Different Thoughts on a Promise
While harboring different thoughts about their promise, Eunju couldn’t easily tear her eyes from the camera screen. The woman who had stood in the sunlight only moments ago remained inside the small LCD like someone else entirely. Doyun flipped through the photos one by one, adjusting the exposure. He lowered the bright areas slightly and lifted the shadowed ones just enough that the light clinging to Eunju’s waist, her legs, and the hem of her skirt emerged with sharper life. Hyeonwu watched from beside him, holding his breath. Whenever Doyun enlarged the screen, Eunju’s fingertips, her knees, the hand pressing down on her skirt, or the soft skin near her navel filled the frame. Looking at those images, Eunju felt a strange twist inside her. It was her body, yet it no longer felt like her own. It had been caught by someone’s gaze, turned into a photograph, and was now being delicately refined by the men’s hands.
Each time Doyun moved the mouse, the light across her white thighs was subtly rearranged. When Hyeonwu asked, “Isn’t this part too bright?” Doyun answered in a low voice, “It’ll look prettier if we tone it down a little.” Hearing those words, Eunju lowered her eyes for no reason. She felt embarrassed that the two of them could speak so naturally about parts of her body. Yet she didn’t dislike it. On the contrary, the knowledge that they were not looking at her carelessly but studying her in order to make her beautiful stirred something deep inside her.
“Are you hungry?” Eunju asked first. Only then did Hyeonwu raise his head. “Ah… yes.” “It’s fine, though.” “What do you mean it’s fine.” Eunju rummaged through her bag and pulled out her phone. “The artists worked hard today, so Nuna will treat you.” Doyun laughed. “Artists?” “That’s right.” Eunju glanced once more at her own image on the screen and said, “At this level, you really are artists.”
There was no proper dining table in the workshop. Hyeonwu dragged a folded delivery box from the corner and spread it across the floor. Doyun cleared the lens caps and memory-card cases to one side of the desk. Before long the Chinese restaurant delivery arrived. Three bowls of jajangmyeon, a small order of sweet-and-sour pork, fried dumplings, and the few small bottles of soju Hyeonwu had bought at the convenience store were arranged on the box.
From the moment she sat on the floor, Eunju became acutely aware of her skirt. The short hem felt far more dangerous when sitting than when walking. The slightest parting of her knees seemed likely to reveal everything, and crossing her legs exposed too much thigh. In the end she folded both legs neatly to one side. The white skirt settled demurely over them, yet her pale thighs still showed halfway beneath it. The very modesty of the posture made her more self-conscious. She was simply sitting between Hyeonwu and Doyun eating jajangmyeon, but Eunju felt as though the shoot had never ended. Even with the camera off, the two men’s eyes seemed never to have switched off at all.
“Nuna, be careful,” Hyeonwu said, pausing with his chopsticks in midair. Eunju looked at him. “Of what?” “The… sauce might splash on your clothes.” His gaze flicked near her skirt before dropping hurriedly back to his bowl. “Because it’s white.” Eunju did not miss that clumsy glance. “Hyeonwu.” “Yes?” “You’re not doing that because you want to look under Nuna’s skirt, are you?”
Hyeonwu nearly choked. “No, I’m not.” “It’s really not that.” “It’s just that the sauce shouldn’t splash…” Doyun, beside him, could not hold back his laughter. “You’re denying it awfully fast.” “Hey.” Hyeonwu shot Doyun a wronged look, then turned back to Eunju. Without another word he slipped off his jacket and carefully laid it across her knees. “This should keep it from splashing.” The jacket settled lightly over the white skirt. Eunju stared down at it for a moment. It felt strangely tender. And, for that very reason, even more embarrassing. The gesture was meant to protect her skirt, yet it only made clearer exactly where Hyeonwu’s attention had been lingering. Eunju picked up her chopsticks and gave a small smile. “Thank you.” “But if you act too sweetly, Nuna only wants to tease you more.”
Hyeonwu could not answer; he simply stirred his noodles. The soju had begun as a joke. “Just one drink today, really,” Eunju had said, yet the small paper cups emptied again and again. Hyeonwu’s ears flushed pink—he was weak to alcohol—and Doyun’s words slowed. Eunju, too, began to feel the warmth rising. It was not deep intoxication, only a softening at the edges of her speech and a loosening in her chest. After several rounds, she felt her body warming from within. The workshop air seemed to have grown lukewarm along with it. Whether the change came from the liquor or from the awareness of sitting between two men in such revealing clothes, she could not tell.
By the time the sweet-and-sour sauce had cooled and the bottoms of the jajangmyeon bowls were visible, Eunju sat holding her paper cup in silence. Hyeonwu and Doyun seemed to sense she had something to say; they, too, grew quiet. At last Eunju spoke. “I…” “I think I’m ready now.”
Doyun’s hand froze. Hyeonwu set down his chopsticks. Eunju looked from one to the other. The playful expression she had worn earlier was gone. “To be honest,” she continued, “I like the two of you enough that we could shoot right now.” The workshop fell completely still. Eunju felt the heat of embarrassment, yet she did not flinch. Instead she carried that shame all the way to the end. “But I made a promise with my husband. The moment I cross the line with you two, he will be there too. So that I won’t be swept away by the mood alone.”
Doyun said nothing. Hyeonwu merely nodded, slowly. Eunju set her cup on the box. “So I’ll arrange a time as soon as possible. With my husband. And then… photograph me with the same eyes you used today.”
The words were quiet, yet they pulled the air in the workshop tight once more. Hyeonwu could not meet her gaze. Doyun tried to smile, failed, and looked down at his bowl. A brief silence passed. Finally Doyun broke it with a dry laugh. “Ah, Nuna. Saying things like that while I’m trying to eat jajangmyeon is making my posture go all wrong.”
Eunju looked at him. Doyun was pretending to be casual, but his sitting position had grown awkward. One knee was raised for no reason, his waist pulled back slightly. Regardless of his will, the front of his pants had stiffened on its own. Even while holding chopsticks he could not relax his body. Seeing it, Eunju narrowed her eyes. “Doyun.” “Yes.” “That friend of yours is always far too honest with Nuna, isn’t he?”
Hyeonwu turned his head while drinking water. Doyun’s ears burned crimson as he laughed. “No, this is…” “It’s because Nuna said those things…” Eunju gave him a sidelong glance. “Then the next time you photograph me, you’d better figure out what to do with your pants first. Before you even pick up the camera, I suppose I’ll have to check whether that place is suffocating.”
This time Hyeonwu really did choke. Doyun stared at her blankly for a moment, then nodded with an oddly serious face. “Of course. If it’s uncomfortable I can’t concentrate on the photos.” Eunju laughed, incredulous. “You really…” “Nuna said it first,” Doyun replied, grinning as he lifted his cup. “So look at me like today.” Eunju could say nothing more; she simply took another sip of soju. Heat bloomed inside her throat.
At that same hour, Minjun was drinking with Gyujin in a small pub nearby. They sat in the inner seats. Gyujin had emptied his glass several times, yet he looked less drunk than burdened by heavy thoughts. Minjun did not press him. He waited until Gyujin was ready to speak. After a long while, Gyujin finally opened his mouth. “My ex-wife keeps coming around lately.” Minjun set his glass down. “The children’s mother?” Gyujin nodded. “Yeah. She’s asking for forgiveness. She wants us to get back together.”
Though the words came out evenly, his face told another story. “She says she wants to live as a family with the kids again. That it won’t ever happen again. That she’ll only look at me from now on… she cried while she said it.” Minjun listened in silence. Gyujin could not even smile; he merely turned the glass in his hands. “I keep refusing. I know I should. But her expression is so… desperate. It tugs at me.”
Minjun did not answer lightly. This was not a matter that could be spoken of carelessly. He could neither tell him to forgive nor to abandon her. After another long silence Gyujin spoke in an even lower voice. “The truth is… we’re living together right now.” Minjun looked at him. Gyujin avoided his eyes. “Because she’s the children’s mother, I couldn’t completely turn her away. She said she had nowhere else to go. So… she’s back in the house for now.” “You’re living together?” “I suppose you’d call it cohabitation.” Gyujin gave a bitter smile. “We’re using separate rooms. But she’s still in the house. She cooks, does the laundry, talks about the children.” He emptied his glass. “Sometimes the way she looks at me feels burdensome. Other times it just looks pitiful. That’s what’s hardest.”
Minjun thought of Eunju. Eunju standing in the sunlight earlier. Eunju who had not avoided the men’s gazes. And Gyujin’s stiff face as he watched it all. Minjun said, almost in passing, “Since it’s a woman’s heart… maybe you should ask Eunju.”
Gyujin’s head rose at once. The reaction was quicker than Minjun expected. He looked at his friend in mild surprise. Gyujin hesitated, then spoke carefully. “If it’s possible… could you ask her for me?” Minjun waited in silence. “After that drinking party, seeing Eunju became a little burdensome. I didn’t know how I should look at her. And honestly I still haven’t fully understood your marriage.” Gyujin twirled the glass with his finger. “But today, for some reason, it feels like it might be all right. Maybe because I saw her like that earlier. I think if it’s Eunju, she might… tell me something different.”
Minjun studied Gyujin for a long moment. Desperation sat on his friend’s face more plainly than pride. It was not a face seeking a correct answer. It was the face of a man who no longer knew where to rest his heart and would grasp at any words offered. Minjun took out his phone. “I’ll ask. I’ll see if she can come.” Gyujin gave a small nod. After a brief hesitation, Minjun sent the message to Eunju.
In the workshop, Eunju’s phone vibrated beside the box. She set down her cup and looked at the screen. Minjun’s name glowed there. Both Hyeonwu and Doyun fell silent at once. As Eunju read the message her eyebrows moved slightly. Doyun asked, “Is it from Hyung-nim?” Eunju nodded. “Yes. Gyujin says… he wants to talk with me too.”
At those words the two young men grew quiet again. Only moments earlier Eunju had been a special woman to them—the woman who smiled beautifully inside the photographs, who sat beside them in a short skirt, conscious of its hem, sharing drinks. But the instant Minjun’s name appeared, she became a married woman once more. A wife. And that wife had just promised to stand before them again, this time together with her husband. The realization struck them more sharply than before.
Eunju glanced down at Hyeonwu’s jacket still resting on her knees. Beneath it lay the short white skirt. She took a slow breath, eyes on the screen, then typed her reply.
She sent it, then set the phone down. The workshop air felt suddenly heavier, warmer, and full of things still unspoken.