Black & Grey

“Right…”

While the continuous pounding outside momentarily stopped, a calm voice spoke from deeper inside the tattoo shop.

“Taeho.”

“Yes, hyung! I’ll quiet them down right away!”

The brief call carried the implied message to keep things quiet since work was in progress. With a resigned expression, Taeho reluctantly opened the door slightly. As the man outside stepped in, the smell of rain filled the room.

“Why’d you close the door like that? That’s just cold.”

“I told you, no tattoos for minors. Seriously, though, why are you so drenched? And what’s with all that stuff stuck to your face?”

Taeho clicked his tongue at Yoochan, who was dripping wet and covered in bandages. Yoochan shook his head tiredly, clearly not in the mood to explain.

“Ugh, just… something happened. Think of them as scars of glory.”

“Scars of glory?”

“Something like that. Hey, noona, can I use this towel?”

“Feel free to use any… Wait, no! I told you, we don’t consult minors for tattoos. Coming here and throwing a tantrum just puts us in a tough spot!”

The manager, who had been distracted by Yoochan’s odd appearance, belatedly reprimanded him. Yoochan, however, paid no attention and grabbed a towel from the rack near the entrance. Drying his face and hair roughly, he plopped himself onto the sofa and spoke.

“I have a really important reason for coming here. Sit down for a minute, Taeho hyung. Noona, you too.”

He spoke with a familiarity that suggested they had known each other for a long time, despite the obvious absurdity. Taeho and the manager exchanged glances before reluctantly taking seats across from Yoochan. After wiping his face clean, Yoochan rested his arms on his thighs and let out a deep sigh, his expression serious.

“So… what’s this important reason?”

Unable to contain her curiosity, the manager asked. Glancing back and forth between the two, Yoochan finally clasped his hands on the table and, with an earnest look, declared:

“I want a tattoo.”

In the ensuing silence, the manager’s face turned icy cold, clearly signaling her refusal. Recognizing this, Yoochan sank deeper into the sofa, his tone turning whiny.

“Come on, just do it. Noona! I barely managed to convince my dad to lend me his card after a whole week!”

“Wait, his dad’s card?”

Taeho squinted at him. Yoochan leaned against the armrest of the sofa and shook his head.

“My mom took my card because I got into a fight while skipping tutoring. I’ve been living like a bum for days.”

“My goodness… Skipping tutoring, getting into fights with friends, and now coming here for a tattoo using your dad’s card… I hate to say it, but you’re quite the multi-tasking delinquent, aren’t you?”

“Ah, noona! When you put it like that, I sound like a troublemaker, but I’m not! And it wasn’t just a fight. I’m a martial artist, okay? This was something I had no choice but to do.”

“And what’s the reason?”

Despite her disinterest earlier, the manager seemed intrigued enough to ask why. Yoochan leaned back confidently as if finally getting the attention he deserved.

“Our master at the dojo told us never to use our strength to show off. But he gave us three exceptions. First, if someone’s life is on the line. Second, if someone insults your parents or your woman.”

“…”

“…”

Frowning slightly, Yoochan stared up at the ceiling, as if trying to recall something. Taeho couldn’t help but ask.

“So… you only mentioned two?”

“Don’t you remember the third one?”

“Eh, whatever. That’s not the point.”

Yoochan waved it off as unimportant and lowered his gaze.

“The point is, if someone insults your girlfriend and you just stand there, you’re not a true martial artist. That’s what I wanted to say.”

“Wow, so if they managed to beat up a martial artist like you, they must’ve been really strong.”

The manager’s offhand remark made Yoochan straighten up, clearly offended.

“Excuse me, it wasn’t one-on-one!”

“Oh, I see.”

“When it’s six against one, there’s not much you can do!”

His indignant retort startled the manager into nodding. Taeho, suddenly remembering something, chimed in.

“Wait, your girlfriend wasn’t hurt, right? She was with you, wasn’t she?”

At the mention of his girlfriend, Yoochan’s expression darkened. With a deflated tone, he nodded.

“No, Eunbit didn’t get hurt.”

“She’s not with you today?”

“We broke up.”

“Ah…”

“You said you were going to marry her, though.”

Taeho’s tactless comment earned him a hard stomp on the foot from the manager. Fortunately, Yoochan seemed too lost in his own misery to hear it.

“It’s raining… and I’m feeling down, so I thought I’d come to the last place I saw her.”

“Wait, you last saw her here? Didn’t you meet when you broke up?”

“She dumped me over Messenger.”

“Oh…”

“He said I’m not worthy of being by his side. That it was my choice to stay, but he feels too guilty about leaving me behind to even look at my face. But there’s no need for that.”

“……”

“We dated for 100 days… I cherished her so much I only held her hand… We promised to marry after graduation, go to the same university, and be a campus couple…”

In the heavy silence, Taeho carefully spoke up.

“Then why don’t you go find her and try to win her back?”

Yoochan shook his head with a frustrated expression.

“I called her a few times, but she didn’t answer. I thought about going to her house, but that felt too much like stalking, so I decided to let her go. I feel like real love means letting someone go if they don’t want you. Besides, maybe Eunbit will change her mind someday.”

“That’s fair. Sometimes, you have to let go,” Taeho agreed with a nod. Yoochan let out a deep sigh and continued his lament.

“But I just couldn’t shake off the sadness. While lying in my room staring at Eunbit’s last message, I remembered this tattoo shop. I feel like getting a tattoo would help me move on. It’d make me feel cool… like I’ve grown as a person or something.”

“For high school rebellion, most people stick to drinking, smoking, or sneaking out. A tattoo feels like overkill,” Taeho remarked.

“Think of it as helping someone heartbroken recover. I even brought my dad’s credit card! I need something to remember Eunbit by, and it has to be from the tattoo artist she liked for it to mean anything.”

“Well, not that we’d do it anyway, but you’re not planning on tattooing her name or your breakup date, right? Because that’s an absolute no from us. It’s the second-most discouraged tattoo by ethical tattoo artists here. Number one is the lover’s face tattoo you wanted last time.”

The shop manager preemptively cut in, horrified at the thought. Yoochan scowled, looking offended.

“Do I look stupid? Why would I tattoo my ex’s name? That’s just creepy. I’d never do that.”

“Then what are you thinking of?”

“This time, I want it to mean something. Like ‘Baek Yoochan, who grew as a man by overcoming memories and heartbreak with Eunbit.’ I even came up with the wording on my way here. It’s in English.”

“Oh, now I’m curious even though we won’t do it,” Taeho said.

“What’s the phrase?” the manager added. Yoochan sighed heavily, as if releasing the weight of his wounded pride, and spoke clearly and resolutely.

“No pain… no gain…”

“……”

“In italics, just below my heart.”

A chilling silence filled the room for a few seconds. Then, somewhere, there was the sound of a stifled laugh. It wasn’t Taeho or the manager. They were both desperately trying to suppress their own laughter to avoid offending Yoochan.

Yoochan tilted his head in confusion and turned around, spotting a man sitting in the corner of the tattoo shop. He was seated by a stainless steel bed with his back turned, holding a tattoo machine. His hand covered his forehead as he chuckled softly.

“Is that… Jungeol? No, Cho Jungeol.”

Recognizing the tattoo artist, Yoochan narrowed his eyes. Even from behind, the disbelief in Jungeol’s posture was apparent.

After a brief laugh, Jungeol casually rotated his wrist holding the machine and resumed his work on the man lying face-down in front of him.

The sound of the machine filled the air like a dentist’s drill. Yoochan watched Jungeol’s focused back for a moment before turning to the others, now noticing their puffed cheeks as they struggled to contain their amusement.

“…Is ‘no pain no gain’ really that bad?” Yoochan asked, genuinely perplexed. Taeho shuddered as if the thought alone repulsed him.

“It’s just so overdone. On a Saturday night in Hongdae, you’ll see at least twenty people with that exact tattoo.”

Realization slowly dawned on Yoochan, and he nodded with a faint “Ah.”

“And if the font and placement match, some people end up looking like accidental couples. Imagine being at a bar and finding out a random foreign guy has the same tattoo in the same spot as you. It’s horrifying. That’s why people pay extra for unique designs.”

“Well, tattoos are personal, so apart from quality, it’s hard to say what’s good or bad,” the manager said more diplomatically. “Some people genuinely live by ‘no pain no gain.’ But the problem is, Yoochan… What’s your name again?”

“Baek Yoochan! Just call me Yoochan, noona.”

“Right, Yoochan. The problem is you’re rushing into it, and it seems like you’re settling on one of the most regrettable designs people choose. Even if you do get a tattoo someday, think carefully about what you want. It only takes ten minutes to ink a phrase, but it takes months to remove it.”

Convinced by her explanation, Yoochan nodded thoughtfully, then suddenly asked, “Noona, what about my mom’s name?”

“Your mom’s name? In Korean? English?”

“Anything pretty.”

“Why would you want to tattoo your mom’s name?”

“Well, it’d look mature and make me seem like a filial son. Oh, or maybe the Chinese character for filial piety. I’d never cut ties with my mom, so it feels safe, doesn’t it?”

“Did you get her permission?”

“No? She’d probably hate it—she thinks tattoos look delinquent.”

“Ah…”

The manager let out a bitter sigh.

“A dutiful son who’s actually undutiful.”

“Guess you’re getting disowned by your mom next,” Taeho added with a sharp tone.

“Lee Taeho. Get the minor out.”

Yoochan raised his eyebrows in surprise. He thought it was the customer speaking, but it turned out to be Jungeol. The last time he heard him speak, Jungeol’s voice had been husky and deep, likely because he had just woken up. Now, it was clear and rich—a smooth baritone.

So that’s what they call a golden voice, huh. While Yoochan envied Jungeol’s voice, which sounded like that of a voice actor, Taeho jumped up with a fuss, realizing his role.

“Yes, Hyung! I’ll get him out right away! Hey, schoolboy client, you heard him, right? Get out quickly. Don’t make a racket while Jungeol Hyung is working.”

“What do you mean I was being noisy? I was just here for a consultation,” Yoochan grumbled as he stretched his neck to sneak another look at Jungeol. He hadn’t gotten a good look last time since Jungeol had been lying down, but now he realized they were about the same build. Jungeol’s shoulders were broad, and his arms were muscular, as if he regularly worked out.

“Hyung, why does a tattoo artist have that kind of physique?”

Still staring at Jungeol, Yoochan asked in a hushed tone. Taeho leaned in and whispered back, equally intrigued.

“Wow, we said the same thing about you! Why is a high schooler built like that?”

“Ugh, stop joking. Is he some kind of gangster? Like one of those underground artists who tattoos massive dragons on mob bosses’ backs?”

“Come on, no way. Jungeol Hyung goes to a nearby university. He’s majoring in Oriental painting. You know, one of those artsy oppas girls are crazy about.”

As Taeho teased, Yoochan recalled the name of the prestigious university and frowned.

“That’s so unfitting. He’d be amazing as a judo athlete instead.”

Yoochan gave Jungeol a once-over. His sturdy, tan forearms were exposed beneath his black short-sleeved shirt. Unlike Taeho or the shop manager, whose arms were densely covered in tattoos befitting their profession, Jungeol’s skin was bare, without a single visible tattoo.

“Does that hyung not tattoo himself?” Yoochan asked curiously.

“He’s waiting for an appointment with a foreign artist he likes. The waitlist’s long, so he probably won’t get it done for a few more months. Anyway, stop asking random questions and leave already. Jungeol Hyung gets grumpy when people distract him while he’s working. Don’t drag us into trouble, just go!”

When Yoochan showed no intention of leaving, Taeho tried tugging at his sports bag in frustration. Sighing dramatically, Yoochan pretended to comply, his expression sulky. The shop manager tried to console him.

“Come back when you’re older. Tattoos aren’t going anywhere, right? It’s better not to rush into decisions when you’re still young.”

“I think I get what you mean now, Noona.”

Yoochan nodded as he reluctantly started walking toward the door. Just as Taeho and the manager sighed in relief, Yoochan suddenly bolted toward Jungeol, speaking rapidly.

“But let me watch for a bit…!”

“Customer!”

“Hey…!”

The shop manager covered her mouth in disbelief, while Taeho, his face aghast, reflexively dropped into informal speech. While the two seemed horrified, Yoochan was unfazed, his sports bag swaying as he darted toward Jungeol. Standing behind him, Yoochan peered over the shoulder of the client lying on the bed and spoke in awe.

“Whoa, damn…”

As Yoochan’s eyes widened at the intricate tattoo of a skeletal knight etched in stark black and white on the client’s back, he couldn’t stop exclaiming.

“This is insane. It’s freaking amazing.”

Despite Yoochan’s constant praise, Jungeol didn’t flinch. His hands moved steadily and delicately as he worked the machine. Leaning closer, Yoochan spoke again.

“Hyung, you’re seriously talented. Could you do something like this on my back too?”

The hum of the machine stopped.

“Don’t stand behind me. You’re casting a shadow.”

The voice that Yoochan had found pleasant was now firm and sharp.

“Oh, sorry.” Yoochan hastily stepped aside, noticing a lamp nearby and realizing he’d been blocking the light. But wherever he stood, his large shadow still fell on the client. With no other choice, Yoochan grabbed a round stool across from Jungeol and plopped down, watching him intently. He muttered unfiltered words under his breath.

“Wow, this hyung really hit the jackpot.”

Looking at Jungeol’s face—partially covered by a black mask—Yoochan spoke in a tone that sounded almost resentful. The machine stopped again. Jungeol turned his sharp gaze to Yoochan for the first time, his movements halting.

It was the first time Yoochan got a clear view of Jungeol’s face. He unconsciously voiced his thoughts aloud.

“He’s ridiculously handsome…”

The compliment, loud enough to hear, didn’t faze Jungeol in the slightest. His deep-set eyes and pronounced brow showed no reaction, as though he was used to such comments. Calmly, Jungeol rotated his wrist holding the machine and looked at Yoochan with an indifferent expression.

“Does your wrist hurt?”

Unbothered by Jungeol’s cold demeanor, Yoochan casually asked.

“I could teach you how to tape it up properly.”

“And why would you?”

Still looking genuinely curious, Jungeol asked flatly. Yoochan leaned on the bed next to the lying client’s shoulder and shamelessly replied.

“So you could tattoo me in return.”

“Read that.”

Jungeol tapped the side of a locker with his machine, pointing at a sign. Yoochan turned to look and read aloud the words on the locker.

“We do not provide consultations for minors… Why not?”

Despite the icy response, Yoochan didn’t back down, tilting his head in genuine curiosity. Jungeol’s eyebrow twitched ever so slightly, the first crack in his stoic demeanor. Before he could respond, Taeho finally snapped back to his senses and shouted.

“Minors are absolutely not allowed, okay? Now get out already! Jungeol Hyung needs to work!”

“It’s done, kid. It’s all over.”

Jungeol pulled his mask down slightly as he got up, his expression one of mild annoyance. Yoochan followed suit, thinking to himself that of course, even Jungeol’s lips had to be good-looking. But as he stood, he suddenly noticed something and let out a dry laugh.

“…This hyung really has it all.”

Ever since Yoochan hit 187 cm in height, it was rare for him to have to look up at someone. Yet, Jungeol appeared a few centimeters taller than him.

Unconcerned by Yoochan’s comments, Jungeol reached for a trolley stocked with disinfectants. Just as he was about to grab the spray bottle, he abruptly stopped, frowning and letting go of his wrist in visible irritation.

Noticing Jungeol clutching his left wrist in frustration, Yoochan clicked his tongue quietly.

“My name’s Baek Yoochan. You’re Cho Jungeol, right?”

Yoochan spoke casually, rummaging leisurely through the outer pocket of his sports bag. Jungeol didn’t reply. Yoochan pulled out a roll of black taping tape and suddenly reached out to grab Jungeol’s left hand.

“…….”

Caught off guard, Jungeol frowned, but Yoochan just grinned as if he found it amusing. Biting off the end of the tape, Yoochan spoke with a bright voice.

“When you casually drop the formalities, that means you want to get close, right? I’ll just call you Jungeol hyung, then. What’s your Instagram handle, hyung?”

With those playful words, Yoochan began wrapping the tape around Jungeol’s wrist, but Jungeol swiftly pulled his hand away. Yoochan tilted his head.

“Why’d you pull away? I’ll do it for you, hyung.”

“I told you—why would you?”

Jungeol replied curtly as he opened a drawer. Inside was a roll of the same type of tape but in a pale orange color. Yoochan wrinkled his nose, clearly unimpressed by the color.

“What, are you the shy type who can’t handle physical contact? That’s a bit inconvenient for a guy. You should try judo. Lots of close contact in that.”

Ignoring Yoochan, Jungeol bit the end of the tape and skillfully wrapped it around his wrist. The movements were smooth and practiced, clearly not his first time. Yoochan’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Wow, how do you know that?”

“Know what?”

“How to tape your wrist. That’s a pro-level wrap.”

“…I just do.”

“How do you ‘just’ know? Did you do sports? Feels like you’re one of us. Did you do judo by any chance?”

Jungeol didn’t answer, simply finishing the taping with precision. Yoochan watched as the tape was snugly wrapped around Jungeol’s wrist before he gathered up his black tape and stuffed it back into his bag, muttering under his breath.

“The black one looks way cooler, though.”

Jungeol smirked faintly at this, then tapped the customer who had been lying face down with the taped hand.

“Sit up for a moment.”

The man, who had been dozing off, groggily sat up with a yawn. Keeping one hand in his pocket, Jungeol used his phone to snap a picture of the man’s back before showing it to him.

“I got this much done. Any more today?”

“Nah. I’ve got plans to drink later, so I’ll leave it here. Man, my back’s killing me from lying down so long.”

“I told you it’s better to sit.”

“Easy for you to say. You could probably focus for ten hours straight, but regular folks like me can’t stay in one position for five.”

Grumbling dramatically, the man rubbed his back and asked, “How much longer do we have left?”

“About six more hours to finish everything.”

Jungeol wiped the man’s back with a towel as he answered. The man groaned, looking weary.

“Still that much? Man, this is exhausting. Anyway, thanks for today.”

“Don’t go overboard with the drinking. It’ll cause inflammation.”

“I’m not gonna drink, I swear. Just hanging out.”

Jungeol instructed Taeho to fetch something, and as Taeho hurried off, the man noticed Yoochan standing idly nearby. His face lit up with curiosity.

“Here for a tattoo yourself?”

“Me? I was gonna get my girlfriend’s face tattooed, but we broke up, so now I’m thinking of switching to lettering.”

Yoochan shared this bit of TMI without hesitation. At first, the man’s face darkened at the mention of a girlfriend’s face tattoo, but it brightened again when he heard about the switch to lettering.

“Switching from her face to lettering is a decision worth praising. So where are you planning to get it?”

“Under my chest. Hyung, does the back hurt a lot?”

“The back’s okay. You can sleep through it. But the ribs? Absolute hell. I was screaming the whole time. Wanna see?”

The man lifted his arm to proudly show off his side.

“Whoa. That’s insanely cool.”

Yoochan crouched slightly to admire the tattoo, a skeletal knight and lance extending down the man’s side. He looked up and asked, “Does under the chest hurt, too?”

“It stings a bit, but it’s manageable. Don’t psych yourself out. Just go for it. It’s only lettering, so it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“Don’t encourage minors to get tattoos.”

Jungeol, opening a bottle of ointment Taeho had brought, interrupted with a disapproving tone. As he dabbed the ointment on the man’s skin with a cotton swab, the man winced slightly and protested.

“Encouraging? Come on, it’s not like we’re teaching them bad habits. Whether you regret a tattoo at 18 or at 28, regret’s regret. Better to try it young and get it out of your system early, right?”

“Why does it all end in regret?”

Leaning on the bed with an amused expression, Yoochan chuckled softly as if he found the situation hilarious.

“No one has no regrets. I should have gotten it on my clavicle, or maybe something bigger, or with color, or with nothing at all.”

Yoochan, who had been nodding, suddenly asked curiously.

“Then did you regret it too, Hyung?”

“Ah, yeah, of course I did.”

The man waved his hand as if to stop the conversation.

“I should have come to Jungeol earlier, not get it from that guy who has horrible skills. I should’ve just stuck with the old-school, new-school debate and unified it with a blog… Well, if I start listing all my regrets, it’ll never end. Anyway, do you want to see the school I got?”

Before Yoochan could answer, the man pulled up his training pants. On both calves were crude, cartoonish red roses.

“This one’s actually really pretty.”

“It is pretty, but the upper and lower body concepts don’t match. Anyway, think carefully and make your decision. There’s only one canvas.”

“Did you hear that? There’s only one canvas, customer. And today, Oppa’s the one paying.”

The manager, who had appeared without Yoochan noticing, spoke while holding the payment terminal. The man rummaged through his pockets, pulled out a credit card, and asked with a glance at the manager.

“Is there a regular customer discount?”

“Don’t even dream about it.”

“How about a half-credit deal?”

“I’ll give it to you if you promise to peel your skin off until the debt’s paid.”

“Manager Min, you’re really cold-hearted.”

The man, having no choice, handed over his card after the manager made a serious comment about peeling skin. While the two were finishing the transaction, Jungeol, who had been tidying up the surroundings, took off his mask with a tired look and spoke to Taeho.

“Wake me up ten minutes before the next appointment.”

“Yes, Hyung.”

“That Hyung has a really handsome jaw,” Yoochan thought, then quickly ran over to Jungeol and spoke up.

“Hyung, what’s your Instagram ID?”

“I don’t have one.”

Jungeol said curtly without even looking at Yoochan, heading past the counter to flop down on the sofa. Yoochan, following him, picked something up from the counter and approached.

“Is this your Instagram ID? @B, L, A…?”

Jungeol, who was about to lie down on the sofa, glanced up at Yoochan reading the Instagram ID under the business card with an incredulous look. Yoochan, who had opened the Instagram app on his phone, looked down at Jungeol and confidently said.

“If you want, you can follow me too, Hyung.”

“Why would I?”

“Can you stop saying ‘why would I’? It sounds too cold when we’re supposed to be getting along. By the way, how many followers do you have, Hyung?”

“…Let’s stop.”

Jungeol, who had pulled out a blanket from under the table and covered his face, muttered in a low voice as Yoochan followed suit, casually touching his phone and following Jungeol’s tattoo artist account.

“Three hundred? Isn’t that a little low?”

“How many followers do you have, customer?”

The manager, having finished the payment, asked Yoochan curiously. Yoochan, who had been waiting for someone to ask, grinned.

“4,200.”

“Wow, really? Why do high schoolers have so many followers? Show me.”

The manager looked at Yoochan’s phone, and Yoochan nonchalantly sat on the armrest of the sofa, replying.

“I don’t really manage it because I’m busy, but it just keeps growing by itself. If Hyung posts a lot of pictures, you’ll be like me too.”

Although Yoochan managed his feed with photos of his dad’s and mom’s foreign cars, exuding a sense of show-off and passion, he spoke as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“Oppa, did you hear? You should manage your Instagram.”

The manager clicked his tongue and said to Jungeol, who had covered his face with the blanket. Taeho, sitting on the other sofa, agreed.

“Exactly. Jungeol Hyung, the last update was two months ago.”

“Since I made you do it, you act like you’re forced, and you don’t even bother taking work photos. That’s why the shop is in such a mess. If you don’t promote on social media these days, you’re done. If you don’t want to manage it, just hand the account to me. Oh, Oppa. Stop pretending to sleep already.”

The manager, who had been lowering his voice and being cautious when Jungeol was working, now tapped Jungeol’s arm, nagging him. Jungeol lay still, like a corpse, without moving. Seeing this, the manager sighed deeply, and the customer who had been watching spoke up.

“Cho Jungeol isn’t the type to manage that stuff. He’s the kind of guy who makes someone work eight out of ten times on a walk. Does he even still walk the pitbull? I don’t even remember the last time I saw that dog.”

The man said with a chuckle and then decided to leave. Taeho quickly got up and said, “Hyung, be careful on your way home!”

“Then I’ll make the reservation for next Monday.”

The manager, smiling with service-minded enthusiasm, saw the man off, and Yoochan naturally stood up, saying in a cheerful voice.

“Hyung, go home safely! See you next time!”

As Yoochan bowed like a dojo master, the manager, Taeho, and the man looked at him in disbelief.

“What are you sneakily trying to fit in here? I told you we’re not doing your tattoo!”

The manager snapped back to his senses and grabbed Yoochan’s arm, shouting.

“Go home quickly, middle schooler! Jungeol Oppa needs to nap before working again this evening, so don’t disturb him! Hurry up!”