Late into the night, Autumn, who had been in her studio, glanced toward the door. Her gaze lingered on the teapot today, rather than her painting.

Having bought it with the intention of brewing tea, she found her attention unintentionally drawn to it.

But, no sign of anyone was felt outside the door.

“Perhaps he won’t come today.”

Except for the day he offered advice on her painting, he always came and went as he pleased.

There was no guarantee he would come today.

Autumn briefly got up from her seat and checked the painting she had been working on. It depicted the landscape from the day she had walked hand in hand with him.

The form of the painting, now taking shape, clearly evoked the image of a loving couple walking through a flower garden.

Drawing from my memories… Why does it feel imbued with these emotions? After drawing it joyfully, this is how it turned out. Somewhat embarrassingly, her face felt hot.

That day in her memories must have been quite delightful and ticklish.

Feeling bashfully awkward, Autumn playfully touched her already warm cheeks. However, she was determined to finish it. She wanted to display it at the exhibition if possible.

She felt that the painting, quite different from her usual style, would bring a smile to the faces of those who saw it, despite its unfamiliarity.

Her mind was unusually indecisive today, as if chasing after clouds.

Autumn, for the first time in a while, took out a quarter-size sketchbook. Not able to focus, she planned to doodle unrelated to the exhibition today.

Distracting oneself with other tasks is always fun. A smile appeared on Autumn’s face at this rare deviation.

Setting aside her usual oil paints, she took out watercolors. The spreading colors on the sketchbook, heavy with water, brought back fresh memories of art classes in school.

“I haven’t used these in a really long time.”

She had bought them just in case, but they usually hardened without use and were thrown away. However, occasionally this felt not too bad.

Autumn found herself deeply immersed in the painting she started as a joke.

While she was happily painting, a low voice suddenly came from above her.

“What’s this? Watercolor?”

“Uh…? Boss, when did you get here?”

She hadn’t sensed his arrival.

He seemed intrigued, looking down at the painting.

A surprised Autumn belatedly fumbled with her words.

Having started as a joke and then getting serious, she hadn’t noticed his arrival.

“You’re not planning to send this to the gallery, are you?”

“No. Just drawing out of boredom.”

“…Bored at this late hour?”

Ah, right! The tea.

Fortunately, she could now offer him the tea she bought today.

Autumn quickly stood up, washed her hands, and hurriedly filled the kettle with water. If he didn’t leave immediately, she could let him taste the tea.

As Autumn was just about to turn around after putting on the water, she saw him sitting in the spot she had just vacated. Autumn approached him.

Feeling a bit embarrassed about the doodle, he looked at it seriously.

Autumn casually made a suggestion.

“Would you like to try drawing too, Boss? It’s quite fun.”

She expected him to decline, but after glancing at the brushes in the brush jar, he asked back.

“Really?”

“Yes. This drawing was just for fun, and I bought this sketchbook for doodling, so you can draw anything.”

A flustered Autumn opened her eyes wide in surprise, and Ki-tae chuckled, then tapped a chair next to him.

“Ah, okay.”

Autumn awkwardly sat next to him. Sitting side by side over the small sketchbook, unlike a canvas, his body warmth seemed to slightly transfer to her.

How did it end up like this?
He turned a page of the sketchbook and picked up a brush. As he moved the brush, the paper absorbed the colors.

Watching him, Autumn suddenly burst into laughter.

“Why are you laughing?”

“……Ah, sorry.”

Having a good eye for art is one thing. Drawing is another.

It wasn’t a poorly drawn picture, but Autumn had high expectations, so she laughed involuntarily.

“Why, is it not good?”

“No, it’s not that.”

Trying hard to control her smiling lips, she made an effort to seriously look at his drawing.

Noticing that Autumn’s smile was different than usual while she looked at the painting, he tapped her arm and said,

“Then help me out.”

“Can I?”

“Yes, if you can salvage it.”

Autumn reached to take the brush from him. However, he didn’t let go of it and just looked at her.

“……?”

His deep brown eyes were still serious, as if urging her to do something.

The corners of Autumn’s mouth, which had been smiling, fell.

She placed her hand over his on the brush.

This is also a way to paint.

But when was the last time she did this?

In her distant childhood, not skilled in handling brushes, it was the method she always used when receiving help from her father, her only art teacher.

But isn’t this method not usually done between grown adults?

Is it just me who is conscious of this?

While holding the brush, Autumn paid extra attention to keeping her voice calm.

“How can I help you?”