Hae-in frowned slightly.
It wasn’t because the summer sunlight, growing stronger by the day, was blinding her.
Rather, it was because of the irritating face that appeared against the backlight.
She had thought she recognized the familiar car pulling into the atelier’s parking lot—and sure enough, it was that man again.
“…He’s here again.”
Muttering in clear displeasure, Hae-in still couldn’t take her eyes off him as he got out of the car and began walking toward her.
Whenever that man appeared, her entire focus shifted to him. She couldn’t understand why.
And that was precisely why he made her so uncomfortable.
“Hello, Haein.”
The man greeted her cheerfully, saying her name as though it were something sweet to taste. Hae-in looked up at him with an annoyed expression. His bright, sunlit hair and strikingly dark eyes made for a striking contrast.
His lips, oddly shaped, were what people might call “sexy”—but to Hae-in, he was simply a strange man.
Even though her discomfort was plain, he only smiled as if it didn’t bother him at all.
By now, she was sure of it—he was a shameless man.
“So… why are you here again?”
“I heard you were moving. Thought I’d lend a hand.”
How did he even find out she was moving today? Hae-in glared up at him.
The man she’d first met a month ago had been hovering around her ever since—disappearing now and then, appearing just as she began to forget him.
And she knew why. He had claimed that they knew each other well. Although she had no memory of it whatsoever.
…He’d even said we were lovers once.
The problem was that she couldn’t believe it—no matter what he said. If he had just claimed they were acquaintances, maybe she could have accepted it. That much was plausible.
But lovers? That was beyond absurd. As far as she knew herself, that was impossible.
Hae-in shook her head and stepped back.
She still vividly remembered the moment, a month ago, when he’d suddenly appeared and pulled her into a tight embrace. She could still feel the pressure of his hands on her shoulders, as though it had only happened yesterday.
Perhaps memories of being held too tightly really did linger longer.
And the fact that she had burst into tears on the street in shock—that was both humiliating and infuriating. It was the only way she could explain why she’d cried that day.
She should have called the police then. But because she hadn’t, he kept showing up.
What was the word for that again… right.
“…He’s like a stalker.”
She muttered it under her breath, glaring at him, but he didn’t seem to care at all.
Apparently, he didn’t mind what she called him.
“I heard from Sumo,” he said lightly.
“Figured an extra pair of hands might help.”
Hae-in shot a sharp look toward Sumo, who was frozen mid-lift, halfway through carrying her boxes. It was obvious where he’d heard it from.
Hae-in was quite displeased that Kang Sumo and Kang Si-yul were relatives.
If not for that, Si-yul would have had no excuse to linger around her like this.
Even if he really had known her before, and even if he tiptoed carefully around her, a large man she couldn’t remember was nothing but uncomfortable.
A sigh slipped out.
“Haah…”
“I won’t bother you,” he said gently.
“I heard you’re a professional. You must have a lot of free time,” she shot back.
“…I’m on leave right now.”
He didn’t so much as blink at her sharp words or cool tone. Yet whenever she addressed him so formally, keeping a distance, something about him seemed… quietly saddened.
The bitter smile he gave her made her uneasy all over again.
But what else could she call him? Kang Si-yul was five years older than she was—she couldn’t just call him by his name as though they were equals. Everything about this man just made her uncomfortable.
“In any case, we have enough people. We can handle it ourselves. You really don’t have to—”
“Hae-in.”
“Ah.”
“Hyung already went upstairs to grab some boxes.”
She turned quickly—he was already gone. She caught only a glimpse of his back as he disappeared into the building.
He really never listened.
Hae-in glared daggers at poor Sumo, who could only grit his teeth. It was all his fault, she thought. If Siyul weren’t his cousin, she could have gotten rid of him long ago.
Even with all his insistence on helping, there wasn’t much to do. Her belongings barely filled a single one-ton truck.
With the delivery man and Sumo helping, plus herself and I-young lending hands, that was plenty. When Siyul came back down carrying a box, Hae-in hurried over.
“Hey!”
“Yes?”
“I said I don’t need help! Why do you keep touching my things?”
She tried to snatch the box out of his hands, but with only her right hand working properly, she couldn’t manage.
She could barely lift a large box, much less take it from him.
“You make it sound like we’re strangers,”
he said lightly.
“That hurts, you know.”
“What are you to me?”
“Well, for starters, I’m Sumo’s cousin.”
That was apparently his favorite shield.
They weren’t even close—Sumo had already told her that they’d barely spoken since childhood.
Hae-in, who had never been good at being forward, found such shameless persistence exhausting. Her irritation boiled over.
“You still have no right to do this! Put that down, now!”
“How would you lift it then? I’ll just move it over there.”
“Hey, I said put it down! Touching someone’s stuff without permission—that’s stealing! You know that, right?!”
She hated taking help from anyone. Tugging at the box was useless—she ended up just clutching at his sleeve instead.
Furious at herself for looking ridiculous, Hae-in finally exploded.
He kept intruding into her life, and she couldn’t understand why.
“Oh really? Then I guess I should call the police.”
“What?”
“You called me a thief and a stalker, didn’t you?”
“That was… just a figure of speech!”
“As far as I know,” he said with a teasing smile,
“you’re not the kind of woman who’d actually do something like that. Am I wrong?”
Why did that smug grin make her so angry?
“Ugh, damn it…”
How can he act like he knows me so well?
Does he think I won’t call the police? I could… I could…
But he was right—she couldn’t. She wasn’t the type. And besides, he never crossed the line completely. He was infuriatingly good at staying just within the bounds of what she could tolerate.
Every time she thought she’d finally tell him off, he would simply vanish.
Left fuming, Hae-in had no choice but to stand there and try to cool down her temper.
“Hae-in.”
It was Sumo approaching. She turned toward him, looking near tears.
“You said you’d talk to him!”
“…I did talk to him.”
She had told him that she didn’t know the man, that he made her uncomfortable, and Sumo had promised to explain.
But now, it felt like he was taking Siyul’s side.
Guess blood really is thicker than water.
“Hyung’s always been kind of a loner,”
Sumo said awkwardly.
“But… not like this.”
“Then why’s he acting like that toward me?”
“…Maybe he likes you.”
“What?! Who wants to hear something that burdensome?”
Hae-in recoiled immediately.
Talk of liking or loving someone felt utterly foreign—embarrassing, even shameful.
Love had always been something that happened to other people.
To her, a man claiming that they had once loved and lived together was just… absurd.
“I’m serious,” said Sumo.
“He told me you two were lovers.”
“There’s no proof. None!”
“Haein…”
“There isn’t! He said we knew each other, that we dated—but there’s not even a single picture of us together! How could I believe that? If it were real, there would be something!”
A year might be a long time, but compared to a lifetime, it was brief. That she could have loved someone, lived with someone, and then completely forgotten them—it was beyond belief.
Would anyone understand if she said she couldn’t believe her own story?
Her distrust of this strange man made her bristle even more.
“Look, he might seem cold, but he’s not the type to play sick jokes,” Sumo tried.
“He was serious—about you.”
“I don’t remember him! Hearing stuff like that just freaks me out. Even if it’s true—even if we really did date—without proof, without memory, what difference does it make? It’s the same as never having happened!”
Knowing her temperament, Sumo could tell how hard this was for her to accept.
She’d always been wary of men—she barely even talked to him or I-young unless they were together.
He had even warned Siyul once.
A month ago, the day Siyul first came to the atelier, they’d had this conversation:
“Hyung! Why are you acting like that with Hae-in? You barely know her. You’re scaring her.”
“…She’s my girlfriend. I’m sure of it.”
“What are you talking about? You just showed up out of nowhere!”
“We lived together. Park Hae-in… she’s someone I know. Someone real.”
That day, Siyul had seemed… off. His eyes had been dazed, unfocused. He’d asked Sumo countless questions—how long he’d known Hae-in, what she was like, whether anything strange had happened recently, if he knew where she’d been for the past year.
“She’s always been a bit of a recluse,”
Sumo had answered.
“But yeah, I heard she lost her memory about a year ago… though that was supposed to be a secret.”
“…I guessed as much when she didn’t recognize me. That’s enough. I understand now. Don’t worry about it.”
“Hyung, I know you’re smart, but you always think things through on your own—and that’s scary, you know? I don’t know what you’ve ‘understood,’ but whatever it is, it’s not the same for her. Don’t tell me not to worry. She’s my friend.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“That Hae-in scares easily. She’s shy, wary, and she runs from people she doesn’t know. If you push her, I won’t just stand by. I-young will give you hell too. Don’t mess around with her.”
“…I know that better than you do. That she’s timid. Guarded. Suspicious. Always keeping her distance. Always thinking of a way to escape when she’s near someone unfamiliar.”
In that strange conversation between cousins who hadn’t seen each other in years, the only thing that reassured Sumo was that Siyul’s words sounded painfully sincere.
He seemed to know Hae-in frighteningly well.
“Yeah… I-young used to say it was like taming a cat,”
Sumo had said.
“So what are you planning to do, then?”
“I’ll just stay close. Hope she stops being afraid. And if she never remembers me… I’ll start over. I can do that—over and over if I have to. I’ve been in love before.”
Siyul, in love? That didn’t fit at all.
Back in high school, Sumo had delivered more than a few love letters to Siyul—all of which had gone straight into the trash.
His father had been known in the family for being cold and unyielding, and Siyul had inherited that nature perfectly.
He wasn’t the kind of cousin you felt comfortable around—more like someone you instinctively avoided.
And yet, now…
“I think I finally understand the things I couldn’t before,”
Siyul had murmured quietly.
“Maybe I knew it would turn out this way.”
The more Siyul seemed to come to terms with things on his own, the less Sumo understood what was really going on.
Hae-in and Si-yul were the last pair he would’ve ever imagined together.
Just what had happened between them?
“I don’t get any of this,” he’d told him.
“Can I really trust you? You’re not going to do anything weird to her, right?”
“Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. And if you— as her friend—try to get in my way… I might just kill you.”
“…That’s terrifying.”
“All I want is to stay near her.”
Sumo had wanted to say,
That’s exactly what a stalker does,
but he couldn’t bring himself to.
He was worried, yes—but he also knew Siyul wouldn’t cross any real lines.
Mostly, though… Sumo was afraid of Kang Siyul.
Just a little.
No—quite a lot.
________✧⑅˖♡∘˚˳°↝^._.^_________
It took less than thirty minutes to finish moving the boxes.
There wasn’t much to carry, and plenty of help.
“Come visit sometime!”
the delivery driver called, securing the load with rope.
Hae-in turned to say goodbye to her acquaintances.
The one who looked most reluctant was I-young.
“Haein, come by often, okay? Even if you don’t have a reason—just drop in.”
“Yeah, I will.”
“When you’re all settled, invite us over.”
“Mm… it’s just a small rooftop room I’m using as a studio, so it’s not much of a place to invite people to.”
“Still! Promise, okay?”
She nodded, giving in to their insistence.
The truck’s horn honked—time to go.
“Let’s get going!”
“Ah, okay. I’ll head out.”
“Wait.”
As she turned, the man who had been standing silently nearby—Kang Siyul—stepped forward.
Hae-in stiffened, wary again.
He smiled softly and held something out to her. He always kept exactly one step of distance between them, ever since that first day.
“You asked me for proof once,” he said.
“I thought this might help.”
What he handed her was a sketchbook—an ordinary one at first glance.
But before she could take it, her eyes caught on the two rings glinting on his left hand.
“They’re your drawings,” he said.
She finally focused on the sketchbook.
It was a set of three thick, professional artist’s books.
She picked up the top one, but handling it with one hand was awkward. Maybe she should crouch down and rest it on her knee?
As she fumbled, Siyul wordlessly supported the bottom of the sketchbook with both hands.
“Here.”
“…Thanks,”
she muttered under her breath—though she couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud.
Instead, she pursed her lips and turned the first page.
Just then, the mover called out impatiently:
“Miss! If we don’t leave now, we’ll get caught in rush hour!”
“Ah, this… um…”
“I’ll lend it to you,” Siyul said.
“You can return it later.”
“What?”
“It’s important to me. So make sure you give it back.”
Before she knew it, she was holding all three sketchbooks against her side.
Wait—if she took these…
“Take care,” he said.
“I’ll head off too.”
“Uh…”
“See you next time.”
See you next time?
I have to meet him again… to give these back!
She wanted to shout it after him, but there were too many people around—and he was already walking away.
His timing, as always, was impeccable—too quick for her to counter.
Of course he’d chosen to give her “proof” on the day she was moving.
She knew exactly why. So there would be an excuse to meet again.
“Ugh… seriously…”
________✧⑅˖♡∘˚˳°↝^._.^_________
Inside the truck carrying her belongings, Hae-in couldn’t resist and opened her sketchbook. Leaning it against the console box, she flipped through the pages one by one, her expression growing serious.
There were quite a lot of drawings—apparently, ones she had drawn herself.
Most were simple sketches, and at first, the subjects were random. Small birds took up the majority.
“…Birds? I drew these?”
She had never had a hobby of drawing animals, so it was strange to see so many birds and cats. Besides, these roughly drawn pencil sketches hardly gave her any real sense of ownership.
The drawings shifted from pencil to colored pencil around the middle of the first sketchbook.
She began sketching people—specifically, one man. Kang Si-yul. Occasionally, other faces appeared, but mostly, it was him.
The further she flipped, the clearer the theme became. It was only ever him.
Thud.
Hae-in couldn’t look any further by the time she reached the third sketchbook and closed it quickly. She glanced nervously at the man driving, worried he might have seen something.
Oh my god.
To her embarrassment, the later sketches grew increasingly indecent. The obsession with muscle structure was almost painfully detailed.
She hadn’t drawn any explicitly private parts, but there were fine renderings of the man’s back muscles, the subtle line from chest to abdomen, the rough texture of his shoulders, the curve of his waist, and the shape of his feet.
Moments when his eyes opened and closed, his lips parted and shut, the faint smirk of a sensual smile.
The tensed nape of his neck, his forearms, and the languid shapes of his body. Her cheeks grew hot, and her throat tightened—she knew exactly what kind of moments these sketches captured.
Even though they were just fragments of sketches, the implication was unmistakable.
I don’t know if I really drew these, but it’s obvious the person who did and this man… had a deep, intimate relationship.
Otherwise, there was no way such drawings could exist. To sense such eroticism from mere sketches—this wasn’t something that should be possible under the guise of art.
Feeling warm, Haein cracked open the car window.
She fanned herself with her hand and thought that she really should just send these away as soon as possible.
________✧⑅˖♡∘˚˳°↝^._.^_________
She had vowed to seal the sketchbooks away, but late that night, she found herself taking them out again. After moving her things into the rooftop room and unpacking a few boxes, she sat down to rest—and there they were.
The sketchbooks she had closed out of embarrassment caught her eye once more.
This time, alone, she looked through them slowly. Even so, she still couldn’t be sure she was the one who had drawn them.
Aside from the indecent ones, the sketches were filled with care and affection, but still—just sketches. Nothing that could prove who had drawn them.
“…Maybe I should try drawing. If I compare them, I might figure it out.”
Conveniently, her art supplies were among the first things she’d unpacked. Haein picked up a pencil and sat by the window, deciding to sketch while she took a break.
Her plan was to copy one of the drawings from the man’s sketchbook and compare her technique to it later.
But as she began, she realized she didn’t even need to look. She could draw him from memory.
She had only seen the man a few times over a month, yet her hand moved without hesitation. His face was so vivid in her mind that her pencil didn’t falter once.
Why am I so excited to draw this?
It felt like she was sketching someone sitting right in front of her. She couldn’t believe it herself. This shouldn’t have been possible.
Even when drawing her parents, she couldn’t sketch from memory like this—she always needed a photo as reference.
Haein’s hand moved on its own. One drawing, then another. She couldn’t stop sketching him.
Crouched in a cramped rooftop corner amid half-unpacked boxes, she drew breathlessly. Anyone watching would think she was desperate to capture him.
But she couldn’t deny it—her hand was happy drawing him.
That night, Haein drew the man over and over. Her hand finally stopped moving around dawn, when she looked down to see the floor covered in his portraits.
Her fingertips were black with graphite, the pencil worn short, and the sketchbook nearly shredded from use.
…I feel like I can finally breathe.
A deep, heavy satisfaction washed over her.
With dazed eyes, she inhaled deeply, filling her lungs before exhaling slowly. The strange sense of fulfillment numbed even her fatigue.
Then, suddenly, she came to her senses.
The emotions that hit her after mindlessly drawing the man felt too unfamiliar—and frightening. Staring at the countless sketches strewn across the floor, Hae-in shut her eyes tight.
She could tell what her own drawings were trying to tell her.
“To myself… I just wanted to draw, that’s all. That’s it. That’s the only reason.”
She muttered it like a chant, dropping the pencil to the floor. Even though she knew there was something more, she refused to acknowledge it. Because she couldn’t accept what it meant.
She couldn’t believe she was in love with that stranger.
She simply couldn’t.
________✧⑅˖♡∘˚˳°↝^._.^_________
She tried to regain a sense of normalcy. She busied herself opening boxes, setting up her workspace, sweeping and cleaning the narrow rooftop just outside her room.
The summer heat made her sweat, but she didn’t mind—it kept her mind from wandering. Her left hand still wouldn’t move, and her lost memories still hadn’t returned. Every day was the same.
She had grown used to living with only her right hand. She could now change clothes, wash dishes, and hang laundry all one-handed without issue.
She even tried drawing again, but it didn’t work.
Nothing could pull her in the way he did. To be honest, she couldn’t draw anything but that man anymore.
That was infuriating. Who did he think he was to have such an effect on her? Never in her life had anyone unsettled her like this.
She tried to shake it off, but it wasn’t easy.
Hae-in kept struggling to forget the man she couldn’t even remember.
…If it even makes sense to say you’re trying to forget someone you don’t remember.
Still using “being busy” as an excuse, she rarely answered calls and only checked her email occasionally. That was when she noticed a message from Sumo—three days old.
[Hey. Hae-in, how have you been? Your phone’s still off, huh? I guess you’ve unpacked by now. It’s been two weeks since you moved, so when are we getting that housewarming invite? I-young’s waiting for it. Call me when you read this. Take care in the heat!]
So Sumo was dating I-young. She should’ve asked for details before…
Hae-in stared at the email for a moment, then dug out her phone from where it had been buried in a corner. The battery was dead, so she plugged it in to charge.
She recalled I-young’s disappointed face when she’d left.
Though she had I-young’s number, her friend wasn’t big on phone calls either, so Hae-in decided to call Sumo instead.
