He’d thought Gwok Un wasn’t right in the head, but the man was a genuine lunatic.
Gi-hyeon wanted to shut that mouth of his — just say whatever comes to mind, why don’t you.
Well, I suppose it makes sense he acts like this, having lived his whole life in a greenhouse.
Rather than getting into an argument with a man who believed himself to be the most exalted creature alive, Gi-hyeon let out a cold laugh.
Seeing Gi-hyeon’s sneer, Gwok Un’s face hardened in an instant.
He fixed a contemptuous gaze on him and shot back with a snide remark.
“Isn’t it funny how you pretend otherwise when your gaze is this blatant? I’m warning you — don’t even think about playing the proper gentleman in my house.”
At the overbearing attitude, Gi-hyeon’s eyes snapped up — and Gwok Un returned the sneer right back to him.
He twisted the corner of his mouth wide at the hostility directed his way.
“Next time, I’d very much appreciate it if you didn’t waste my time.”
After Gwok Un left, the studio fell as silent as a grave.
Left alone in the studio with Do-gyeom, Gi-hyeon rubbed a hand over his dry face.
He opened his mouth in an attempt to smooth things over.
“……I have no intention of doing what that man said. I don’t want to, either. I hope you haven’t misunderstood.”
He managed to say it while barely keeping up the pretense of composure — but no answer came back.
I wanted to get closer to him slowly, and now I’ve blown it spectacularly. What am I supposed to do.
Even amid the flood of thoughts, there was no sign of Do-gyeom’s presence.
When Gi-hyeon carefully turned to look, Do-gyeom came into view — standing there like a doll.
His face was expressionless as usual, yet his eyes held a shallow pool of gathering tears.
Flustered, Gi-hyeon searched for a tissue and held it out.
“This……”
Gi-hyeon stared, as if transfixed, at Do-gyeom’s wet eyes and the reddened skin beneath them.
The face that had been feigning composure began to tremble, almost imperceptibly.
Do-gyeom’s eyes, which had been moving back and forth between Gi-hyeon and the tissue, folded into a gentle curve.
“Thank you.”
As Do-gyeom took the tissue, the fingertips that had brushed against his rushed with warmth.
Gi-hyeon couldn’t remember what state of mind he’d been in when he lay down on the bed.
Something felt different — though he couldn’t quite put his finger on where.
The only thing that had been different from usual was that a man he barely knew had cried.
I had been curious, though.
He had wondered how the features of that cold man would contort when he cried or smiled.
But that was supposed to be all it was — that was supposed to be the extent of it — and yet those wet eyes and trembling lips had shaken his entire mind loose.
Gi-hyeon tossed and turned, unsettled by the unfamiliar feeling.
With fatigue-soaked hands he reached for his water bottle — only to find it empty, and slipped on his slippers.
As Gi-hyeon was heading down the stairs, he stilled his footsteps at the sound of laughter coming from the second floor.
Leaning out to locate the source of the sound, he spotted Do-gyeom standing in front of Gwok Un’s bedroom.
The light leaking through the crack in the door cast shifting shadows across his face.
Soon the laughter died down and two men emerged from the bedroom.
Do-gyeom looked at them — reeking heavily of what they’d just been doing — and dropped his head.
One of the men, a red scratch mark worn on his chest like a badge, sneered at Do-gyeom.
“Doesn’t even look like you’ve got a thing to offer, yet here you are playing the lackey, you useless bastard.”
“……”
“Work hard now.”
The men snickered, shoved Do-gyeom aside, and headed for the stairs.
Gi-hyeon pressed himself behind the staircase and peered down.
One of them was the servant who had nearly gotten into an altercation with him in the dining room.
“Young Master, it’s Do-gyeom. May I come in?”
Once the footsteps faded away, Gi-hyeon walked not toward the kitchen but toward Gwok Un’s bedroom.
The closer he got, the more the corridor was thick with the smell of skin.
Standing in front of the bedroom, Gi-hyeon pressed his eye to the gap in the door.
Do-gyeom was on his knees before the bathtub, carefully lifting Gwok Un’s arm.
He gently rubbed the skin embroidered with bruises and bite marks.
Gwok Un watched Do-gyeom with languid, loosened eyes.
Steam rose from the bathtub like a haze.
“Do-gyeom-ah.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
“Don’t you resent me?”
At the indulgent, almost childlike words, Do-gyeom smiled and wiped his fingers.
White foam gathered and dissolved in the spaces between those slender fingers.
“How could I ever resent you, Young Master.”
A voice that sounded as though the thought had never once crossed his mind, not even in a dream. The blind devotion soaked into those endlessly tender words.
Gi-hyeon stood rooted to the spot for a long time.
***
Beneath a window flooded with sunlight, Gi-hyeon was glaring at the paper.
He knew that what Gwok Un wanted was somewhere inside him — yet drawing it out was proving difficult.
Something trivial won’t do.
He could make his formal debut as an artist any time he wished.
Winning competitions like his peers, winning the favor of patrons — that was nothing.
There were still plenty of companies willing to sponsor him even without a formal debut.
Ignoring all of them and climbing to the top by following the orthodox path his father had walked — that was easy too.
But it was all too trivial.
The moment he stepped into the art world, Gi-hyeon wanted to claim an overwhelming advantage.
For that, he needed Gwok Un — a man with an untouchable reputation and wealth that couldn’t be rivaled.
*”What is appealing is something ambiguous — twisted and fascinating, yet at the same time boring.”*³⁾
Gwok Un had quoted the words of a renowned architect as if to taunt him.
Recalling that cryptic demand, Gi-hyeon scratched irritably at the paper with his pencil.
Do-gyeom watched him in silence.
Holding the laundry, lost in thought, he quietly left the room.
Gi-hyeon, still glaring at the paper without even noticing Do-gyeom had gone, heard the sound of a plate clinking.
It broke his concentration and he felt a flash of irritation — but he smiled warmly at Do-gyeom.
“Thank you. I’ll enjoy it.”
On the plate placed on the desk, alongside a cup of tea, were biscuits and chocolates piled generously.
At Do-gyeom’s first gesture of kindness, Gi-hyeon lifted the teacup with a smile.
But Do-gyeom, even at the expression of gratitude, moved his lips as though ill at ease.
In a voice that seemed to shrink as he spoke, he opened his mouth.
“I owe you an apology for my discourtesy. I’m sorry.”
Gi-hyeon’s eyes went wide at the apology he had never anticipated.
He straightened up from the casual lean he’d been resting in.
“Not at all — the fault was mine in many ways.”
Gi-hyeon met Do-gyeom’s eyes and tilted the teacup lightly.
“It has a lovely fragrance. Did you brew it yourself?”
Gi-hyeon decided to set aside the tangled thoughts for a while.
For the moment, his heart was drawn far more to the beauty in front of him than to the portrait.
At the compliment, Do-gyeom smiled softly.
“I’m glad it suits your taste.”
It was the first smile Gi-hyeon had seen from Do-gyeom in the entire time they’d been at the mansion.
When the corners of his eyes lifted, a strange warmth bloomed across a face that had been so neat it was almost cold.
Out of habit, Gi-hyeon fixed his gaze on Do-gyeom with relentless focus.
At that persistent stare, Do-gyeom opened his mouth.
“Is staring at people like that a habit of yours?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Pardon?”
“I don’t know whether it’s because you’re interesting as a model……”
Or whether there’s another reason. Why does my eye keep going to those unremarkably thin, worn hands and those drooping lashes — why does even the sight of him doing chores look cinematic to me.
“Do you want to sleep with me, like the Young Master said?”
The smile vanished from Do-gyeom’s face.
When Gi-hyeon rose from his seat without answering, Do-gyeom stepped back from the table.
Gi-hyeon watched Do-gyeom’s defensive reaction and leaned against the bookshelf.
“That, I’m not sure about yet.”
“……”
“But you are interesting to me — that much is true.”
“……If you tell me your preferences, I can call another servant.”
“I’d rather not.”
Gi-hyeon said it playfully and scrunched his nose.
The bookshelf, pressed by his broad back, let out a creaking groan.
“For now, let me say that I’m interested in you as a model. I like the way you look, Do-gyeom-ssi. Your proportions that rival any model, your clean-cut face, the way you carry yourself — all of it.”
“……”
As soon as he put it into words, the circuits in his mind untangled in an instant.
The eyes that had been clouded with uncertainty lit up with clarity.
Gi-hyeon had an intuition — Do-gyeom held the answer to the portrait.
Finally on the verge of the answer, he pressed on with an urgent voice.
“As you may have heard, Gwok Un wants the portrait to be done in the same style as the drawing I did of you. Would you be willing to help me?”
“If you need a model, I’ll try to find one for you within the week.”
“It has to be you, Do-gyeom-ssi.”
Gi-hyeon shut down the escape route in a firm voice.
Do-gyeom, with a troubled look on his face, picked at the rough skin beside his nail.
Gi-hyeon noticed blood pooling at the spot where the hangnail had been torn and pushed off from the bookshelf — and Do-gyeom visibly stepped back.
At the wordless act of don’t come any closer, Gi-hyeon set down the nail clippers.
“Let’s start with getting to know each other first.”
“I don’t want to do that.”
At Gi-hyeon’s crestfallen expression, Do-gyeom blinked.
The corner of Gi-hyeon’s mouth tugged upward.
He seems indifferent, but he’s paying more attention to me than I expected. Maybe I can draw him in sooner than I thought.
Gi-hyeon smiled brightly and moved the refreshments to the table.
“Then give me the chance to get to know you, Do-gyeom-ssi. I want to get along well for the time I have left here.”
He offered a seat, but Do-gyeom didn’t budge.
That smooth brow was furrowed like a groove.
He was radiating discomfort with his entire body.
After a brief moment of thought, Gi-hyeon turned the handle of the teacup toward Do-gyeom.
“You don’t need to be so guarded. I won’t do anything you haven’t permitted.”
“……”
Gi-hyeon pondered how to bring down this impenetrable wall.
After a moment of reflection, he decided not to push any further.
With a type like this, the more you push, the more resistance you get — the proper approach is to invest time and effort, slowly.
As Gi-hyeon waited with patience, Do-gyeom’s eyes softened.
He seized the opening without missing it.
“Name: Kim Do-gyeom. Age — how old are you? Hobbies? Ideal type?”
“Feels like I’m being interrogated.”
“Know your enemy, know yourself, and you’ll never lose a battle.”
Gi-hyeon unwrapped the chocolates and biscuits and set them down so Do-gyeom could eat them easily.
Do-gyeom stared at the neatly arranged chocolates in silence.
“……27. Baking. As for an ideal type — I’m not really sure.”
Gi-hyeon had half-expected Do-gyeom to flip the table and walk out, but to his surprise, Do-gyeom answered readily.
When Gi-hyeon blinked those wide eyes of his, Do-gyeom let the wariness in his gaze dissolve and gave a quiet laugh.
He put one of the chocolates Gi-hyeon had unwrapped into his mouth.
“Is that all you wanted to know?”
I’d thought it would take time to get close — but he really is a soft touch after all.
Gi-hyeon felt as though he’d encountered a variable that was difficult and easy at the same time.
But he decided, willingly, to embrace this variable.
