# Chapter 60
I didn’t quite understand what Jung Hyoin meant. What about me could make him feel curious?
I thought about what Maeng Moa and Moon Seoheon had asked me over the past few days. I couldn’t help but let out a hollow laugh, feeling just as dumbfounded as when they’d asked that ridiculous question about when I’d become close with Jung Hyoin.
Suddenly, the memory of watching Moon Seoheon exercise with Maeng Moa flashed through my mind. That was the day I got to know Maeng Moa a bit better. It was also the day I clearly understood the feelings of the main characters who, though seemingly friendly toward me, could reveal their malice at any moment.
If Jung Hyoin’s feelings toward me were just simple curiosity, how should I act?
All I wanted was to attend school quietly without drawing attention. Although my plan had been going awry, I had been relieved that this life wasn’t the worst—but was I wrong to think that?
“Of course, I’m also attracted to your realistic body type.”
Jung Hyoin made this startling remark, as if pulling me out of my daze.
“Realistic body type?”
I looked over my own body, feeling strangely offended by the term. Although I’d been exercising lately to build up my stamina, my body still lacked even basic strength. While not extremely skinny, Yoon Taeho’s body, hidden under the school uniform, wasn’t toned either—it could be described as the ordinary body of a high school boy that you might find in real life.
“Yeah. Having some meat on your bones is good, but I like the thin, flat lines too. If you have too much muscle or sagging fat, simple movements become impossible. You have some muscle definition while certain areas are still soft, so I wanted to draw you from the first time I saw you.”
What the fuck. Is this an insult or a compliment?
I suddenly felt gross and glared at Jung Hyoin with an annoyed expression. Unfazed, he shifted his gaze to my forearm, which he was still holding. Just as I was about to shake it off as a signal to let go, he didn’t release his grip but instead started sliding his hand slowly upward.
Unlike when he had grabbed me earlier, his grip wasn’t tremendously strong, but the force with which he was kneading my upper arm was quite powerful. Remembering how he had been touching me earlier too, I slapped his hand away hard.
“You were kneading me earlier too—why do you keep touching me? Even if I’m your model, touching me without permission is sexual harassment.”
As I roughly rubbed the area to shake off the sensation, Jung Hyoin stepped back and said:
“Then will you take off your clothes?”
“You son of… haa…”
Holding back the curse that was about to escape, I let out a small sigh.
“Why does it have to be nude croquis? You could just draw me like this.”
If he wanted to draw a person rather than scenery or objects, there were other ways, right? What did he expect from me, who wasn’t a professional model? As I frowned with unavoidable resistance, Jung Hyoin stated firmly:
“I only draw bodies, not the entire appearance of people. It helps with studying human anatomy, and I like the vitality that comes from expressing a situation through moving poses. Plus, I can intensely focus while drawing, which makes me feel refreshed afterward, like after intense exercise and a shower.”
Jung Hyoin’s eyes sparkled. It was the reaction of someone talking about something they truly loved, which actually made me lose my resolve.
“Then wouldn’t it be better to use a professional model?”
A professional model would strike perfect poses and create a more immersive atmosphere, wouldn’t they? I muttered the last part quietly, but Jung Hyoin responded decisively:
“Professional models are too experienced. I prefer the naturalness that comes from awkwardness—like how something you initially thought wasn’t beautiful becomes awe-inspiring the more you look at it.”
This time it was hard to argue back. I was surprised that reasonable logic came from his mouth, but it strangely made sense, so I let it slide. But if that comment was about me… should I be angry about this?
After debating whether to curse him out or throw a punch, I just let out a deep sigh. How did it come to this… regret washed over me, but it was my fault for rashly agreeing to this with him.
I stared at the window with its drawn curtains for a moment, then shifted my gaze to the tightly closed door. Since the windows were covered with curtains, I didn’t have to worry about students running around the track or heading home peeking inside.
But what if someone suddenly entered this space? It was something I really didn’t want to imagine, making it difficult to take off my clothes willingly.
Hadn’t Moon Seoheon said he’d stop by? Would he know where we were and come looking? Just as these unnecessary worries crossed my mind, Jung Hyoin spoke:
“No one will come in.”
“Huh?”
“I said no one will come in.”
He added firmly, as if he had read my mind. Well, who would come in? But I couldn’t hide my uneasiness and just frowned. I’m the one taking off my clothes, not you.
Then Jung Hyoin approached the teacher’s desk and pulled something out from underneath. Looking closely, I saw it was a padlock and key. Wondering what he was doing, I stared at him as he went to the door and started locking it with the padlock.
I had thought this was an open space, but apparently not. I don’t know if he borrowed the key separately, but I felt that using this space wouldn’t be a problem for him. Only then did his statement that no one would come in make a little more sense.
“Is this better?”
“…Yeah.”
Jung Hyoin checked that the padlock was secure and returned to his seat. His eyes said “hurry up and undress now that everything’s taken care of,” and I chewed on my lips before making another request.
“Taking everything off is too much… I’ll just take off my shirt.”
“…”
Jung Hyoin raised one eyebrow but then nodded. He didn’t look particularly displeased, so I started unbuttoning my shirt but stopped.
“Can I keep my undershirt on? It still shows my body shape.”
At my words, Jung Hyoin slightly furrowed his brow, sighed, and then murmured lowly:
“Do it that way.”
Though he didn’t answer readily, it was fortunate that he didn’t refuse. Secretly relieved, I hesitantly began to undress. During P.E. class, I would casually take off my clothes in the classroom, but this time it wasn’t so easy. Female students changed separately in the locker room, so there was no need to be self-conscious, and there was no reason to be shy among male students, so I hadn’t paid much attention—but now, a slight embarrassment crept over me.
It was all because of that intense gaze from Jung Hyoin, who was sitting properly in his chair and staring at me. It felt awkward even though I was only taking off my shirt. I didn’t give him a single glance as I hurriedly took off my shirt and carelessly tossed it into a corner.
As I stood there alone, the atmosphere instantly became awkward. I deliberately maintained a calm demeanor to act nonchalant. Soon, seeing Jung Hyoin raise his sketchbook and concentrate, I felt a little better.
Thinking of this as a modeling job helped calm my mind, and it started to feel like no big deal. I stood awkwardly and asked:
“How should I pose?”
“For now, just stand comfortably and slowly move your arms and legs slightly.”
“Not stay still?”
“Yeah. If I see a good pose while you’re standing, I’ll ask you to maintain it.”
I nodded to show I understood, but I wasn’t really sure what to do, so I just moved my arm a little. Since he said I could move, I took small steps within a one-meter radius, and then I heard laughter.
When I turned around, I met eyes with him, the corners of his mouth slightly raised. I frowned as if asking why he was laughing, and Jung Hyoin waved the pencil in his right hand and said:
“Try stretching like before, or imagine you’re at home. Like you’re comfortably looking at something or eating something…”
Jung Hyoin trailed off and stood up from his seat. Then he picked up a khaki-colored bag that was carelessly placed in one spot, presumably his bag, and took something out of it.
It was a drink can. My eyes widened at the appearance of an overly sweet beverage modeled after English milk tea. Jung Hyoin held it out to me as I stared at him.
“Drink this while you stand.”
“…Where did this come from?”
When I asked, taking the drink with bewilderment, Jung Hyoin sat down and said:
“I got it from the ice box.”
At that, I let out a small gasp. I remembered the drink cans that Kwak Junhee had prepared on the day we had lunch in the garden. He had said he left an ice box so we could take drinks whenever we wanted, but I had never actually gone to check.
The canned drink wouldn’t go bad if left there, but I looked at him questioningly because of the surprisingly cold temperature.
“Try standing comfortably while drinking that.”
As Jung Hyoin picked up his pencil and got into position, I opened the drink can without thinking too deeply. My throat was parched anyway, so it was a relief.
The drink wasn’t as fragrant or smooth as freshly brewed milk tea. But the unique sweetness that wrapped around my tongue made me feel comfortable. It was like how my heightened nerves calmed down being in an unfamiliar space with someone awkward.
Following his suggestion, I drank the beverage while standing casually, and the awkwardness seemed to diminish a bit. It was definitely better to be doing something than standing there awkwardly.
Soon, I heard the scratching sound of the pencil moving, suggesting Jung Hyoin had started drawing. With that noise in the background, I rolled my eyes around, slowly taking in my surroundings.
Art rooms usually have a distinctive smell from paint or plaster casts. But this place was spotlessly clean, as if regularly cleaned, and I couldn’t detect any smell at all.
Instead, the space, which felt humid and chilly because the sky had been darkening since noon as if it might rain, evoked a strange feeling.
“How did you start drawing? Do you draw often?”
If he could play piano and compose music at his level, wouldn’t he be busy focusing on music? I asked while slightly shaking the almost empty can, and Jung Hyoin paused his drawing and stared at me.
“I only draw when I hit a slump.”
I nodded as if I understood his response.
A slump, huh? So something must not be going well for him right now. I didn’t know what the problem was, but I had plenty of my own worries to deal with, so I didn’t have the luxury to care about his.
With nothing else to say, I quietly closed my mouth. As I fiddled with the empty can, occasionally producing a metallic sound, for a while, only the sound of the pencil could be heard.
After some time passed, the sound of rain began to be faintly audible.
