The Canvas Filled With Color
The day after the first shoot for Killing Horn, I arrived at the workshop I'd never seen before.
The door swung open the moment I pressed the doorbell, so I walked straight in—but the entryway was empty.
“…? Hello?”
When I greeted the empty air, a loud voice came back from somewhere deep inside.
“You're here? Sorry, I'm in the middle of—ah, jeez! Just come in!”
His usual calm tone was nowhere to be found; the voice was pure chaos.
I lined my shoes up neatly by the door and made my way in slowly.
This studio is huge.
Hadn't he said he painted in some cramped little space? Celebrities really couldn't be trusted.
Paintings lined the long hallway like an exhibition hall, hung one after another.
I've seen that one before.
Apparently everything from the exhibition had been moved here once it ended. I browsed my way through them one by one, and when I finally stepped inside, there he was at last—bathed in bright natural light.
“You made it. Sorry I couldn't come meet you.”
“……What are you doing?”
“Well… you said you were coming, so I tried cooking. It's my first time, so…”
Singer Kang Sehyun trailed off, looking sheepish. Even he seemed embarrassed to call the charred something sitting in front of us food.
I genuinely wondered how anyone could produce a result like that.
“You went to so much trouble for me. I'll eat well.”
“No. Don't eat that. It's inedible. I'll order delivery.”
“I can just scrape off the burnt parts, it's fine.”
I said it breezily and went to wash my hands. When I sat down at the already-set table, Kang Sehyun sat across from me a little awkwardly.
“By the way, why are you alone? Where's your manager?”
“Jinbae-hyung had a meeting. He said he'd come pick me up in the evening.”
“Ah, got it. Busy man. You had your first shoot yesterday too, didn't you? Thanks for coming today.”
“No, thank you for inviting me. I'll eat well.”
I picked up what appeared to be… pasta, and put a forkful in my mouth.
When I ate it without any visible reaction, Kang Sehyun hesitantly took a bite of the same thing.
“Ugh.”
And promptly spat it back out.
“……Tastes like garbage.”
Three seconds later, the words came drifting out of him, hollow and dazed. Looking at his own shocked face, I replied flatly.
“It's not quite that bad.”
“No, spit it out. Why are you eating that? Stop.”
When I brought my fork back to the plate, Kang Sehyun shot to his feet and snatched it away. I let him take it without resisting.
Honestly, I didn't have the confidence to eat it twice.
“Do you like pizza? Should I order some?”
“Yes. I'm not picky.”
Feeling guilty, since he'd at least put in the effort, I picked at something that looked like a finished product—pickles, maybe. Tasty.
“Ordered. They said thirty minutes. You must be starving. Sorry. I shouldn't have bothered cooking.”
“Please don't say that.”
First time cooking meant he wasn't someone who normally enjoyed it either. He'd already surprised me just by inviting me here—to think he'd even tried to cook for me with his own hands was hard to believe.
Doesn't it bother him? Having me around?
I watched quietly as Kang Sehyun fussed over the delivery timer. He knew, of course, that I was no ordinary middle schooler.
Director Yoon only knows that there's someone behind me, more or less.
But I'd handed Kang Sehyun an MP3 player that couldn't exist in this world. Not even someone with the most powerful connections alive could have pulled that off.
Wouldn't the normal reaction be to get chills? To find it strange, unsettling at the very least?
So why was he treating me like an old friend?
“Hyung, does knowing me not bother you?”
Curiosity got the better of me, and the question slipped out before I could stop it.
“…? Huh?”
“It's just strange, how comfortably you treat me. From your side, you have every reason to be uneasy.”
It was my first time in this studio. With no way of knowing what Kang Sehyun might have set up here, it was hard to be more explicit—so I'd phrased it carefully, and fortunately the meaning seemed to land.
The face that had been anxiously checking the delivery time shifted into an odd expression.
“……I'm not uncomfortable with you.”
Good to hear. I was about to let it go at that, but he added more.
“I know you're not an ordinary kid. I went back and forth over it at first, but… after a few days, I started thinking, so what? You saved me. That's what matters, isn't it?”
“I just helped out a little. 'Saved' is going a bit far—”
“No. You saved me. Without you, we wouldn't even be sitting here talking like this.”
The face across from me was calm and steady.
“Without you, the school violence mess never would've gotten resolved. I couldn't have filmed the drama after that. I never would have held that exhibition.”
“……”
“That's all I need to think about. As for the rest—you told me not to ask anyway, so I've just decided not to think about it.”
Kang Sehyun shrugged.
“So I'd like you to be comfortable with me too. If there's ever anything I can help with, I'll help anytime.”
“I'm already comfortable with you.”
“Like with your manager?”
“……”
My words caught in my throat. The man let out a hearty laugh, as if to say, see?
“Granted, I haven't done all that much for you yet, so wanting that much is greedy of me. But I happen to be greedier than I look. I'm asking for exactly that much.”
“……Why would that be greedy, though?”
He wanted to be someone I felt at ease around. What was greedy about that?
I asked out of genuine puzzlement, and he burst out laughing.
“Everyone around you is like that, aren't they? I'm just the same.”
It was a perfectly clear explanation, and it cleared up nothing. When my face said as much, Kang Sehyun told me that the expression I was making right now was the reason.
That made even less sense.
What on earth is he talking about?
I figured talking further wouldn't get us anywhere, so I let it go. At least he wasn't uncomfortable with me. That was a relief.
“Oh—that reminds me, I have something prepared for you. Perfect timing, actually.”
“…?”
Kang Sehyun, still wearing that easy grin, sprang to his feet. Then he handed me a canvas wrapped in thin paper. It was large enough that holding it with one hand would have been a struggle.
“Can I open it?”
“Of course. It's yours.”
It's mine?
At those words, my hands grew even more careful with the wrapping. Afraid something might go wrong, I peeled the tape off slowly, one strip at a time.
Only after all that time had passed could I finally face the canvas.
It was a painting with no discernible form—simply packed edge to edge with layer upon layer of paint. This was…
“……It's me, isn't it.”
It was me.
There was no human shape to it, but I knew instantly.
Kang Sehyun smiled brightly, as if he'd known I'd figure it out.
“Yeah. It's you.”
“……”
“I've been watching you for days, everything you put out. Honestly, I started painting because Twins moved me so much, but the heart wants what it wants. Somewhere along the way, I found myself thinking more about Goodbye, My Summer—about shooting it together.”
The painting held a whole spectrum of color.
The heavy, murky texture that brought to mind the dark riverside of Twins. The bright, sweeping brushstrokes that recalled the crisp sunlight of Goodbye, My Summer.
What had he been thinking about, filling this vast canvas from corner to corner?
For a moment, some indescribable feeling sealed my throat shut.
I stood there staring at the painting for several minutes before it belatedly occurred to me how rude I was being, and I finally bowed my head.
“Thank you, hyung. Really, thank you.”
“Mm. I'm glad you like it.”
Was I even allowed to receive a gift like this? An awkwardness crept over me, like I'd been handed something far beyond my station.
The funny thing was, I had no intention of letting go of it, either.
When I refused to take my hands off the painting—as if someone might snatch it away at any moment—Kang Sehyun laughed.
“Yeonjae. Set it down and eat your pizza first. You can take it home with you when you go.”
“Then should I leave it by the front door? So I don't forget it.”
“Hah—sure. Let's do that.”
The moment permission left his mouth, I dashed for the entryway. It felt wrong to set it on the floor, so after looking around, I placed it carefully on a table and came back.
“This pizza is really good.”
“Right?”
And the pizza was delicious indeed.
Kang Sehyun kept snickering the whole time I ate, at who knows what. I didn't even have the leisure to ask why he kept laughing.
My head was too full of the painting I'd just seen.
I want to take it home. Now.
Kang Sehyun's studio was quiet. No TV, no radio. In a living room without a single note of music, the only sound was the two of us eating.
And even in that calm stillness, my body felt like it was floating—weightless, untethered.
It was an unfamiliar feeling. And yet, lately, one I'd been feeling more and more.
A few hours later, singer Choi Injun arrived at the studio as well.
“Our Bambi! You've been well? It's been so long!”
“Hello.”
“That suit you wore at the awards ceremony was incredible. I even set it as my phone wallpaper!”
SPACE's youngest member, singer Choi Injun, was exactly the same as ever.
He's like a giant dog.
I didn't mean it as an insult. He genuinely resembled an enormous golden retriever—wagging a tail he didn't even have.
The one to rein him in was Sehyun-hyung.
“Injun, that's enough. We agreed you'd tone it down, remember?”
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
“It's fine.”
Things with Choi Injun had wrapped up awkwardly back then, but we'd been running into each other fairly often since. I'd been baffled by his apology for hurting me—until it belatedly clicked that it was about what he'd said at the Goodbye, My Summer company dinner.
That was ages ago. Who holds onto something like that?
He'd said he'd been spoiled as the baby of the group, that he'd acted immaturely, and that he'd be more careful going forward. I just told him not to worry about it.
After all, the confusion I'd felt seeing the two of them together like family was entirely my own problem.
At the time, watching them had brought Noh Bihyeok to mind, and then Jinbae-hyung, and I'd wondered what was wrong with me. But now I knew.
I'd been jealous of Choi Injun.
Which means I'm the one who should be apologizing.
We'd talked a lot since then, and Choi Injun had come to feel much more at ease. It was decided that Sehyun-hyung would rein him in whenever his fan devotion boiled over into too much—but honestly, this level was fine.
If I think of him as Biyeon…
Then if anything, I owed him thanks.
Which was exactly why I said it.
“Would you like some other photos from the awards ceremony? Not the ones I posted on the fan café.”
“Gasp! Are you serious?! That'd be amazing! Wow, thank you so much!”
Choi Injun's face lit up. I was sending him the photos by message when an unexpected remark reached my ears.
“Hey, Bambi. I met your friend recently? Bihyok.”
“……Really?”
“Yeah. Such a sweet kid—great manners. The two of us got so caught up talking about you, we lost track of time.”
Choi Injun beamed. Good to hear. Suddenly my mood had lifted.
“Bihyok loves SPACE, you know. Most of what I know about your songs, I learned sitting next to him. Please look out for him.”
I flashed a deliberately charming smile.
“Oh, you know I will! I already told him I'm buying him dinner next week!”
“Thank you. He loves dumplings, by the way.”
“Really? Then I should look for a good Chinese place.”
We were deep in a cozy, friendly back-and-forth when Sehyun-hyung cut in.
“Honestly, anyone watching would think you're his mother.”
“Bihyok says the same thing.”
I answered the joke half-heartedly. Then, as the three of us kept chatting, Choi Injun suddenly tilted his head.
“By the way, Bambi—doesn't that hat get stuffy? You can take it off here, you know.”
“Oh, this is attached to my wig.”
“Huh? Wig?”
Choi Injun's face sank deeper into confusion. Explaining it in words seemed more trouble than it was worth, so I simply raised my hand.
When I tugged the hat free along with the wig, it slid off smoothly—and my own hair popped out underneath.
“…!!!!”
“I dyed it for this role. Because of spoilers, my fans don't know yet, so… Hyung? Are you okay?”
Choi Injun's face had gone deathly pale.
I leaned in closer, worried, but he staggered backward instead. And three seconds later, a shriek unlike anything I'd ever heard split the room.