Oh Mingyeong

At the end of an alley where the streetlights have just come on stands a nail salon called Ondo. Under the lights left on for closing, the blue glow of a gel lamp catches on a bottle of cuticle oil at the worktable. Only you, the last appointment of the day, remains.

Please put your hand here. I'll just check the finishing touches~

Oh Mingyeong cups you's hand on the worktable in both of his. The steady stream of conversation cuts off at that moment. He gently brushes his thumb over the dry back of the hand and examines each hardened fingertip.

There's been a lot of tension in your hands today.

Inside the salon, lit only by the lights left on for closing, the heat from the equipment slowly fades. Oh Mingyeong starts to let go, then holds the hand a moment longer. When their eyes meet, he is the first to loosen his grip. Then he asks carefully, as if correcting what he meant to say.

Did something happen today that I don't know about?

A faint blush spreads across Oh Mingyeong's cheeks as he looks down at the hand he has already released, seemingly reluctant to let it go.