I Want to Show You Off
Eunju stepped out of the motel door with her arm linked through Minjun’s. The outside air slipped between her thighs first. In that instant she nearly froze mid-step without realizing it. It was short. Far shorter than she’d imagined. Inside the room, standing before the mirror, she had been too lost in Minjun’s gaze and her own embarrassment to notice. But the moment she stepped outside, the true length of the garment hit her entire body at once.
If she took even a slightly longer stride, the frayed hem of the pants would ride higher up her thighs. Descending the stairs made it worse. The fear that anyone looking up from below might see everything if she bent her knees even a little clung to her like a shadow. Eunju instinctively tightened her grip on Minjun’s arm. He glanced down at her.
“Are you okay?”
Eunju couldn’t answer right away. Saying she was fine felt too awkward. Yet admitting she couldn’t go through with it now that they had already left the room was impossible. “It feels a little strange,” she murmured.
“The clothes?”
“Yes.” She lowered her eyes. Her thighs were far too exposed. The skin that usually stayed hidden beneath pants and sweatpants now lay bare in the night air. Every time the breeze brushed past, her body flinched before her mind could catch up. The sensation wasn’t simply cold or chilly. It felt as though the unfamiliar air was announcing the truth to every hidden part of her. You’re exposed right now. You’re showing more than usual.
Eunju walked like someone who had forgotten how, placing each foot with exquisite care. With every step the torn seams of the pants tickled the edge of her thighs. The rough denim grazed her skin, and beneath the exposed flesh the night wind touched her directly. The contrast between what was covered and what was revealed felt painfully sharp. The places touched by fabric felt warmer, while the bare parts seemed more open, more sensitive. That boundary etched itself into her body with every stride.
What surprised Eunju most was how different her own body could feel after nothing more than a change of clothes. The top felt just as incomplete. The thin knit clung to her, but it didn’t wrap her the way her usual shirts and T-shirts did. Her shoulders, collarbones, and the upper curves of her breasts remained exposed to the night air. Beneath the motel’s worn entrance light, that skin looked almost luminously pale. Eunju felt ashamed of the light itself. Even in darkness she seemed to glow. As if only parts of her body had been quietly singled out for illumination.
She instinctively started to raise a hand to cover her chest, then stopped herself. Doing so would only draw more attention to her discomfort. Instead she pulled Minjun’s arm tighter against her side. The side of her breast pressed against his forearm. The contact felt different than usual. The comfort of leaning on him collided with the embarrassment of knowing she was touching him with a softer, more exposed body than he was accustomed to.
Even inside her bra, small sensations stirred. The knit moved in tiny increments with each step, transmitting faint friction through the underwear to her skin. It was the kind of minuscule contact she would never have noticed before. But now everything was different. Because the thought of being seen had already awakened her body, every trivial touch registered with startling clarity—the brush of fabric, the way her bra supported her, the slight lift and fall of her breasts with each breath. Eunju felt all of it too keenly, and the very fact that she felt it so keenly made her burn with shame.
“Minjun,” she whispered.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t I look too strange?”
He didn’t answer immediately. The silence made her even more nervous. When she lifted her head, she found him watching her with the same trembling eyes he’d had in the room earlier. Only now they were more cautious. Inside the motel room they had been alone. Out here, anyone could pass by. Anyone could look. The mere possibility made Eunju’s body tighten with fresh sensitivity.
“You don’t look strange,” he said in a low voice.
“Really?”
“Yes.” He took a short breath and added, “You look very beautiful.”
Eunju lowered her head. The words pleased her. But the pleasure only intensified her embarrassment. Hearing that she looked beautiful to Minjun brought relief, yet it also meant this outfit truly could draw other people’s eyes. She glanced toward the alley. In the distance she could see the convenience store lights. Cars passed infrequently along the narrow road. The countryside night was quiet, but not empty. That moderate emptiness felt more tense than total silence. A night that seemed deserted but could produce someone at any moment.
Within that possibility, Eunju kept imagining how she must appear: a middle-aged couple leaving a shabby motel, the wife in tiny pants and a knit top that left her shoulders bare, clinging to her husband’s arm with an awkwardly nervous expression. What would someone think if they saw her? Would they sneer that she was too old for such clothes? Or would they look again in silence, the way the men at the restaurant had last night?
The moment the thought arose, the air touching the inside of her thighs grew sharper. Eunju pressed her knees closer together. But to walk she eventually had to move her legs. One step. Then another. Each time, the skin revealed beneath the short pants shifted. Flesh moved, fabric followed, and air slipped between them. Eunju realized her body wasn’t simply walking—it was moving in a way that invited eyes. The sensation frightened her. Yet strangely, it also made her feel alive.
For a long time her body had existed only in terms of function: the body that carried children, prepared meals, shopped, cleaned, lay down when tired, endured pain, and held the household together. But this body was different. This was a body that could be seen. A body that Minjun watched, and that perhaps strangers might watch too. That truth was waking her senses one by one. Her body grew hot first. Then her mind, aware of that heat, grew more ashamed. And that shame made her body even more sensitive. Eunju felt the cycle beginning inside her—the same strange current she had first sensed at the restaurant. From body to mind, then back to body again.
Minjun matched her slow pace without urging her forward. She was grateful for that. At the same time, it annoyed her a little. Because he stayed beside her so quietly, she had lost any excuse to run away.
“You’re watching me right now, aren’t you?” she asked softly.
Minjun faltered. “What?”
“Me.”
He gave a short, slightly flustered laugh. “Yes.”
Eunju’s face flushed. “Don’t look too much.”
“All right.”
He said the words, but she knew his gaze remained on her. It wasn’t an overt, devouring stare. Still, it was a gaze that refused to miss anything—the awkward, careful steps, the hand clinging to his arm, the shoulders that tightened whenever the wind touched them, the knees that drew together anxiously beneath the short pants. Minjun was watching all of it. And Eunju could not deny that she was slowly heating up inside that gaze.
It was frightening. Embarrassing. Terrifying. Yet she didn’t want to stop walking. The fact that she had Minjun’s arm to hold onto kept her upright. She could never have done this alone—walking out in these clothes, feeling the night air on her bare thighs, enduring the tension of possibly being seen. But Minjun was beside her. Her husband. Her childhood friend. The man who had seen every ordinary, unglamorous side of her. And the man who was now looking at her again as a woman.
Eunju pressed so close that her cheek brushed his arm. He asked quietly, “Are you cold?”
She shook her head. “No.”
In truth it was a little chilly. But saying so felt wrong when the inside of her body burned so warmly. She didn’t want to examine where that heat came from. Or perhaps she already knew. Exposure was not simply about revealing skin. It was about dragging hidden sensations out into the open. The wind, the fabric, the act of walking—things she would normally have ignored—now confirmed again and again that she was a woman.
Eunju let out a slow breath and tightened her hold on his arm. “If I look strange, tell me right away.”
Minjun looked at her. “Strange?”
“Yes.” She avoided his eyes. “If I look ugly.”
His answer was not immediate this time either. After studying her for a moment he spoke very softly. “It’s not that you look ugly.”
Eunju’s hand tightened on his arm.
“The problem is that you look so carefully, so beautifully beautiful.”
Eunju couldn’t speak. The words touched something deep inside her chest. Carefully beautiful. The phrase sounded like her. A woman who wore bold clothes but couldn’t carry them boldly. A woman who revealed herself yet still wanted to hide. A woman who couldn’t take a single step without leaning on her husband’s arm. Minjun had not called that version of her ugly. He had called her beautiful. Because of those words, she thought she might be able to walk a little farther.
Their two shadows stretched slowly into the darkness at the end of the alley. Night air touched Eunju’s bare thighs. The faint friction inside her knit top returned. Minjun’s arm was warm. And she knew this first step into the unfamiliar night would remain inside her body far longer than she had expected.
When they reached the small bustling area of the countryside town, Eunju slowed her steps. Low signs lined the street. Old snack shops, cafés, a small supermarket, and souvenir stores for tourists glowed here and there. It wasn’t a big city, but it wasn’t completely quiet either. Because it was weekend evening, people were out. Families of tourists. Men smoking in front of bars. Young couples sitting by café windows. Middle-aged couples chatting on roadside benches.
Eunju tightened her fingers on Minjun’s arm. This was real now. It was nothing like walking a few steps in the alley outside the motel. Here anyone could see her. Anyone passing by could look their fill. She drew a quiet breath and pressed closer to him as they stepped among the people.
The first few steps felt like relearning how to walk. The hem of the short pants swayed against her thighs. The frayed seams tickled her skin with every stride, and the evening air touched her exposed legs directly. The top felt even more inadequate. The knit wrapped her body, but it was not the safe clothing she was used to. Her shoulders, collarbones, and the upper swell of her breasts lay open to the night. Each time her bra and the thin knit shifted with her steps, the tiny friction she would normally never notice became strangely vivid.
Eunju was overwhelmingly aware of her body moving beneath her clothes. It wasn’t mere discomfort. The consciousness of being seen was waking every nerve.
The first ones to pass were two young men standing in front of the convenience store. Eunju tried not to look at them, but their gazes were impossible to ignore. First her face. Then her outfit. Then the thighs revealed beneath the far-too-short pants. Their eyes slid over her—briefly, but unmistakably. Eunju’s breath caught. They said nothing. They didn’t laugh. They simply stole one extra glance in the short moment their girlfriends or friends weren’t watching. Yet that instant felt unbearably long to her, like fingertips brushing across her skin.
She lowered her head. It seemed as if everyone was looking at her. At first she told herself it was oversensitive imagination. But after a few more steps she realized it wasn’t entirely delusion. A middle-aged man standing in front of a bar watched her with a cigarette between his lips. When his companion spoke he turned away, but she felt his eyes return once she had passed. The man sitting by the café window did the same—his gaze slipping out through the glass while the woman across from him studied the menu. Even when they passed the young couple, the man’s eyes dropped to her legs for a split second before jerking away.
Eunju felt every single glance. She didn’t want to feel them, yet she did. Minjun knew it too. He knew she wasn’t imagining it out of hypersensitivity. The men’s eyes really were following her. And he also knew it wasn’t simply because the outfit was revealing. In this place Eunju stood out too much. Beneath the dim lights of the small rural street, she caught the eye at once—her pale skin, the still-soft lines of her body, the thighs revealed by the short pants, the carefully exposed collarbones and upper breasts. Above all, the way she walked while clinging to Minjun’s arm because she wasn’t accustomed to the clothes. That awkwardness made her more noticeable. She didn’t look like a woman boldly displaying herself. She looked like a woman who had been caught by her own body and didn’t know what to do with it. That very caution made her mysteriously alluring.
Minjun noticed. And noticing it, he was surprised at himself once again.
Eunju’s breathing gradually grew faster. Each time a gaze touched her, her body stiffened first. Then her heart raced. Then the feeling of fabric against her skin grew sharper. The sensation of the short pants clinging to her thighs. The air slipping between her legs with every step. The sensitive places inside her bra that trembled faintly. The strange tickling that rose whenever the knit brushed her skin. Everything rushed over her at once.
She was wearing clothes. She was definitely wearing them. Yet somehow she felt stripped. Not truly naked, but as though the truth of her body had been exposed before everyone’s eyes. The things she thought she had hidden seemed to be revealed at every edge of fabric—the white flesh of her thighs, the bright skin above her breasts, the awkwardly tense shoulders, the hand that could not let go of Minjun’s arm. All of it described her. I am ashamed right now. I am not used to these clothes. But I am not running away. That truth felt even more humiliating. And the more humiliating it became, the hotter her body grew.
Eunju was afraid of that current. A gaze touches her body. The body reacts first. The mind, aware of the reaction, grows more ashamed. The shame makes the body even more sensitive. She was only walking, yet each step seemed to reveal her more deeply. She gripped Minjun’s arm harder.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
She couldn’t answer at once. Her lips had gone dry. “I…” Her voice trembled. “It feels like everyone is looking.”
Minjun glanced around once, then looked at her again. He didn’t lie. “There are people looking.”
Eunju’s breath hitched. He didn’t rush to add empty comfort—It’s okay, no one’s looking. Strangely, that honesty reached her more deeply. He wasn’t treating her like a child. He was seeing the same thing she was.
“But,” he continued in a low voice, “they’re not looking because you look ugly.”
She couldn’t raise her head. His voice softened further. “They’re looking because you stand out.”
At those words her face burned hotter. Stand out. The phrase echoed quietly inside her. Not ugly. Not ridiculous. Noticeable. She wanted to believe him. She knew she probably shouldn’t, yet she wanted to believe him.
Just then a man walking alone approached from the opposite direction. As he passed between them, his gaze slid from Eunju’s face downward—over the upper curve of her breasts, her waist, the legs revealed by the pants, then back to her face. The moment was impossibly brief. Yet Eunju felt every part of it. The man continued on without a word. But she swallowed as though his gaze had left marks on her skin. Minjun had seen it too. She knew that as well. The fact that Minjun had witnessed it sank deeper than the stranger’s eyes had.
“Just now…” she whispered.
“I saw,” Minjun answered.
At that short reply her legs nearly gave out. She hadn’t been the only one who felt it. Minjun had seen. Minjun knew how that man had looked at her, and how she had trembled beneath the gaze. She tried to steady her breathing but failed. Her chest rose and fell a little faster. The movement felt more distinct between the knit top and her bra. When she breathed deeply it seemed she revealed even more, so she tried to breathe less, but that only made her pant harder.
Minjun noticed the change. “Eunju.”
Instead of answering she pressed closer to his arm.
“Your breathing is fast.”
The observation made her more ashamed, as though her body’s reaction had been caught. “I know,” she said softly. A trace of irritation and embarrassment colored her voice. “But I can’t help it.”
He slowed his steps. They stopped for a moment in front of a shop where fewer people passed. Eunju looked at her reflection in the display window. A woman standing with her arm through her husband’s. Short pants. Exposed legs. The brightly lit upper curve of her breasts. A flushed face. Slightly ragged breathing. The woman in the glass looked like a stranger. Yet somehow she looked clearer than she had yesterday. Not a mother’s body. Not a weary wife’s body. A woman who grew tense beneath strangers’ eyes and came alive because of that tension. Eunju could not deny it.
Minjun asked quietly, “If it’s too hard, should we go back?”
She stared at her own eyes in the window. Going back would be easier. She could take off these clothes, put on her safe ones again, and return to being an ordinary wife. But the answer didn’t come right away. She drew a slow breath. Her chest rose. The sensation of the bra touched her skin again. The hem of the pants clung to her thighs. The night air still brushed her exposed flesh. And the gazes from the street still hovered nearby, not entirely gone.
Feeling all of it, she gripped his arm tightly. “Just a little longer.” Her own voice sounded foreign to her. Her face still red, she added, “I want to understand a little more… why I’m like this.”
Minjun nodded without a word. His arm pressed more firmly against her. Eunju took another step. She was still afraid. Still ashamed. But now she also sensed that within that fear and shame, she was slowly waking up.
The deeper they moved among the people, the shorter her clothes felt, the brighter her skin seemed, the hotter the gazes became. And Eunju, leaning on Minjun’s arm, walked while enduring and accepting every sensation.
The small beer hall was brighter than she had expected. The moment Eunju opened the door and stepped inside, her footsteps faltered slightly. She had imagined a dark bar, a corner table where she could remain unnoticed, one quick beer, and then escape. But the interior was different. Warm-toned lights hung in rows from the ceiling. Round tables were spaced across the central hall. Several couples sat along the walls, while small groups of men occupied the middle. The lively sound of voices and clinking glasses floated lightly through the space, typical of a tourist town at night.
Eunju became acutely aware of her outfit again at the entrance. Short pants. A clingy knit top. Inside the motel room there had been only the mirror and Minjun. Here there were lights, tables, and strangers. And all of them could see her.
Minjun scanned the interior. Eunju assumed he would choose a corner seat against the wall. Instead he stopped at a small table near the central hall. He pulled out a chair naturally and gestured for her to sit facing the room. Eunju couldn’t move immediately when she saw the arrangement.
“Here?” Her voice came out smaller than she intended.
He nodded. “Yes.” He took the seat opposite, his back to the hall, facing her directly.
Eunju stood in front of the chair and hesitated. If she sat, she would be facing the entire room. At the same time, everyone in the hall would have an easy view of her. The fact was so obvious that she kept her hand on the chair back and simply stared at him. Minjun didn’t avoid her eyes, though his expression had grown serious. He hadn’t chosen the seat as a joke.
“Why here?” she asked.
He considered his answer for a moment, then said with perfect calm, “I want to show you off.”
Eunju blinked. She had heard the words, but they didn’t register immediately. I want to show you off. Because they were spoken so quietly, they sank even deeper. They weren’t rough. They weren’t a command. They weren’t a joke either. After saying it, Minjun touched his water glass as though he himself was a little surprised by the words.
She remained standing, watching him. “Me?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “If that sounds strange—”
“It does,” she said immediately.
He fell silent. After studying his face for a moment, Eunju slowly sat down. She wasn’t fleeing into the chair. She wanted to hear a little more. She didn’t know why. She adjusted her posture, feeling the hem of the pants ride even higher across her thighs, and picked up the menu because she didn’t know where else to put her hands. The printed words refused to focus.
Minjun watched her for a long time. His gaze held tension more than excitement. He didn’t look like a man making a demand. He looked like someone checking the weight of the words he had just spoken.
“I don’t fully understand it myself,” he said.
“What?”
“What I just said.”
Eunju kept the menu in her hands and looked at him. Because his back was to the hall, he couldn’t see who might be watching them. But she could. The tables. The beer glasses. The men’s shoulders. The occasional glances that slid their way. Those gazes were still distant, yet not entirely unrelated.
Minjun continued, “I want to know what happens inside me when other people’s eyes land on you.”
Eunju couldn’t answer. His voice was low. Careful, as always. But the content was not careful. Or rather, he was carefully bringing out feelings that were not careful. That shook her more than anything.
“Why do you want to know that?” she asked.
He gave a very brief smile. It was closer to awkwardness than amusement. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know again?”
“Right. I still don’t know.”
He was honest. That honesty made it harder for her to avoid the subject. If he had been a man who clearly understood his own desires, she might have grown angry. But right now Minjun looked clumsy in front of his own heart. He didn’t seem like a long-married husband. He seemed like the male friend from long ago who had listened to her dating stories and pretended to be fine. A man who wanted but could not demand. A man who felt uncomfortable but could not walk away. A man who simply placed the strange trembling that had arisen inside him carefully before her.
Looking at that face, Eunju felt her heart soften a little. “What if I said I hated it?”
“Then we’d change seats.” His answer was immediate.
“Really?”
“Yes.” He looked straight at her. “This is my curiosity. It’s not something you have to endure.”
Eunju rubbed the edge of the menu with her fingertips. The answer eased her mind. At the same time it somehow made her more embarrassed. Because he wasn’t pushing her, the choice remained with her. She could end it by saying she hated it, yet she couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
At that moment laughter rose from the hall. Eunju reflexively looked over. One of the men holding a beer glass was laughing at something his companion said. At the end of the laugh his gaze touched her for an instant. It was truly brief. But she didn’t miss it. The man quickly turned back to his own table. Still, Eunju already knew exactly where his eyes had traveled—her face, her shoulders, the upper part of her chest, the legs continuing beneath the table. She let out a slightly delayed breath.
Minjun hadn’t seen the moment; his back was turned. But he saw her expression. “Just now?” he asked.
Eunju pressed her lips together. If she answered, the incident would become real between them. If she stayed silent, it could remain something that had simply passed. After a brief hesitation she gave a small nod. “Yes.”
Minjun’s eyes changed—just a little. It wasn’t jealousy or anger. It was the eyes of someone confirming something for the first time. “Did you see it?” she asked.
“No.” He answered honestly. “But your face changed.”
That flustered her even more. It was more embarrassing that Minjun noticed what she had seen than that someone had looked at her. She lifted the water glass to her lips. In the cool air of the beer hall the glass felt less cold than her hands. The water sliding down her throat had almost no taste.
Minjun spoke softly. “Tell me.”
She looked at him. “Tell you what?”
“What you felt.”
Her face reddened. “How am I supposed to say something like that?”
“If you can’t, you don’t have to.” He retreated immediately. That was so like him. Because he retreated, she hesitated longer. In the end she spoke very quietly. “The man over there looked at me.”
Minjun grew still, as though he had stopped breathing. With her eyes fixed on the menu, Eunju continued. “Just for a second.”
“Where?”
The question was careful. Yet to Eunju’s ears it sounded terribly direct. She pretended to read a line on the menu. “First my face.”
He waited. She lowered her voice even further. “Then… my clothes.”
“Yes.”
“And my legs.”
After speaking she closed her mouth. The short report somehow warmed the inside of her body even more. She could hardly believe what she had just said. She was describing to her husband where another man had looked at her. In the middle of a small beer hall, no less.
Minjun remained silent for a long time. Eunju glanced at him cautiously. He didn’t look angry. If anything he looked so focused that his face had gone slightly pale. He seemed like a man determined not to miss whatever emotion was rising inside him. Looking at that face, Eunju understood. Minjun was truly experimenting. Not testing her, but confirming himself. The moment his wife caught someone’s gaze. The moment he heard about it from her own mouth. What rose inside him then. He wanted to experience it.
Eunju didn’t completely understand that heart. But she thought she could sense its shape. He didn’t want to lose her. Rather, it seemed he was confirming again, through the reflection of other eyes, the Eunju he had kept beside him for so long without truly seeing. The method was strange and unsettling, yet at the same time somehow pitiful.
“Does it feel strange?” she asked.
He nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“Is it bad?”
Once again he couldn’t answer right away. Watching that silence, Eunju’s heartbeat quickened. The sounds inside the beer hall suddenly receded, then rushed close again—clinking glasses, chairs scraping, someone calling out an order, the tiny tightening of Minjun’s fingertips on the table. She heard each one.
“It’s not only bad,” he finally managed.
The moment she heard the answer, the hand resting on her knee curled slightly. She had expected those words. Or rather, she had hoped not to expect them. Yet when they came, something inside her opened quietly. Not a frightening door, but one that had been closed so long she had forgotten the handle existed.
Minjun lowered his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“Because saying something like this must seem strange to you.”
She looked at him. His face truly looked sorry. A man who could not hide his guilt even while speaking his desire. Seeing that expression, Eunju’s heart grew strangely calm.
“It is strange,” she said.
He lifted his head. She gave a very small smile. “But the fact that you’re strange doesn’t make me hate it.”
His eyes trembled. Having started, she continued a little further. “Because I’m strange too.”
The words were quiet, but they settled clearly between them. Minjun didn’t ask more. Eunju didn’t explain further. That was enough.
A staff member approached to take their order. Eunju straightened her posture. Beneath the table she felt the hem of the short pants pull higher across her thighs again. The waiter was a young man, probably a college student. He stood with his order pad, glanced briefly at her. It wasn’t a rude look. But it wasn’t a look that turned away too quickly either. Eunju knew he had registered her outfit. The young waiter soon turned to Minjun and asked, “What can I get for you?”
Minjun ordered beer and snacks while looking at the menu. Eunju sat silently. Before the waiter turned away, his eyes brushed over her once more. This time it was even shorter. Truly brief. But she felt it too.
After the waiter left, Minjun asked softly, “Again?”
She looked at him slowly. He still hadn’t turned around. He was only watching her face. Eunju bit her lip lightly. It was becoming difficult to hide now. Perhaps because she had decided not to hide anymore. “Yes.”
“Where?”
She lowered her eyes. Beneath the table her knees drew closer together. “This time… the upper body.”
Minjun’s fingertips moved slightly. She saw that small reaction. Just that was enough to change the air between them. In the middle of the beer hall they were doing nothing. They weren’t holding hands. They weren’t leaning close. They were simply sitting across from each other. Yet Eunju felt as though she had been revealed to a far deeper place.
Someone else looks at her. She feels it. She tells Minjun. Minjun listens and examines the change inside himself. That simple process disturbed her insides in a strangely powerful way.
Beer glasses were placed on the table. The sound of foam sliding down was faintly audible. Eunju lifted her glass. Her hand trembled a little. Minjun saw it but said nothing. She took a sip. Cold foam touched her lips. Only then did she realize how long she had been tense.
Lifting his own glass, Minjun said, “If it’s too hard, we can stop.”
She set her glass down. Laughter rose from the hall again. This time Eunju didn’t turn her head. She simply looked at him. “Let’s stay a little longer.”
He gazed at her for a long time. She didn’t avoid his eyes. In that moment she understood that this seat was not only Minjun’s experiment. She wanted to know too—how far she could endure inside people’s gazes, how Minjun would accept it, and why watching him made her tremble more deeply. It still had no name. But the lack of a name didn’t mean the feeling wasn’t there.
Minjun nodded quietly. Beer glasses sat between them. Eunju sat facing the central hall. Minjun sat with his back to it. And that single seating arrangement drew a strangely clear line between the two of them tonight.