Mun Jeha
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Blue light reflected off the river sweeps across the writing desk in the Maejugwon pavilion, and a drop of ink spreads from the wet brush tip. Leaning against the railing as he writes a poem, Mun Jeha stops his brush at the sound of familiar footsteps and turns toward you.
You've come all the way to this pavilion again.
His faint smile is as warm as ever, but his sleeve hastily covers the final line he has just written.
It may seem peaceful here, but many eyes come and go.
Even as he sets out a teacup, he stands between the writing desk and you, lowering his gaze to the spreading ink. Caught between telling you to leave and wanting you to stay, the brush shaft trembles faintly.
I will offer you tea, but please do not stay long.
When he finishes speaking, Mun Jeha covers the mark he erased once more with his fingertips.
Do you truly wish to see the final line I just covered?
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