I had heard beforehand that he relied on Manager Han a lot, but it seemed worse than I expected. When he heard he probably could not accompany the interview, he exaggerated a little and made a face like someone had just announced the end of the world.
Across from them, beside me at the partition that separated the inner office from the meeting table, Juhan turned his head and gave a small laugh meant only for me. Even Juhan found those sides of the much older artist Shushu cute.
"I’ll handle the send-off, so please go in with him. Without Manager Han he can’t do anything."
Rising from the table he had been leaning on, the director passed behind the chairs where the artist and the manager sat and lightly set a hand on the artist’s shoulder.
"Ugh... looking at me with that face is a foul. That face makes it impossible to say no."
When the manager took the hint and waved the white flag after one look at the artist’s pleading face, the artist finally smiled in relief. The smile bared his teeth without a sound, and it felt like it purified the air around us.
There had been only two people in my life who could change the atmosphere around them so easily just with their presence and a few words. The director in this very office, the one who had made me feel as if I were shut away behind a glass wall, and the artist standing right in front of me now, Shushu.
He was the main figure of the day, but the way everyone in the office focused on him as if encircling him was clearly not only because of that.
"It turned out like this because Manager Han spoils him and accepts anything."
"Wow... Director Ryu, are you blaming me for Shushu now?"
At the manager’s aggrieved voice, the director turned from the window shelf where he was pouring a glass of champagne and laughed.
Even that playful back-and-forth felt unfamiliar. As far as I knew, he was not someone who particularly enjoyed joking. On the rare occasions when he did joke with Juhan or Yuni, it was mostly the kind of ribbing where they nagged each other.
"Exactly. If there’s a problem with the work, you rush over at two or three in the morning and even volunteer to be his assistant, and I doubt it was Manager Han who prioritized Shushu above all else, even if it meant wiping out other artists’ exhibition schedules."
Having arrived at the gallery early to avoid the photo wall event, Choi Inwoo chimed in, volunteering himself as a witness to the director’s favoritism toward the artist.
"He’s the most important artist in the gallery. Is that wrong?"
Setting the slender champagne flute down in front of the artist, the director put on a perfectly natural expression.
Then he placed a small box wrapped with ribbons in royal blue and gray beside the glass. He had come in this morning carrying a deep navy shopping bag, and I had wondered what it was for. It must have been the box inside.
"Debauve & Gallais bonbons? You bought them specially?"
Maybe it was a favorite brand. The artist recognized the contents just by seeing the box and looked delighted.
"I should make sure you can get through the event in top condition. Have some. You’ll be less nervous at the press meeting."
He called it business consideration, but I already knew what his business smile looked like. Right now, he looked even more pleased than the artist receiving the gift.
Inside were chocolates, each one carefully shaped in a different form, almost too pretty to eat. The rich sweetness mixing through the coffee scent coming from the machine Manager Han had started made me laugh to myself, because it felt as if the source of that sweetness was not the chocolates but the artist himself.
I had been staring blankly at the director and the artist, looking like a photo spread from a magazine or a movie poster, when I hurriedly poured a glass of champagne for Choi Inwoo, who grumbled that the treatment was too different between artists even if sales were not the same, and that he did not even get a single visible glass of champagne, let alone fancy chocolates.
"I wasn’t trying to make you do the annoying work. The guy who was supposed to feel guilty doesn’t care at all. Sorry. I’ll enjoy this."
I smiled at him as he said it, but all I managed was to tug an awkward corner of my mouth upward.
Because it was a sizable event we had hired a PR agency, so when the opening day came there was surprisingly little to do. Yuni, who was practically the real general manager, was supervising the last-minute prep on the second floor, while Juhan and I waited off to the side of the office for the first part of the program to begin. It felt awkward just standing there watching conversations between people who were close to one another, and I found myself hoping anyone would give me a task, anything at all.
"Let’s share these. I can’t finish them alone anyway."
"No, it’s a gift, so you should have it. If any are left, take them home and enjoy them later."
When the artist pushed the box to the center of the table, the director gently caught his wrist to stop him, but after the artist gave one chocolate each to the manager and to Choi Inwoo, he went after the director next.
"Come on, try one. The person who bought them should at least taste them."
The artist picked up a leaf-shaped chocolate and lifted his arm toward the man beside him. The man narrowed his eyes for a moment over the chocolate as if debating, then bent and accepted it from him.
It made me wonder who it was who had frowned after eating Yuni’s ice cream, saying sweets really were not his thing. Now, with the chocolate in his mouth, there was not even the slightest change in his expression.
Everything in those scenes and lines of dialogue felt like a movie playing on a screen across a single table from me, a film that had nothing to do with me. It had nothing to do with me, but it stirred feelings, shook my heart, made me cheer for someone, made me hate someone.
"It tastes better when everyone eats together. Juhan, you should try one too. Or do you not like sweets?"
The artist’s gaze, which had been on Juhan, slid naturally to me beside him.
"Uh... but this person is...."
And those gentle brown eyes wanted to know who I was.
It was the first time we had met eyes at such a close distance. The other person had nothing threatening about him at all, but for a fleeting moment I wanted to slip away.
"Ah, I’m sorry. That made you uncomfortable, didn’t it?"
I did not need to answer. With a protective hand on the artist’s shoulder, the director stepped forward, his face clearly flustered. The next moment, a brisk, emotionless order came at me.
"Could you give us a little space? He’s very shy and feels uncomfortable if there’s someone he doesn’t know well. How did no one think of this in advance?"
He ended by sharpening his voice at the others in the office.
It felt like it had been a while since I saw it. His way of talking, where if it was for someone precious to him, he did not care at all if other people’s feelings got trampled.
It had only quieted down recently. It was nothing new. He had always been that way from the start. Juhan and the manager were precious to him, too, but if there was someone more precious, they could always get pushed down the priority list.
So there was nothing to say about my feelings.
"Awi."
It was the artist who broke the stiff, awkward air.
The director turned toward him at the artist’s word, and the artist looked up at the director as he spoke, so that unfamiliar name must have been meant for him.
Instead of calling him Kun like many others did, the artist called him by another name. Unlike the latte-soft tone he had used until now, his voice had a firmness to it.
"I only asked who he was. Why are you like this? I’m not that far gone anymore. You’re going to make them think weird things about me because of you."
The director closed his mouth at the artist’s rebuke, but that did not put my mood back together. If anything, listening to the artist take my side threatened to turn not just my mood but my very presence into something pitiful.
I was even tempted to reproach the director, thinking, "Since when did you start listening to other people so well," because he shut his mouth after just a few words from the artist.
"I’m sorry, I’ve been so scattered I forgot introductions. He’s a new Phantom employee. This is Seo Ihyeon."
At the manager’s introduction, I stepped forward and bowed my head.
"Hello, I’m Seo Ihyeon."
"Nice to meet you. Please don’t hold it against him for saying something weird. His mouth can be rough, right? He wasn’t this bad before, but I think he’s gotten pricklier since running the business."
"It’s fine."
On the surface it sounded like he was worried about my feelings, but it felt more like he was covering for the director. I was surprised at my own crookedness in interpreting kindness that way. I did not want anyone to notice, so I hurried to erase it inside.
With a bang of the chair that was loud enough to be intentional, Choi Inwoo stood up with his emptied champagne glass. Anyone could tell he was making a point of showing his displeasure.
"He talked in a way that made people lose affection for him then and he does now. He only acted nice in front of you, so you remember it differently. If anything he’s improved now, since running a business taught him how to force a smile."
"It wasn’t that bad...."
The artist defended him in a voice that lacked conviction.
"Leave it. He’s not wrong."
He did not really try to deny his long favoritism toward the artist or the angular personality that Choi Inwoo pointed out.
Back then would mean the time before Phantom existed, so of course the artist was not one of Phantom’s artists then. I could now easily picture him being a good man only in front of Shushu even then.
"'Is there such a thing as a good man...? I’ve never seen one.' " The words he once said at Manager Han’s dining table flashed through my head, and I wondered if that had not been self-mockery about failing to be wholly good to any one person.
The thought skimmed through my rigid mind, but it was not something I could confirm, and it had nothing to do with me. It was certainly not something to dwell on here.
"He’s one of our artists. Sorry for the late greeting. We’ll be seeing each other often, so I’ll be in your care."
We were too far apart to offer a handshake, but the artist smiled brightly at me. It was the kind of smile whose beauty alone felt like it had value. But this time I could not even pull up the awkward, forced curve at the corner of my mouth.
"I... I look forward to working with you."
My small voice barely finished before the director’s voice buried it.
"Don’t waste your energy doing things you don’t usually do. There’s no one here who doesn’t know you’re shy. Forget the greetings and focus on yourself. At this rate you won’t even get to taste a single piece of chocolate before you go in."
He seemed desperate with worry that the artist, who liked chocolate, would be hauled off to the press meeting without tasting even one.
Just when the artist managed to swallow one chocolate and half a glass of champagne, Yuni opened the office door.
"Director, could you check the photo wall area? And, artist, please come with me for a quick look at the script."
As soon as Yuni disappeared into the inner reception room with the manager and the artist, Choi Inwoo twisted his face at the director from his spot by the window.
"Still overprotective. You dump the bad-guy role on Manager Han and save the good-guy role for yourself. You manipulate everything from behind while pretending it isn’t you."
"Thanks for the compliment."
The director did not even blink at Choi Inwoo’s attack. He just concentrated on putting the chocolates the artist left behind back in order and tucking the box into the shopping bag.
"I’m not criticizing the overprotection itself. I’m saying stop shielding only Shushu while making everyone else around him pay the price. How can your brain run multiple tracks so well in business and yet you only ever see one person in everything else?"
"......"
The director looked like he genuinely had no idea what he meant, and Choi Inwoo sighed. I understood that what Choi Inwoo was trying to say was for my sake. But I wished he would stop.
As they stepped out of the office together, Choi Inwoo gripped the director’s shoulder a bit hard.
"Do you have to say it like that? We can shrug it off since we know your original temperament, but for people nearby it’s really...."
Maybe he finally understood, because he glanced back at me, but the door shut at once, and the look lasted only a heartbeat. I could not hear how he replied to Choi Inwoo about it.
"Don’t take what the director said too much to heart. He doesn’t bother dressing things up when he’s working. He’s especially sensitive about the artist’s matters. He’s our marquee artist. On a day like today, it’s on us to be understanding."
Once everyone was gone, even Juhan seemed to breathe easier. He let out a long, relieved breath, set a hand on my shoulder, and kneaded «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» as if to encourage me.
Was it really just because Shushu was Phantom’s marquee artist and today was that artist’s opening? Everyone else seemed to accept it like that. Was I the only one adding a peculiar interpretation?
"Yes. It was... a little satisfying to hear the artist speak up for me."
Unlike usual, when I failed to say what I should at the right moment and just let it pass, I added an unnecessary lie. The truth was that the artist’s rebuke toward him and the artist’s kindness toward me had made me feel even more desolate.
Juhan moved the artist’s half-finished champagne to the window shelf and drained it. We should tidy up and head upstairs to the second floor.
"That’s how he is. Maybe it’s because he grew up gently in a well-off family, but he seems like he knows nothing dirty. In short, he’s kind, but he’s a bit blind to how the world works. That’s probably why the director and the manager hover around him so much. If you leave him alone, I worry he’ll sign some weird contract somewhere. On top of his fame as an artist, with looks like that, there are really a lot of pests buzzing around him."
It made perfect sense. It was not just the beautiful features. The atmosphere layered over them was so singular that to people who connect everything to business he could look like an appealing tool.
"He looks like an actor."
I nodded in agreement, and Juhan spun around quickly from the shelf. His face lit up as if he had just heard praise meant for himself.
