Page 115 of Scarbound

“I won’t bother you. But if you ever change your mind, I’m here. There are things I should have said years ago.”

Noeul finally looked at him.

Minho’s expression was different now. Older, perhaps. Less certain of himself. For a moment, Noeul wanted to ask what those things were. Instead, he shrugged indifferently and turned his attention back to his computer screen.

“We’ll see.”

Minho nodded and walked away. Noeul stared at the same line on his screen for almost a minute without understanding a single word. Damn it. He leaned back in his chair and released a slow breath.

For the rest of his shift, Noeul struggled to concentrate. He should have felt angry. Instead, beneath the anger, there was something else. Relief. Minho regretted what had happened. It didn’t erase anything. It certainly wasn’t enough for forgiveness. But it mattered.

By the end of his five-hour shift, his hands were aching and his head felt heavy, but he also felt a strange sense of satisfaction. His first day back at work was over. He had survived it. More than that, he had enjoyed parts of it.

Noeul pulled on his coat and glanced once more through the enormous windows. Seoul was beginning to glow beneath the fading spring light, thousands of windows illuminating one by one. For the first time in months, tomorrow didn’t feel entirely like something to endure.

Noeul wasn’t ready to forgive Minho. Maybe he never would be. Still, as he stepped into the elevator, he couldn’t deny the small spark of hope beneath all that resentment.

CHAPTER 40

Thankfully, Noeul had plans with Ji-Woo that evening, something that lifted his mood after the strange encounter with Minho. The exhibition, Visions of Light, was the latest show by the renowned Korean artist Kija. The moment they entered the grand hall, Noeul understood why it had received so much attention. Paintings, sculptures, and digital installations filled the space, each piece exploring light and shadow through color, texture, movement, and emotion.

Ji-Woo stopped almost immediately in front of one of the larger installations. “Hyung. You need to see this.”

Noeul walked over and stood beside him. The piece shifted slowly as they moved, light breaking across layered glass and throwing fragments of color against the wall.

Ji-Woo stared at it in fascination. “How do you even plan something like this?”

“You probably don’t. Not completely.”

“What do you mean?”

“You control the structure. The rest depends on the light, the viewer, the angle.” Noeul tilted his head, studying the reflections. “Maybe that’s the point.”

Ji-Woo’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I could try something like that for my portfolio.”

“Exactly.” Noeul nudged his shoulder gently. “I told you I’d help. We’ll go through everything together. But don’t copy what you see here. Think about what you like about it and make it yours.”

Ji-Woo nodded, already pulling out his phone to make a note. Noeul watched him with a faint smile. That alone made the evening worth it.

He had read several reviews of the exhibition before coming, but what stood before him was far more impressive than anything he had expected. The brothers took their time moving from one piece to another, sometimes debating the meaning, sometimes simply standing in silence. At one painting, Ji-Woo insisted the darkness represented grief.

“It’s not grief,” Noeul said.

Ji-Woo folded his arms. “Then what?”

“Restraint.”

Ji-Woo stared at the piece again. “That’s depressing.”

Noeul laughed softly. “You said grief.”

“Yeah, well, yours is worse.”

They were still arguing when a gentle voice spoke behind them. “It seems you’re enjoying the collection.”

Without turning around, Noeul answered enthusiastically, still studying the painting. “It’s incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

A soft laugh followed. “I’m glad you like my art.”