Chapter 4 (Part 3)

Mr. Kim must have calmed Chae-seon and Hae-mi down, as fortunately, they didn’t follow her to the room to knock on the door.

Seo-hye, trapped in her room without even having washed, sat blankly on the bed and gently looked towards the window at the sound of the strong wind blowing.

The window was open, and the room was very cold.

It seemed like Chae-seon’s subtle harassment had started again, but she was so bewildered by the situation that she didn’t even notice the cold.

She approached the window to close it.

As she reached out her hand, she recalled what Do-jin had said on the way to Cheongun-dong.

“Whether I come to your room, or you climb down from the window.”

It was something absurd, something that shouldn’t happen.

But if he were to come now, she thought she would gladly let him in.

In this room, devoid of warmth, being in his arms would be comforting, and more than anything, he seemed to be the only one who could soothe the wounds inflicted by her family.

She closed the window and lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

She felt an urge to shamelessly pretend to know nothing, to go to him.

Being by his side seemed better than being in this house no matter what.

Her heavy body seemed to be preparing to run to him, slowly gaining vitality.

However, perhaps because the quickening blood circulation cleared her head.

Her now-clear mind painted a picture of Hyo-young lying in the hospital room.

“……”

At that moment, everything stopped as if someone had poured cold water over her.

Her unusual feelings, her body that was ready to move at the thought of him, all turned cold.

“Get a grip.” 

She quietly whispered these words to herself and closed her eyes to try to sleep.

***

It was just before dawn.

At the sound of knocking, Seo-hye opened the door with a drowsy face.

It was Hwa-woong.

“Get up and start working.”

Seo-hye’s brow furrowed. She turned her head to check the clock on the desk.

It wasn’t even six o’clock yet.

“Go before your mother and Hae-mi wake up. Mr. Kim told me there was quite a commotion yesterday. How can the house be so noisy?”

Seo-hye immediately understood Hwa-woong’s intention.

He was telling her to stay out of Hae-mi’s sight and keep herself hidden in the storage room.

“Mr. Kim will bring you meals on time. If you need any materials, tell Mr. Kim.”

Another period of torment had begun. It was always like this when she had to work on his artwork.

But this time, it was okay.

For the next month and a half, she could go out once or twice a week, and she would receive the painting next week, so she could show it to her mother.

The situation was significantly better than before.

“Alright. I’ll pack a few clothes and head down.”

Seo-hye tried to close the door, but Hwa-woong held the doorknob and resisted.

When Seo-hye raised her eyebrows and looked at him, he gestured with his chin.

“Hurry up and pack.”

He intended to supervise even her packing. Seo-hye cursed him inwardly as she packed a few sweaters and a thick coat into her bag.

As she was about to put her charger and phone into the bag, Hwa-woong said something outrageous.

“Leave that phone here too.”

“……What?”

“Focus solely on the painting.”

“That’s nonsense. Besides, I need to receive calls from the hotel staff. I have a meeting scheduled next week for the rehearsal.”

“I’ll keep it and let you know if any important calls come, so don’t worry about that.”

As she sensed yesterday, Hwa-woong was definitely suspicious of her relationship with Do-jin.

She had saved Do-jin’s name under a delivery service, but if Hwa-woong received a call, it would be trouble.

“……Alright. Please wait a moment.”

Seo-hye took out the materials she received at yesterday’s meeting and pulled out three business cards she had placed between them.

“These are the people I met yesterday. I’ll just save their contact information. I’ll write ‘hotel’ in parentheses after their affiliation and name, so please let me know immediately if they call.”

Hwa-woong nodded slowly.

Seo-hye quickly saved the three numbers, blocked Do-jin’s number, and deleted it from the saved list.

Then she handed the phone to Hwa-woong.

Hwa-woong put Seo-hye’s phone in his pants pocket and, with his hands clasped behind his back, went down to the first floor first.

Seo-hye took one last look at the room she wouldn’t see until next week’s meeting and turned off the light.

As she went downstairs to leave through the front door, Mr. Kim opened the door and stepped aside for her.

Recalling how he had calmed Hae-mi and Chae-seon last night, Seo-hye gave him a silent nod of gratitude.

He blinked once in acknowledgment but showed no greater reaction.

She passed him, went down the stairs, and headed towards the backyard.

Taking a deep breath, she entered the storage room.

The storage room, which she hadn’t visited in nearly a month, was filled with the musty smell of dust and the sour odor of old paint.

She waved her hand in front of her nose several times and quickly scanned the room with her eyes.

Nothing had changed.

The raw cement wall without wallpaper. Several easels of different sizes and art tools. And in the corner, a single-seater sofa was all there was.

The only saving grace was that there was a 1-pyeong (about 3.3 square meters) bathroom in the storage room.

Compared to the main house, it was much more humble, but it wasn’t so inadequate as to hinder painting.

As long as there were walls to block the wind, it was fine.

Comforting herself with that thought, she put her bag down on the sofa with a familiar motion.

“Have you thought about what to paint?”

“Well, what would be good to paint?”

Usually, when it comes to major works, the artist often provides the idea or at least a sketch, but Hwa-woong relied entirely on Seo-hye from start to finish.

He kept saying nonsense about how blood is thicker than water and that their sensibilities matched, so she should just paint what she felt.

Though Hwa-woong’s attitude was annoying, Seo-hye actually found it easier to conceptualize and finish the work herself from the beginning.

Above all, she didn’t want to share any sense of connection with him.

She feared that he might give her useless ideas and then shamelessly believe that the paintings she created were truly his own.

“I’ll think it over and paint. But, grandfather.”

“What is it?”

“Honestly, isn’t three paintings a bit much? Consider your age. No matter how famous you are for being a fast painter, creating three paintings in just two months… Anyone would find it suspicious. It would also reduce their rarity.”

“You’re talking too much.”

Hwa-woong clicked his tongue, revealing his yellowed whites of his eyes.

Seo-hye called out to him as he turned to leave.

“Is there really no theme at all?”

“There isn’t. I just told you to paint freely because I want to hang one more of my paintings. But don’t paint carelessly.”

“How much did you agree to receive?”

For the first time, Seo-hye asked about the profit from the painting.

Hwa-woong looked quite displeased.

“That’s none of your concern. It’s my work anyway, isn’t it?”

He left, and the door slammed shut.

Muttering about how shameless he was, Seo-hye sat down in front of any easel.

She hung a canvas of the right size and stared blankly at the white background.

Should I just put a dot on it?

It was truly strange. No matter how many paintings she had done for Hwa-woong, she had never found painting to be bothersome.

But things have changed since she met Do-jin.

Painting for someone else felt utterly useless and bothersome.

She had three paintings to complete in two months.

But it was something she didn’t want to do. In fact, it was something she didn’t even need to do.

So for one painting, maybe just a dot would suffice.

Having made up her mind, she squeezed oil paint onto the palette.

Then she mixed yellow paint with oil and, without hesitation, placed a dot right in the center of the canvas. She then rolled it around, expanding the area.

When it reached about the size of a bride’s cheek blush, she stopped.

If asked for an interpretation…

“Hmm.”

She flicked the brush in the air and glared at the yellow dot.

She soon brought a hairdryer to dry the paint. Then she covered the dot with black.

“……Lee Hwa-woong’s Twilight Dot.”

The life of a 70-year-old may seem to fade like the black, but the underlying 70 years are bright. It’s the light that illuminates future generations.

“The meaning of the painting is settled with this….”

She put down the brush.

In truth, it wasn’t painted with such a beautiful meaning in mind.

It would be more accurate to say that it expressed Hwa-woong, who was different on the outside from the inside.

She went to the sofa and lay down, staring at the ceiling.

Looking at the rough cement ceiling, she thought of Do-jin’s face, who must have lived a smooth life in stark contrast to it.

She reached out and traced that illusion.

Even when roughly drawn in the air, it was an impressive piece.