It was their monthly field visit day, and this time, it was to a museum in a nearby town, regarding their lessons in history and Korean literature. The whole class got off the bus and headed into the museum premises enthusiastically, and Suho was the last to join them, to be practically dragged there by Yooju.

“It’s my first time in a museum.” She giggled, whispering in his ear. He smiled in return, holding her hand and interlacing their fingers.

It’s my first time having someone beside me on a field trip.

“You can’t believe it right? But omma and appa never took me to places like that! Only to amusement parks and to high class functions with them.” she huffed, taking the two tickets Yoona had handed over for her and Suho.

Trying not to make it obvious how giddy his movements were making her.

Because his hand wouldn’t let hers go, even for a moment when she wanted to put the tickets into her bag.

“Now this sector...” the curator escorted the students into the final hallway they were visiting inside the museum, which was full of ancient paintings. “Our province was famous even before Joseon era, maybe since the Silla Dynasty as a district which has gifted the nation with lots of valuable litterateurs, poets and artists. This area consists of the remains of their work. Please be careful not to touch them, because some of them are more valuable than we could ever estimate of.”

Bored by the long historical descriptions since about an hour, most of the students had lost their interest in the paintings and poems written in ancient calligraphy they were forced to watch. Suho was the only one who seems to be interested in every single painting, staying frozen at each one and staring at them for long until Yooju would come and take him away.

“This painting,” the curator raised his voice, gaining everyone’s attention to a large off coloured canvas hanging on the wall. All the students gathered around him, some taking out their notebooks, waiting for him to drop some subject related historical facts.

Meanwhile Yooju felt Suho’s hand leaving hers for the first time, and the hand dropped limply on his side. She looked at him, and saw the boy standing with his eyes transfixed on the said painting.

His face had turned paper white, and she saw his lips quivering.

“This one is named as ‘The Faceless Beauty’.” The curator explained, showing them the painting of a maiden of Joseon era wearing a pale red handbook, and the name suited the artwork well, because only the maiden’s back view was drawn.

Face turned away, showing the raven hair cascading down flawlessly.

“This was drawn by an artist called Kim Junmyeon, who lived in the fifteenth century somewhere around this district. The exact location of his household is not clear, since a several wars have broken in these areas through centuries. And there is no written evidence about the artist except for his artworks left, maybe that’s why he’s nowhere to be seen in your textbooks.”

Suho turned and looked at Yooju, who was equally shocked since it wasn’t the first time she was hearing the name ‘Kim Junmyeon’. She clearly remembered him mentioning that name, and for an unknown reason, the mentioning of that name left an odd tugging at her heart.

Those were unmistakably tears glinting behind his thick glasses, when he tore his gaze away from her and looked back at the painting.

“It is said that the girl he drew in all his paintings is the maiden he was in love with, the girl shown in many more painting you’ll see along the passageway.”

“Why...is she called the ‘Faceless Beauty’?” Yuri asked the question which had been bothering many students.

“Because she was a slave girl. The artist Kim Junmyeon is said to have loved a slave girl, and they say the drawing with her face were destroyed by his aristocrat father.”

“Oh...star crossed lovers.” Yuri sighed with her remark.

“Star what?” Her boyfriend Minho asked, just to get a sharp nudge by the girl which made him silent.

“Exactly. Star crossed lovers.” The curator smiled. “We can only imagine how many great artworks were destroyed just because of those arrogant noblemen’s discriminations. And the artist Kim Junmyeon had lived the rest of his life alone, after that girl had passed away.”

Suho felt Yooju snaking her hand around his waist, as she stood beside him, trying her best to calm him down.

Chest heaving with heavy breathing, he stared at the painting with tears that automatically welled up in his eyes.

She saw how it was becoming harder for the boy to stand still, listening to things he basically saw with his own eyes for years through his dreams, knowing it all happened to himself. “Shall we go out?” she finally whispered in his ear, noticing that he couldn’t turn anymore pale.

He shook his head, before raising his hand for the first time with a question.

Surprising the whole class, since ‘Kim Suho the Nerd’ was never the one to speak up in a class, volunteering.

“What happened... to that girl?”

“It’s a tragedy of course.” The curator answered. “The maiden is said to be killed, most probably by the artist’s parents because they wanted to get rid of her to save their son and their dignity.”

A heavy exhale left his lips, shakily, making the boy slightly stumble back. “Excuse me sir...” he gave the curator a curt bow. “I... need to go to the rest room.”

And he stormed out of the room, leaving Yooju all worried and puzzled. The description about the artworks restarted soon after, but she couldn’t hear a single word, as she stood thinking about the boy who left. And once the group of students started moving along the passage, she excused herself and ran out, straight out of the museum building into the garden.

And there he was, sitting all alone on a bench among the well maintained lilac patches.

“Suho are you alright?” she hurried towards the boy and sat beside him. He shook his head, still leaning on his knees with his elbows. “I don’t know why but I couldn’t stop tearing up.” He muttered, brushing his pale cheeks with his shirt sleeve. “It wouldn’t stop...that’s why I headed out.”

She watched him in silence, as the boy blankly stared at the row of lilacs in front of him, tears streaming down his eyes. “It hurts like it really happened to me...it’s exactly like the dreams I had Yooju.”

The girl placed a hand gently on his shoulder. “It’s alright... it’s alright to cry if you want Suho.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to. I hate all these things I keep recalling...it’s like a torture Yooju!”

And she scooted closer, pulling him into a gentle hug. “Shh...it’s alright...” she continued to pat him comfortingly. “It’ll go away with time... Let’s be patient and wait okay?”

“I just... I don’t want you to see me as a weird guy... If only I could be normal like the rest–”

“Nothings weird about you sweetie...and I do believe you!” the girl murmured, pulling his tighter into her embrace. “Just so you know... I- I really like you Suho, and that too, knowing you very well. Just know that you’re the perfect guy in my eyes. The best I’ve ever met.”

His mind was too shaken to be shocked by her sudden confession, hence he nodded, closing his eyes and leaning on her shoulder. She continued to pat his back, until he slowly gave in and encircled his arms around her waist.

“Let’s just go back... I hate this place Yooju.”

* * *

“Call me as soon as you get off the bus okay? I’ll come and get you.”

“Sure, I’ll be back soon.”

Yooju ended her call with Suho, and stared again out of the window. She was on a bus heading to Seoul, since her father had asked her to come home for an unknown reason he called as an emergency.

She hated Seoul.

She hated the sight of the woman who basically owned everything her late mom lived with.

It was past lunch time when she arrived at the minister’s mansion, and hesitantly, she headed straight into her dad’s study, once she set foot in the house she despised the most. The extravagantly dressed step mom of hers, sat and watched the girl ignore her and walk away. A smirk of victory graced her painted lips, and she watched the door of the study close behind the girl.

“Good luck with your dismissal, dear ‘daughter’.”

“Yooju-yah!”

Her dad stood up from his table, and walked forward to pull the girl into a forced embrace. “How’s school sweetheart? You’re performing well aren’t you?”

“Yes...appa.” she muttered, taking the