Body

Yeonha lifted her head instinctively in the direction of the voice. The intense sunlight briefly darkened her vision, but it gradually became familiar, and a handsome face was reflected in her eyes.

“Choi Mujin.”
Yeonha unconsciously muttered Mujin’s name.
His pupils widened in surprise for a moment, then quickly returned to normal.
“You know my name?”
“…I guess so.”
It was almost impossible for her not to know it. If you didn’t know his name at school, you might as well be a spy. Even though they hadn’t met, they lived in the same house.
It was even more surprising that Mujin seemed to think she wouldn’t know his name.

Looking up at his sculpted face, Yeonha quickly lowered her head again. She then scrubbed her PE uniform with soap, speaking in a blunt voice.
“I don’t think you told me to do this.”
“Really?”
Mujin responded with apparent surprise.
“There’s no name tag on your PE uniform,” Yeonha said, listing off the names on the uniform.
Mujin’s name was absent from the sweat-scented uniforms of teenage boys.
If anything, she would have expected Mujin not to smell like sweat at all.

“Still, you’re washing it like a fool?”
Mujin crouched down beside her.
As he got closer, a fresh scent filled the air, similar to the smell of fabric softener on freshly dried blankets under the harsh sun. It was the same scent she had expected, which was oddly surprising.
Yeonha tried to ignore his presence next to her.

“Is this being obedient, or should I say rebellious…”
Mujin murmured, his voice full of curiosity.
“I just do what’s easier.”
Yeonha replied without looking at him.
The sound of water rushing from the faucet followed the squeak of the handle.

“Don’t worry, I won’t say you made me do it.”
“What?”
“I’ll make sure it doesn’t affect your reputation.”
For a moment, only the sound of water filled the silence.

Yeonha, who was scrubbing the PE uniform, felt something strange in the silence and turned her face.
Mujin’s face was unexpectedly close, causing her to flinch.
“Kek, kekek.”
As their eyes met, Mujin suddenly burst into laughter.
Even Yeonha, who usually dismissed people’s emotions, could tell it was a real laugh, full of genuine amusement.
She stared at him as if he were some odd person, not understanding why he was laughing.
“It’s fun,” he said, laughing harder.
Yeonha couldn’t understand what was so funny.
Mujin continued laughing for a while, wiping the tears from his eyes before standing up.
His tall frame cast a long shadow over her head.
“I’ll see you again next time.”
Mujin left the field after giving his usual goodbye.
For a while, Yeonha watched his figure, then snapped back to reality and resumed washing the PE uniform.

Among the sounds of water and fabric, a sense of longing washed over her.
She wasn’t sure if it was because the pleasant scent had faded, or if it was because the conversation partner who had been there was now gone.

⸻

The cicadas chirped loudly outside.
If not for their noise, she might not have realized it was summer, as the air-conditioned room felt cold enough to make her shiver.
Yeonha, draped in a thin blanket, was in the art room during lunch, just like any other day.
The only difference was that the desk in front of her held a sketchbook instead of a workbook.
‘This isn’t easy.’
There was a still life assignment where they had to pair up and draw each other’s face.
Yeonha squinted at the paper, frowning.
She drew what she was taught: circles for faces, triangles for noses, and ovals for eyes.
But the result looked more like an alien than a human face.
Her partner’s disgusted expression was understandable.
It wasn’t surprising that her reputation at school was the worst, and the drawing reflected that.
It was a relief her partner hadn’t actually said anything mean.

“I don’t get it.”
Yeonha threw her pencil down, abandoning the task.
Sometimes, when she sat on the floor instead of a high chair, she felt like no one could see her. That tiny space where she could breathe was a small comfort.
The cool feeling of the white marble floor against her legs was soothing. She leaned her back against the wall and stared blankly at the art room door.
She could still vividly remember Mujin’s presence from earlier.
‘Come to think of it, the usual group has been quiet lately.’
Most students avoided Yeonha, but there was a particular group that hated her.
They were Mujin’s followers, and they didn’t like her because she lived with him.
For some unknown reason, their bullying had decreased, which was good for her.
There were other things troubling her, though.

“There’s something I’d like you to do in exchange for staying and eating at our house.”
It was a request from Mujin’s mother, the high-handed Mrs. Song.
“Since it’s a school, there’s no security personnel to send. I’d like you to check on Mujin, make sure everything’s okay with him and report back regularly.”
“Regularly?”
She didn’t know how she could monitor Mujin’s school life when they weren’t even close.
Still, Yeonha had no choice but to reluctantly observe Mujin from afar.

He was good at everything—sports, academics, and had great relationships with his peers.
Plus, he was handsome and came from a wealthy family.
He was the perfect “model student” everyone admired.
Even the teachers often said, “If only all students were like Mujin.”
His family was the type that would closely monitor his every move, but Yeonha didn’t understand why.

As she was lost in thought,
‘Choi Mujin?’
The door suddenly opened.
Yeonha’s eyes widened.
It felt like the person she’d imagined had appeared in reality.

Mujin briefly scanned the art room before his eyes landed on a drawing on the wall. Because of the height difference, Yeonha, who was sitting on the floor, wasn’t noticed.
He walked toward the locker, crossing his arms and looking at other students’ drawings.
Feeling like she was caught doing something wrong, Yeonha pressed her lips together.

A few minutes passed, and Mujin glanced over at her.
“Is spying on me your hobby?”
He spoke softly.
Yeonha flinched and quickly looked around.
There was no one else in the room except for her and Mujin.
Embarrassed, Yeonha stood up, pretending nothing happened.
“I was here first. You came in after me.”
“When I first saw you, I heard everyone call me ‘young master.’ Now you’re calling me ‘you.’”
“If you want to be called ‘young master,’ I’ll call you that.”
Mujin chuckled and shook his head, clearly showing he found the title awkward. It was a rare, youthful moment from him.

“By the way, what is that? An octopus with eyes, nose, and a mouth?”
Mujin suddenly asked, staring at her drawing.
Yeonha realized he was referring to her poorly drawn picture and blushed bright red.
Her face turned crimson.
“Was this for the assignment? It’s not a great drawing.”
“It’s because my partner told me to draw it. I usually don’t draw this badly.”
Yeonha hurriedly tried to take the sketchbook from Mujin, but he was quicker.
“If you make the lines clearer, it’ll be better.”
He took a pencil and started drawing.

Yeonha, momentarily forgetting her embarrassment, watched as Mujin worked.
The sunlight came through the window, and his short hair ruffled with the air from the AC.
When observed from a distance, his dark eyes seemed cold, but when he held the pencil, they sparkled with life.
He looked like a living painting.

After a while, Mujin handed her the sketchbook.
Yeonha took it, and while it still wasn’t perfect, the parts he had worked on were remarkably improved. It looked presentable for the assignment.
She was amazed at how quickly the drawing turned into a person’s form with just a few strokes from Mujin.

Before she could thank him, his phone vibrated.
“Wait a minute.”
Mujin raised his finger to his lips, signaling for her to be quiet.
After glancing at the phone screen, he sighed in irritation.
“I have to go. See you tomorrow.”
Without waiting for a response, Mujin left the room quickly.
Stunned for a moment, Yeonha let out a bitter laugh and sat back down.
As expected of a third-generation chaebol—his unpredictable behavior easily rattled her thoughts.

Staring at the drawing Mujin had worked on, Yeonha suddenly realized.
‘Did he say we’ll see each other again tomorrow?’
Was he planning to come back tomorrow?