My Brother's Friend Wasn't Just a Man — Chapter 18

"Honestly."

Lee-jin gave a small snort, not taking Kang-hyun's words the least bit seriously.

"Fine, then—when I grow up, you can marry into my family."

Back in their school days, Kang-hyun used to say things like that all the time. Of course, he'd only tossed the words out as a joke when Seo Lee-hwan wasn't around.

Which was probably why Lee-jin took his remark as nothing but a joke.

It hadn't been a joke. It had been dead serious. Kang-hyun clicked his tongue inwardly and asked,

"What? Isn't a perfect man your ideal type?"

She had brushed off his words as teasing, so for now he had to play along with the bit.

Still, curiosity was one thing he couldn't just let slide. Wrapping his question in a light quip, he asked the one thing he most wanted to know.

"Hmm, it's not that I dislike the idea or anything. But Lee-hwan oppa used to go on and on about it…"

At the mention of Seo Lee-hwan's name, Kang-hyun felt an odd prickle of discomfort.

"What did Lee-hwan say?"

So Lee-jin explained the brainwashing education she'd received from her overprotective brother years ago.

"Seo Lee-jin, listen carefully. First of all, be wary of all men. The only thing those bastards ever have on their minds is the same old filth."

"You're a man too, oppa."

"I am. I'm a man, sure, but to you I'm not a man—I'm your oppa. So gender doesn't come into it."

"Then who am I supposed to date?"

When she glared at him as if to ask whether he wanted her to date only women, Lee-hwan had stammered and flailed.

"First, a guy who's too handsome is out—he'll make his face a burden. And a guy with a great education, a good family, money, everything going for him—also out."

"Why?"

"Because those guys are insufferable, that's why!"

Hearing the full account of the brainwashing Lee-hwan had once subjected his sister to, Kang-hyun let out a low groan.

The more he thought about it, the more it sounded exactly like a speech aimed squarely at him.

It was chilling to consider how long Seo Lee-hwan had operated with him as his sworn enemy.

"That kind of talk, you just let it go in one ear and out the other. I'm sure it was all pure jealousy—of anyone who can do everything well."

"You think so?"

Seeing longing settle into Lee-jin's eyes, Kang-hyun sighed and went on.

"If Lee-hwan were alive today, his thinking would've changed. Maybe guys who had it all were annoying back in our school days, but now that he'd tasted the true fruits of capitalism, he'd welcome one with open arms. He'd probably have told you never, ever to let a man like me slip away."

"Hmm, that sounds oddly like your own personal wish, oppa."

"Well, I can't say it isn't."

When Kang-hyun shrugged, Lee-jin burst into quiet laughter.

"Straight down this way and you'll find the studio. Look around, work on whatever you like—your call. I'll call you when dinner's ready."

"Okay, thank you."

Lee-jin hesitated, wondering whether she really ought to leave all the dinner prep to Kang-hyun, but deciding it was a waste to let the hours slip away idle, she headed for the studio.

The room that had stood empty on her last visit to Cheongjukje had been transformed into a workspace.

"Wow…"

Lee-jin's awe was completely unfeigned. The studio, modeled on her own workshop, had everything she could possibly need.

Not only were the tools arranged along an efficient workflow, but there were several different kinds of clay as well.

What am I going to do? If I get used to working here, my own workshop is going to feel shabby. With a mixture of delight and dismay, Lee-jin reached out and touched the clay.

Pottery requires preparatory work before shaping can begin.

The clay has to go through a process called wedging—kneading it until the moisture and particles are perfectly even—before it will fire properly without defects.

Clay that hasn't been properly wedged traps air pockets, which expand in the kiln and cause pieces to crack, bulge, or lose their form. That's why wedging was intimately tied to the lifespan of any ceramic piece.

In the old days, potters would lay the clay on the ground and knead it with their feet, but technology had advanced, and now a vacuum pugmill did the work—feed the clay into the machine, and out comes a perfectly de-aired roll, like a tube of rice cake dough.

The studio held two of them: one for white porcelain and one for celadon. Lee-jin lost all track of time inspecting the machines.

Knock, knock. A knock sounded and the door swung open. Kang-hyun, who had come to call her to dinner and forgotten his own purpose in the moment, burst out laughing—because Lee-jin greeted him with a flushed, glowing face.

"Oppa, how did you get better machines than the ones at my workshop?"

Kang-hyun loved seeing Lee-jin beam at him so radiantly, and yet at the same time he felt a flicker of bitterness. The thought that his own existence might never outrank a vacuum pugmill in her affections, that's what did it.

To make Seo Lee-jin smile like this, next time he'd apparently have to produce a handmade wood-fired kiln.

"Couldn't exactly bring in a precious artisan without outfitting the place properly."

When Kang-hyun shrugged as if it were nothing, Lee-jin's eyes lit up.

"Nothing, my foot. This is this year's newest model! The pugmill at my workshop is getting on in years, I suppose. Now that I've tried it, there's no denying the new ones are better."

It was rare for Lee-jin to chatter on like this. Kang-hyun hid a smile as he walked over and tugged loose the strings of her apron.

Her hands were covered in clay, so she couldn't stop him right away; she just blinked at him, wide-eyed.

Meanwhile, Kang-hyun slipped the apron off her and said,

"Dinner's going to get cold with you dawdling in here. Come eat first."

"Oh? Oh, okay."

Peeling off her apron, steadying her waist, smoothing back the strands of hair that had come loose—every touch of his hands was as fluid and natural as flowing water.

But wherever his fingers landed, Lee-jin felt a rush of heat, and she stiffened awkwardly.

From the outside, of course, it must have looked as though she were simply being careful not to smear her clay-covered hands on him. Determined not to show her nerves, she hurried to the sink and washed up.

When she reached the dining room, the table was laid out neatly with everything Kang-hyun had prepared. The spread looked fit for a year-end party, and Lee-jin stared in astonishment.

"You really made all this yourself?"

"What, you think I've got a secret wife stashed away in the kitchen or something?"

Kang-hyun smirked and seated her at the table. Her gaze darted busily between the food and his face.

A mouthwatering steak, salmon en papillote, rigatoni pasta, mussels in cream sauce, a salad with lemon-garlic dressing—dishes of every color filled the table to bursting.

"You're amazing, oppa."

Watching her genuine admiration, Kang-hyun couldn't resist showing off.

"Right? I wonder why I'm so incredible. There really is nothing I can't do."

The moment he said it, somehow, all her tension dissolved.

What is that even supposed to mean. Lee-jin gave a wry little smile and started eating. With the wine Kang-hyun brought out, the two of them dined in warm, cozy contentment.

"I'll do the dishes."

When the meal was over, Lee-jin began gathering the plates, insisting that cleanup was her job.

"I'm here as your caretaker, remember?"

Kang-hyun insisted just as firmly that it was his.

"I can at least wash the dishes."

"Then let's do it together."

After the back-and-forth, they finally settled on cleaning up side by side. The division of labor worked out so that Lee-jin scrubbed with dish soap while Kang-hyun rinsed.

Standing shoulder to shoulder at the sink, both were surprised to find their movements falling into seamless rhythm.

Lee-jin stole a glance at Kang-hyun.

The strong, corded muscles of his forearms, his solid build, the height that made her tilt her chin up just to meet his eyes, the profile carved like a sculpture—it kept dragging her gaze back against her will.

Fine, maybe he's earned the right to call himself perfect. But watching someone that flawless do the dishes—the sheer absurdity of it kept prying laughs out through the gaps in her composure.

Catching her stifled giggles, Kang-hyun narrowed his eyes.

"Mm, so I take it our Lee-jin's type is a man doing the dishes?"

"Sure. Let's go with that."

She nodded along obligingly, laughing—but Kang-hyun saw through her with pinpoint accuracy: she was teasing him right now. A crooked, mischievous smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Then if a man doing the dishes seduces you, do you fall for it?"

Kang-hyun asked, boxing her in between his arms.

Back in the studio, she'd been unable to move with clay on her hands; now, suds made her just as helpless.

"Huh?"

While Lee-jin was still catching up, his lips drew so close they might touch her at any second.

The water she'd left running hissed on, splashing loudly into the basin all by itself.

"W-wait, hold on…"

As Lee-jin fumbled helplessly with her sudsy hands, Kang-hyun took them and placed them under the faucet.

The sensation of his long fingers lacing through hers was strangely intimate. Because he was holding her hands as if embracing her from behind, their bodies pressed close together. Thump, thump—a heart, though whose it might be, pounded loud enough to hear.

After washing Lee-jin's hands thoroughly, Kang-hyun shut off the faucet that had been noisily gushing. Then he grinned and said,

"We should conserve water. It looks like we won't be finishing the dishes anytime soon."

"Why… not?"

What does he mean, we won't be finishing the dishes? When Lee-jin asked blankly, Kang-hyun kindly explained, his face all smiles.

"Because I intend to kiss you starting now."