The winter cultural project was supposed to be finished by Friday.
By Wednesday morning, it was obvious that nobody had actually finished.
The second-floor hallway had become a construction site.
Photographs were being moved.
Captions were being rewritten.
Students were arguing over which pieces belonged together.
Someone had accidentally taped a drawing upside down.
Someone else had brought an entire cardboard box of childhood belongings and insisted every single item needed to be displayed.
Mr. Kim stood in the middle of the chaos with both hands on his hips.
"I said one memory."
The boy holding the cardboard box looked confused.
"These are all connected."
"How?"
"They're my childhood."
Mr. Kim closed his eyes.
"Pick three."
"But_"
"Two."
The boy immediately started sorting.
Daewon watched from the other side of the hallway.
Aera stood beside him, holding a roll of tape.
"This is getting out of control."
Daewon nodded.
"You said that yesterday."
"It's worse today."
"You said that yesterday too."
"It's still true."
He smiled.
Aera looked at him.
"You seem very calm."
"I've accepted that we can't control it anymore."
"That's suspiciously mature."
"I've been learning."
"From who?"
Daewon looked at her.
"You."
Aera smiled.
"Good answer."
Before they could say anything else, Seojun came running toward them.
"Emergency."
Daewon immediately looked worried.
"What happened?"
"The projector."
"What about it?"
"It doesn't work."
Aera looked at him.
"That's the emergency?"
"It was supposed to show the photographs during the presentation."
"Did you plug it in?"
Seojun stared at her.
"...Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"...Mostly."
Daewon sighed.
"Let's go."
They followed him into the classroom.
The projector was sitting on the teacher's desk.
Nothing was appearing on the screen.
Daewon checked the cable.
Aera checked the power.
Seojun checked nothing and simply stood there looking concerned.
After several minutes, Daewon found the problem.
"The cable isn't connected."
Seojun blinked.
"I knew that."
Aera looked at him.
"Of course."
"I was testing you."
"Right."
Daewon connected it.
The projector turned on.
Seojun raised both hands.
"See?"
Aera laughed.
"You were absolutely useless."
"Emotionally, I was very supportive."
Daewon shook his head.
By lunch, the project was finally beginning to look finished.
The teachers had decided to open the display to parents and students that Friday afternoon.
There would be a small presentation.
No grades.
No competition.
Just an opportunity for everyone to see what had been created.
That was what made Daewon nervous.
He had never minded drawing in the art room.
He had never minded showing his work to Mr. Kim.
Even the youth art center didn't bother him as much anymore.
But this was different.
This time, people he knew would be looking.
Classmates.
Teachers.
Parents.
People who knew him.
People who could recognize what he was trying to say.
Aera seemed to understand.
"You've been staring at the display for five minutes."
"I'm thinking."
"About?"
"What people will say."
She leaned against the wall.
"Do you care?"
"Yes."
Aera nodded.
"Me too."
Daewon looked at her.
"Really?"
"Of course."
"I thought you were confident."
"I am."
"Then?"
"Being confident doesn't mean you stop caring."
That answer stayed with him.
Across the hallway, Yerin was standing in front of the umbrella photograph.
She had added one final sentence beneath her previous card.
I still don't remember his face.
Below it, in smaller writing:
Maybe I don't need to.
Daewon read it from a distance.
Aera noticed.
"She changed it."
"Yeah."
"Do you think she's okay now?"
"I think she is."
Yerin looked over.
Their eyes met.
She gave them a small smile.
Daewon returned it.
Nothing else needed to happen.
The memory had found its place.
Friday arrived faster than anyone expected.
The school building felt different that afternoon.
Parents began arriving after classes ended.
Teachers stood near the entrance.
Students hurried around making final adjustments.
Someone spilled juice near the art display.
Someone else stepped on a cardboard sign.
Seojun nearly knocked over a table.
Mr. Kim caught it at the last second.
"Seojun."
"Yes?"
"Walk."
"I am walking."
"Then walk somewhere else."
The hallway filled with voices.
Daewon stood near the beginning of the display.
His hands were cold.
Aera noticed.
"You're nervous."
"No."
She looked at his hands.
"Your fingers are shaking."
"I'm cold."
"It's heated."
"Maybe I'm naturally cold."
Aera smiled.
"You're nervous."
Daewon sighed.
"Okay."
She reached into her bag.
Then handed him something.
A small blue candy.
He stared at it.
"Where did you get this?"
"I had one."
"You saved it?"
"For you."
Daewon smiled.
"Why?"
"Because you always say they're your favorite."
He looked at the candy.
Then at her.
"You remembered."
"Of course."
He opened it.
"Thanks."
Aera smiled.
"You're welcome."
For a moment, Daewon forgot about the people gathering around them.
Then someone called his name.
"Daewon!"
He turned.
His mother had arrived.
Dami was beside her.
Dami immediately pointed toward Aera.
"Is that her?"
Daewon froze.
Aera looked confused.
"Who?"
Dami walked over with a grin.
"The girl from all the drawings."
Daewon covered his face.
"Dami."
His mother laughed.
"I've heard about you."
Aera bowed slightly.
"Hello."
"Don't be so formal."
Dami looked between them.
"You really are shorter than him."
Aera stared at Daewon.
Daewon immediately said,
"I didn't tell her."
Dami laughed.
"You two look funny together."
"Dami."
"What?"
"Go look at the photographs."
"I am."
She walked away.
Aera covered her mouth.
"Your sister is dangerous."
"She's worse at home."
"I believe you."
The presentation began at four.
Students gathered around the display.
Mr. Kim stepped forward.
He didn't make a long speech.
He simply said,
"When we started this project, I thought we'd be collecting memories."
He looked around the hallway.
"I was wrong."
Everyone became quiet.
"We weren't collecting memories."
He gestured toward the wall.
"We were discovering that everyone carries a life other people can't see."
Daewon looked at the photographs.
The hallway suddenly seemed quieter.
Mr. Kim continued.
"Some of these memories are happy. Some are embarrassing. Some are painful. Some don't even have enough information to explain them."
He smiled.
"And that's fine."
He stepped aside.
"Look around."
The parents began moving along the wall.
Students followed.
Daewon watched his mother stop in front of his drawing of the hidden garden.
She stared at it for a while.
Then she looked at him.
"You drew this?"
He nodded.
"It's beautiful."
Daewon smiled.
His mother looked closer.
"Is this the garden you told me about?"
"Yeah."
"I thought you made it sound more abandoned."
"It is."
She laughed.
"Then why does it look so peaceful?"
Daewon looked at the drawing.
"Because I like it."
His mother nodded.
"Then I understand."
A few meters away, Aera's parents had arrived.
Her mother stood in front of one of her photographs.
Aera watched from a distance.
Her mother smiled.
"You took this?"
"Yes."
"It's beautiful."
Aera looked down.
"Thank you."
Her father studied another photograph.
Then he turned toward her.
"You really like this."
Aera nodded.
"Yes."
He smiled.
"Then keep doing it."
Aera looked surprised.
He shrugged.
"You don't need a better reason."
She smiled.
"Okay."
As the afternoon continued, more people gathered.
Students pointed out their submissions.
Parents asked questions.
Teachers talked about how much the students had changed.
Daewon stood near the edge of the hallway.
He watched Aera speak to a parent about one of her photographs.
She wasn't hiding anymore.
She wasn't standing behind the camera.
She was explaining what she saw.
She looked comfortable.
He smiled.
Then someone tapped his shoulder.
It was Choi Eunseok.
Daewon's youth art instructor.
"You've changed."
Daewon looked surprised.
"Since when?"
"Since the first time I saw your work."
Daewon glanced at the display.
"Is that good?"
Choi smiled.
"You used to draw what you wanted people to see."
Daewon waited.
"Now you draw what you actually see."
Daewon looked at his work.
He thought about the old man at the bookstore.
The woman with groceries.
The hidden garden.
Aera.
Maybe he was finally learning the difference.
Choi handed him a small card.
"Your youth showcase piece is confirmed."
Daewon looked at him.
"The date?"
"Next Saturday."
Daewon's smile disappeared.
"Already?"
"Yes."
Choi laughed.
"You wanted the opportunity."
"I know."
"Now you have it."
Daewon nodded.
"I'll be ready."
"I hope so."
Choi walked away.
Aera approached a few moments later.
"What happened?"
Daewon looked at her.
"My showcase is next Saturday."
She smiled.
"That's good."
"I'm nervous."
"Me too."
"Your exhibition?"
She nodded.
"Next Saturday."
They stared at each other.
Then both laughed.
"Same day," Daewon said.
"Looks like it."
For the first time, their separate paths were leading them toward the same kind of day again.
Not because they had planned it.
Not because they had followed each other.
They had simply kept walking.
And somehow, they had arrived beside each other.
Aera looked at the crowded hallway.
"Are you glad you did this?"
Daewon thought about it.
"Yeah."
"Why?"
He looked at the wall.
Then at her.
"Because I got to see everyone differently."
Aera smiled.
"I think that's what I liked too."
They stood together while the hallway slowly emptied.
The photographs remained.
The drawings remained.
The little pieces of ordinary life remained pinned to the walls.
And for one afternoon, everyone who walked through that hallway was allowed to see something they normally never got to see.
A small part of someone else's world.
Before leaving, Aera stopped beside the photograph of the two children beneath the pale blue umbrella.
She looked at it.
Then she looked at Daewon.
"Do you think we'll ever forget this place?"
Daewon looked around the hallway.
"No."
Aera smiled.
"How do you know?"
He thought for a moment.
Then he answered,
"Because everyone left something here."
She nodded.
They walked downstairs together.
Outside, the evening air was cold.
Aera opened her blue umbrella even though it wasn't raining.
Daewon looked at her.
"Why did you open it?"
She shrugged.
"I like it."
He smiled.
"Okay."
They walked beneath it together.
And behind them, on the second floor of Haneul Middle School, hundreds of ordinary moments remained on the wall.
Waiting quietly.
For someone to remember.