CHAPTER VIII

JI-HOON

I love design and space.

There's something fascinating about how buildings and structures interact with human behaviour. It's not just about walls or windows – it's about how people move, feel, and live within the space I create.

It's early October, and I've decided to participate in the Seoul Architecture Festival, which takes place at the end of the month. I was the runner-up in my university's architecture competitions during my first two years, but this time, I want to aim higher. My professors encouraged me, saying the experience alone would make me grow.

But that's not why I'm participating.

"What kind of designs would suit her?" That thought alone has dominated my mind while working on my project.

I've been thinking a lot during these three months. Min-Seok always says I can't keep running from my issues, and maybe he's right. Eventually, I'll exhaust myself. Might as well face them one at a time.

My mother? That's a wound too deep to fix right now.

Eun-ji? She's not really an issue anymore, though she might have been once. She's not here, so she can wait too.

That leaves her. Sana.

After I poured my heart out to Min-Seok that night at the club, I went back to the park. I sat on the same bench, scanning the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Nothing. Not even a shadow of her. Disappointment hit hard, but considering how long it took me to return, it was expected.

I should've at least asked for her number when she'd asked me if we'd meet again. If you ask me why I fell so suddenly for her, I wouldn't have an answer. I just did.

She's beautiful, no doubt. But it's more than that. She seems fragile, like a gust of wind could break her, and yet, there's a quiet strength about her. She feels unshakable, like even an earthquake wouldn't uproot her.

I want to see her again. I need to. Things might not go the way I hope if we meet, but I'll take the risk.

I'm sitting in my studio when my phone buzzes. A text message flashes on the screen from an unregistered number I know all too well. I frown at it, then put the phone back in my pocket.

That's when Min-Seok barges in, as if he owns the place.

"Why are you staring at your phone like it insulted you?" he asks, throwing himself onto the couch like it's his personal throne.

"Give me back my keys," I say, turning my attention to the sketch on my drafting table.

He scoffs. "No way. Who's going to check on you if not me? And since you're not married, there's no harm in me barging in."

"You are awfully idle for a third-year," I reply dryly.

"Says the guy buried in designs," he shots back, smirking. "For your information, I've been working on my portfolio since my first year. I know how to balance my time, unlike someone."

"Good for you," I mutter.

Min-Seok gets comfortable, stretching out. "You stopped coming to the club. Not that you need to, but your fanbase there is still growing, you know."

"I'm busy," I reply simply.

The room falls quiet until Min-Seok finally breaks the silence. "So, what were you looking at on your phone?"

"Money," I say, setting my pencil down.

It takes him a moment to connect the dots. "From your dad?"

I nod without looking at him.

"Until when will he keep this up?

I shrug. "Don't know. Don't care."

"Man, your life sure is eventful," he jokes, though his voice carries a hint of sympathy.

"We can trade, if you want," I reply flatly.

"Nah, I'm good. But my old man's still in touch with him. You know, since they were college buddies."

I say nothing, keeping my focus on my sketch.

"You should really settle things with him," Min-Seok continues.

"I tried. He doesn't listen. Pretending he's dead is easier since he won't stay out of my life. He's always been selfish – regretting things only after they fall apart."

"When did you last talk to him?"

"Four years ago. Maybe five. Who cares?" I snap. "If you're going to keep talking about him, see yourself out."

Min-Seok raises his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. No more dad talk."

The room falls into an awkward silence before Min-Seok speaks again. "How far are you on your designs?"

"Almost done," I reply. "Just some finishing touches."

"Still no news from your 'park girl'?"

I stiffen, and Min-Seok bursts out laughing at my expression.

"Anyway," he says, tossing two tickets onto the table. "Here. Art exhibition tickets. We're doing a campus feature on young artists, and this is the big one. Apparently, the second-year ace is showcasing her stuff."

I pick up the ticket reluctantly, turning it over in my hand. The design was simple yet elegant. "Tomorrow night?

"Yeah. Who knows?" he continues. "Maybe seeing her work will inspire you or help you get over your elusive park girl."

It was titled 'Amor Fati', displayed in bold letters, followed by the artist's name: 'My Inner Light'. I frowned. Something about those names tugged at my heart, but I'm not really interested. If not Sana, I don't care to meet anyone else.

"I'm not going-"

"Oh, you ARE going," Min-Seok interrupts, grinning. "I need you there, and you can't say no."

"Fine," I sigh. "Just stop talking."

"Great!" he says, smirking as he sprawls on the couch.

…

After Min-Seok left, I stepped out of my studio to pour myself a glass of water from the kitchen. Stretching out my arms, I made my way to the balcony, craving a breath of fresh air after being cooped up in doors all day.

The condo was quiet, the kind of stillness I usually welcomed, but tonight it felt different – heavy, maybe. The place itself was a reflection of my life: practical, minimalist, and efficient, but not without its comforts.

Located on the top floor, the condo had two bedrooms. The master bedroom was simple, with an en-suite bathroom and a modest dressing area. The other room served as my studio, its walls adorned with sketches, blueprints, and the occasional failed models I hadn't thrown out. A small couch sat in the corner of the studio, where Min-Seok had been sprawled earlier, as if my space was some kind of community lounge.

The living room opened up to the balcony where I now stood, the city lights below twinkling like stars. The kitchen, though compact, was modern and neat, its clean lines blending with the overall aesthetic of the place. This condo was my sanctuary, a space designed for work and solitude.

Leaning on the railing of the balcony, my thoughts drifted to what Min-Seok said earlier before I'd all but shoved him out of the house.

"Maybe, just maybe, you can try to forgive your old man. I mean, it couldn't have been easy for him either. Do it for you. Not for him. You can enjoy some inner peace, Ji-Hoon."

I shook my head. Forgiveness? It's too easy for the shit he pulled on us. Too easy for everything he put me through. Forgiveness wouldn't bring her back to life.

A lump rose in my throat as my fingers tightened around the railing.

No, I wasn't ready to think about him. Maybe I'd never be.

Sighing I stepped back inside, placing my glass in the sink before returning to my studio.

I sat back at my desk, staring at the nearly finished design in front of me. I don't know about others, but I like how it had come together.

The project was called 'Harmonia', a space inspired by the delicate interplay between chaos and serenity. It wasn't just a building – it was an experience.

The centrepiece was a multi-functional structure designed to merged nature with modern architecture, standing as a beacon of renewal in the heart of city. The design incorporated a spiraling structure that began at ground level, inviting people in with a wide, open plaza surrounded by lush greenery. As the structure ascended, it transitioned into terraced gardens and small open galleries, offering spaces for reflection and creativity.

The apex of the building featured a glass-enclosed observatory surrounded by greenery, creating an oasis above the bustling city.

What made it unique wasn't just its form but its function. The building was meant to adapt to its users – offering spaces for art exhibits, small performances, or simply quiet solitude. Sustainability was a core element; the building would utilize natural light, rainwater harvesting, and renewable energy sources, aligning with Seoul's push toward eco-conscious development.

The design materials were a deliberate choice: recycled wood and steel paired with innovative glass technology to blur the lines between indoors and outdoors.

It wasn't about perfection; it was about creating harmony, a space where people could feel connected to themselves, each other, and the environment.

More than anything, it was personal. The structure embodied what I'd been wrestling with for months – a space for both connection and escape, for healing and inspiration. A balance of strength and fragility.

It embodied her. Sana.