst out laughing.
“Here, have this one too. You’re so cute when you eat well.”
“I’ll eat well, then.”
Do-gyeom accepted it without hesitation. Gi-hyeon watched Do-gyeom enjoying his snack with a warm sense of pride. It felt as though he had filled in at least a small piece of Do-gyeom’s childhood. As he brushed the sugar from Do-gyeom’s lips, something seemed to come to mind, and Gi-hyeon turned around.
“Wait here just a moment.”
Do-gyeom watched quietly as Gi-hyeon dashed off to another stall. From a distance, he could see Gi-hyeon saying something to the vendor and buying something. When he returned, a plastic rose was in his hand.
“It’s a bit cheap-looking, but I thought it’d make a nice keepsake.”
Do-gyeom stared at the plastic flower he’d been handed. His gaze was attentive, as though he were counting the petals and thorns one by one. He ran his fingers gently over the petals, as if handling a real flower.
A small voice escaped from Do-gyeom’s lips.
“Actually, I’ve barely ever left the estate, so I was anxious the whole way here. This is the farthest I’ve ever come……”
Do-gyeom lifted his eyes from the rose and looked at Gi-hyeon. Their gazes locked together firmly, and he smiled faintly.
“But now that I’m actually out, it’s nothing at all.”
That faint smile was almost like a mirage. There was something distant about it that Gi-hyeon couldn’t quite place, and it made his heart drop with sudden fear. Why does this feeling come over me when even just being happy would be precious enough. Why does this moment feel like the last.
Gi-hyeon’s face went rigid.
“Gi-hyeon-ssi?”
At Do-gyeom’s voice, Gi-hyeon barely managed to smile. He reached out and took Do-gyeom’s hand with urgency.
“Next time, I’ll give you real roses.”
The chocolate you love, the churros you’ve come to love, and everything else you’ll come to love — I’ll give you all of it. I want to discover the you I didn’t know, and the you that even you didn’t know.
“Whether it’s an island or the sea — wherever it is, let’s go somewhere even better next time.”
At the promise of a future, Do-gyeom interlaced their fingers. The same hands that had been touching the rose now traced the spaces between Gi-hyeon’s fingers.
“I don’t need a better place.”
“…….”
“Because wherever it is, beside you is the best place for me.”
Gi-hyeon suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to fill every void in Do-gyeom. He felt he could barely stand it — wanting to be everything Do-gyeom had been robbed of the chance to have: parents, friends, a lover. If only he could make up for all the love and time that had been lost from his life.
Gi-hyeon traced Do-gyeom’s features with his fingertips. The neat brows, the deep-set eyes, the straight nose — all of it filled him with tender longing. Do-gyeom, quietly receiving his touch, closed his eyes. Gi-hyeon pulled Do-gyeom’s waist toward him and tilted his head.
When he came downstairs to the study after being summoned, Gwok Un was buried among books, glowering at a monitor. Gi-hyeon found him unfamiliar like this — wearing a crisply ironed shirt and antique-style glasses. The slight furrow between his brows made him look all the more sharp and intellectual.
Gwok Un, who had been drilling his eyes into the dense text, rubbed his bloodshot eyes. Only then did he notice Gi-hyeon standing at the doorway, and he smiled lazily.
“If you were here, why didn’t you say something? Why just standing there staring?”
“You looked like you were concentrating.”
Gwok Un nudged the chair across from him lightly, as if to say sit down. Those keen eyes swept over Gi-hyeon’s state as he took a seat. The cast was still there, but Gi-hyeon, now fallen in love, looked more full of life than he had ever been. Gwok Un scoffed.
“Love life must be going well. Your arm’s a wreck but your face looks good.”
“Did you call me here just to pick a fight?”
“After the ceasefire we worked so hard for? Hardly. Think of it as after-service — how’s the arm?”
“It’s fine, just a little numb when I move it.”
“Good to hear. It’s nothing major — I just wanted to get your opinion on something.”
“Your opinion?”
Gwok Un turned the laptop screen to face Gi-hyeon. It appeared to be a work account; the screen was flooded with emails. The cursor scrolled down and opened one of them. Gi-hyeon looked at the attached portfolio and glanced sideways at Gwok Un.
“Take a look.”
Gwok Un took off his glasses and pressed his fingers to his temple. Dark circles had formed beneath his eyes, as if he had been drowning in a backlog of work for days. Various documents, books, and approval papers filled the wide desk to overflowing and had spilled onto the floor at its base. Gi-hyeon reflected on the days when he had once thought of him as nothing more than a well-born layabout. He was skipping meals, by the look of it — the cheeks that hadn’t had much flesh on them to begin with were now hollow. Money would come in, meals would appear, all without him having to lift a finger — so why work himself this hard.
Gi-hyeon looked at Gwok Un with sympathetic eyes, then took the laptop.
It seemed to be a sculptor’s portfolio; the screen was filled with various three-dimensional works. Gi-hyeon scrutinized the images and text closely. After staring at the screen for a long while, his eyebrows shot up.
“This is an artist you’re sponsoring?”
Gwok Un gave a slight nod, as if to say go on.
Gi-hyeon turned the monitor back toward Gwok Un and pointed to a piece.
“They say they’re reconciling traditional and Western aesthetics through wood carving — I’m not so sure. Setting aside the intention, the artist doesn’t have a basic understanding of the material’s properties.”
Following the sharp critique, he quickly identified the work’s flaws.
“If you look here, you can see the woodworking technique is immature. The grain ran the wrong way and caused splintering, and they just rubbed some varnish over it to cover it up. And it’s not just this one piece.”
Gwok Un watched in silence as the cursor scrolled quickly and pointed to the flaws with precision.
“This one, this one, this one too — the same. The fact that the same mistake keeps repeating means the artist isn’t even aware of it themselves.”
“…….”
“Beyond the technical issues, there’s plenty else that’s lacking. When experimenting with diverse styles, having a central axis is extremely important — but this artist has no grounding axis. You can see they don’t even know what they want to express. Far too weak to call professional; being generous, maybe undergraduate level?”
Gwok Un had at some point taken his eyes off the screen and was watching Gi-hyeon. He smiled and closed the laptop as if there was nothing more worth seeing.
“Sharp eye you have. Kim Hwa-baek raised his children well. That’s not an artist — it’s a professor at H University’s child. Apparently they sent the portfolio asking me to give it careful consideration.”
“Are you going to sponsor them?”
“Me?”
The sheer arrogance of him, even in the midst of unbearable trials — Gi-hyeon burst out laughing. Gwok Un pushed the documents and laptop strewn across the table to one side. His eyes, which had been somber, sparkled with mischief.
“Finally, time for myself.”
No sooner had he finished speaking than the servants waiting outside spread a tablecloth across the table. Gi-hyeon was watching the elegant desserts being laid out across the full table when he felt a gaze on him and looked up. The newly hired Butler quickly averted his eyes. The familiar sense of déjà vu made Gi-hyeon’s face twitch. He held out a document envelope to Gwok Un.
“These are the profiles of the artists participating in the upcoming Milan Art Fair.”
At the sight of the document envelope, Gwok Un’s expression darkened sharply. He pointed to the tablecloth with the tip of a finger.
“It seems the handover wasn’t done properly. My policy is not to work during meals and teatime.”
“I apologize.”
“It’s fine. Send it by email next time.”
Gwok Un flicked his fingertip, and the Butler handed him a letter opener. The hand that held it out was trembling so pitifully it shook. Gi-hyeon looked at the flush rising on the Butler’s face and swallowed a sigh.
