Wonderland

"Just a few more shots."

Juhan hyung said that, but it was already the third time, so I didn't put much stock in his words.

Wearing the tight shorts that ended just above my knees was awkward enough, but I also had a bit of makeup on my face and had to strike poses, or something resembling them, in front of the camera.

"Don't look at the camera. Try to make a dreamy expression."

"……"

Any visual record of my appearance had been limited to a few sneak-attack photos saved on Morae's phone — at least for the last few years, that was it. And now someone like me was being told to make a dreamy expression. Unable to bear the embarrassment any longer, I covered my face with my hands.

"Ah, that's good too!"

But even that moment was captured by Juhan hyung's camera.

"It's okay, you're doing great."

Yuni nuna, holding a large reflector to light me, gave me a thumbs-up, but it wasn't very encouraging.

I remembered coming here as a spectator and general errand runner. And that was definitely the case at first. Even the reflector that nuna was now positioning with an almost acrobatic posture had been my responsibility until just a little while ago.

All day I had been moving the clothes, shoes, and accessories we'd loaded into the trunk and back seat of the business vehicle borrowed from Phantom, shifting branches or rocks that got in the way during the shoot, running errands, and watching their passion — which seemed no less intense than that of professional photographers or models — with a somewhat complicated mix of admiration and envy.

The shoot, which had started in the morning, had gone on for about four or five hours, and the clothing portion was nearly finished. With some spare time, the two came up with an unexpected idea: to use me as a model.

My most vigorous protests and rejections were no match for those two's playful curiosity, or curious playfulness.

They escorted me to an inner room of the house that had been designated as a changing room. They dotted artificial freckles on my cheeks, clumsily spread orange eyeshadow over my eyelids, and drew eyebrows in a shape completely different from my own. They made me wear the tight shorts I would never usually put on, then had me put on Juhan hyung's clunky work boots.

It was at least fortunate that the top was a sufficiently long and boxy knit. Though the intense orange was hard to handle.

Standing me up rigid as a board in a corner of the garden, the two took turns grabbing the camera and channeling their artistic spirits. But no matter how great a photographer, what could they possibly capture from a subject who felt awkward just looking into the lens?

"I've never seen this model before."

While I was struggling to follow hyung's direction — both arms hanging loosely, head tilted, trying to perform a gaze as if looking at some cherished place in memory, not here — I reflexively raised my head toward the voice, and this time I truly wanted to cover my face.

I didn't know how long he had been watching, but the Director was leaning against the front door frame, looking down at us with a smile.

I bit my lower lip to suppress the feeling of fire instantly spreading from the base of my ears to my temples and cheeks, independent of my will. It tasted artificially dull because of the lipstick or lip gloss nuna had applied.

"We discovered a new talent this time."

Juhan hyung turned around and chuckled.

Pretending to touch my hair, I hid my face behind the long sleeves that nearly reached the back of my hands. The awkward modeling situation was one thing — but I didn't want my flushed face to be discovered.

"Yeah, the ones we had before were kind of lame."

He clicked his tongue as he descended the six or seven steps leading to the garden.

Because the days were longer, the early summer sunlight was still intense at 4 PM, causing him to frown. As he stepped into the shaded area, his expression softened a little, and only then did our eyes properly meet. As I bowed my head slightly, he returned the greeting while slowly scanning me from head to toe. He looked pleased.

"How is it? Full of youthful boyish charm, right?"

Juhan hyung showed him the photo on the camera screen, and I nearly let out a strange shriek. The heat in my face that I had just barely suppressed seemed to flare up again.

"Hmm, the photo quality itself isn't bad… but isn't his body too stiff?"

"He's an amateur. But once you take the photo, his face really is convincing. Well… Yeehyeon doesn't have any real spark."

Hyung, who had been looking at the camera screen with his head close to the Director's, raised only his gaze and gave me a playful grin. Being photographed, having the photos shown to someone, exposing my most private self — it all felt so uncomfortable my throat went completely dry. And the Director was being excessively serious, even scrolling back to look at the earlier photos again.

"Still, that awkwardness feels fresh. Ah, this kind of thing feels good."

Following those words, he lifted his head and stared at me standing awkwardly in front of the spirea bush, most of its flowers already fallen. His gaze was as unrestrained as his manner of speaking, and there was nothing I could do to escape it.

The moment his gaze finally moved away, the next ordeal closed in.

"Shall I try taking a few shots too?"

This time, I definitely couldn't hide my look of bewilderment. Yuni nuna, who had leaned the reflector against a rock, came over, put her arm around my shoulder, and said,

"It's fine. The Director is surprisingly good with photos."

That wasn't the problem…

There wasn't even a chance to resist. Whether being the subject in front of the lens or the one pressing the shutter behind it, I was the only person in this garden who felt uncomfortable around cameras. Since everyone else was treating this as mere play, any refusal or resistance would just look strange.

The camera passed from hyung's hands to the Director's, and this time Juhan hyung picked up the reflector.

"Can you sit on the ground over here? Stretch your legs out long. Yuni-ya, can you set that mat down on the floor?"

Gauging the light at the desired spot through the viewfinder, he pointed toward a mat tossed haphazardly on a prop box in the corner. Nuna and hyung, who had been somewhat tired from the extended shoot, regained their energy and moved swiftly at his request.

I sat down on the mat — an ethnic pattern reminiscent of Native American designs — and stretched my legs out as he asked.

"……"

Before I could even properly settle into position, his two feet suddenly moved inward. His closed-toe leather slippers were planted on the ground on either side of my knees.

"It's just a test shot. Don't mind it — just relax."

He said that, but I couldn't help but mind, nor could I relax. Click. Click. The sound of the shutter clicking continuously came from above, and nuna was still at my feet, changing the direction of the mat's wrinkles this way and that, searching for the desired form.

"Seo Yeehyeon-ssi."

His voice calling me was no different from usual. Thinking he had something to say, I raised my head to look up at him — and the moment I did, the aperture opened and closed once more right in front of my eyes.

"Put your hands behind you and lean your upper body back slightly."

Even when taking photos, his desires were clear. He never showed unnecessary courtesy or hesitation.

"Lift your chin. Eyes down."

The directions followed without a moment's pause, and for me — someone uncomfortable with cameras — that method was actually better. At least he wasn't asking for a dreamy expression or a look as if recalling something nostalgic.

"Leave your chin where it is and slowly lift only your eyes, okay? As slowly as you can."

Slowly, I raised my gaze. The lens was about fifty centimeters away. His large body, which had stepped in up to my knees, was right in front of my face. The moment I became conscious of it, my earlobes grew hot. It was a difficult pose for an ordinary person like me, unaccustomed to this kind of work. Though he wasn't actually touching my body, I felt as suffocated as if I were bound.

"Uh… you shouldn't turn your head."

I must have averted my gaze without realizing it. From beyond the lens, he clicked his tongue softly. His tone was like a dentist dealing with a patient who keeps turning their head and disrupting the examination. This doesn't hurt much — even little kids can handle it. A doctor coaxing and placating with such words.

But I rarely got cavities, and I endured pain very well. If told to go to the dentist, I'd do it every day of the week — but this, I felt I could never do again.

He stepped back, moving outside my feet, and this time stepped up onto a rock to the side, moving further away from me. Yet I was just as unfree as when he had aimed the lens at my face from right up close.

What kind of me was he seeing beyond the lens, and how was he evaluating it? I wanted to erase such thoughts, but all I could do was repeatedly bite and release my lips, which were drying from tension.

"Yesterday."

Before I could even register surprise at the sudden change of subject, he climbed down from the rock and came back up past my legs. This time, past my knees, up to my thighs.

Nuna and hyung had been shooting clothes from further away, so the lens had never come this close. Close enough that breathing felt uncomfortable.

"You worked hard."

"Not at all."

"And… I'm sorry."

I'm sorry. He said that in a voice just barely loud enough for me to hear, then momentarily took his eye from the viewfinder and stared at me with his naked eyes.

No explanation followed for why he said those words that seemed so unlikely to come from his mouth, but only one thing came to mind.

"Could you step aside for a moment? He's very shy around strangers, so having someone he doesn't know makes him uncomfortable."

Heat rushed back to my face.

Despite my young age, my emotions didn't show on my face easily — not because I had a mature way of managing feelings, but because I had emotions less sensitive than most. Since I didn't feel things strongly, my expressions were naturally flat.

But the distance was too close, and the situation was unfamiliar. Though I was clothed and posing for a clothing shoot, the embarrassment felt close to shame — as if I were exposing my bare skin in front of him. Because of this, even slight stimuli caused my reactions to flare up easily. I could only hope the fake freckles painted on my cheeks might conceal my heat even a little.

He looked down at me for a brief moment, then tilted the camera to check the shots. He still stood with his feet straddling my thighs. When the lens was retracted, I grew anxious, unsure of where to look.

A low sound — as if something wasn't quite right — and then, his gaze still on the camera screen, he asked,

"Is there anyone you like?"

"……"

"Or someone you used to like."

"……"

As he glanced down at me, his eyes narrowed slightly and a mischievous smile played on his lips. Strangely, images of myself acting out of character to shock him flashed through my mind — but that wasn't an answer to his question about whether I had someone I liked.

He bent down again, leveling the lens toward me, and added,

"Imagine that person confessing to Seo Yeehyeon-ssi."

At the unexpected remark, my gaze involuntarily fixed on the lens. Despite the pressure of anxiety that everything I normally hid would be completely exposed beyond it, I couldn't look away.

The lens, approaching for focus and then retreating, repeated its motion. It felt less like his eyes and more like his lips, taking their place.

He asked me to imagine a confession from a nonexistent person I liked — but hearing those words, I realized it was a situation that would never happen, and a rather flat, hollow laugh escaped me.

It was strange. Why did confirming the impossibility of a confession from someone I liked produce self-mockery and resignation in me at this moment? Even when the subject was purely imaginary and didn't exist.

Click.

I stared at the lens as it closed and opened more slowly than before. For the first time, it didn't feel uncomfortable. Carried on the breeze blowing from behind him toward me, I suddenly caught a faint trace of his scent.

"Got the best shot. Let's stop and grab a beer."

He retracted the lens, straightened his back, and turned away without hesitation.