Diamond Dust Novel - Chapter 33

At least the top was a sufficiently long and baggy knit sweater, which was a relief. Though the intense orange color was hard to deal with.

They stood me stiffly, like a stick, in a corner of the garden, and took turns holding the camera, burning with artistic passion. But what could even a great photographer capture from a subject who felt awkward even looking into the camera lens?

“The model is a new face.”

I was trying to act out an ‘expression of gazing at a nostalgic place in memory, not this one’ by letting my arms hang loose and tilting my head as hyung had requested. I reflexively lifted my head toward the source of the voice, and this time, I truly wanted to hide my face.

I didn’t know how long he had been watching, but the CEO was leaning against the frame of the front door, looking down at this side and smiling.

I bit my lower lip to calm the feeling of a sudden flash of heat rushing from the roots of my ears to my temples and cheeks, independently of my will. The lipstick or lip gloss nuna had applied had a strange, artificial, murky taste.

“We scouted a new face this time.”

Juhan hyung turned around and laughed sheepishly.

Pretending to touch my hair, I covered my face with the long sleeve that almost covered my hands. The scene of the unbecoming model play was one thing, but I didn’t want him to catch sight of my flushed face.

“Yeah, the kids we had before were kind of stale.”

He chuckled as he walked down the seven or so steps leading to the garden.

Because the day was long, the early summer sunlight was still strong in the garden at 4 PM, causing him to frown. His expression relaxed a little as he stepped into the shade, and only then did our eyes properly meet. When I nodded my head in greeting, he acknowledged it and slowly scanned me. He seemed to be in a good mood.

“How is he? Full of boyish charm, right?”

I almost let out a strange yelp because Juhan hyung showed him the photo on the camera screen. The heat on my face, which I had barely managed to calm, threatened to flare up again.

“Hmm, the photo quality itself isn’t bad… but isn’t your body too stiff?”

“He’s an amateur, after all. Once he’s photographed, his face really looks the part. Well… Hyunie just doesn’t have the kki, flair.”

Hyung, who was hunched over the camera screen with the CEO, playfully looked up at me and smiled. Being photographed, having the photos shown to anyone, felt as uncomfortable as exposing my most private self, drying out my throat. Yet, the CEO was excessively serious, even scrolling back to look at the photos that had already passed.

“Still, that awkwardness is fresh. Ah, this one has a good feel to it.”

After he said that, he raised his head and looked at me, standing awkwardly in front of the spirea, where most of the flowers had already fallen. His gaze, as unrestrained as his way of speaking, drove me to tension, but there was nothing I could do to escape it.

Just as I felt a wave of relief when his sidelong glance finally shifted away, the next challenge enveloped me.

“Should I take a few shots, too?”

This time, I definitely couldn’t hide my surprise. Yuni nuna, who had leaned the reflector against a rock, came closer and put an arm around my shoulder.

“It’s okay. The CEO’s pictures are surprisingly good.”

That wasn’t the problem…

I didn’t even have a chance to resist. I was the only person in this garden who felt uncomfortable about the camera, whether as a subject in front of the lens or a producer pressing the shutter behind it. Everyone else treated this work as a form of play, so any refusal or resistance would likely look like overly fussy behavior.

The camera passed from hyung’s hand to the CEO’s, and this time Juhan hyung held the reflector.

“Can you sit on the floor here? Stretch your legs out long. Yuni, can you set that up on the floor?”

Estimating the desired light through the screen, he pointed to a mat tossed carelessly on a box of props in the corner. Nuna and hyung, who were somewhat tired from the prolonged shooting time, regained their energy and quickly moved as requested.

I sat on the ethnic-patterned mat, which resembled an Indian blanket, stretching my legs out as he asked.

“……”

Before I could even properly settle into the posture, his two feet suddenly moved close. His closed-toe leather slippers were planted on the floor on either side of my knees.

“It’s a test. Don’t mind me; just be comfortable.”

He said that, but I couldn’t help but mind, nor could I be comfortable. Click. Click. The sound of continuous shutter releases was heard above my head, and nuna was still at my feet, changing the direction of the mat’s creases back and forth, trying to find the desired shape.

“Seo Yihyun-ssi.”

His voice calling me was no different from usual. I thought he had something to say, and the moment I lifted my head to look up at him, the aperture in front of my eyes closed and opened one more time.

“Put your hands behind you and lean your upper body back slightly.”

Even when taking photos, he was clear about what he wanted. He never bothered with unnecessary courtesy or hesitation.

“Lift your chin. Gaze downward.”

The requests continued without pause, and for me, uncomfortable with the camera, this manner was actually better. He wasn’t asking for a dreamy expression or one of recalling something missed.

“Keep your chin where it is, and can you slowly raise just your eyes? As slowly as possible.”

I slowly raised my gaze. The lens was barely 50 centimeters away. His large body, which was all the way in by my knees, was right in front of my nose. The moment I became conscious of it, my earlobes grew warm. This was a difficult position for an ordinary person like me, unaccustomed to such work. Although he wasn’t actually laying a hand on me, I felt choked, as if I were bound.

“Uh oh… don’t turn your head.”

I must have unconsciously avoided his gaze. He let out a low click of his tongue from beyond the lens. His tone was like that of a dentist dealing with a patient who kept turning their head and obstructing the examination. This doesn’t hurt much; even little kids tolerate it well. A doctor who would soothe and encourage with such words.

But I rarely got cavities, and I was very good at enduring pain. I would gladly undergo dental treatment for a whole week, but I felt like I couldn’t do this again.

He stepped back and moved out from around my feet. This time, he stepped up onto a rock nearby, moving further away from me. Yet, my body felt no more free than when he had the lens pointed at my face right up close.

I wanted to erase the thoughts of what kind of me he was seeing through the lens and how he was judging it, but all I could do was repeatedly bite and release my lips, which were drying out from the tension.

“Yesterday.”

Before I could be startled by the sudden change of topic, he climbed down from the rock and moved back towards my legs. This time, past my knees and up to my thighs.

Nuna and hyung had taken photos more focused on the clothes from a greater distance, so the lens had never pushed in this close. It was a distance that made it hard to breathe easily.

“You worked hard.”

“Not at all.”

“And… I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry. He said it in a voice just loud enough for me to hear. He took his eyes off the viewfinder for a moment and looked at me with his naked eyes.

No explanation followed for the words that would never normally leave his mouth, but there was only one thing I could guess.

“Could you step away for a moment? He’s very shy and gets uncomfortable when unfamiliar people are around.”

Heat rushed to my face again.

Despite my young age, my emotions rarely showed on my face. That wasn’t because my attitude toward managing my emotions was mature, but because my temperament was less sensitive than others. Since I didn’t feel emotions intensely, my expression was naturally bland.

But the distance was too close, and the situation was foreign. Although I was actually dressed and shooting clothes, the embarrassment was close to a sense of shame, as if I were naked and exposing my inner self in front of them, and my reaction flared up easily even to minor stimuli. I could only hope that the artificial freckles painted on my cheeks could hide my heat even slightly.

He looked down at me for a brief moment, then tilted the camera to check the results. He was still standing with his feet on either side of my thighs. Once the lens was removed, I felt anxious, not knowing where to put my eyes.

Hmm. After a groan suggesting something was not to his liking, he asked, his gaze still on the camera screen.

“Do you have someone you like?”

“……”

“Or, someone you used to like.”

“……”

His eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced down at me, and he smiled a little mischievously. At that moment, I strangely recalled the times I had acted unlike myself, wanting to shock him, but that was not the answer to his question about whether I had someone I liked.

He bent down again, pointing the lens at me, and added,

“Imagine that person is confessing to Seo Yihyun-ssi.”

I unconsciously looked toward the lens, surprised by the unexpected statement. I felt the pressure of anxiety that everything usually hidden would be fully exposed through the lens, but I couldn’t turn my gaze away.

The lens, repeating its forward and backward movements to focus right in front of my nose, was like a surrogate for his lips, not his eyes.

He told me to imagine a confession from a nonexistent person I liked, but upon hearing the words, I felt a bland chuckle escape me, as I realized it was a situation that would never happen.

It was strange. Why did confirming a confession I couldn’t receive from the person I liked elicit self-mockery and resignation from me at this moment? The person was a nonexistent, hypothetical one.

CHAAAL-KAAK.

I stared at the lens, which closed and opened more slowly than before. For the first time, it didn’t feel uncomfortable. The wind blowing toward me from behind him briefly carried his faint scent.

“Best shot is out. Let’s stop and have a beer.”

He collected the lens, straightened his back, and turned away without a trace of lingering regret.