Every other part of the exhibition blurred into irrelevance. He walked briskly through each section, barely glancing at the art on display. At every stop, his eyes bypassed the color and form, focusing only on the name plates beneath the frames. One glance, and then his feet moved him along.

None of the names matched.

The search continued, until a quieter corridor brought him to a more secluded corner of the hall. There, positioned between two tall partitions, the name he had been looking for finally came into view.

A few attendees stood in front of the painting, absorbed in its details. The painter stood near them, speaking carefully, posture slightly stiff as he gestured toward the canvas.

Jaein’s gaze didn’t linger on the painting. His attention focused solely on the painter.

Eyes that narrowed into crescents when smiling. A sharp nose bridge that looked almost sculpted in profile. Lips soft but defined. A strong, structured jaw. The dark blue suit hugged the man's upper body with clean, measured lines. The matching trousers were equally crisp, tailored with precision. The entire ensemble was clearly new and properly fitted.

Jaein’s eyes moved, pausing briefly at the firm, broad chest beneath the suit jacket. When his gaze reached the man's hands, a thick vein running across the back of one hand became visible, tightening slightly as he held onto a small card of notes.

A subtle swallow followed.

Kaiel had done well dressing Han Sung-yoon for the occasion. Jaein could admit that. The suit was a good choice.

With better fabric and accurate measurements, Jaein believed he too, could choose a suit that would look even better than the one Han Sung-yoon was wearing.

Jaein stayed close to one of the nearby paintings, but his attention never shifted to the art itself. His eyes remained on Han Sung-yoon from across the room, watching the subtle changes in expression and posture.

When the group of visitors surrounding Han Sung-yoon began to disperse, Jaein moved away from his spot and walked at a steady pace toward the far end of the exhibition. Han Sung-yoon was crouched slightly, reaching for a few booklets that had slipped to the floor.

Jaein came to a stop in front of the displayed painting. His eyes examined the work in front of him, though he did not attempt to pretend he understood it. Jaein had never considered himself someone who appreciated art. To him, paintings were nothing more than carefully arranged brushstrokes on canvas, sometimes forming recognizable images, other times not. He had no idea what kind of emotions or meaning had been poured into the artwork in front of him, but he looked anyway, holding a posture that appeared composed and attentive.

Han Sung-yoon stood up after organizing the booklets, and his eyes widened slightly when he recognized who had arrived. His expression shifted with unease as he hesitated to speak. He could not decide if he should say something or remain silent. Greeting someone like Jaein felt awkward. Saying something casual like “long time no see” felt too familiar, but standing quietly also seemed inappropriate. While he was still trying to decide what to say, the other person broke the silence first.

“Is this painting for sale?”

The unexpected question made Han Sung-yoon’s back stiffen as though caught off guard. His fingers, which had just finished aligning the last booklet, twitched slightly before returning to his side.

“W-What? N-No, of course not. How can I— I mean... why would you...”

Jaein tilted his head and shifted his gaze toward Han Sung-yoon, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. The expression remained unreadable, as though he found some quiet humor in the reaction.

“Oh. You were just joking, weren’t you?”

“Well… maybe? I would actually buy it if you were selling it. You're the only freshman presenting work here.”

Han Sung-yoon glanced down quickly, blinking as his breath caught in his throat. His hand moved to brush down the side of his blazer, then paused in mid-motion before falling back to his side. When he finally lifted his eyes again, his gaze did not stay on Jaein’s for long. 

Han Sung-yoon had always thought Jaein was difficult to interpret. The expressions were subtle, and the words always seemed to hover somewhere between sincerity and mischief.

“So, can you sell it to me?”

Jaein leaned in slightly as he asked again, keeping the same relaxed smile on his face. The sudden closeness made Han Sung-yoon take an instinctive step backward. His arms moved slightly as if to block the space that had been unexpectedly closed.

“No. This is just something I made a long time ago. It’s not good enough to be sold.”

“Not good enough? Then tell me, what exactly defines worth in art if not the response it draws from someone who sees it? I walked through every corner of this exhibition, stood before countless pieces, and not a single one held me. Not until this. If there is any work here that deserves to be called art in my eyes, it is this. The rest might as well not exist.”

Jaein took another step forward. The subtle shift narrowed the space between them even further, and Han Sung-yoon stepped back again, almost tripping over his own feet in the process. 

“W-What… are you saying… that… It’s…”

The rest of the sentence never quite found its way out. The words tangled somewhere between his throat and his chest, leaving his mouth open slightly in a helpless pause. Compliments were already unfamiliar to him, but this kind of blunt praise, delivered so directly, left him completely unprepared. His ears warmed, and the corners of his mouth twitched in uncertainty as he tried to form a proper response.

“Why are you so quiet? Do you think my opinion doesn’t matter because I’m not an art curator or expert?”

Jaein tilted his head slightly, watching with amusement that barely touched his expression.

“N-No, that’s not it. That’s really not what I meant. How did it even turn into that…?”

Han Sung-yoon's voice stumbled just like his footing had. His gaze flickered upward again, only to retreat just as quickly.

“Then it matters, doesn’t it? Which means this painting is good enough. At least good enough to be sold to me, since I’m standing here telling you I like it.”

Han Sung-yoon felt like Seo Jaein was being needlessly difficult. A part of him understood that this was probably a joke or at most a formal gesture, something polite and unserious. But somewhere in the back of his mind, a quiet, unreasonable part of him hoped Jaein was actually being sincere, though that seemed far too unlikely.

“P-Please stop joking. Besides, this painting… I did it back in high school. I hadn’t really learned much yet back then. The only reason I was even given this corner space is because the professor wanted to look after his student.”

“I-I mean, not that I’m that student. Not directly. I haven’t taken his class yet, but my high school art club teacher used to be his student, so he asked him to keep an eye on me. So… that’s why…”

Sung-yoon paused, then looked away as his words began to trip over themselves.

“But—ah—I don’t even know why I’m rambling like this. What I meant to say is… this painting wasn’t really supposed to be here in the first place!”

He exhaled in a small, embarrassed huff, his shoulders drawing in slightly.

“I’m not at the same level as the seniors yet. There’s no way this could be better than what they’ve done.”

“But I’m not saying your opinion doesn’t matter to me! Actually, I’m really happy you even said that, that you think so highly of it! I just—still…”

His voice dropped off as he clutched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I-I… m-mean…”

Jaein tilted his head slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“So… you’re really not going to sell it to me? Isn’t it kind of interesting, though? Out of everything in this exhibition, this was the only piece that actually made me stop. And then it turns out you’re the one who painted it.”

“Wh-what?”

Han Sung Yoon blinked, clearly caught off guard. It was true he’d been a little surprised to see his group project teammate here, but this was just a casual internal exhibition that was held a few times a year, and it wasn’t restricted. Invited students were allowed to attend, though he didn’t know who had invited Jaein. Still, it didn’t feel like that big of a deal.

Jaein’s voice softened, and the smile didn’t leave his face.

“Still, it makes you think, doesn’t it? Of all the places and people… maybe there’s something that keeps making our paths cross. And honestly, if that’s not another reason to let me buy this painting, I don’t know what is.”

“Ugh… Can we not talk about selling things?”

Han Sung-yoon let out a deep sigh, then glanced at Jaein with uncertain, almost pleading eyes.

“Pfft… Haha… Alright, alright. Since the artist has so firmly refused me, I guess there’s nothing I can do for now.”

“Uh… Thanks.”

“Pftttt—Hahaha! Why are you thanking me, seriously.”

Jaein clamped a hand over his mouth, trying hard to suppress his laughter so he wouldn’t disturb the quiet atmosphere of the exhibition room. Han Sung-yoon, meanwhile, shot him a look somewhere between frustration and resignation. He didn’t quite know what to make of Jaein. It felt like he was being toyed with and that the compliment about his art was more mischief than sincerity.

“Don’t look at me like that. I was being honest when I said I only liked yours.” 

Jaein's voice was softer now. 

“So, if the day ever comes when you feel like you can let go of that painting, will you sell it to me? And don’t give it to anyone else.”

“There won’t be such a day.”

Without giving Jaein a chance to respond, Han Sung-yoon turned his back and busied himself with the small glass table beside the temporary partition where his painting was displayed.

Jaein remained still, his eyes fixed on Han Sung-yoon’s broad shoulders, the fabric of his dark blue suit stretched neatly across his back.

In the quiet of the room, he made a silent promise.

There will be.

I’ll make sure of it.