8.6

Leeseo stood n*ked under the shower, the water streaming over her body, creating a mist of steam.

Junmo poured shampoo into his palm, lathered it up, and applied it to Leeseo’s hair, massaging her scalp with his fingers.  

Leeseo stood quietly, covering her face with her hands.  

When the white foam formed, Junmo picked up the showerhead and rinsed her hair.

“One more time, please.”  

“What, the shampoo?”  

Leeseo nodded, wiping water from her face with her palm.  

Without a word, Junmo lathered up again and washed her hair thoroughly.  

The second time, the foam came up faster and thicker.

“Feel refreshed?”  

He asked, watching the foam wash away under the shower.

“I really wanted to wash. Lying still for three days, that’s all I thought about.”  

“Want me to do it again?”  

“Yes.”  

Junmo, without a hint of annoyance, shampooed her hair three times and conditioned it once.  

He rinsed thoroughly, just as carefully as when he lathered.  

Leeseo wanted to throw her hands up in joy at how clean she felt.  

She felt completely refreshed.

“Is this the one you use?”  

With the citrus scent filling the bathroom, Junmo showed her the shower gel.  

Leeseo nodded slightly.  

Junmo pumped the shower gel onto a shower puff a few times and squeezed it.  

In his hands, the puff quickly filled with delicate, rich foam, like clouds.

“Do you use shower gel twice, too?”  

Leeseo blushed and smiled shyly.  

The foamy puff moved from her neck to her shoulders, then down her arms, then up to her chest.  

The soft foam, and even softer movements of the man, brushed her tender br*asts, making her knees weak.  

He moved down her flat belly, waist, and hips, then back up, scrubbing thoroughly enough to make her legs give out.

It was just washing, but…  

Leeseo desperately tried to think of something else.  

It wasn’t easy, especially seeing the man’s muscular, bare chest and the way his arms flexed with every movement.

She closed her eyes to avoid looking.  

With her eyes closed, she felt every sensation on her skin more acutely.

“Turn around and lean on the wall.”  

How grateful she was for those words.  

She quickly did as he said, spreading her hands on the wall and standing with her back to him.  

Foam moved along her shoulders and back, down her narrow waist.  

His touch was so gentle, her eyelids drooped sleepily.

But suddenly, Leeseo called out in surprise.

“Oppa!”  

She’d felt his hand slide gently along her inner thigh.

“No other meaning. It’s a delicate area.”  

His warm breath touched her ear, making Leeseo squeeze her eyes shut.

She tried to hypnotize herself, but it didn’t work.  

His hand, feather-light and careful, moved from her pelvis forward.  

When his hand slid gently along her inner thigh, she instinctively tensed her round bottom.

“Is it uncomfortable?”  

“No. Not uncomfortable.”  

She wished he wouldn’t ask.

At some point, the shower puff seemed to disappear.  

His warm, soapy hand slid over her br*asts, ribs, waist, and forward again.

How much time had passed?

The ordeal of lathering up finally ended, and warm water soaked her entire body.  

The foam washed down the smooth curves of her body, falling to the floor.  

The dense scent filling the small space, the warmth of both bodies, breaths scattering moment by moment.

“More?”  

Was she hearing it wrong? Somehow, Junmo’s voice sounded husky.

“……No.”  

Leeseo let out a languid sigh of a reply.

The shower stream stopped.

“Turn around.”  

Like an obedient child, Leeseo turned.  

The hands that dried her hair with a towel were gentle.  

As Leeseo lifted her eyelids with a satisfied smile, her mouth silently formed an ‘O’.  

The front of the man’s drawers was noticeably bulging.  

Leeseo couldn’t lift her gaze for a while.  

Sensing her gaze, he muttered:

“Stop staring, won’t you?”  

At his words, Leeseo looked up at him directly.

When their eyes met, Junmo smiled awkwardly.  

Was that shyness flickering in his eyes? Or embarrassment?  

Strangely, her heart pounded at the sight of the man’s firm self-restraint.  

For a while, the two only gazed at each other.  

The eyes of a n*ked woman and a man wearing nothing but drawers held only one emotion.

Longing for each other.

Their gaze, seeking more than the physical, tangled thickly in the silence.

“My… heart feels strange.”

“How so?”

“It keeps beating. Fast.”

As if to prove it, Leeseo led Junmo’s hand to her left chest.  

Junmo’s eyes deepened as he felt the sweet skin and the small heart pounding beneath it.

* * *

Just in time for lunch, Monk Jiyul and Yoon Heejeong arrived, bringing food wrapped in a pink cloth.

“Shouldn’t we have a discharge party?”

Though it hadn’t been long, Yoon Heejeong seemed to have already memorized the furniture arrangement, interior structure, and where things were placed; she moved freely.  

She even stopped Junmo from helping, taking over the kitchen alone.  

She set the dishes, laid out the utensils, and neatly arranged the food she’d brought.  

Monk Jiyul stayed by her side, acting as her eyes.

“People who can’t see have a hard time when the place changes. But she did all this herself.”

As Monk Jiyul said, the table was set with simple but neat dishes.  

Grilled pine mushrooms, ginseng vegetable rolls, lotus leaf rice, mushroom cold cuts, and dongchimi…

“This is such a healthy meal.”

Junmo pulled Leeseo to sit beside him as he admired the spread.  

Leeseo sat next to Junmo, diagonally across from Monk Jiyul, and directly across from Yoon Heejeong.

“I should’ve gone to America sooner. They have great rehabilitation programs so you can do everything by yourself. I learned a lot. There’s still so much more to learn.”

Leeseo picked up her spoon, but couldn’t bring herself to eat because her emotions were so turbulent.  

Despairing moments when she thought she’d end up unable to see, just like her mother, filled her throat.

“Congratulations on your discharge, Leeseo.”

Yoon Heejeong spoke to Leeseo with unfocused eyes.  

Her simple words overflowed with things left unsaid.  

Her expression carried faint regret, deep remorse, and the feeling of meeting her daughter.

“Thank you for the meal.”

With Junmo leading, the table was full of everyday conversation, excluding the mother-daughter past.  

Thanks to that, the atmosphere remained peaceful and pleasant.  

Yoon Heejeong mentioned she’d been interviewed by a reporter from the monthly <Art World> magazine, and smiled warmly at Leeseo.

“Back then… I’m sorry.”

Leeseo recalled visiting Unseonsa.

“For now, let’s not apologize, Leeseo. We’re a mother and daughter who need as much time as we’ve lost.”

Yoon Heejeong spoke with the care of a master glassworker, her voice sincere.

“I was honest in the interview. When asked how I paint, I said there’s so much you can draw without seeing. Not being able to see is like scraping off the rough edges of experience. If you can paint the times of the past in your heart, it’s always possible.”

Scraping off the rough edges of experience…

Leeseo mulled over Yoon Heejeong’s words.

“By the way, Leeseo.”

“Yes?”

“Would you feel bad if your story was published?”

“No, it’s fine.”

Monk Jiyul, who had quietly listened until now, joined the conversation.

“I heard from her that you used to draw well as a child, Leeseo. She bragged endlessly about your talent.”

That was unexpected.

“Have you completely stopped drawing?”

Leeseo couldn’t answer Yoon Heejeong’s question.  

She’d never really started, so she’d never truly quit.  

It was more accurate to say she’d resisted drawing.

Junmo, sitting beside her, quietly took Leeseo’s hand under the table and met her gaze.  

Even without words, Junmo seemed to know why Leeseo had grown distant from art.

‘Have you completely stopped drawing?’

Yoon Heejeong’s words lingered in Leeseo’s mind.  

Even when Junmo suggested they stay over, Monk Jiyul and Yoon Heejeong insisted on leaving.  

After seeing them off, and even after Junmo left late at night on an emergency hospital call—

Leeseo finally set up her easel.  

Just that made her heart flutter.  

It felt like secretly unfolding a dream she’d put away.

‘Drawing without seeing…’

After a moment’s thought, Leeseo began sketching bold lines.

Scratch, scratch.

The sound of pencil scraping paper broke the silence.  

Each movement of her wrist left deep or light, thick or thin graphite marks on the white Watman paper.  

It had been so long since she’d felt the texture of pencil against paper.  

Expressing everything with just one pencil, from start to finish—pencil drawing was something she hadn’t done in ages.

Leeseo slipped her familiar 4B pencil between her left index and middle fingers, and picked up the 4H pencil that was between her middle and ring fingers.  

Next to the soft, thick lines, she filled the surface with fine, sharp lines of different shades.

Leeseo drew sunlight and shadows.  

As time passed, a line became a surface, the surface became a curve, and the curve gradually revealed the strong, three-dimensional figure of a man.

She was so excited, she couldn’t sleep.  

No, she didn’t want to sleep.  

The texture of graphite scraping the paper sent a quiet thrill through her.  

It was a time of immersion.