Several weeks had passed since that chaotic morning. The streets of Seoul were decorated with pale pink beotkkot blossoms, which fell with the wind like spring snow.

​But inside Sojin, it was not spring. He hadn’t slept properly for several nights. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Aziel’s fluid movements, the curves of his body, and the way the boy had looked at him during their shared breakfast. He had tried to paint from memory, but nothing worked. The canvas remained soulless.

​At the end of the workday, as the restaurant slowly emptied, Sojin approached Aziel.

— “I’ll take you home,” he said briefly, without further explanation.

​Silence filled the car, but it was no longer cold. The blooming trees visible through the window softened the atmosphere.

— “How are you, Aziel?” Sojin spoke unexpectedly. “Have you adjusted to life in Korea and this weather yet?”

​Aziel looked at him, surprised. This was the first time Sojin had initiated a conversation.

— “Yes, it’s very beautiful... especially these trees,” he smiled.

— “What about a second job? Did you find something, or are you still looking?”

— “Not yet,” Aziel replied, a bit thoughtfully. “But I’ve started running my blog more actively; I’m taking advertisements. I’m saving money; I want to open my own dance studio here one day.”

— “Aziel, I wanted to ask—would you like to try your hand at modeling?”

​Aziel laughed lightly, thinking it was a joke.

— “Sojin, you’ve seen Korean standards. I can't work as a model; no company would want someone like me.”

— “There’s already someone who wants you,” Sojin said sharply and parked the car. “I’m an artist, Aziel. Your dances, your movements... they have inspired me for a new canvas and even a sculpture. I want you to be my model.”

​Aziel’s breath hitched. Those words meant more to him than any praise. He grew flustered, his cheeks flushed, but he immediately said:

— “I’ll agree... but not for money.”

Sojin raised his eyebrows.

— “Instead... you will take me around Korea. Show me the places only you know, tell me about the culture and history. I want to see this country through your eyes.”

​Sojin fell silent for a moment. He wasn't used to wasting his time on "excursions," and the idea of going to different places with Aziel didn't appeal to him at first. But looking into Aziel’s shining eyes and realizing there was no other way to save his painting, he nodded.

— “Fine. I agree.”

​When Aziel got out of the car, he felt like he was on cloud nine. He clutched his phone, where Sojin’s personal number was now saved. The impenetrable wall Sojin had built around himself had finally cracked. That night, Aziel couldn't sleep for a long time. He lay there thinking: "What stage costume should I wear for the first session... what would he like more?"

​In the morning, Sojin came to pick up Aziel. They silently reached the studio, which was located on the ground floor of a building. The iron door let out a heavy sound as it opened, and they stepped inside.

​The studio was dim but not oppressive. It had its own soul. The faint light filtering through small windows and dancing through dust particles created a soft mist. Dozens of sketches—pencil, charcoal, paint—hung on the walls. Some were unfinished, some almost complete, but they all shared the same attention to the lines of the body.

​A section of the room was set aside for sculptures. There were clay and plaster figures standing in various poses. Some were still in the shaping stage, with fingerprints left on their surfaces. Others were finished but didn't yet have faces. In another corner of the studio, there was a small, cozy area with a dark sofa, a small table, and a modest kitchen nearby. To one side was a small bathroom with everything necessary but nothing extra. It was a place where time lost its meaning. The air smelled of paint, old paper, and clay.

​Aziel walked around silently, looking at everything. His gaze stopped on the paintings.

Women. Half-naked. Fully naked. Their bodies were depicted in various movements—calm, tense, vulnerable, strong. Their lines were alive. Their skin seemed to breathe from the canvas. There were other paintings too—landscapes, hands, faces—but they were lost among the multitude of female bodies.

​— “I don't have a separate dressing room,” Sojin said calmly without looking at him. “You can change here. I won’t look. I’m preparing the space.”

​Aziel blushed to the tips of his ears. With trembling hands, he took off his clothes. He felt defenseless, even though Sojin truly wasn't looking. He picked up his stage outfit.

​The translucent, soft fabric slid over his skin. Wrapped around his hips was a dark green and gold cloth, from which small golden metal pendants hung, making a soft sound as he moved. Thin golden chains lay across his chest, highlighting the lines of his body without hiding them. On his arms were long, dark green sleeves that started at his wrists and ended at his mid-biceps, fastened with golden bracelets.

​Aziel’s chest was bare, and his dark, warm-toned skin glowed under the soft light. Light and shadow played over his body, emphasizing every curve, moving almost imperceptibly with every breath. A delicate piercing was attached to each nipple. Thin, golden chains stretched from them toward the center, where they joined a small ornament in the shape of a deep red rose. With every tiny movement, the chains responded, following the natural rhythm of his body.

​— “You can take a pose,” Sojin’s voice was heard.

Aziel stood up. He raised his arms—one slightly bent, the other behind his head. His body curved in a soft arch. His hips were slightly turned. As he raised his arms to take the pose, the chains descending from his nipples slowly tightened and then hung loosely again, emphasizing the elongated, flexible lines of his body.

​At that moment, he was completely open. And he felt that openness not through his skin—but through Sojin’s gaze.

He froze. Sojin sat before the canvas and looked. That gaze was different. It wasn't empty. It was fully focused; he didn't just see a person—he saw lines, light, shadow, tension, life.

​Sojin’s eyes moved slowly from shoulder to neck, from neck to chest, then to the slight tension of the abdomen, toward the curve of the hips. Like a predator examining every detail. But in that gaze, there was also admiration.

He began to paint. The brush moved with confidence.

​Aziel felt that gaze on him. Every movement Sojin made caused goosebumps on his skin. He heard his breathing. He heard the soft sound of the brush. His heart was beating fast. Very fast. He tried not to move. He was careful even when breathing. Sometimes he held his breath, fearing that even that small movement might interfere. His throat was dry. He swallowed slowly and carefully, as if that sound could break this fragile silence.

​As for Sojin… he was lost. His mind was empty. The world did not exist. There was only a body. Light. Shadow. Line. Aziel.

​Finally, Sojin stopped; he slowly put the brush aside.

— “That’s enough for today,” he said softly. “Get ready, we have to go to work.”

​The silence broke. Aziel almost flinched.

— “Y-yes…” his voice trembled.

He changed quickly while Sojin gathered his things.

​In the car, there was silence. Aziel looked out the window. He didn't dare look at Sojin.

And Sojin… he was calm. Light. As if liberated from within.

The car stopped. Aziel got out quickly and paused. This wasn't the restaurant. He turned around, confused. Sojin approached him with confident steps.

​— “We should eat,” he said with a slight smile. “After working for so long.”

The place was small. Typically Korean. They sat down. Sojin ordered.

— “Kimchi-jjigae,” he said. “And Sundubu-jjigae as well.”

The hot soup was steaming.

— “The canvas is going to turn out very beautiful,” Sojin said.

Aziel was silent. He couldn't look at him. Even now, he still felt that gaze on his skin. All day on stage, a part of him had remained there—in the studio.

​After work, Sojin was waiting for him outside. He extinguished his cigarette, approached, and offered to go home together to discuss their trip. But Aziel, whose insides were in turmoil, simply said:

— “I’m busy... we’ll talk later.”

He almost ran away. That night, he lay in bed, not understanding what was happening to him. That feeling was new, scary, and overwhelmingly strong.

​Over the next few days, Sojin tried to contact Aziel several times. He suggested either continuing the painting or going on the promised excursion, but Aziel found an excuse every time. "It's not convenient," "I'm busy," "I'm tired"... Aziel was simply trying to save himself from the strange feeling he had in the studio.

​Sojin, who was not used to rejection, eventually gave up the attempts. He returned to his usual, heavy life. He went to the nursing home to visit his grandfather, bringing delicious food and walking with him in the garden in his wheelchair. His grandfather, who spoke with difficulty, only squeezed his grandson's hand, and in that silence, Sojin felt a little peace.

​But then came the other "duty." He was forced to go to his mother's house to handle matters that only he could. Blood is thicker than water, but every time he left that house, he felt stained. This was followed by nights in bars, unknown girls, alcohol, and cigarette smoke, in which he tried to drown his nerves.

​One day, Sojin came to work looking absolutely terrible. He wasn't coming from home. There were fresh paint marks on his clothes, meaning he had been in the studio at night, but he smelled of expensive women’s perfume and whiskey. Without looking at anyone, he headed to the bathroom to clean himself up. Aziel, seeing his state, couldn't resist and followed him.

​When the door opened slightly, Aziel froze. Sojin had taken off his shirt. A reflection in the mirror showed an image that shocked the boy. There were red lipstick marks on Sojin’s neck, but that wasn't the most horrifying thing. There were bruises on his stomach from rough hits, and long scratch marks on his back.

​Was it the result of a fight, or a passionate and violent night? Aziel’s imagination wasn't enough to understand what dark world this man lived in when he wasn't with them. Sojin felt his presence. He slowly turned his head toward Aziel. His gaze was tired, empty, and cold. Aziel, fearing that silence and his own confusion, voiced the first thing that crossed his mind:

— “Tomorrow... tomorrow is my day off. I want us to go to the sea.”

​Sojin looked at him for a moment, then smiled slightly with the corner of his lips. It was a bitter but consenting smile. He nodded silently and turned to the sink to wash his face. Aziel rushed out of there, breathless. He realized he could no longer run away. He had to see that sea with Sojin, even if that sea was as stormy and dangerous as Sojin’s life.