Apologies for that—here it is with proper paragraph breaks:
“Um... I’ve been warming up by doing mainly still lifes and landscapes lately, but if you have the time, hyung, could you model for me? I’d like to try drawing a figure too.”
Munching a banana until his mouth was full, Gwon Juhan paused his rifling through the built-in shelves stocked with books, art monographs, and exhibition pamphlets—and turned to look at me.
“Me? Not Baek Yuni, but me?”
“I just thought your eyes, cheekbones, jawline—all of your facial contours have more character, so I’d have an easier time drawing you...”
Worried that Yuni might feel left out, I hurriedly offered my explanation, but she simply let out a light laugh and waved it off.
“Why do you have to make such elaborate excuses for something so trivial? I’m not the kind of person who’d be hurt over that.”
Embarrassed at having worried for nothing, I laughed at Yuni, and from above came his voice.
“You’ve been here this whole time—why haven’t you come upstairs yet? Aren’t you hungry?”
Leaning against the banister midway on the staircase that led down to the first floor, Director Ryu looked down at us, one arm slanted over the railing.
“Ihyeon’s showing me around your room. Wow... being one of your exhibiting artists really changes how they treat °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° you. I had no idea the basement was this nice.”
He glanced at me as he descended the stairs, but without responding to Yuni, his attention shifted to the envelope he’d placed on the floor.
“You bought all this? You’re never going to eat it all.”
“Since I’m giving up my summer vacation to work anyway, I figured I’d at least make the director pay by feeding him all this. And, I’m going to eat every last bit, okay?”
Juhan draped an arm around Director Ryu’s waist with an easy grin, and Ryu—pressing his forehead into Juhan’s—seemed to enjoy it just as much. Juhan was surprisingly natural with physical affection—and playful, too. He did it not just with Ryu, but with Chief Han and Yuni, even resting his shoulder against mine from time to time.
As Juhan and Ryu joked and carried their bags up to the first floor like a pair of jovial brothers, I followed them, chastising myself for my own stiff personality that, unlike theirs, never let me mingle so freely—even after kissing or sleeping together.
“Hey—why’d you take the painting down?”
As soon as we entered the living room, Juhan stopped and pointed at the empty space on the sofa, and my startled eyes flicked toward him.
“I came expecting to see Ihyeon’s painting, to get a sense of what it felt like.”
“That piece is only going to go up in value. I stashed it safely in storage. If you want to see it, organize an exhibition.”
Casting me a quick look so the others wouldn’t notice, Ryu led the way toward the kitchen, brushing off any further mention of . It seemed he thought I still had some trauma related to the painting, but my shock that day had nothing to do with the work itself—it was the memories it had awoken. And I wasn’t ready to explain that to him or anyone else. I’d just waited, unprocessed, for time to dull the pain—and I was grateful he hadn’t forced me to open up.
Once we’d moved our things into the kitchen, real meal prep began. Because Yuni and Juhan had both insisted on meat, tonight’s main course was barbecue. Juhan—our meat master—had already seasoned it, then stepped into the garden to set up the equipment. The three of us unpacked ingredients from our bags and laid them out on the wide island counter.
We’d gathered every classic barbecue item: cuts of Korean beef, bone-in lamb chops, homemade sausages, jumbo shrimp, potatoes, and sweet potatoes. Vegetables to accompany them, fruit and ice cream for dessert, and even a cheesecake that Juhan had tossed into the cart on a whim. It seemed impossible we’d finish it all in one sitting.
Beyond the barbecue, Juhan planned a spicy whelk salad, and Yuni intended to make kimchi stew. I, unable to cook, took on the role of washing and prepping ingredients.
“Chief will be here in ten minutes. Can we start the steaks?”
Checking his phone, Juhan rubbed his palms together, already eager. He’d demolished two bananas, a peach, and a pack of crackers while we were prepping, yet still looked ravenous.
“Ihyeon, take this tray to the director... and then you can help him outside.”
Accepting the tray from Yuni, I stepped out the front door into the garden, where Ryu had already set the table and the grill. Placing the tray on the bench-style table, I approached the charcoal pit.
“Chief says he’ll arrive in ten minutes.”
“Then let’s begin grilling.”
Attaching a butane torch to a canister, Ryu ignited it and thrust the flame deep into the neatly stacked mound of charcoal. The blue flame hissed through the gaps and quickly flared into red-hot tongues of fire. Although the day’s scorching heat had passed, the sun was still high in the sky; I glanced up, concerned he might be too warm. Our eyes met.
“Have you ever tried lamb?”
“No.”
“It has a distinctive aroma, so it can be an acquired taste... but those two have really refined palates, so I chose great cuts. Just try it. If you don’t like it, there’s still the beef.”
Watching the charcoal glow bright red, I nodded. I didn’t mind trying anything.
“It tastes even better if you let it marinate a couple of hours, but good meat is delicious even straight on the grill. Of course, Gwon Juhan would eat raw meat if you gave it to him.”
“I heard hyung says Director Ryu cooks the best steaks.”
“I’ve heard that? I thought he only bad-mouthed me behind my back.”
I smirked at his words. He checked the charcoal once more, then withdrew the torch and spread the coals evenly across the pit.
“My mother was American and loved barbecues. She’d invite friends over year-round. As I grew up, I gradually took over as chef. We often did Korean-style charcoal grilling, too.”
It was a trivial anecdote—one might say I was reading too much into it—but it was the first time he’d shared something so personal so casually, and my gaze drifted toward him.
He set a grate over the ready coals, caught my stare, and lifted his head to look at me. Our eyes locked a moment longer than usual—like the tense look he’d given me on the living room sofa just before we kissed yesterday. Feeling as though a tight rope had coiled around me, I froze.
He slipped off his glove and laid it on one of the wings of the grill shelf, then lifted one hand to cradle the back of my neck while the other pinched my lower lip—biting hard enough to rub the inner membranes together.
Startled and unfamiliar with his intent, I only widened my eyes and stared back. His gaze fixed on mine, reminding me of the blue fire that had licked through the black charcoal. As I registered the pain, his hand withdrew.
Though it lasted barely ten seconds, the sting sent me instinctively to my lips. He slipped his glove back on and laughed quietly—an obscene little laugh.
“Feels... similar, doesn’t it?”
“.......”
“You like it when it hurts, Ihyeon. Well, I do too.”
He didn’t specify what it felt like, but somehow I understood.
“You looked at me like you wanted to kiss. But we can’t do that now.”
“Oh...”
A foolish sigh escaped me. I drew my hand from my lip, but the burn remained.
He spoke as if that gesture had been a substitute for a kiss, but absurdly, the sensation only ignited my craving for a real one. I even felt a little resentment toward him for teasing me that way.
His voice dropped to an intimate whisper.
“Or should I just do it? I don’t mind.”
He laughed wickedly—and at that moment, his phone trembled on the table. Tossing a glance over my shoulder, he frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Ah... someone clueless must be calling to open the parking gate.”
Sure enough, the caller was Chief Han. Ryu used the remote beside his phone to open the gate, talked briefly with Chief Han, and hung up. I had to force myself to shake off thoughts of our skirmish.
I didn’t know what a kiss-hungry look really was, but if that was what he saw in my eyes, then... that was more awkward than showing him my naked body.
“Chief’s here, right? Hey—why haven’t you put any lamb on yet?”
Gwon Juhan came bursting through the front door with a loaded tray, stopped at the empty grate, and made an exasperated face.
“What is in your stomach? You must have been snacking while you were prepping—how can you still be so hungry?”
“I have nothing in my stomach, that’s why. Do you think those snacks filled me up?”
While he complained at the doorway, I took the tray from him and set it on the table, their playful jabs continuing. Yuni appeared with another tray, joining in their teasing. Feeling partly responsible, I set down a basket overflowing with lettuce and herbs for wraps, then watched for Ryu’s reaction—though his expression remained unreadable.
Ryu, having oiled a broad rectangular pan and placed the seasoned lamb on it, seemed to ignore their banter. As I approached to take Yuni’s tray, she suddenly paused, frowning.
“Hey, Director—are you dating someone these days?”
“Why are you making up stories again?”
“You never wore any cologne before, but you’ve started suddenly. And...”
Pausing mid-sentence, Yuni leaned closer to Ryu’s shoulder and inhaled sharply.
“And today you’ve really drenched yourself in it. Who are you trying to seduce with this intoxicating scent?”
Confused by her comment, Ryu frowned and pressed the sleeve of his thin summer knit to his nose and lips.
“Is it that strong?”
“It’s a potent fragrance by nature—though you went a bit overboard. Are you coming down with a cold? You’re not the type to lose control like this. Or does your partner like it? Something that overwhelming?”
Yuni laughed and tapped him playfully on the shoulder, clearly enjoying her provocation. He only smiled in response, refusing to take the bait.
I stepped in to take the tray from Yuni, feeling the weight of his gaze but deliberately not looking back. As Yuni had suggested, I had no way of knowing if he was seeing someone else. And I had no right to question him about it. Because until now, there had been no sign of another relationship—I’d simply tried not to think about any potential affairs he might have had in my absence. Even considering our relationship was more than enough for me to handle. Yet with just this light conversation, my fears ran wild.
“But Director, I thought you insisted on custom scents, yet here you are wearing something off the shelf. It smells like a blend of two or three—though I recognize one of them.”
Yuni narrowed her eyes in concentration and named the brand and product of the perfume she suspected.
“Oh... sharp nose you’ve got.”
He widened his eyes and snapped the barbecue tongs together with a click.
I wondered if the fragrance she’d identified might be “that scent.” Maybe what I experienced as “that scent” was the result of blending several perfumes. I shook my head to dispel the thought of me skulking around a perfume shop—paying a small fortune for something I’d never done before—so I could secretly sniff it and imagine him.
“Wow... the aroma of the meat is incredible!”
Just then, Chief Han emerged, having pushed open the door from the parking lot into the garden.
“It’ll be another twenty minutes before it’s ready to eat.”
Chief Han ruffled Juhan’s hair—who looked over in reproach—and then stroked my cheek as he asked how I was. Seeing Chief Han again after five days, on a Saturday spent on a cosmetics-brand event at a client’s invitation, he’d swung by straight from work.
“Look at how much Ihyeon adores you now that you’re here.”
“See? I may look unemotional, but everything’s written on my face.”
As Yuni and Juhan pointed at me teasingly, I gave the faintest smile and ran a hand over my cheek, as if trying to feel my own expression.
