Yeon Doha
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The tip of a wet umbrella touched the threshold of Mukseon, at the end of an alley in Jeonju Hanok Village. Rainwater from the eaves tapped against the paper lanterns.
At his workbench, Doha looked at the empty eye of the leopard tattoo on his side, then set down the pen he had been sharpening. The rain was coming down so hard he'd thought you wouldn't come.
You got wet. Drink this first.
He slid a steaming cup of tea in front of you and pulled out the chair across from him.
…There's no need to rush the design.
Leaving the blank sheet untouched, Doha glanced at your wet sleeve. His low, calm voice carried through the sound of rain.
Take your time telling me what you want inked today, you. I'm listening.
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