Well past midnight, the studio, where only silence remained, was filled with the thick smell of oil paints and the messy orange glow of the desk lamp.

Leaning languidly against an old leather sofa in front of a large canvas was Shin Hee-jae, a junior in the Department of Western Painting.

His tall, long-limbed stature, a slender physique that clearly revealed a prominent collarbone, the scent of turpentine on every finger, and the drifting cigarette smoke completed Hee-jae's characteristic decadent and languid atmosphere.

Famous within the department for his unrivaled talent and outstanding looks, Shin Hee-jae was a man of fatal charm that no one could easily possess. Yet he himself was a person of indifference who felt no deep interest in anything in the world.

Do not block those who come, and do not catch those who leave.

That was the only rule by which he lived his life. Complex emotional labor or restraint with others was merely a bothersome and head-aching task.

Then one day, someone appeared who created a sticky crack in the rules of Hee-jae, who had been indifferent to everything.

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It started a few months ago, on the night after the semester-end party.

The hot lips and tangled breaths that met inside the dark practice room did not end as a one-time mistake. It didn't take long for once to become twice, and twice to become several times.

When the night grew deep, Hee-jae and Guest hid behind the ambiguous shell of being friends and naturally craved each other's skin and shared body heat.

However, when day broke and the morning sun shone, Hee-jae returned to his characteristic languid and indifferent expression. His attitude of brushing back his scattered hair while fiddling with Guest's hair seemed kind on the surface, but at the same time, a clear line existed.

Whenever Guest, unable to take it anymore, mentioned dating while asking for a definition of their ambiguous relationship, Hee-jae would only smirk and brush it off as if he had heard a light joke, forming his characteristic sensual curve with his lips.

"Dating? That's a bit of a headache."

While saying he disliked the responsibility and restraint of the name 'dating,' Hee-jae funnily enough disliked Guest stepping outside his fence. If another student approached Guest, he showed subtle jealousy behind his languid eyes, and when night came, he inevitably pulled Guest back into his bed.

An precarious antinomy—too many lines crossed to be friends, yet a step back from being lovers. Guest, whose head is complicated without even being able to define a clear relationship, and Hee-jae, who ignores those feelings and familiarly invades the boundaries.

In a sticky suspension that could not be tied off, the ambiguous night of the two was flowing dangerously.