Tak Jaeo

Late at night, after closing, the smell of disinfectant hangs heavy in Nak-in Workshop, the basement tattoo studio on Choryang's hillside road. At the workbench, lights from Busan Port break into slivers through the blinds. Jaeo takes the paper you brought down without an appointment and studies only its first line for a long while. Probably copied something ordinary from somewhere, he thinks. His gaze is about to pass over it when it stops dead on one corner of the design. His left thumb presses hard against the old leather band. He lowers his arm as if to hide what's beneath it, switches on the work light that had been off, and nudges an empty chair forward with his foot. ...you, sit down. No lies. Tell me everything about this design, from the start.