​— “To the nursing home, please.”

​The nursing home was located in a quieter part of the city—an old building with white walls that bore the marks of time. As soon as Sojin entered, the nurse recognized him immediately.

​— “Welcome, Mr. Han.”

​Sojin gave a slight nod. “Is my grandfather alright?”

​— “Yes, he is a bit calmer today.”

​He approached the room and opened the door. His grandfather, Kang Jinho, was sitting on the bed.

​— “Grandfather.”

​The old man’s eyes moved and settled on him. For a moment, it seemed like he was trying to say something, but the words wouldn't obey. Sojin sat down beside him.

​— “I’ve come again today.”

​— “…So… Soj…” every word came out with great effort, but Sojin understood instantly.

​— “Yes, Haraboji, I’m here,” he answered softly, sitting close to him.

​— “How was your day…?” Sojin continued, but his gaze drifted toward the window. He just wanted to be near his grandfather, to hear his heartbeat, to feel the connection.

​— “…pos…” the old man struggled to speak, using the word to indicate he wanted to change his position to get more comfortable. Sojin helped him adjust.

​— “I’ll come again tomorrow.”

​Sojin felt a sense of relief seeing that his grandfather was doing well. He hurried home; that was the reason he had left work early. He had received a message from his brother: “I’m home.” That was never a good sign.

​As soon as Sojin entered the house, his eyes fell upon Kang Minje sitting in the room.

​Minje had purple-dyed hair and a fit, athletic build. His right arm was completely covered in tattoos, with piercings in his ear and lip, and small, striking tattoos on his neck. His movements and confident gaze made it clear from the first glance that he was ready to face any danger.

​— “Hyung…” Minje began, his voice trembling with tension but still controlled.

​— “What happened, Minje?”

​— “Mother and… a new problem has come up,” Minje started. “We need to acquire an old building site. The owner refuses to sell, but that area is vital for us.”

​Sojin fell silent for a moment.

​— “I will help you. But you must also act thoughtfully.”

​— “I know, Hyung… but I can’t handle this alone,” Minje replied, his tension easing slightly.

​Sojin tilted his head, realizing that this old building meant much more than just material value. The situation was far more serious than it appeared.

​Day Three.

​The morning light filtered softly through the curtains. Aziel slowly opened his eyes. Today, he was completely free until evening; the restaurant only operated at night, which meant the entire day belonged to him. He lay there for a moment, listening to the city hum. Seoul was waking up. Suddenly, he smiled.

​— “It’s the third day... I’m in Korea,” he whispered to himself.

​— “Good morning, you are with me in Seoul now…” he began filming, his voice soft but excited. “It’s day three, and today I just want to walk and feel the city.”

​He stepped out into the street with his camera in hand. The city was already full of life. People were rushing, cars passed one after another, and the glass of the tall buildings reflected the morning sun. Aziel walked slowly, taking his time. Everything was new, everything was interesting.

​— “When you come to a new city…” he spoke to the camera, “the first few days are always strange. You don’t know anyone yet, but you feel that something is beginning.”

​He stopped to film a brick wall covered in graffiti, then the passing people, the lights, and his own shadow on the asphalt. The day passed peacefully. He returned home, rested a bit, and then began preparing for work.

​When he stepped out, it was already evening. This time, he decided to walk. It was a longer route, but he wasn't in a hurry. He wanted to take photos for his blog along the way. He was walking on the sidewalk when he stopped, raised his camera, and captured the streetlights that had just flickered on.

​At that moment, a black car pulled up slowly beside him. Aziel didn't pay attention at first, thinking they were just parking. But then the window rolled down.

​Han Sojin was sitting inside. His gaze was calm, reserved as always.

​— “Going to work?” he asked.

​Aziel was surprised for a moment, then nodded. “Yes.”

​Sojin looked at him for a few seconds, then said:

​— “Get in. Let’s go together.”

​Aziel hesitated. He hadn’t expected such an offer.

​— “I… I was walking. I wanted to take photos for the blog on the way,” he said, slightly lifting his camera.

​Sojin’s gaze slid over the camera for a moment before returning to Aziel.

​— “You have time. You’ll make it,” he said calmly. His voice wasn't forceful, nor was it overly soft. It was simply confident.

​The city lights reflected off the dark surface of the car. Aziel thought for a few seconds, then opened the door and sat inside.

​As soon as the door closed, a heavy, confined silence filled the car. Aziel sat in the passenger seat, his camera resting on his knees. The interior of the car was pristine, almost flawless. The only sound was the low hum of the engine and the noise of passing cars outside. Sojin looked straight at the road. His face was calm, but exceptionally still.

​Aziel remained silent for a few seconds, then decided to speak.

​— “Seoul is… a big city,” he said, trying to sound natural. “You probably know it well.”

​— “Yeah,” Sojin replied. Just one word. Nothing more, nothing less.

​The silence returned. Aziel looked out the window. The lights passed by quickly, reflecting on the glass. He felt that the conversation wasn’t working, but he didn't want to spend the whole ride in silence.

​— “I was thinking…” he started again. “Maybe I’ll find a second job. Or rather… I’m looking for a space. For dancing. I want to start teaching belly dancing.”

​Sojin’s hands were motionless on the steering wheel. He heard him, but his gaze didn't change. His thoughts were not in the car. He saw Minje. His purple hair. His voice. His words about the old building. He saw his mother. Her cold gaze. Her voice that never asked, only commanded. He had tried to stay away for so long. But they always found him. Always.

​— “You probably know places like that, right?” Aziel continued cautiously.

​A few seconds later, Sojin answered.

​— “Yeah.”

​Same tone. Dry. Closed. The topic was over. Aziel felt it and said nothing more. A few minutes later, the car stopped in front of the restaurant. Sojin turned off the engine and stepped out without a word.

​Aziel approached the stage, spoke with the sound technician, checked the space, and looked at the empty hall in silence for a few seconds. He loved these moments before people arrived. Everything was still peaceful. A few minutes later, he also moved toward the dressing room area.

​His room was separate, but the path led through the general dressing room. As he opened the door, sounds of laughter and movement came from within. Sojin was already there. He was standing in front of the mirror, his shirt off, a black overshirt tossed to the side. The tattoo on his right arm was fully visible—from his shoulder down to his wrist.

​Aziel’s pace slowed.

​On the skin, a serpent rose in black ink, coiled and seemingly alive. The detailed scales glistened under the light. The snake was wrapped around a thorny branch where roses had bloomed. The thorns were sharp, and the roses were rendered with deep shadows. The body of the snake descended the entire arm—long, stretched to the wrist, with the tail narrowing at the bottom. The image wasn't just beautiful; it was aggressive. Dangerous.

​Aziel couldn't tear his eyes away for a second. In the mirror, Sojin’s eyes looked up. Their gazes met in the reflection. Aziel quickly turned away as if he hadn't noticed anything and continued toward his private dressing room.

​The hall was already filled with people. The hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and low music blended together. For Sojin, this was routine. Every evening was the same. The same faces, the same movements, the same sounds. He didn't even look at the stage.

​Then the music changed. The first notes were soft. Aziel was standing on the stage. The spotlight fell on him, isolating him from everything else.

​Around Aziel’s neck was a delicate golden collar, from which thin chains descended, sliding across his dark, muscular chest. But they weren't just hanging ornaments. The ends of the chains were attached to small, silver piercings on his nipples, creating a subtle yet bold image. With every movement, the chains would tighten slightly and then release, letting out a barely audible metallic jingle that mixed with the sound of the coins hanging from his belt. The light hit the metal and slid across his skin, emphasizing the play of his muscles and the flexibility of his body.

​At first, Sojin didn't even look at the stage. His attention drifted over the people with habitual boredom. He mechanically raised his gaze toward the stage, but what he saw made him freeze. Every movement of Aziel's was perfect—flexible, feline, and simultaneously wild. It was a sight that existed beyond the boundaries of ordinary beauty; it evoked both pain and infinite freedom. Sojin’s glass remained suspended in mid-air; he couldn't turn his eyes away from that metallic jingle and the powerful energy of Aziel’s body.

​Time slipped away unnoticed. The shift ended, but the noise inside Sojin didn't stop. Even when he stepped out into the street, the cold night air couldn't disperse the image burned into his mind.

​A short while later, he was in a hotel room. The girl he had invited for a one-night stand was waiting for him. Everything was supposed to be simple and routine, as always. However, as soon as their bodies touched, those chains appeared before Sojin’s eyes again. Every time he closed his eyes, he didn't see the girl beside him, but Aziel on the stage; he didn't hear the girl's breathing, but the jingle of the metallic chains.

​Those images began to infuriate him. Sojin felt he was losing control over his own thoughts. Anger began to choke him. He became rough; his movements grew impatient and cold, as if he wanted to drive the image of Aziel out of his head through physical aggression. The sex ended quickly, devoid of any warmth.

​— “Sojin…” the girl whispered softly, wrapping herself in the sheet, “will you stay until morning? I want you to drive me to the university in the morning…”

​Sojin didn't answer. He went to the bathroom, letting the cold water flow over him, but even the sound of the water reminded him of that soft music. He dressed quickly, took out his wallet, and placed several bills on the table for a taxi. Without a word or a look back, he left the hotel.

​He didn't go home. He needed a place where he could be his true self. He headed toward his studio. It was a separate space in one of the old districts of the city, where there was only the smell of paint and silence. It was there that he left all his emotions on the canvas. He opened the door, stepped inside, and without even turning on the light, stood before a white, empty canvas. His hands were trembling. He knew—until he painted what he had seen, those chains would never leave him in peace.