The Potter's Wheel
“Nice to meet you. I'm Moon Kang-hyun.”
Kang-hyun offered his hand first.
“Ah, Cha Ji-hoon. You wouldn't happen to be the architect Moon Kang-hyun, would you?”
Ji-hoon asked as he clasped the outstretched hand.
Kang-hyun's face was fairly well known, his work having appeared from time to time in magazines and online articles, and Ji-hoon had evidently recognized him.
“That's me. Seeing as you recognize me, I take it you have an interest in architecture.”
“Well, you're famous enough in that field.”
Ji-hoon shrugged with a distinctly disgruntled expression, as if to say he regretted knowing it at all — that he'd learned it against his will and couldn't help himself.
He looked back and forth between Lee-jin and Kang-hyun, then asked, eyes flashing with sudden realization, “Don't tell me — the project you took on recently, it's connected to this place?”
“How did you know? I don't think anyone's mentioned that yet.”
Lee-jin nodded along readily, and Kang-hyun savored the flicker of wounded pride that crossed Ji-hoon's eyes at the same moment.
The match had been decided the instant 'brother's senior' became 'my senior' — it had been foretold from the start. With an easy, unhurried gaze, Kang-hyun asked Lee-jin what had brought Ji-hoon by.
“Ji-hoon sunbae just became a professor at our alma mater. He offered me a position as an adjunct lecturer, but I was in the middle of turning him down because of our contract.”
“Right. Can't be done — 'because of our contract.'”
Kang-hyun seized the words she'd offered without a shred of ulterior motive and pressed down on them like a full stop. Watching this, Ji-hoon's face darkened sharply.
She treated that man with an ease she never showed him, and somehow it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“Well, it's a good opportunity anyway. Take a look at the paperwork. I should get going.”
He hurriedly gathered his things.
“Leaving already? You haven't even finished your coffee…”
Lee-jin tilted her head, puzzled. Not once had he cut a meeting with Ji-hoon this short.
“I came to drop this off. Coffee can wait for next time. See you.”
“Oh — right. See you then.”
Kang-hyun watched Lee-jin see Ji-hoon out and smirked to himself.
Next time, was it? Fleeing with his tail between his legs right in front of him, and still promising a next time. How charming.
His eyes went cold and still.
“Do you want coffee too, oppa?”
But at the sound of her voice, his eyes curved soft and warm again.
“Sure. Pour me one.”
“One sec.”
While Lee-jin went to get the coffee, Kang-hyun picked up the cup Ji-hoon had been drinking from, carried it to the sink, and dumped out what was left. Then he scrubbed the cup until it squeaked and put it away on the highest shelf, far out of sight.
“It's nice that we don't take reservations — I have so much free time.”
Lee-jin said this as they sat across from each other drinking their coffee. Then she remembered she'd never asked why he'd come, and belatedly posed the question. “Oh, right — what brings you here at this hour?”
“Nothing much. I had time to kill, and I was curious what you were up to.”
Kang-hyun said it breezily enough, but after his meeting with Jin Ae-ran, his feet had carried him to the workshop almost on instinct, a way of untangling the mess in his head.
Only, when he arrived, some other man was already laying claim to her time.
He'd walked in pretending to know nothing, but in truth he'd already read the room and sized up the situation before he ever stepped inside.
He'd succeeded in chasing off one of the flies buzzing around her — all things considered, mission accomplished.
“Oppa… sometimes I honestly can't tell if you're busy or not.”
Lee-jin wore a puzzled expression.
One moment he gave off the air of a grizzled old corporate hand, the next he seemed like an idle loafer with nowhere to be. He was impossible to pin down.
“Mostly busy. Mostly not.”
“What kind of answer is that?”
As Lee-jin broke into a soft laugh, Kang-hyun's gaze deepened for just a moment before settling back into easy nonchalance.
“I'm going to start working up a sweat myself, actually. What are you going to do?”
It was a question of whether he'd stay in the workshop or head home.
“Can't I just stay and work alongside you? I've always wanted to try making a pot. If I learn it a little at a time, I could even be your assistant.”
“I didn't know you were interested in ceramics, oppa?”
Lee-jin fundamentally loved to teach.
She was the sort of person who found joy simply in sharing the thing she loved most — pottery — with someone else.
“You'll want to bring a change of work clothes next time. Today can't be helped.”
Lee-jin said this after giving Kang-hyun's immaculate outfit a once-over.
“It's fine. If it gets dirty, I'll wash it.”
Kang-hyun shrugged carelessly and rolled up his sleeves. Lee-jin went to fetch a work apron.
Kang-hyun held his head out toward her without a word.
When he offered his head so naturally — not taking the apron, clearly expecting her to put it on him — she hesitated a moment before looping it over him.
And in the process, her fingertips grazed his hair and the curve of his ear.
“Thanks.”
Grinning, Kang-hyun tied the strings at his back and headed toward the wheel in the workroom.
The sensation lingering on her fingertips felt strangely charged, but since Kang-hyun acted as if nothing had happened, Lee-jin shook off the awkward feeling at once.
Having set the pre-prepared clay on the wheel, Lee-jin walked him through the basic shaping technique.
“This is more fun than I expected.”
As the wheel turned, the clay shifted and reshaped itself under Kang-hyun's hands. His enthusiasm lifted Lee-jin's mood along with it.
“You can't make a perfect shape from the start, so practice it over and over. The balance and symmetry will get easier to nail down each time.”
“Yes, teacher.”
At his sly drawl, a smile bloomed at the corner of Lee-jin's mouth.
She'd pressed in close to show him how to work the wheel, and now the two of them were nearly face to face.
Their eyes met, dead on.
The instant stretched long and taut, as though time itself had stopped. Lee-jin had never experienced anything like it, and she panicked.
Watching her blink rapidly, Kang-hyun smiled slyly. “Teacher? I think this one's ruined.”
At his words, Lee-jin snapped back to her senses and looked down at the wheel.
The pot that had been passable moments ago was completely collapsed.
“Ah…”
She let out a groan and stopped the wheel.
“I'll have to start over.”
She smoothed the clay down with a sheepish smile.
“I still haven't got the feel for it. Show me again.”
He held out his hands. Lee-jin didn't immediately understand, and simply stared at them blankly.
“Help me out, will you, teacher?”
He waved his hands again, like a coach summoning a student. Only then did she realize he was asking her to guide his hands while he shaped the clay.
Brushing against a student's hands was common enough in wheel-throwing lessons.
And yet, for some reason, contact with Kang-hyun's hands in particular made her hesitate.
It had been the same when her fingertips grazed his hair and his ear. Nothing intended, nothing done — and still a subtle tension crept into her, her whole body going taut.
But she couldn't very well keep ignoring the hands he held out. Letting out a short breath, she laid hers over his.
“All right — like this. Slowly, we shape it up.”
Shaking off her tangled thoughts, Lee-jin held his hands and worked diligently at refining the shape of the pot.
Kang-hyun answered like a model student and played the eager learner — while his eyes stayed busy, drinking in her lowered lashes and the faint flutter of her lips.
Of course, he betrayed none of it, so he looked for all the world like a man paying close attention to his lesson.
“Now — try it on your own.”
She let go of his hands. He mourned the receding warmth for a heartbeat, but kept it off his face and answered brightly, “Yes, teacher. I think I've got it now.”
Lee-jin chuckled and took a step back from him.
Kang-hyun worked the pot into a decent shape, then pulled his hands away and frowned slightly, as though something about it bothered him.
So Lee-jin stepped in again to correct the imperfect parts.
When she bent over the wheel, her pinned-up hair came loose and spilled down past her shoulders.
Kang-hyun reached out as if to sweep the fallen strands behind her ear.
But his hands were covered in clay, and a smear of it was left on her cheek.
“Ah, oops… what do I do now?”
Kang-hyun smiled with artless innocence, as though nothing could be further from his intentions.
Self-conscious about the fingers that had touched her cheek and withdrawn, Lee-jin wiped at it with the back of her hand.
But her hand was just as clay-covered, and it left an even bigger smudge behind.
“Ah…”
Only then realizing it, Lee-jin groaned. In the early days of learning pottery, getting clay all over your face had happened constantly.
Once she'd grown used to the work, it had almost never happened anymore.
“It's fine. I'll wash it off later.”
She was waving it off when Kang-hyun suddenly leaned in close.
“Here — put some on my face too. That makes it fair.”
He stuck his face out at her, all but daring her to do as she pleased, and closed his eyes.
Thick brows, dense lashes, a proud straight nose, sensual lips, the clean masculine line of his jaw…
Faced with that heartbreakingly handsome face, Lee-jin swallowed, dry-mouthed, before she could stop herself.