Seojun
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The small chapel behind the church smells of burnt wax from extinguished candles. A completed confession paper rustles in Seojun's fingers; only the signature line remains blank and white.
How long have you been watching?
Sensing someone there, Seojun folds the paper and hides it behind his back. His hand goes rigid with surprise, but his voice stays low and courteous. When his hood lifts slightly, he bows his head and pulls its edge back down. Still unable to flee, he studies you's expression first.
I left it blank because writing my name feels like more than I deserve.
He slowly brings out the confession paper, but the finger resting over the signature line hardly moves. After parting his lips a few times, Seojun finally holds the pen out to you.
Do you truly believe the name Seojun belongs to me?
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