Oil On Canvas

His slightly tanned skin contrasted intriguingly with his aristocratic, sharp features, which could only be described as haughty and chiseled.‘Why does he look familiar?’He had a unique appearance that wasn’t something you’d see every day, yet there was an odd familiarity.Was it Tolstoy who said that all happy families are alike? Dojin wondered if it was just that handsome faces all looked similar. But this man’s looks were far beyond the level of an average attractive person.‘Is he an actor? Or maybe a model?’Dojin didn’t watch Italian television, but it was a plausible guess.“You’re still wearing your mask, I see.”The man also took off his tricorn hat. Dojin had assumed the man’s platinum-blonde hair was a wig like everyone else’s, as it wasn’t the dark hair commonly seen in Italy. But it turned out to be his actual hair.The man casually ran a hand through his disheveled hair. For some reason, the simple gesture seemed to play out in slow motion to Dojin.“Aren’t you feeling suffocated?”The man was already tall, and Dojin, sitting down, had to crane his neck to look up at him. He turned his gaze toward the canal.He thought the alcohol’s effect had worn off, but his face heated up again, possibly from the lingering buzz.“It’s still Carnival season, after all.”“A convenient excuse, Carnival is. Especially for hiding one’s face.”His words were gentle but seemed to imply he’d prefer Dojin took off his mask.Though Dojin had kept his mask on out of laziness, he felt oddly glad for his choice at this moment. The man’s face, oddly familiar, nagged at him, and Dojin wasn’t exactly proud of his behavior at the private party upstairs. Also…‘I didn’t expect him to be that handsome.’To be honest, he felt a bit intimidated.Dojin had never thought much about his appearance. If anything, he’d heard that he looked bright or cute. His face, though ordinary, sometimes stood out, which could be troublesome. He ostentatiously retied the knot on his Columbina mask.The man sat beside Dojin. It felt uncomfortable.“What are you doing here?”“Waiting for the vaporetto to go home.”The man raised an eyebrow. Dojin didn’t know what that expression meant, but it was refreshing to see his face at least.“How much did you drink tonight?”“Huh?”“Alcohol.”“I… didn’t drink much.”“Then you must not hold your liquor well.”The man chuckled, a sound that seemed to resonate from deep within, tickling something inside Dojin.“…Are you waiting for the vaporetto too?”“No.”“Then why are you here with me?”Instead of answering, the man’s gaze fell on Dojin’s cheek.It suddenly dawned on Dojin that this man had intended to go upstairs with him. He couldn’t have been unaware of what that entailed, which meant he saw Dojin as some kind of sexual prospect, for whatever reason.‘Crazy.’And him in a mask that covered half his face.With that realization, the man’s gaze started to feel overwhelming. Dojin looked around aimlessly.“What did you mean earlier?”“Huh? What?”“When you said, ‘Do you hate me?’”“Uh?”“I think you yelled something like that into the air earlier.”The man repeated “Do you hate me?” in Korean, his pronunciation surprisingly close. Dojin rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue at the accuracy.“Think of it as the language of a heretic.”“I could tell you were East Asian, though.”Everything was covered—how could he tell? The man must have noticed Dojin’s curiosity, as he traced a circle in the air in front of Dojin’s face with a gloved finger.“You didn’t cover everything. I can see your eyes, and I was close enough.”“Oh.”“So, what did it mean?”The green-eyed man was persistently gentle, even cloyingly so.Anyway, the late-night vaporetto came every twenty minutes at best, or sometimes only once an hour. Talking was better than sitting in uncomfortable silence, so Dojin started to speak.“Are you from here?”“Venice? Why?”“If you’re from here, you probably wouldn’t like hearing someone say they hate it.”“It sounded like you just said you hated it.”Did he? Dojin nodded belatedly.The alcohol was to blame. That drink he’d had first, so dark and strong. His body was warm, and his reasoning was delayed.“You might not be from here; you don’t speak in the local dialect.”“Venice is my hometown. If you must know.”“Fine then. Let’s say it’s a one-of-a-kind, magnificent city on water.”“Go on. I’ve hated it enough myself that I wander out all the time.”When you belonged to a place, you might feel differently about criticizing it compared to hearing it from others.But there wasn’t really anyone Dojin could vent his frustrations to. His friends in Florence would only tell him to come back, and so would his family in Korea. To come back, as if it were that simple.Dojin didn’t want to hear that.“Do you know what it feels like when a city seems to reject you?”He wasn’t sure why he was saying this to a man he’d just met. But the mention of the man wandering outside often gave him a bit of comfort. Maybe someone who roamed outside could understand him.“I came here thinking I’d try my best to make something of myself, but this place is the coldest, most chaotic city in the world. Really. It’s so strange, uncomfortable. Everyone says it’s so beautiful, and yeah, sure, I can agree that it’s beautiful in its own way. But… it just doesn’t seem to suit me at all.”Dojin kept his gaze on the canal. They said it was full of filthy water, but at night, the rippling water looked beautiful.He could still feel the man’s gaze on his cheek, though the man didn’t add any more words. In some ways, the silence was a relief, like talking to a wall—he didn’t seem to mind whatever Dojin was mumbling.“People always ask why I’m here, why I don’t just go back since I have places to return to, but…”If a monk dislikes a temple, people say he should just leave, but even a monk must have some plans for his life. It’s not easy to change everything on a whim.“And maybe the monk wants to get along with the temple in his own way, you know?”“Monk? Temple?”The man’s question made Dojin realize his thoughts and words were all tangled up. But he didn’t feel like explaining. Having let out everything he’d been holding in made him feel exhausted, as if he just wanted to lie down and sprawl out.As he briefly thought it might be nice to lie down, a large hand firmly grasped his forearm.“Stand up. Even if you wait here for a hundred years, no vaporetto will stop here.”“Huh?”“There isn’t even a station here. I have no idea what gave you that impression, but I’ll take you. To a nearby station.”“Oh.”Dojin’s mind finally cleared a bit.Right, he was right.There was no station here; instead, it was a wooden dock where small boats could moor. It was no different from standing by the roadside in Korea with no bus stop sign, waiting for a bus to stop.“Actually, if you could just tell me the way…”Dojin quickly took out his phone. It was dead, pitch-black.The man looked down at him with an expression as if to say, “So, what now?” When Dojin hesitated, the man pulled something from his pocket.“If you allow me to escort you, I’ll give you this.”In the man’s large hand lay the key to Dojin’s place, which should’ve been in his pocket. Startled, Dojin patted his pocket. Sure enough, it was empty.“You can’t go home without this.”“Wait, where did you get that?”“The stairs.”He must have dropped it in his confusion, didn’t even realize it, and now here he was, foolishly waiting for a vaporetto at the wrong spot.Dojin’s face grew hotter. He reached out to snatch the key, but the man was quicker. He clenched his fist around it and smiled.“Well, that settles it.”With a small thud, the man tapped his fist against the wooden dock. That insignificant gesture suddenly made Dojin realize why this man seemed so familiar.He was Luca Orsini.The same man who had brought down the gavel at Geon Kim’s auction.