The following Monday began with an argument over a pencil.
It wasn't an important pencil.
It wasn't expensive.
It wasn't even particularly good.
It was simply Minjae's favorite pencil, which had somehow disappeared from his desk.
"I know someone took it."
Seojun didn't look up from his book.
"You lose things every day."
"I didn't lose this one."
"Then where is it?"
"Someone took it."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"Then how do you know someone took it?"
Minjae stopped.
For several seconds, he had no answer.
Daewon quietly continued sketching in the corner of his notebook.
Aera sat across the aisle, watching the argument with a small smile.
Eventually Minjae pointed at Daewon.
"You."
Daewon looked up.
"Me?"
"You draw. You notice things."
"What does that have to do with your pencil?"
"You probably saw who took it."
"I didn't."
"You were sitting here."
"I was drawing."
"Exactly."
Seojun finally looked up.
"Minjae, that's not how witnesses work."
"Then how do they work?"
"They witness something."
Minjae frowned.
"I hate smart people."
The pencil was found ten minutes later.
It had been inside Minjae's own pencil case.
He stared at it.
Nobody said anything.
Then Seojun slowly raised one hand.
"I would like to make a formal statement."
"No."
"I think the pencil was kidnapped."
"Seojun."
"And held hostage inside the pencil case."
"Stop."
The class laughed.
Daewon smiled and returned to his drawing.
It was a small sketch of the classroom window.
He had been drawing it for several days.
Not because the window was interesting.
Because the light changed every morning.
Sometimes the glass reflected the desks.
Sometimes it reflected the sky.
Sometimes it showed the faint outlines of students walking past in the hallway.
Today, there was a small reflection of Aera.
She was looking down at her notebook.
Daewon almost drew her.
Then he stopped.
He turned the page.
He had started noticing something about himself lately.
Whenever he saw something he wanted to remember, his first instinct was to draw it.
But lately, he had begun asking himself a different question.
Why?
Why did he want to remember this particular thing?
The question was harder than simply drawing.
And somehow, more interesting.
At lunch, Aera sat beside him on the rooftop.
The wind was warmer now.
Spring had almost completely settled over Seoul.
The trees around the school had filled out, and the courtyard below was becoming greener every week.
Aera opened her lunch.
"Are you still thinking about the unfinished drawing?"
Daewon nodded.
"I think I finally understand why the instructor wants one."
"Why?"
"Because unfinished things are honest."
Aera looked at him.
"That's a little serious for lunch."
Daewon smiled.
"I know."
She took a bite of rice.
"Then don't make it serious."
"How?"
"Just draw something and stop."
"That's harder than it sounds."
"I know."
They ate quietly.
After a while, Aera pulled her notebook from her bag.
"I made something."
Daewon looked over.
It was a small list.
He read it.
Things I Want to Notice in Busan
Someone waiting.
Someone leaving.
A place before it becomes busy.
A place after everyone leaves.
Something ordinary that feels important.
Something I almost miss.
Daewon read the last line twice.
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know yet."
"Then why write it?"
"So I can find out."
He nodded.
That made sense.
Aera closed the notebook.
"What do you want to do at your workshop?"
"Learn."
"You already said that."
"Then draw better."
"You already do that."
Daewon thought.
"I want to draw something I've never tried before."
Aera smiled.
"That sounds more like you."
"What about you?"
"I want to take one photograph that surprises me."
"How will you know if it surprises you?"
"I'll know."
Daewon laughed softly.
"You're impossible."
"So are you."
Neither noticed that someone had approached the rooftop entrance.
"Are you two planning to become famous artists?"
They turned.
Haejin stood there with a sketchbook tucked under one arm.
Daewon looked surprised.
"No."
"Good."
Haejin walked over.
"I'd hate having to compete with famous people."
Aera smiled.
"You're still competing?"
"Always."
Haejin sat down a short distance away.
She had changed since she first arrived at Haneul Middle School.
Not dramatically.
She was still quiet.
Still observant.
Still more likely to notice something than comment on it.
But she no longer seemed like she was trying to prove herself every time she showed someone her work.
She opened her sketchbook.
"I heard you're both going to summer workshops."
"Yeah," Daewon said.
"Different ones."
"Yeah."
Haejin looked between them.
"That sounds useful."
Aera tilted her head.
"How?"
"You'll have different things to bring back."
Daewon smiled.
"That sounds familiar."
Haejin shrugged.
"I've heard it somewhere."
The three of them sat together.
For a while, nobody spoke.
Then Haejin asked,
"What are you going to do when you come back?"
Daewon thought.
"I don't know."
"Good."
"Why?"
"If you already know, you probably aren't looking hard enough."
Aera laughed.
"That sounded like something Mr. Kim would say."
"I know."
Haejin closed her sketchbook.
"I've been trying to draw people differently."
Daewon looked at her.
"How?"
"Without making them look like portraits."
He understood.
"You mean drawing what they're doing?"
"Maybe."
She looked down at the page.
"I think I've spent too much time trying to make people look interesting."
Aera said quietly,
"People already are."
Haejin looked at her.
Then smiled.
"That's annoying."
"Why?"
"Because it's true."
The bell rang from the building below.
Haejin stood.
"Come on."
They followed her downstairs.
The afternoon passed normally.
Math.
Science.
English.
A short physical education class that Seojun claimed was an attack on students' freedom.
Nothing seemed different.
But during the final class, their teacher handed back the community project photographs.
Aera received hers.
There were several group photographs.
The cleaned reading shelter.
The repaired sign.
The books.
The bench.
She looked through them carefully.
Then stopped.
One photograph was different.
It showed the shelter from the side.
No students.
No teacher.
No obvious activity.
Just the building beneath the trees.
A small pair of shoes was barely visible under the bench.
Aera remembered taking it.
She had almost forgotten.
Daewon noticed her expression.
"What?"
She showed him.
He looked at the photograph.
"You didn't show me that one."
"I forgot about it."
He studied it.
"You should keep it."
"I will."
Aera looked at the picture again.
Then she said,
"I think I'm starting to understand what Sora meant."
"What?"
"Sometimes the photograph isn't the moment."
Daewon waited.
"It's the thing that proves the moment happened."
He nodded slowly.
"That sounds different."
"It feels different."
She put the photograph carefully inside her notebook.
The teacher continued handing papers around the classroom.
Nobody paid much attention.
But Daewon kept thinking about what she had said.
Proof.
Not proof that something important had happened.
Just proof that something had existed.
A place.
A person.
A feeling.
A day.
Even something as small as a pair of shoes under a bench.
After school, Daewon stopped by the art room.
Mr. Kim was sorting papers.
"You're early."
"I wanted to ask something."
Mr. Kim looked up.
"What?"
"The unfinished drawing."
Mr. Kim nodded.
"You're still thinking about it."
"Yes."
"That's good."
Daewon hesitated.
"What if I bring something that looks unfinished because I couldn't finish it?"
Mr. Kim smiled.
"Then it is unfinished."
"But that's not what you mean."
"No."
Mr. Kim placed the papers down.
"An unfinished drawing can be unfinished because you haven't found the answer yet."
Daewon listened.
"Or because you decided the question was more important than the answer."
He looked toward the art room windows.
"You don't need to prove that you can finish everything."
Daewon thought about the old art book.
The half-painted doorway.
The incomplete hand.
The empty sky.
He nodded.
"I think I understand."
Mr. Kim returned to his papers.
"One more thing."
Daewon stopped.
"Don't go to the workshop trying to become better than everyone there."
Daewon looked back.
"Then what should I do?"
"Find the person who makes you want to draw differently."
Daewon smiled.
"That sounds harder."
"It usually is."
When he left the art room, Aera was waiting outside.
She was leaning against the wall with her camera bag.
"Were you waiting long?"
"No."
"How long?"
"Long enough to hear you ask what you should do."
Daewon looked embarrassed.
"You were listening?"
"The door was open."
"What did he say?"
"That you should find someone who makes you want to draw differently."
Daewon looked at her.
"What about you?"
"Sora told me something similar."
"What?"
"She said I shouldn't spend the whole workshop trying to take the best photograph."
"What should you do?"
Aera smiled.
"Find the photograph only I could have taken."
They walked down the stairs together.
Neither of them said anything for a while.
Then Daewon asked,
"Do you think we'll come back different?"
Aera considered it.
"Probably."
"Will that be strange?"
"Maybe."
He looked at her.
She continued walking.
"But I think that's okay."
Daewon nodded.
The school gates came into view.
Students were leaving in groups.
The afternoon traffic had started building along the road.
Everything looked ordinary.
Yet Daewon suddenly realized something.
For a long time, he had thought growing meant becoming someone different.
Someone better.
Someone more talented.
Someone more confident.
Someone who could draw things other people couldn't.
But maybe growing wasn't always about becoming someone else.
Maybe it was simply noticing more.
Looking longer.
Being willing to change what you thought you already knew.
He looked at Aera.
She was watching the traffic light.
The wind moved a few strands of hair across her face.
She pushed them aside.
Daewon smiled.
He didn't draw her.
He simply remembered her.
For now, that was enough.That keeps the summer arc moving without making the workshops arrive too quickly.