Chapter Three: Boundaries

The studio was colder this time.

Nabi arrived five minutes early again, but Ryu Han was already there, his sleeves rolled halfway up, revealing the sharp veins of his forearms as he arranged a collection of student portfolios on the table. He looked up once, then back down, as though she were nothing more than a scheduled appointment.

“Sit,” he said simply.

Nabi obeyed, her legs brushing the wooden stool, nerves humming beneath her skin. Her latest work—A Girl in Pieces—was already propped up on the easel. She hadn't shown it to anyone, not even Seol Ah.

He studied it in silence.

Minutes passed. Long, excruciating ones.

Then: “You’re spiraling.”

Nabi blinked. “What?”

Ryu Han’s gaze remained on the canvas. “There’s a desperation in this one. Like you're trying to scream, but muffled. That’s not growth. That’s noise.”

She bit her bottom lip. “I thought that was emotion.”

“No.” He looked at her then, his eyes sharper than his words. “It’s recklessness.”

“But you said—”

“I know what I said,” he cut in, stepping closer. “I said I’d see if I could teach you. But I’m not here to be your audience, Nabi. I’m not interested in watching a girl tear herself apart for art. There’s enough of that in this place already.”

It stung more than it should have. Still, she lifted her chin. “Then what are you interested in?”

He held her gaze, and for a terrifying second, the question shifted between them like something intimate.

He moved then, slowly, toward her—his presence quietly overwhelming. Her heart raced.

“Boundaries,” he said, voice like silk laced with smoke. “You’re going to need them. With me.”

Nabi blinked. “With you?”

He was close now. Not touching. Just near enough that she could smell the faint citrus and something deeper—like woodsmoke and ink. He leaned down, his voice low and deliberate.

“I push because I know how far people can fall in pursuit of being seen. And you… you look like you’ve been waiting your whole life for someone to see you.”

Her throat tightened. “And what if I have?”

That dangerous flicker passed over his face again—curiosity, maybe even desire—but he straightened suddenly, withdrawing like a tide.

“This session is over,” he said.

“You invited me here,” she snapped before she could stop herself.

“And I’m ending it.” His back was already turned. “We’ll talk when you’ve painted something worth the mess you’re making.”

The door clicked behind her.

And Nabi—angry, rattled, thrilled—stood there alone, burning.

Later that week – Regular Art Class, University

Ryu Han was back to being cold and clinical.

He stood in front of the class, discussing minimalist sculpture with measured detachment. If any of the other students noticed the flicker of his gaze landing on Nabi too often, they didn’t say anything.

But she noticed.

Every time his eyes met hers—just for a breath too long—she felt the thrill curl inside her like a secret.

She didn’t look away.

Professor Yoo Dambi hovered nearby, watching the class presentations and offering comments. “Nabi,” she called at one point, “I heard your early submissions were raw but promising. We’re expecting something brave from you.”

Nabi nodded, cheeks warm.

She didn’t mention that the last person to call her brave had walked out of a room without touching her—but left her permanently shaken.

When class ended, students filtered out in groups, talking about the upcoming University Year-End Exhibition. Ryu Han dismissed them all with a short nod. He didn’t say anything to Nabi.

That, somehow, felt louder than words.

That Night – Rooftop Gathering

The rooftop was strung with fairy lights that Seol Ah had hung with reckless charm. Someone had brought a speaker; indie music buzzed low in the background. Drinks clinked, conversation flowed. It was their usual group—Seol Ah, Yu Han, Jae Wook, Na Eun, and Nabi.

Seol Ah poured another round of soju into paper cups, wearing a leopard print jacket over a slip dress, barefoot on the concrete.

“So,” she drawled, tossing her hair, “are we gonna talk about the Art Daddy or not?”

Nabi choked on her drink.

“Art who?” Na Eun giggled.

“Professor Seo, obviously,” Seol Ah said with a wicked grin. “Come on, he’s basically a walking contradiction—cold, polished, but eyes that say I’ll ruin your life in the best way possible.”

Nabi rolled her eyes. “You’re insane.”

“I’m right,” Seol Ah winked. “And don’t think I didn’t notice that you’ve been glowing since that portfolio critique.”

“She’s been painting more, too,” Na Eun added with a soft smile. “Even skipping lunch breaks.”

“Because I have work,” Nabi muttered.

Yu Han stayed quiet. His gaze flicked toward her, unreadable.

Jae Wook nudged him. “You okay, man?”

“Fine,” Yu Han said. “Just don’t like professors who play favorites.”

Seol Ah raised a brow. “Ohhh? That sounds like jealousy, my dear Yu Han.”

He didn’t rise to the bait.

But Nabi felt the tension brewing. Between all of them.

And it hit her that her life was beginning to tilt.

Ryu Han hadn’t touched her. Had barely spoken. But somehow, he had already lit a fuse in her. The way he looked at her—like he was both sculpting her and undoing her at the same time.

And in the back of her mind, she wondered—

What happens when that fuse runs out?

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