* * *
The fever broke the next day.
Though my condition was not fully restored, I could move around well enough. Half-asleep, I rubbed my stiff eyes.
“…Sleepy.”
Being tired even after sleeping was almost a habit for me, so I was still drowsy. I shook my head and forced my eyes wide open to shake off the sleepiness. Stretching, I loosened my stiff body and tried to steel myself.
For now, he had said he had no intention of throwing me out. But once Cha Gil-Do’s relationship with Kang Ji-a progressed, I could be discarded at any time. That was the position of someone living on scraps. If I did not want to be chased out like in my dream, then I needed a reason to be allowed to remain here.
The problem was, I did not have much use. Feeling I needed to be humble, I sat kneeling on the bed.
“What can I do for him?”
I had done all kinds of part-time jobs before, so I thought of what I could manage right away.
Should I brew coffee every morning? Or should I grill meat? I could grill pork belly to perfection! Not to mention mural work.
If it was construction, I could carry bricks, and though I had often been scolded, I eventually got good at pouring concrete. I was too slow for logistics work, but when I did move-in cleaning as a short-term job, I was praised for being meticulous.
‘…Cleaning!’
Only then did I remember the one job, aside from murals, where I had done my share properly. Rolling up my sleeves, I marched to the living room.
The first thing I did was fling open the large windows. The morning sun streaming in felt strangely unfamiliar, as if reminding me how lazily I had been living until now.
I stared blankly outside, then snapped back and turned toward the living room again. The floor shone as if polished.
‘Surely there must be at least a speck of dust….’
Avoiding the spotless floor with blurry eyes, I looked around for cleaning tools.
‘Where’s the vacuum?’
I wandered around the house searching, but found nothing. Not even a broom or rag. I glanced up toward the upper floor, then shook my head. No one would keep a vacuum upstairs, where it wasn’t often needed.
I wanted to ask someone, but there was never anyone around. Even when I spotted someone and approached, they vanished before I reached them.
In the end, I found no tools, only drained myself.
“I’ll clean later….”
Giving up on the floors, I trudged to the kitchen. Maybe I could be useful there.
But… the kitchen was completely empty.
Not a joke—really, nothing.
“…Even the fridge is empty. Then where did all the food we ate come from?”
Meals and snacks had always been served on time, but there was no sign of anyone using the kitchen. No ingredients at all.
I shut the fridge, which held only water, and sighed. Clearly, there was nothing I could do in this house.
“……”
Clinging to hope, I drifted about for hours until finally I slumped onto the living room sofa. Before me, a table full of food had been set, though I hardly noticed.
‘I’m useless here too….’
Shame flushed me, and I buried my face in my hands. When I lowered them and glanced at the clock on the wall, it was a little past three.
‘When will Cha Gil-Do come back….’
Today, time seemed especially slow.
At some point, someone touched my face. I startled and turned—Cha Gil-Do sat beside me.
“Did you enjoy your tour of the house?”
“……”
“What have you been doing all day….”
Overjoyed, I laid my hand over his on the sofa.
“You’re back.”
At the very least, I wanted to properly welcome him after a hard day’s work.
“……”
He said no more, only looked away, something in his expression uneasy. I tried to pull back my hand, but he clasped it firmly and spoke.
“…De.”
“Yes?”
His voice was so low I hardly heard. Seeing me ask again, he smiled faintly. As expected of the male lead, his expressions were endlessly rich. Against such vivid colors, dull as I was, I could not help but be drawn in.
Like pale watercolor bleeding into me.
To my dazed self, Cha Gil-Do suddenly asked,
“Did you find the acorns?”
“…Acorns?”
What acorns out of nowhere?
“You were running around like a squirrel searching.”
Ah—he meant when I was looking for cleaning tools. How did he know, though he had not been home? Well, he was the protagonist. There was nothing he could not know.
I shook my head.
“I didn’t find them.”
Cha Gil-Do chuckled softly at my answer.
“What were you going to do if you found them?”
“Do something, anything.”
“Then why stop searching? Try upstairs or go out to the greenhouse. There’s nowhere in here you can’t go.”
“Even if I do, there’s nothing I can do….”
“Why not? I gave you a studio.”
The greenhouse studio was not a place for someone like Baek Eun-Seong, the villain. Flustered, I shook my head.
“Why would I use that…!”
“You want to, and you can. Then you should.”
Cha Gil-Do lifted my hand and pressed his lips to the back, then nipped at it with his teeth. He grinned mischievously like a child. The spot he bit burned like fire.
Since coming here, I had wanted to paint, but never dared show it. Perhaps because I was not the heroine, Cha Gil-Do had been furious after I worked on the mural. He had said I could use the studio, but to me that space felt sacred to the main leads, and I did not wish to intrude.
To such me, he said,
“I want to change the lounge paintings at the resort. But as you see, I lack any eye for art.”
Wouldn’t it be better to buy a famous painter’s work? As if reading my thoughts, he went on.
“Anything remotely famous, they double the price. And all the newcomers paint the same thing—you can’t tell them apart.”
Trends of the day influenced technique and subject matter. That was what I paid most attention to in painting myself. At the gallery we visited before, I had seen works so similar I could guess what style was currently popular.
“So even if I replace them, it’s the same complaint every time—that it looks the same. Lately it’s been troublesome.”
He truly looked troubled. His complexion showed how much it wore on him. Then he glanced at me and asked,
“You’ll paint them, won’t you?”
Faced with his sorrowful expression, I nodded before I knew it.
And so I returned to the greenhouse studio.
Wondering what to paint, I asked Cha Gil-Do for photos of the resort’s surroundings. After taking them in, I set the pictures down, sat before the blank canvas, and closed my eyes. Having never seen it in person, I had to recreate it vividly in my mind. Only after a long while did I open my eyes, and before the vision could fade, I seized my brush.
The paintings came quickly. No sketches were needed—I simply transferred what I had already drawn in my head. After days of work, all four pieces were finally complete, and only then did I set down the brush.
Painting always left my body tense, so as soon as I let go, crushing fatigue struck. Though I wanted to collapse into bed, I carefully finished the final touches to protect the works, then lay on the nearby sofa.
After days of painting, I fell asleep at once.
Rustling woke me later.
Through bleary eyes, I saw a familiar back. As I rubbed my eyes, the blanket slipped off me.
It was Cha Gil-Do. Had it already become time for him to come home? Outside, the sun had long since set and the moon had risen. Under its light, the sight of him absorbed in something looked like a painting.
I rose and approached him carefully.
“…You’re back.”
At last, he turned to look at me.
“So you wanted to see the resort’s scenery outside just to show me this?”
“You said it was urgent….”
I anxiously studied his reaction. I had done my best, but compared to works polished over years by other artists, mine could not measure up. I had painted the four seasons of the resort’s landscape only to buy time until the next change, but still—what if he disliked them?
“So that’s why those flowery words were in the painting….”
He nodded.
“I understand now.”
Gazing at the paintings, he continued.
“If it were only beautiful, it would end at appreciation. But it feels right. That’s why I’m curious—what brushwork creates such depth, what colors blend so naturally.”
He looked at me as he spoke. Yet the one who truly matched such flowery praise was him.
At his cascade of compliments, I felt like a whale leaping with joy. It made me want to paint even better. Surely once he saw the heroine’s paintings, I would never hear such words again. Until then, at least….
“Next time, I’ll give you something even better.”
For some reason, my voice shook, the words hard to form.
“Better than this?”
He asked lightly, with an astonished expression, and I lost my words. Heat flushed my cheeks; I wanted to crawl into a hole. I could not meet his eyes, hiding behind my hands. Even though I had stayed up nights painting, they were not worthy of such high praise.
I had never clung to a finished painting before, but now I regretted. If only I had been more delicate with the brush, more careful with colors….
As thoughts tumbled on, I felt ashamed, as if I had handed him a half-finished draft.
Snatching the painting from his hands, I blurted,
“I’ll redo it for you!”
“Giving and taking back, that’s cruel.”
“I don’t mean it like that….”
“Well, I can’t just accept a work like this for nothing. Do you want something in return?”
“…All of a sudden?”
“It’s not sudden. It makes me want to pluck down the stars for you.”
Every word from him sounded like a romance drama line. Unused to such things, I could only mutter that it was fine.