이 포스팅은 쿠팡 파트너스 활동의 일환으로, 이에 따른 일정액의 수수료를 제공받습니다.
# Chapter 67: Min-jun’s Past
Eun-seo opened the door to Min-jun’s pottery studio at six in the morning. The earthy scent of clay tickled her nose. The workshop was still dim, and through the window, the mist rising from the Han River was barely visible.
Min-jun was already seated at his workbench. His fingers rolled slowly across the damp clay. When Eun-seo sat beside him, he turned his head.
“You came. Wash your hands and we’ll start.”
His voice was always so measured. But now Eun-seo could read what lay beneath that composure—anxiety, and a small hope.
The moment her wet hands touched the clay, her shoulders relaxed. The soft earth seeped between her fingers. Min-jun gently took her hand beside her.
“Loosen your grip. The clay will push back against you if you force it.”
The studio was quiet. The low hum of the wheel. The breath of two people. The subtle friction of clay spinning beneath their hands.
Time passed. Without realizing it, Eun-seo surrendered herself to the clay’s movement. Her mind grew still. No—not still, but something else. Her heartbeat matching the clay’s rhythm.
“Do you see it?”
Min-jun spoke in a hushed voice, his face still turned toward the workbench.
“See what?”
“The clay accepting you. Once it does, you can accept the clay.”
Eun-seo didn’t answer. Instead, she focused harder on her hands. She felt the texture of the clay through her fingertips—neither cold nor warm. Neutral. Yet somehow alive.
Beyond the studio, sounds from the riverside drifted in. The footsteps of early morning joggers. A distant bus horn.
Two hours later, Eun-seo’s piece was finished. It wasn’t perfect. One side was slightly thicker, and the rim was a bit crooked. But it was the shape her hands had made.
Min-jun lifted it carefully.
“This is good.”
That was all his praise. Eun-seo nearly laughed at his words. No one had ever accepted her imperfection so simply.
“Min-jun.”
“Hmm.”
“Were you always this good at it?”
Min-jun stood and walked to wash his hands. Water poured from the faucet. His hands were stained black with clay.
“No. I started when I was ten, but back then I was just throwing clay around.”
“So when did you—”
“High school? Maybe after that?”
Min-jun’s words trailed off. Eun-seo watched his expression. His jaw tightened slightly. He reached for the towel more slowly than usual.
“Min-jun… did something difficult happen?”
Min-jun fell silent for a long time. The pottery wheel in the studio slowly came to a stop. Clay dust drifted in the sunlight before settling gently.
“Want to take a walk along the river?”
His answer was a question. Eun-seo nodded.
The riverside sparkled in the morning light. The scent of the river—mixed with a hint of earth—filled the air. Min-jun and Eun-seo walked side by side along the path.
“Do you come here often?”
“Every day. Every morning.”
“Why?”
Min-jun gazed at the Han River. The water shattered the sunlight into fragments.
“To sort through my thoughts.”
Eun-seo slowed her pace. Min-jun naturally matched her speed.
“Do you want to know about my past?”
Eun-seo’s heart sank. Min-jun’s eyes remained fixed on the river.
“I can tell you if you want to know. If you don’t… that’s okay too.”
“…I want to know.”
Her voice was small.
For the first time, Min-jun looked directly at Eun-seo.
“Then let’s sit.”
They sat on a bench facing the Han River.
“My name wasn’t always Min-jun.”
Eun-seo’s breath caught.
“Until I was eighteen, I lived under a different name.”