WW | Chapter 28

The penetrating gaze of Jinseok pierced right through, exposing Yoonjo’s hidden intentions in an instant. On the surface, it looked like Yeonsu stayed back because of Jinseok’s pressure, but in truth, she remained because of Yoonjo. The young boy knew this and used it to keep his mother from leaving.

“I know my son better than anyone. I know exactly what kind of thoughts you’re having as you prepare to study abroad. But, Yoonjo,” Jinseok’s eyes held a casual confidence, as if coaxing a child.

“Given the choices in front of you and the things you desire, you’re not the type to let go of either.”

“I’m different from you, Father.”

“Well, we’ll see about that.”

As if he had anticipated Yoonjo’s reaction, Jinseok chuckled and leaned back. Sinking into his seat, he rested his injured leg on the chair and continued, “We’ll see in time.”

When Yoonjo emerged in the reception room, the woman from earlier greeted him again with a hopeful smile. “Hey—”

“Get lost.”

“What?”

“Stay away from the art studio. If you want to walk out of here on two legs, I’m telling you to leave.”

“Wh-why are you talking like that? I was just here to see the President…”

The woman’s face paled, and she covered her trembling mouth with her hand, though her eyes still hinted at frustration. Choi, the secretary who followed Yoonjo out, raised a hand to separate them.

“I’m sorry, but I think it’s best if you go home for today.”

“Huh?”

“It’s the President’s orders.”

As Choi gestured toward the door, the woman looked back at the study, as if hoping for support. When no help came, she bit her lip and spun around angrily, shooting a glare at Yoonjo as she left. Choi followed her out, keeping an eye on her.

Yoonjo, muttering curses under his breath, turned and made his way to Yeonsu’s art studio. Hesitating for a moment, he stepped inside. When he turned on the lights, the abandoned room revealed its aged, forlorn state. The curtains were drawn, and remnants of Yeonsu’s work—paint, palettes, pencils, brushes, canvases of various sizes, and unfinished paintings—lay scattered on the table.

Yoonjo settled onto a metal chair in the corner. In front of him, he could picture Yeonsu with her hair tied up, wearing an apron, painting with intense focus.

“Mom, why do you put so much effort into painting?”

He had asked, oblivious to how her art served as an escape from her despair and sorrow.

“Because I have to breathe life into it.”

Yeonsu had smiled as she answered.

“Someday, even if I’m gone, fragments of my soul will remain here, alive in these paintings.”

It was a sentiment he understood but couldn’t fully grasp.

Feeling tired, Yoonjo picked up his bag from the floor, ready to leave. Only now did he realize the unusual weight of it. Opening the zipper, he discovered the unfamiliar notebook that he still hadn’t returned to Seomun Yul. Flipping through its pages, he watched sketches of architectural designs and building illustrations flash by, like scenes from an animation. Then, on a page near the end, he found a phrase he hadn’t noticed before. Narrowing his eyes, he leaned in to read it carefully.

“When you race down the street, you might notice that some buildings stand silent, some speak, and a rare few, though seldom, even sing.” -Paul Valéry

The handwriting was distinct—sharp, yet small and neat, with a mix of strength and precision. It was elegant and refined, but not particularly comforting. Just like her.

Below it, another line was written. This one seemed to be her own words.

“When an architect pours passion into a building, it ceases to be intangible; it becomes something real.”

He finished reading, staring at the note long after he’d closed it. In the stillness of the studio, the soft strokes of Yeonsu’s brush seemed to echo like a melody. The two women he encountered, intersecting in his thoughts, blended into one. His hand holding the notebook dropped slowly.

“Damn. I knew she was getting on my nerves from the beginning.”

His condition had been terrible since last night. The accumulated fatigue seemed to have hit its limit, leaving him with a pounding head and a dull ache in his stomach. A painkiller had dulled the worst of the pain, but his body still felt weak. To make matters worse, the fourth period was PE. He considered staying in the classroom, but the strict PE teacher wasn’t one to let students skip class for minor reasons.

The gym echoed with the loud thuds of volleyballs being hit. The boys split into teams and continued their match skillfully, while the girls, too, were getting the hang of it, keeping the ball in play and hitting it back and forth. Unlike their first volleyball class, there were fewer instances of serves flying outside the net or wrists getting hurt from awkward hits.

It was a match between Class 6 and Class 7. The score was neck and neck, with the PE teacher frequently switching players outside the net.

“Next up, Seomun Yul. Center.”

The PE teacher pointed to Yul, who had been waiting. She hesitated, debating whether to decline, but missed her chance and reluctantly entered the net.

With the sound of a whistle, the opposing team’s serve began. The ball flew between Yul and the left, and she instinctively clasped her hands together to bump it.

“Mine, I got it.”

Someone shouted from behind, jumping to hit the ball, but it ended up snagging on the net, costing them a point.

“Damn, how could you miss that?”

Seohee, who had moved closer, spat out a curse. Despite her own mistake, she blamed Yul for failing to keep the ball in play. Yul swallowed her frustration, deciding not to argue. She didn’t want to cause trouble here too. The game resumed, with the boys occasionally glancing over, seemingly entertained. The whistle blew, and the PE teacher called for a substitution.

“Choi Seohee, out. Lee Jieun, in.”

With a twitch of her lips, Seohee exited, and Jieun took her place. Seohee joined her friends from the other class, throwing a menacing glare at Yul. Ignoring it, Yul focused on the game, but something felt off. After Seohee talked with a few players on the opposing team, the spikes started to target Yul more frequently. It felt like they were purposely aiming at her, and a sense of dread crept over her. She hoped to be taken out soon, but the teacher showed no signs of it.

The game began again. Holding her ground, Yul managed to endure, but soon, another powerful spike came her way. As she braced herself to intercept it, one of the students near her “accidentally” shoved her. Stumbling, Yul lost her balance, and the ball struck her squarely in the face. The sharp, searing pain made her let out a scream as she crumpled to the floor, unable to open her eyes.

“Seomun Yul, are you okay?”

The PE teacher parted the crowd of students and knelt beside her, helping her sit up. Dizzy, Yul struggled to regain her senses and forced herself upright.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Oh…”

She touched her face, feeling the trickle of blood from her nose.

“Let me just go wash up in the bathroom.”

“Why don’t you go and rest? Class is over anyway.”

With the teacher’s permission, Yul covered her face and left the gym. No one followed to check on her.

She turned on the tap, washing her face with cold water. In the mirror, she saw a face that looked like death. A bitter laugh escaped her. This wasn’t a mere accident; the targeting had been far too obvious. She figured similar incidents would happen repeatedly. Any trace of motivation she had left dropped to zero.

Fortunately, her nose seemed to be only slightly swollen, nothing serious. After waiting for the bleeding to stop, she discarded the tissues and decided to head to the nurse’s office for another painkiller, as her stomachache had also returned.

As she stepped outside, she saw Yoonjo walking in her direction. Their eyes met briefly before she turned away, her face expressionless. She was beyond his concern now.

“She’s changed.” Yoonjo muttered with a faint smirk as he watched her pass, deciding it was probably for the best. But somehow, he found himself watching her walk away. Just then, something odd caught his eye. A stain, about the size of a coin, marred the back of her pants. Since her gym clothes were gray, the dark reddish spot was even more noticeable.

Clumsy as always.

He thought about ignoring it and moving on, but then, realizing what the stain was, his expression changed. Just then, noise erupted from the gym as the class ended. Soon, all the students would come pouring out and surely notice Yul’s stain.

It’s none of my business.

He was about to turn around but then saw Park Geonju and Choi Seohee among the group heading out. Holding her lower stomach as if in pain, Yul was walking toward them. They were bound to cross paths, and Yul would surely become their target again.

“Damn it.”

After a moment of hesitation, he turned and quickened his pace toward her.

“Hey.”

Yoonjo called out to Yul, but she didn’t respond, either not hearing him or ignoring him on purpose. Idiot. His steps quickened until he caught up with her and grabbed her arm, causing her to turn weakly toward him, her eyes wide in surprise.

Annoyed by the resemblance, Yoonjo sighed.

He took off his jacket and tied it around her waist. Yul, startled, looked at him.

“What are you doing—”

“Are you… on your period?”

“What?”

She blinked in confusion, then her face reddened as she glanced at her covered backside.

“Just wear it, so no one sees,” he said.