* * * *
A dark alleyway. Relying on the dim light of an old streetlamp covered in dust, Kangseok pushed his bicycle along.
Clunk, clunk. On the unpaved road, the bicycle wheels crunched over stones and the thick camellia leaves scattered across the ground.
It was a shortcut leading to the back door of Seogi Furniture Store.
Kangseok exited the alley and turned his handlebars. A familiar scene unfolded.It was the backyard of Seogi Furniture.He wheeled his bike a short distance away from a roughly parked truck, then swung his leg over.
The kickstand clicked down with a metallic clack as the bicycle stood upright.
Kangseok looped a lock loosely through the bike wheels and turned away without hesitation.
Step, step.A moment later, his shadow stretched across the glass window of the back door—virtually the only source of light in the dark backyard, untouched by the streetlamp's glow.
At the same time, the sound of a turning doorknob rang out as the door opened.
"I'm back."
Ding-a-ling, the wind chime attached to the back door jangled gently.As he turned his head to look for his parents, who were likely in the front of the store, voices leaked out from a closed room deeper inside.
It wasn't just two people speaking.Though the voices were quiet, the lively and rapid chatter made it obvious there were several people.
'Did someone come over?'
Next to the workshop, in the farthest room of the furniture store, was a space where Kangseok's father, Kang Hyeondo, and mother, Baek Myeonghee, would relax and chat when there were no customers.
Naturally, Kangseok headed in that direction.He'd been taught to always greet his elders when he got home.
As he opened the door, the first thing he saw was his mother Baek Myeonghee's familiar face.
"Mom, I'm home."
"Oh my…! Seok, you're back?"
Responding to his greeting, Baek Myeonghee turned her head to the left.Kangseok's eyes followed her brightened expression naturally.There sat his father Kang Hyeondo, his sister Kang Chaeyoung, and one unfamiliar face.
"Dad."
"Yeah."
He finished his greetings with his father and signaled to his sister with a glance.Then he gave a slight nod toward the unfamiliar person—but before he could speak, a voice flew in.
"Seok, Seoki-oppa! It's been so long!"
"You remember Yoon Yuran, right?"
That came from Kang Chaeyoung, a quick introduction following the cheerful voice.
Yoon Yuran?
Ah. He'd heard that name more times than he could count—she was Chaeyoung's best friend.She must have come over to hang out.Kangseok nodded vaguely.
"Hi. Make yourself at home."
"Huh…? Yes! Of course!"
Yoon Yuran's overly sparkly expression was far too intense for someone just greeting her friend's older brother.But Kangseok didn't pay it any mind.
"Have you eaten?"
"I'm okay. I'm not hungry."
"Really? Still, it's around dinnertime… Oh, right—you started that new class today, didn't you? Did you enjoy it?"
She was asking about his figure drawing class.Feeling his mother's expectant gaze, Kangseok rolled his eyes upward in thought.Did he enjoy it?The pause didn't last long.He nodded.
"Yeah. It was fun."
It really had been—more than just a little.
As a faint smile curved Kangseok's lips, the same soft smile appeared on the faces of both Kang Hyeondo and Baek Myeonghee.Their expressions said, As long as our son had fun, that's all that matters.
"That's good. But why'd you come to the store? Did you forget something?"
Ah.Kangseok nodded again.Though he usually went straight home, he'd come to the furniture store today for a reason.
"I want to look for something in the workshop storage room."
The workshop's storage room—More specifically, he was interested in the miscellaneous items packed away inside.
Seogi Furniture had originally been set up using the money Kang Hyeondo saved through his younger years—working both as a woodworker on construction sites and as an art academy instructor.
Aside from being in a remote location, the low rent was due to an old contract signed long ago.
Having been used for so many years, the place held remnants of Kang Hyeondo's youth—layered in dust and history.
Those traces could be found all over the shop, but especially in the storage room at the back of the workshop.
At a glance, it looked like a jumble of random items.But it was actually filled with materials Kang Hyeondo had bought in his younger, ambitious days—suppressing his desires for food and luxury to indulge in his love for art supplies.
That's why the storage room was a treasure chest for Kangseok—Someone who couldn't just buy materials whenever he wanted.
"Ah. Want me to help you look?"
"No, it's okay. But Dad—are there any materials in the storage I shouldn't touch?"
"The storage?"
"Yes. I want to look for something for a piece I'm entering in Go Duhan's solo exhibition… So I wanted to check first."
"Hmm? There's no reason you couldn't use something. If you need anything, take as much as you want."
To Kang Hyeondo, the storage room was just a place full of items too useful to throw away but with no real purpose anymore.He couldn't even remember how long it had been since he last touched most of it.If Kangseok could find a use for anything in there, he'd be more than happy.
"Got it."
"Oh my—Go Duhan's solo exhibition? You mean that figure drawing show?"
"Yes. The theme this time is…"
At that moment, Yoon Yuran, who had been quietly listening to the conversation, widened her eyes.She nudged Kang Chaeyoung's side while whispering excitedly.
'Did you hear that? He's submitting a piece! Your brother's gonna be in some exhibition or something?!'
'I… I'm not really sure… maybe?'
Chaeyoung responded vaguely, flipping the page of her manga.The next volume of the series she'd been waiting on for ages had finally come out, and her full attention was absorbed in the story.
'I'll ask him later.'
So don't interrupt me.As Chaeyoung grabbed a fistful of snacks, Yoon Yuran nodded vigorously.
'Mm-hmm! If that's the case, let us know in advance so we can go too!'
'Us?'
'Yeah! Who else would go if not his number one and number two fans?'
Huh?Chaeyoung gave her a bewildered look.Since when was she a fan…?
"Alright, I'll be going."
"Okay."
"Take care."
While Yoon Yuran and Chaeyoung bickered, the conversation had ended.With a click, the door closed behind Kangseok.
"Ahhh…"
Yoon Yuran looked longingly at the closed door.
Meanwhile, Kang Hyeondo, in the middle of peeling a tangerine, tilted his head with a puzzled look.
"But… what kind of materials do you need for a figure drawing piece?"
"Huh? Oh… that's a good point."
He and Baek Myeonghee exchanged glances.
'Materials?''For a drawing?'
While curiosity and confusion swirled in the room—
Kangseok had already slipped into the adjacent workshop.Having received his father's permission, he moved forward with nothing holding him back.
Kangseok's feet moved swiftly toward the storage room tucked in the corner of the workshop.
Clunk. The sound of the door opening echoed through the otherwise empty furniture store. At the same time, a musty smell crept out through the crack in the door.
The scent of dust and dry air—mixed with the aroma of coffee grounds and phytoncide that his mother had placed there—blended into a strange, earthy lake-like smell.
"It's been a while."
Kangseok's hand groped around the storage room. Just past the flashlight placed by the door, his fingers found the switch on the inside wall.
Click.With a small sound, a dim bulb in the ceiling flickered to life. The emergency light seemed broken, and though the flickering bulb wasn't harsh on the eyes, it looked like it was near the end of its lifespan.
Even without that, the cluttered mess of stacked items made it impossible for the tiny bulb on the ceiling to illuminate the entire room. Kangseok turned on his phone flashlight and swept it across the room.
Boxes stacked from floor to ceiling came into view.
Except for the wall with the door, the other three sides were lined with steel shelving racks, but even then, boxes were poking out onto the floor, giving a rough idea of just how many were crammed into the room.
His flashlight revealed gaps between the boxes filled with design markers and oil paints. For his father, who had worked in sculpture, these were miscellaneous and unnecessary materials—now all piled up here.
Ironically, the tools actually used for sculpture, like charcoal pencils or erasers used for drawing, had long since been used up by Kangseok since middle school. But if he had to compare, this place was like an art supply store to him.
"Where could it be…"
He stepped over the pile of boxes on the floor and moved one step further into the corner. His eyes swept over the steel shelves slowly, scanning back and forth.
Today, Kangseok was searching for colored pencils—specifically, the oil-based Prismacolor pencils.
Prismacolor.The lead was soft, but being wax-based, it was known for its vivid color and dense application.
Not that he planned to use it for coloring. What he was working on was a monochrome drawing.
"It's for a drawing competition, so it has to be monochrome."
But he wasn't bound to using only graphite pencils. Kangseok simply wanted the color of his drawing pencil to be different—this piece, in particular, required it.
His memory conjured up the scene he'd seen earlier that day:
A sky where red and navy blue battled fiercely for dominance.
To express that, the colored pencil he was searching for was the perfect fit. His hands and eyes moved busily. Tomorrow was the weekend and the first day he'd be going to Go Duhan's studio, so he needed to find it today.
"Where did he put it?"
Since sculpting requires sketching, his father likely stored colored pencils somewhere visible... Just as he turned his back with that thought, a box shifted and a metallic clang broke the silence.
Huh?
A tin?Prismacolor Premier pencils came in a metal tin case. Kangseok turned toward the sound.
"Found it."
A Prismacolor tin case revealed itself. When he opened the lid, the plastic tray was gone, and the pencils were grouped by color family and bundled together with thick rubber bands.
Things sure had improved.
Fixatives, colored pencils—compared to his past life, art supplies were now easy and convenient to use. Technology makes life easier, they say—and apparently, that even applies to the arts.
While thinking this, Kangseok reached toward a corner of the storage room. There, to prevent mold, old paper and newspaper had been stuffed into the crevices.
Which meant, paper was always close at hand. As he drew his hand back, a few yellowed sheets of paper were caught between his fingers.
"Let's see…"
Kangseok drew a line with a colored pencil across the discolored paper. A vibrant hue leapt off the faded surface.Red.The color bloomed as if a red line had been sharply carved into the ground.
To show through even on dusty old paper—it was impressive. He liked it.Maybe I should try drawing something.He started sketching light strokes.
With each flick, the lines blossomed like pomegranate seeds bursting—turning into a clear, vivid image.His father's back as he worked in the studio.As Kangseok began to draw in earnest, lost in the memory—
"Seok-ah!"
"Seoki-oppa!"
Voices called out through the not-fully-closed storage room door. They sounded urgent.
What's going on?
Kangseok quickly got to his feet.
But before he could move, the storage room door burst open.A flood of light spilled in—and filled his vision with the image of a smartphone.
"Oppa! Look at this! I just got a DM on Instagram... You need to see this!"
Insta? DM?
Kangseok took the phone.
Hello. I saw the bird on your account. The one carved into the cradle.I'm reaching out because I'd like to know—did you carve that bird yourself?If possible, may we meet? I would be very grateful.
Kangseok's eyes widened.
A bird sculpture on the account?If it was a bird, only one came to mind.The cradle with the high-relief carving he had made beside his father before winter break.As far as he knew, that was the only bird sculpture in the whole store.
No way…
He tapped "Back" and checked the account that had received the DM:@seokifurniture
It looked like a promotional account for the shop. At the top, a recent photo taken in the studio had been posted.
It was the cradle he had restored.Apparently, that piece had been uploaded to the Seoki Furniture account.
"When did this…"
His question trailed off—
Because of the number of likes attached to the cradle photo.
493 likes.
He didn't know much about Instagram, but that seemed like a lot.Especially for a small, unknown account—it was a surprisingly high number for a single photo.
Compared to his past life, it was like the flicker of a small firefly.But still—Kangseok pressed his lips tightly together.This was the first time in this life that he'd received so much recognition.
Even if it was just "likes," it meant something.He stood frozen, staring at the number, when Kang Chaeyoung's phone buzzed again.
I'd like to commission something.
The face of the person sending the DMs looked familiar.
Hmm? Kangseok's thumb moved to the sender's profile.When he tapped it—
The first thing he saw was a name:
Professor Lee Minhyuk, Department of Linguistics, Korea University.
He was the professor currently trending on TV, known for having read and translated Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy 100 times over 40 years.
Chaeyoung's smile stretched wide, clearly fascinated by the fact that someone so prominent was reaching out.
"Professor Lee Minhyuk wants to commission something from you, oppa!"