Episode 3: The Beginning of Maybe

As the trio made their way toward the lecture hall, the crisp spring air carried the scent of fresh blooms from the garden near the faculty building. The sky was a gentle blue, clouds drifting lazily overhead, and Eunji felt a strange sense of calm wash over her.

Their footsteps echoed in the hallway as they entered the building, mingling with the buzz of students filing into classrooms. As they climbed the stairs to the third floor, her fingers brushed against the edge of the sketchbook tucked beneath her arm. It was nearly full—pages crammed with drawings, ideas, splashes of color that she hadn't dared to share with anyone beyond her professor.

The art room was already half full when they arrived. Easels lined the walls, and the scent of turpentine and charcoal lingered in the air. She nodded to a few classmates and made her way to her usual spot by the windows.

Professor Kang, an older woman with short-cropped gray hair and a sharp eye for detail, was setting up at the front. "Morning, everyone," she said, not bothering to wait for silence. "Today, we're doing something a little different. I want each of you to pick one piece—just one—and talk us through it. What it means. Why you made it. Where it came from. No hiding behind vague metaphors this time."

There was a quiet murmur of groans and nervous laughter across the room, but Eunji felt her heart skip. One piece? She flipped through her sketchbook, pages blurring past until her eyes landed on one she hadn’t looked at in weeks.

It was a charcoal sketch—minimalist, raw. A girl sitting alone at a cafe table, her hands folded tightly in her lap, surrounded by a blur of empty chairs and ghostly outlines of passersby. It wasn’t perfect. In fact, she’d never intended to show it to anyone. But somehow, it captured something real—something true.

Her name was called third. She stood, sketchbook in hand, and walked to the front of the room. The moment felt stretched thin, her pulse echoing in her ears. She clipped the sketch to the board and turned to face the class.

“This piece…” She paused, surprised at how tight her throat felt. “It’s about feeling like you’re surrounded, but still alone. About being somewhere familiar but not quite belonging.”

She could see a few students nodding, even Professor Kang’s expression softened slightly.

“I didn’t plan it. I just… drew how I felt that day. I guess I wasn’t really thinking about meaning. It just came out.”

Silence followed, but not the uncomfortable kind. The kind that held weight. That held respect.

“Thank you, Eunji,” the professor finally said. “That’s exactly what I was looking for.”

Eunji returned to her seat, her chest still tight, but this time with something that felt close to relief. Maybe even pride.

After class, as she packed up her things, one of the students—Jiho, a soft-spoken guy who usually kept to himself—approached her.

“I really liked your piece,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. His voice was soft, but there was sincerity in it. “It felt… honest.”

Eunji blinked, caught off guard. “Thanks. That means a lot,” she said, her cheeks warm.

Jiho gave a small smile. “If you ever do decide to submit to that gallery downtown, let me know. I’m showing some of my stuff there next month.”

Her interest piqued, Eunji glanced up at him. “You’re showing at a gallery?”

He nodded, a little sheepish. “Yeah. I’ve been working on it for a while, but this is my first real exhibit. It’s nothing big, but... it’s something.”

“That’s amazing,” she said, a little in awe. “I didn’t know you were into—well, into art like that.”

Jiho shrugged, looking down at his shoes briefly. “Yeah, I don’t talk about it much. But I’ve been drawing since I was a kid. Just never really... shared it.”

Eunji smiled, something warm stirring in her chest. She’d always admired how Jiho, despite being quiet, had his own little world that he didn’t need to broadcast. It was a little like her—more comfortable in the background, creating but not often showing.

“Well, that’s great. I’m sure your work will be amazing,” she said, zipping up her bag.

“Thanks,” Jiho said, then hesitated again. “And if you change your mind about submitting to the gallery, you know, let me know. I think your stuff would fit right in.”

Eunji nodded, something stirring in her again. That same fluttering thought. Maybe.

As she stepped out of the building, the sun was still warm on her face. She pulled out her phone and texted Hyeri and Rora.

Eunji:

Maybe that gallery exhibit isn’t such a bad idea after all.

She hit send, and for the first time in a long while, the idea of putting herself out there didn’t feel so terrifying. It felt like the beginning of something new.

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