By the following Friday, the summer workshops had become old news to everyone except Daewon and Aera.
That was probably how school worked.
Something could feel enormous on Monday and become ordinary by Thursday.
The same students who had crowded around Daewon asking about the art workshop were now more interested in whether the cafeteria would serve fried chicken. Seojun had already stopped asking about Busan because he had discovered a new rumor about their class changing homeroom decorations.
Minjae had forgotten both workshops existed.
Daewon was almost grateful.
He didn't want every conversation to become about the future.
There was still a lot of life happening before summer arrived.
That morning, their homeroom teacher announced that the class would spend the afternoon working on a small community project.
It wasn't an art competition.
There would be no judges.
No exhibition.
No certificates.
The school had simply partnered with a neighborhood volunteer group that maintained several public spaces around Haneul-dong.
Each class had been assigned one area to clean and document.
Their teacher placed a map on the board.
"Your group will be responsible for the small reading shelter near the old bus stop."
A few students groaned.
Seojun raised his hand.
"Teacher, is cleaning mandatory?"
"Yes."
"Is complaining mandatory?"
"No."
"Then I choose complaining."
The room laughed.
The teacher sighed.
"Seojun, you're responsible for carrying the trash bags."
His expression collapsed.
"That feels personal."
"It is."
The class laughed again.
Daewon glanced toward Aera.
She was smiling.
Not laughing loudly.
Just enough for him to notice.
By lunch, the project had become the main topic.
Groups were assigned.
Some students would clean.
Some would repaint damaged signs.
Others would take photographs and write a short record of the area before and after.
Aera was assigned to the documentation group.
Daewon was assigned to the painting group.
Seojun and Minjae were assigned to whatever group the teacher thought would cause the least damage.
Unfortunately, they were placed with Daewon.
"This is discrimination," Seojun said.
"You're holding a paintbrush," Daewon replied.
"Exactly."
"You haven't painted anything yet."
"That's because I'm protesting."
Minjae looked at the wall.
"Can we paint something cool?"
The teacher, standing behind them, answered immediately.
"No."
"What about a small dragon?"
"No."
"A cat?"
"No."
"A dragon fighting a cat?"
"Absolutely not."
Daewon tried not to laugh.
The reading shelter was older than he remembered.
It stood beside a narrow road under several large trees.
There was a wooden bench inside, a small roof, and a bookshelf that contained donated books.
Some of the paint had peeled away.
The sign above the entrance was faded.
One of the windows was cracked.
But the place still looked useful.
Someone had recently swept the floor.
Someone had arranged the books.
Someone had left a small vase with two artificial flowers on the shelf.
Daewon stood in front of the shelter for a moment.
He wasn't sure why he noticed those things.
Maybe because he had become accustomed to looking at places differently.
Aera arrived with her camera.
She looked around.
"This is nice."
"It's old."
"Those aren't opposites."
Daewon looked at her.
She smiled.
"Remember?"
He did.
Some places stayed after people left.
Aera lifted her camera.
Then stopped.
She lowered it.
"What?"
Daewon asked.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to photograph."
"Everything?"
"That would be too easy."
He smiled.
"You're taking Sora's advice seriously."
"I am."
She walked around the shelter without taking a picture.
She looked at the books.
The cracked window.
The faded sign.
The artificial flowers.
A small handwritten notice taped to the wall.
Then she noticed something outside.
A pair of small shoes.
They were tucked underneath the bench.
Aera crouched.
"Someone left these."
Daewon looked over.
"They're probably a kid's."
She didn't photograph them immediately.
Instead, she waited.
A few minutes later, an elderly man approached the shelter carrying a plastic bag.
He stopped when he saw the students.
"Oh."
He smiled.
"You're the school children?"
"Yes," Aera said.
"We're cleaning."
The man nodded.
He pointed toward the shoes.
"My grandson."
"Does he come here often?"
"Every Saturday."
The man placed the bag down.
Inside were several books.
"He likes the shelter."
Aera looked at the shoes.
"Does he read?"
The man laughed.
"Not really."
Daewon smiled.
"Then why does he come?"
The man thought for a moment.
"He likes sitting here."
That answer felt familiar.
Daewon glanced at the bench.
The man continued.
"His parents work on Saturdays. I bring him here. He reads a little, draws a little, complains a lot."
Seojun, who had been carrying a bucket nearby, immediately said,
"Sounds like someone I know."
The man laughed.
Seojun looked offended.
"I wasn't talking about myself."
"You were," Minjae said.
"I wasn't."
"You were."
The man placed the books on the shelf.
Then he picked up the small shoes.
"He takes them off because he thinks the shelter is a house."
Aera smiled.
"That's cute."
"He says it's his house."
The man put the shoes back under the bench.
Then he left to help another group nearby.
Aera watched him go.
She raised her camera.
This time she took a photograph.
Not of the man.
Not of the shoes.
She photographed the shelter from the outside.
The bench.
The little shoes beneath it.
The open doorway.
And the books inside.
Daewon watched her lower the camera.
"What made you take that one?"
Aera looked at the photograph on the screen.
"I think I almost missed it."
He understood.
The project continued.
Daewon and the others sanded the old wooden sign and repainted the letters.
Seojun accidentally stepped backward into a bucket of water.
Minjae laughed so hard that he dropped a brush.
Daewon spent twenty minutes trying to repair the damage without making it worse.
By the end of the afternoon, the shelter looked cleaner.
Not new.
Just cared for.
The old paint still showed through in places.
The wood still had scratches.
The window was still cracked.
But the sign was readable again.
The books were organized.
The floor was clean.
The flowers had been placed back on the shelf.
Aera stood outside and looked at the result.
"It looks different."
Daewon wiped paint from his hand.
"Not that different."
"That's what I like."
He looked at her.
"It still looks like itself."
She nodded.
Before they left, their teacher asked Aera to take a final photograph for the school's record.
She raised her camera.
Everyone gathered in front of the shelter.
Seojun stood in the center.
Minjae stood beside him.
Daewon was near the edge.
Aera set the timer and hurried into the frame.
The camera flashed.
The group laughed.
Then they took another one because Seojun had closed his eyes.
And another because Minjae had moved.
And another because their teacher had been looking away.
Eventually they got a good one.
Aera checked the image.
Everyone looked tired.
Everyone looked messy.
The shelter stood behind them.
For some reason, she liked that photograph more than the perfect ones.
On the way back to school, Daewon walked beside her.
"You took four photos."
"Five."
"You said you were trying not to photograph everything."
"I didn't photograph everything."
"You photographed five versions of us."
"That's different."
"How?"
Aera thought about it.
"I wanted to remember today."
Daewon smiled.
"That sounds like you."
She looked at him.
"Is that bad?"
"No."
He glanced back toward the shelter.
"I think it's good."
They walked a little farther.
Then Aera asked,
"What would you draw?"
Daewon looked at her.
"If you had to draw that place?"
He thought.
"The bench."
"Why?"
"Because everyone talked about the shelter."
He looked back again.
"But the bench is where the kid actually stayed."
Aera smiled.
"I would have guessed you'd draw the shoes."
"I thought about it."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because they're temporary."
She looked at him.
"Everything is temporary."
Daewon nodded.
"Exactly."
Aera was quiet.
Then she said,
"Maybe that's why I take pictures."
Daewon didn't answer.
They continued walking.
The afternoon sun had begun to lower behind the buildings.
Students moved around them in small groups.
Someone was complaining about homework.
Someone else was eating a snack they had probably been told not to eat before dinner.
A bicycle passed them.
A bus stopped at the intersection.
Nothing remarkable happened.
Yet Daewon found himself remembering the day already.
Not because they had done something extraordinary.
Because they had spent several hours taking care of a place that belonged to people they didn't know.
That evening, Aera uploaded the class photographs to the shared school folder.
She kept the photograph of the shelter for herself.
She didn't upload it.
The image showed the little shoes beneath the bench.
The doorway.
The books.
The flowers.
No people.
No explanation.
She opened her notebook and wrote:
Some places are important because someone keeps coming back.
She paused.
Then added:
Maybe that's enough reason to keep them.
Across town, Daewon sat at his desk.
His unfinished drawing was still waiting.
He opened it.
The street corner looked different tonight.
Not because the drawing had changed.
Because he had.
He picked up his pencil.
For a moment, he considered finishing it.
Then he stopped.
He left the page exactly as it was.
Instead, he opened a new page.
And drew the reading shelter.
Not perfectly.
Not completely.
Just enough to show the bench beneath the roof.
A small pair of shoes underneath it.
And an open doorway.
He didn't write a title.
He didn't need one.
The next morning, when Aera saw the drawing, she looked at it for a long time.
"You drew it."
Daewon nodded.
"I thought you said you weren't going to finish the other one."
"I didn't."
"This is a different drawing."
"Yeah."
She smiled.
"Good."
"What?"
"I think you're starting to understand your own advice."
Daewon frowned.
"What advice?"
Aera closed the sketchbook.
"Go somewhere new."
She handed it back.
"And bring something back."
Daewon looked down at the drawing.
Then at her.
"I think I did."
For once, neither of them needed to say anything else.