While touring the exhibition, Seungjun knew he would inevitably have to engage in related conversations, whether he liked it or not. He certainly didn’t want to stand there silently while Nam Yiwon babbled on about the artwork. Since he was already there, he also wished to have a conversation of substance, and understanding the author’s intentions and meaning would make the exhibition all the more enjoyable. It was, in essence, killing two birds with one stone. Casually flipping through the screen, Seungjun began to read the author’s interview.
The author’s profile, background, style, previous exhibitions and critical reviews, and what she aimed to convey in this current exhibition… Seungjun calmly read through each one, striving to understand the individual and memorizing what needed to be retained. Thirty minutes was more than enough time; he could read the compiled materials three times over and still have minutes to spare.
As he read with focused attention, he found it quite intriguing. This exhibition marked Author Won Gyuri’s first showcase of work in five years, offering a diverse collection of paintings themed around environment and nature. Seungjun then read through several reviews from previous attendees.
“Hello?”
Lost in concentration while reading the reviews, an all-too-familiar voice reached his ears. Startled, Seungjun snapped his head up, utterly speechless at the sight before him.
Nam Yiwon stood there with his hands clasped behind his back, clad in a vibrant, orange-tinged pink suit from head to toe.
‘…You motherfucker.’
Swallowing his expletive, Seungjun glanced around. Sure enough, everyone seated in the café was looking their way. Any man who appeared in a pink suit even celebrities wouldn’t dare wear was bound to pique curiosity. Even Seungjun, dressed in an ordinary jacket, drew stares wherever he went simply because of his height, so it was only natural that this equally tall man, in such a suit, would command attention.
“Hey. Just sit down.”
“Ta-da?”
Fearing onlookers, Seungjun gestured for him to sit down first. In response, Nam Yiwon extended the hand he had been hiding behind his back. A vibrant bouquet, bursting with flowers of every hue, accompanied by a sweet fragrance, was placed before Seungjun. Nam Yiwon grinned over the colorful blossoms.
“It’s a bribe.”
“I said I’d do it! I said I would!” Seungjun whispered through clenched teeth, swiftly snatching the bouquet and hiding it beneath his chair. Yet, everyone nearby had already witnessed the flowers. Amidst the buzzing whispers of people openly gossiping, Seungjun overheard snatches of conversation from the adjacent table. “Is it a proposal? How romantic! It seems Korea has really opened up.”
It was beyond embarrassing; it was infuriating. Being mistaken for gay—a misunderstanding that was half-true anyway—didn’t bother him normally, but if the other party was Nam Yiwon, that was a different story entirely. The mere thought was horrifying.
Nam Yiwon, as always, hummed a tune, utterly oblivious to Seungjun’s mood, and settled into the seat beside him. Seungjun quickly shoved his phone into his pocket lest Yiwon see it.
“Let’s go.”
“Already? Let’s have some coffee before we leave.”
“I’m done.”
“But I’m not?”
“I’ll get it to go. You can drink it on the way.”
No sooner had he finished speaking than the vibrating pager in Nam Yiwon’s hand buzzed. Nam Yiwon held it up, grinning widely.
“I’ll go get them, so please stay seated.”
Seungjun forced a stiff smile onto his rigid lips. Nam Yiwon strode purposefully to the counter with his long legs, and upon returning with their drinks, once again drew all eyes in the vicinity. Seungjun casually feigned rubbing his forehead, effectively shielding his face. It had just dawned on him that this was a famously popular café in the area, it was a weekend, and his ex-girlfriend’s house was conveniently located nearby.
‘Last time, giving me roses at the office was a deliberate act to mock me in front of others, a way to pressure me into accepting his proposal. But why on earth did he buy flowers today? We’ve already agreed to work together, so there’s no reason to pressure or tease me anymore. Could that damned pink suit truly be his taste?’
The exhibition information he had diligently read and memorized was slowly evaporating from his mind. Seungjun closed his eyes, his leg bouncing nervously, and mentally retraced the author’s interview.
“You came out early, didn’t you? What time did you arrive?”
Nam Yiwon asked after taking a sip of his drink. It was 1:45 PM, earlier than expected. This meant Nam Yiwon had also arrived about twenty minutes early.
With the distracting bouquet and his outrageous outfit already overwhelming him, Seungjun had no desire to maintain politeness by lying. He simply stated the truth.
“I left home around noon.”
“Oh really? We should have had lunch together.”
“Drink up quickly. Let’s go.”
“You said you weren’t interested in the exhibition, but you’re quite proactive.”
Though Seungjun’s comment had clearly meant he didn’t want to have lunch together, Nam Yiwon feigned ignorance with a sly grin. As much as he disliked the guy, today’s objective was to build camaraderie. Deciding he needed to at least make conversation, Seungjun chose a simple topic.
“Is Author Won Gyuri a favorite of yours? Coming all the way to see her exhibition and all.”
“Hmm. Neither particularly like nor dislike, I suppose.”
Nam Yiwon replied curtly, then diverted his attention to his drink. ‘No strong feelings’ likely meant he wasn’t particularly interested, yet he attended an exhibition by an artist he wasn’t deeply invested in. ‘How often did he visit exhibitions?’ Seungjun wondered. ‘If he goes to exhibitions, he must watch a lot of dramas, of course. And perhaps read many books and watch movies too? Had I underestimated Nam Yiwon? Had he always dismissed this guy, who clearly made an effort to engage with various forms of input, as merely a fool who’d climbed the ranks purely on family connections? Was it because of my own inferiority complex?’
Seungjun popped a couple of ice cubes into his mouth and chewed them. The crunching sound of the ice cubes was a welcome distraction from the clamor in his mind. He shook off his dark thoughts and tried to think positively. Considering the stress he’d endured preparing for the competition with Nam Yiwon back in college, the future seemed bleak. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel a thrill at the prospect of his own script being produced as a drama.
The competition was a full ten years ago. Having weathered countless storms to get this far, there was nothing he couldn’t handle. Besides, none of his previous projects had ever gone smoothly, so this was nothing new. Seungjun steadied his resolve and looked at Nam Yiwon, who was simply nursing his drink, seemingly uninterested in leading the conversation.
“Do you go to exhibitions often?”
“Yes.”
“Are you interested in modern art?”
“More broadly, I’m interested in culture in general.”
“What are your favorite movies or books? What about dramas?”
Knowing his preferred works would help Seungjun understand Nam Yiwon’s style. As he posed the questions, it suddenly struck Seungjun that he hadn’t actually watched any of Nam Yiwon’s dramas properly. They were always so hyped up that he’d only watch a bit of the beginning before the absurd plot developments would make him drop them. While he’d looked up spoilers for the endings after they aired, that hardly counted as having watched them.
‘Starting today, I need to finish
Nam Yiwon, grinning widely as if immensely pleased, replied.
“I like anything that many people enjoy. Best-sellers. Box office number ones. Those are usually all quite entertaining.”
“So, as long as it sells well?”
“If it sells well, there’s a reason for it,” he corrected Seungjun, then set his drink down. Looking at it now, it wasn’t a regular coffee but a peculiar drink topped with yellow cream and even a piece of honeycomb. ‘Of course, he wouldn’t order anything ordinary, even for a drink.’ Nam Yiwon spoke to Seungjun, who was clicking his tongue internally.
“This exhibition is also very popular among young people these days. There are so many reviews on social media.”
“Is it because the author’s style is so unique? She’s recognized internationally for her distinctiveness, isn’t she?”
“I don’t know? It might just be the effect of viral marketing, but we’ll see once we look around.”
Seungjun tried to casually weave in the author’s information he had looked up beforehand, but Nam Yiwon showed no interest. ‘We’ll see once we look around?’ Seungjun was confused, wondering if Yiwon was implying he was seeing Author Won Gyuri’s work for the first time. Between the bouquet, the pink suit, the honeycomb drink, even his casually tossed-out remark felt bizarre.
Nam Yiwon glanced at his watch, then rose from his seat.
“Shall we go now?”
“Uh.”
Fearing Yiwon might change his mind, Seungjun quickly stood up after him. As he slung his bag over his shoulder, his gaze fell upon the bouquet resting on the chair. He wished he could just leave it there, pretending to forget it, but he wasn’t that heartless. Seungjun picked up the bouquet and handed it to Nam Yiwon.
“Carry this.”
“But I gave it to you as a gift, Senior?”
Nam Yiwon shamelessly widened his eyes and retorted. ‘Carry that huge bouquet around for the entire exhibition? No matter how he thought about it, it felt like a deliberate attempt to embarrass him, but with only a hunch, he had no solid grounds for refusal.’ Seungjun bluffed an excuse.
“It suits your outfit well, so you carry it. I’ll take it back when we part ways later.”
“Alright, if you say so.”
As if fully convinced by the half-hearted excuse, Nam Yiwon took the bouquet without another word. As Seungjun, turning his back on the gawking crowd, headed for the door, he shot a quick glance at their table. The honeycomb drink, barely touched save for a few sips of the cream on top, sat abandoned on the table. Seungjun called out to Nam Yiwon, who was walking ahead of him.
“Aren’t you taking your drink?”
“No. It’s not very good.”
“Then why did you order it?”
Nam Yiwon pushed open the door and turned back. Beneath his slightly furrowed brows, his eyes twinkled, on the verge of laughter.
“Because it was a popular item.”
Popular. Fun. Best. The words he liked. Seungjun let out a hollow laugh, which had almost become a habit.
Unexpectedly, the exhibition proved quite interesting, even to Seungjun, an outsider to art. He meticulously surveyed each wall. Each wall was a different color, adorned with different phrases. Some areas displayed paintings hung in a neat row, while others were clearly curated by the artist herself. Beyond the artworks themselves, Seungjun found enjoyment in discovering the author’s intentions in every nook and cranny of the exhibition hall.