A bad company corrupts the good moral of men, and a good company restores it. The relationship built between the orphans and Nam Woohyun could be classified as neither, both seeming to benefit each other in unexpected ways. When he announced his intention to acquaint himself with every vivacious personality in the orphanage, he proved to be a man of his words. For days now, he lavished his time with the orphans—each earning an allotted hour in his day. The boundary between them almost seemed forgotten for he blended so well, as if he was one of them. At times however, he was still prone of making blunders.   “You can draw?” Woohyun blinked his eyes, staring at Rika who had brought the topic up during dinner. The lines of disbelief were ingrained on his face.   “I take pleasure in drawing,” Rika confirmed.   “Sometimes we take turns to be drawn by her. She is the greatest artist out there!” Donghyun said eagerly, nearly hopping in the wooden chair that seemed far too big for his small frame.   “Why does it appear so surprising to you? The society places a woman’s value in her ability to draw, play music, and carry out domestic chores, does it not? It is your perfect portrayal of The Angel in The House.” Hyunmi appeared beside him, picking up empty plates to tidy up the table. Of course she induced a tone of provocation, mocking the rich society she despised with the steadfastness of a raging river.   “I am aware of that,” Woohyun said, choosing to seal his lips before continuing his sentence. He remained silent, reconstructing his words and clearing his hesitation into an expressive smile. “You must show me! Could I become the subject of your next drawing?”   The request surprised Rika, as she turned to Jangjun, seeking support. Finding the reassuring comfort in his kind eye smile, she turned to the rich man with unwavering hesitation. “I have only drawn my family thus far, and they form a biased opinion regarding my abilities. Do not set your expectations too high, Mr. Nam, I am afraid it will only disappoint you.”   “Do not devalue your own abilities! How could you insult the Creator who has granted you such an astounding gift?” Jangjun immediately countered her pessimism. Instead of anger, he ed a tone of remorse, taking offense instead of their God.   “What good is a gift if I can do nothing with it? I can’t earn money with it. A storm would drench every line drawn in pencil, and the wind would sweep away the thin paper,” Rika began to wail tragically when more doubt belittled her.   “Your gift makes us happy, wouldn’t that amount to anything?” Jangjun added his final argument. He turned to her, taking her hands within his own to transfer the genuinity of his endless support. “Do not underestimate your own abilities, please.”   “Besides,” Woohyun added, deliberately raising his voice to turn all attention to him, “I grew up developing a fine eye towards the art. Whether or not your drawing is of fine quality shall be determined by me.”   Such was the time when everyone cheered in relentless support, wishing the talented girl could confidently look at her abilities through their eyes. Many of their praises entered her heart, and despite her gratitude, never reached her belief.   To add on to the festive chaos, Dongwoo ensued into the room, running around with several art supplies in his hands. “Paper! Paper!” He yelled with such ardour, giving Rika a paper and pencil to sketch with.   “What should I do?” Woohyun asked eagerly, expecting the young artist to have been convinced enough to start her wonder.   “Put your chair against the wall. You must then maintain your position for hours until she is finished,” Jangjun guided, having been a subject for far too often. Beside, he secretly did not want Rika to be the one physically directing Woohyun.   “I shall do my best not to disappoint you, Mr. Nam,” Rika said, stretching her arm with a pencil in hand, squinting one eye to measure his proportions.   “I don’t doubt you,” Woohyun gave her the final spurge of encouragement before Rika began translating his profile on paper.   In those passing moments of stillness, he noticed all the other orphans gathering around Rika, staring at her paper in awe. Based on the manner they dispersed around her—like a swarm of bees surrounding a blooming flower—he figured it was nearly an everyday occurance to see her drawing process. A part of him wondered what other day-to-day activities they tend to engage in.   Everyone was there except for Hyunmi who took on the role as the mother of the orphanage and cleaned up the table. Every so and then, he caught her taking a peek from behind the sink. As his eyes swayed to her direction, he noticed once again, the faltering latch of the cabinet door.   “You must smile, Mr. Nam. Smile,” Rika reminded immediately, too focused to process what had caused the deep lines growing on his forehead.   After an hour had passed, Rika finally declared its completion. She held the drawing in front of her, luring the model and even the mother of the house to take a look.   “Remarkable!” Woohyun exclaimed at once, staring back at an exact replica of himself drawn out on paper. Though it was only drawn on a flimsy sheet of paper, its quality was that of a painting he wished to have framed in his living room. “Under the hands of a skilful artist, even the most ordinary tools become a part of a greater masterpiece.”   The drawing may not have been able to precede the famous works of male painters of their time, but there was a certain liveliness reaching out to the beholder. The black and white drawn out pupils seemed to beckon joy and curiousity from its onlookers, bearing the ability to make one feel a new depth of emotion.   “She is talented, isn’t she?” Jangjun questioned, proud of Rika’s abilities.   “Certainly. Though if I may inquire, what kind of future do you see with this gift of yours? Considering you are a woman, it may be difficult to sell it,” Woohyun said rather bluntly. Perhaps his interest was inquired at the wrong time, for silence ensued immediately.   Society placed a great difference between male and female; the rich and the poor. Being a poor female placed oneself as the pariah among the plebians. Women were no subject of receiving education unless sent to a boarding school, but admittance to an art school was only granted to boys. Rika had no chance of obtaining formal training in this field even if she were to enhance her skills. There was no future awaiting her, which was the subject Mr. Nam touched upon. Even the greatest talent failed to overthrow the restrictions of a mightier society.   “A difficult obstacle does not define an impossibility. She may become the first female artist known to men,” Hyunmi broke the silence. As always, her views were so radical, upbraiding present society. If one heard her talk delirium with such passion, they may think she was harboring a revolution.   “But how can she obtain fame when she draws using a pencil? The renowned artist uses a canvas and the most expensive extracts of oil paint. Rika has no access to such items!” Woohyun said, the inflation of his voice easily interpreted as an invitation for an argument.   As much as Hyunmi hated it, she found truth in his speech. She pressed her lips tightly shut, preventing herself from emitting foolish words created by the aggravation of the situation.   “It’s quite alright. Please don’t quarrel over me. I have accepted my fate as it is. My future isn’t that of an artist; I will possibly become a servant at a rich man’s house. As long as I have bread to eat and a shelter above my head, I shall be content,” Rika quickly said, wanting to maintain the peace among them. Her drawing was supposed to help people, not divide them. Being the phlegmatic peacekeeper, she abhorred a tension among her loved ones.   She handed the drawing to Woohyun and ran off upstairs, displaying a behavior contrasting the contentment she spoke of. Jangjun and Hyunmi immediately went after her, trying to console her from the misunderstanding she may have formed.   “Don’t worry. No one ever goes to bed with ill feelings. Everything will be sorted out before sunrise,” Daeyeol told Woohyun, reassuringly placing his hand on his shoulder.   “Though if you wish to bask in regret and blame yourself for this incident, you may do so and reflect on it,” Youngtaek added with a sardonic grin. He whined when Dongwoo lightly jerked his arm, reprimanding him for his foul mouth. Then the elder turned to Woohyun, and pressing a finger against Woohyun’s chest, spoke:   “Innocent.”   Woohyun was silenced whereas others resumed to clean off the kitchen. He lifted his head toward the ceiling, as if beckoning God for help, and exhaled a long sigh. He wanted to obtain their hearts, win their favor, and obtain the house. His hard efforts se