Take Off

My saying I might paint again made the two of them happier than I expected — but even so, they showed complicated reactions, still reluctant to leave me behind.

I explained everything in detail so they could be reassured: encountering Alienation at the Director's house, his suggestion that I try painting again after learning I was the artist, and even the proposal for a Hong Kong business trip. But I left out the part about the panic attack and where I slept that night afterward.

The conclusion reached after lengthy persuasion was lukewarm.

Whether I would try painting again. Whether they would leave for Bali. We would each think it over and discuss it again after the Hong Kong trip. That was today's harvest.

The tipsiness from soju was different from beer or wine. It had seemed manageable while I was drinking, but the moment I stood up to clear the table, my vision swam and the intoxication hit me hard. Morae and Yeehan must have been quite drunk as well — it was quiet beyond the sliding door.

Perhaps it was the alcohol. It felt like the floor was undulating beneath me, as if I were on a boat or a surfboard. Even the light filtering through the kitchen window seemed to warp and tremble at the boundary between ceiling and wall. I thought I would fall asleep immediately, but my insides were unsettled — like the night before moving. Anticipation and worry for a new life blended together, keeping my heart floating, unable to touch ground. I tossed and turned for a long time, and then reached for the phone resting by my pillow.

"I'm sorry for contacting you so late. I... as you mentioned last time, can I make my decision after I return from Hong Kong?"

There was no real need to report my decision right now. It was purely an impulse — half of it spurred on by the light buzz of tipsiness, a kind of drunken bravado I would've insisted it was, if pressed.

I hadn't expected a reply from him past 11 PM. But then my phone started ringing.

Only a few seconds had passed since I sent the message.

Seeing the saved contact name "Director" appear on the screen, I involuntarily sat up straight. It was still quiet beyond the sliding door. Clutching the vibrating phone tightly, I threw off the covers, got up as quietly as I could, slipped on my slippers, and went out to the entrance hall.

Fortunately, the call hadn't dropped and kept ringing persistently. The call from "Director" summoning me from the screen felt like a signal sent from a distant future. I sat down on the floor mat and answered.

"Yes?"

[...Were you sleeping? You sent the message just a minute or two ago. You weren't, right?]

He paused, his voice husky, and asked.

"No, I wasn't. I came outside to take the call..."

[You said you were going to your old place, didn't you?]

"...Yes."

I hadn't told him I was going to Morae nuna and Yeehan hyung's house today, nor had I mentioned it in his presence — but perhaps it had come up incidentally while he was talking with Manager Han.

Thinking back on it, there had been other times when he already knew things about me that I hadn't told him. He had also discussed me with others — whether I had majored in art, whether I was an Omega. According to Yuni nuna and Juhan hyung, he sometimes asked about me when I wasn't around. Yet in front of me, there was only ever an indifferent gaze.

"You must be outside."

Unlike the stillness here, the other end of the line was noisy. I rubbed my slippered feet against the floor and tried to focus on his breathing through the laughter and the high, cheerful voices surrounding him.

[Ah, I got invited. It's all part of business, you know.]

His voice sounded bored. That day at the Spanish-style wine bar, he had leaned back crookedly in his chair while drinking wine, looking entirely uninterested in being there. But according to Inwu hyung, he had come to that place entirely of his own volition — Inwu hyung had never even suggested going together.

I found it faintly amusing that I was now attaching new footnotes to his past actions — things I had previously overlooked without a second thought. What's more, the direction of those interpretations was uncharacteristically, excessively optimistic.

Maybe that day he had simply wanted to escape a boring after-party. But if that were the case, there would have been no need to follow Inwu hyung all the way back to Phantom...

I stopped thinking, shook my head, and let out a silent chuckle. Whatever the reason, it was all pointless speculation and calculation.

"You must be tired."

[......]

He seemed to be moving away from the group, because the background noise behind his voice gradually faded. Then, as if he had stepped into a soundproofed space, it fell almost entirely silent. There was the click-clatter of a lighter, the crisp sound of it catching, a deep inhale. Listening to it, I felt my heart strangely settle.

[Thinking I might finally be able to recruit the artist I've been wanting for so long puts me in a good mood... so I can manage.]

He spoke as he exhaled, a long slow breath.

Ah — he meant me. It took a beat to register. The phrase "I've been wanting" tickled something in my ears.

"It hasn't been decided yet... I'll make the decision later..."

[Seo Yeehyeon-ssi will definitely feel the urge to paint again.]

I wanted to ask how he could be so certain. He didn't know me well, and even if he had seen my work, it was only one piece. Was this some feeling from the "ability to recognize art" that Manager Han had spoken of? Or simply confidence in the discerning eye he had boasted about himself?

I looked up. The lights of Seoul, seen from the rooftop, were shimmering and swaying again — like squid fishing boats out on the sea.

He had stepped away from what looked like a lively, cheerful gathering and was focused on talking with me — but I suddenly felt dissatisfied by the simple fact that he wasn't here where I was, and I wasn't where he was. The memory of his cologne teased my sense of smell, almost strong enough to bring it back. I wiped the sweat from my palm onto my shorts and tightened my grip on the phone.

"I want to paint. But... I haven't been able to paint for a long time."

I hadn't expected to say something this honest. And in front of him, of all people.

He didn't try to comfort me with sweet words. Instead, he was certain.

[Don't worry. You'll have new stories you want to paint.]

He spoke with strong conviction, yet his tone was gentle.

I had never wished for anything more than for his words to come true.