HS 10

Chapter 10 

Seung-won loosened his tie and went up to the third floor.

The third floor housed his study, bedroom, and a spacious terrace with a pool. Though he had another bedroom on the second floor, he’d started using this one once that space became his office.

From the half-open glass doors to the terrace came the sound of water being sliced apart.
Inside the pool, Seung-jae was swimming with the sleek movements of a professional athlete — until he noticed his brother and stopped.

“Hyung! You’re here?”

His younger brother’s face lit up as he pushed his goggles up over his head. Just as Yoon-ah had described, Seung-jae was wearing shorts — or more precisely, swim trunks.

“Um, well… Seung-jae’s shorts were really short. I think they were swim trunks, but I’m just worried he might wear them again next time…”

That’s what Yoon-ah had said earlier when he’d told her to ask for whatever she needed.

So she really went into the lesson while he was wearing that?

He almost laughed out loud from disbelief. Late May — it was usually around this time that Seung-jae started using the terrace pool.

Because of his weak constitution, he’d been encouraged to exercise in different ways, and by following his brother’s lead, he’d discovered a love for swimming — gradually regaining his health. The pool had even been built for him.

But Seung-jae was no longer a child. He was twenty now — a grown man. And Yoon-ah was an adult woman.

Seung-won shoved his hands into his pockets and tilted his head back, staring into the pitch-black sky. A faint, bitter laugh escaped his throat.

He hadn’t realized things had gotten this bad. He’d known his brother was stubborn and self-centered, but this was… beyond expectation.

“Hyung, wanna swim too? I brought your swimsuit.”

With a carefree smile, Seung-jae picked up a black swimsuit from the table and tossed it at him. Seung-won caught it in one hand.

“Seung-jae.”
“Yeah?”
“About the swimsuit.”

His gaze fell to where the shorts ended — just below Seung-jae’s hips. Maybe it was a relief they weren’t made of spandex.

“You should only wear those when you’re swimming.”
“Why? Who cares?”

The younger man frowned, clearly irritated, and Seung-won felt a strange unease crawl down his spine.

Who cared or didn’t wasn’t the point. There were basic rules of decency people had to maintain — unspoken boundaries between individuals.

“Even if it’s at home, you should show a bit of respect when you meet your teacher.”
“Swimwear is still clothing. Honestly, wearing this isn’t wrong. If someone gets weird thoughts from seeing me in it, that person’s the pervert — not me.”

“Seung-jae.”
“That noona’s got a pretty loose tongue, huh.”

“Noona?”

Seung-won’s eyes narrowed.

“Yeah. Yoon-ah noona. We decided I’d call her that. I’m gonna do what you said this time — try to get along. To do that, we have to be close, right?”

He wiped the water off his body with a towel, as if he’d already lost interest in swimming.

“By the way, hyung — that noona’s really pretty, isn’t she?”

The second lesson had just ended.
Leaving Seung-jae’s room, Yoon-ah sighed lightly and pulled out her phone.

[I’ll be there soon. Wait for me.]

It was a message from Executive Director Kwon Seung-won. Since the first lesson, he had requested a follow-up meeting.

Is this like a parent-teacher conference?

She didn’t have much experience, but it wasn’t unusual for a parent to want feedback after a lesson. If he’d gone through ten different tutors already, then clearly, the problem wasn’t small. But to Yoon-ah, Seung-won seemed genuinely concerned for his brother.

She pocketed her phone and walked down the hall. Just as she turned the corner, the elevator chimed and opened — revealing Seung-won, still perfectly put-together in his suit despite the late hour.

“Good evening, Director.”

He gave a faint nod in acknowledgment and opened the door. With a soft click, the lights came on.
The space was pristine — almost too clean, with no trace of regular use.

Like before, Yoon-ah sat on the sofa. Across from her, Seung-won crossed his long legs and turned his head toward her, silently inviting her to begin.

“Today, we worked on last year’s Korea University practical exam. The task was to invent a fictional instrument and draw the hands playing it.”

Seung-jae’s fundamentals were surprisingly solid — his work was far better than she’d expected, even ranking near the top compared to other students she’d taught.

“…Next time, we’ll continue with practice exam questions. My goal is to identify his weaknesses and help him improve through targeted exercises.”

When she finished, silence filled the air. The man’s blank expression made her nervous; she clasped her hands together on her lap. Finally, he spoke, eyes lowered as though deep in thought.

“You’re the expert. I’m sure you know how to handle the lessons better than I do.”
“……”
“What I want to know is — how’s his attitude?”

“His… attitude?”

“As you’ve probably noticed, his social skills are a disaster.”

Ah… Yoon-ah almost nodded instinctively, but stopped herself when their eyes met. She smiled awkwardly instead.

“Yes, well… today…”

Today, Seung-jae had been overtly bored, sighing dramatically every few minutes. When she asked why, he’d said it was because there was no music.

She’d offered to play some, only for him to sneer and say,

‘Who listens to that kind of stuff while drawing? Give it here.’

He’d then snatched her phone and, after tapping on it a few times, she heard his own phone ring.

‘That’s my number. Save it.’

Then, as if nothing had happened, he’d played his own music and drawn quietly.

Was that something she should report? It wasn’t unheard of for students and tutors to exchange numbers — especially when schedules changed.

His behavior hadn’t been good, exactly, but not so bad that she wanted to complain. Still, the pause must’ve seemed suspicious, because—

“He called you noona.”
“Ah, yes. He said he wanted to talk casually.”
“Do students at art academies usually call their teachers noona? I wouldn’t know.”
“N-no, that’s not usually the case…”

His gaze lifted. The faint smile on his lips didn’t reach his eyes.

“Tell him to change how he addresses you.”
“Yes, of course.”

“It’s late. You should head home. If anything’s making you uncomfortable, tell me.”

“Thank you. Then I’ll get going.”

Yoon-ah stood, bowed politely, and turned toward the door. She heard the soft sound of the sofa shifting behind her, followed by the click of the fridge opening.

A water bottle cap twisted open — she glanced back instinctively — and met Seung-won’s eyes.

Startled, she quickly bowed again and hurried out of the room.