New Normal - Chapter 70

Inside a hotel room in the heart of Midtown, New York. Fresh out of the shower, Juwon took a slow sip of his drink and stared out at the skyline beyond the glass.

He’d passed on the Central Park view, choosing instead the dense forest of skyscrapers whose presence only grew bolder and more dazzling as night deepened. Times Square’s blinding neon, the dignified grandeur of Rockefeller Center, and the Seagram Building, hailed as a paragon of modern high-rise design.

It was impossible to deny that Mies van der Rohe had played a part in making modern cities look monotonous and dry, but his ordered, balanced minimalism distilled urban beauty into its purest form.

A crisp structure of steel and glass. Lines stripped of every unnecessary flourish. A restrained beauty shaped by light and shadow, emerging from simplicity. A pure, even urban aesthetic.

Still, the irony wasn’t lost on him—he, who’d grown tired of Seoul’s cookie-cutter glass buildings, revered van der Rohe. Maybe it was the influence of his old mentor. Maybe the cultural reverence came from years of learning under Rostein, a German. The thought made Juwon smirk at himself as he turned away from the window.

Concrete and glass walls, a polished stone floor. Even the subtle gray lighting in Rostein’s office mirrored the city’s strong, solid presence. It was a space Juwon knew well, and one he’d longed to return to.

This trip was for the final jury presentation of an international design competition hosted by New York City, the same project he’d attended the briefing for the last time. The competition’s theme was a new public library and community cultural complex in Midtown. Rostein had led the project, with RSTA joining as one of the collaborating firms.

The concept is to highlight New York’s urban context and public value, which had caught the judges’ attention. Out of more than two hundred entries, Rostein’s team, with Juwon among them, had made the top five.

[I’d like you to handle the final presentation tomorrow, too.]

That was what Rostein had said earlier today. When Juwon showed a flicker of surprise at the sudden request, the older man had smiled slowly.

[You’re the one who can explain the heart of my project most clearly and convincingly. I know the prep time is short, but you understand what it means that I’m asking you directly, don’t you? It means I need you.]

RSTA’s involvement in the project had been small, and the final presentation was an incredibly high-profile spot. Clearly, Rostein wasn’t just giving him a chance. He wanted to secure Juwon’s answer to a previous offer and make his presence as a successor undeniable.

“Ha…”

Letting out a quiet sigh, Juwon ruffled his hair and slumped into the chair by the window, sipping his drink. After spacing out for a while, his eyes fell on the drafting pencil lying on the table.

The blue mechanical holder pencil, worn perfectly to his grip, had belonged to his father. He cherished it as much as his father’s watch, which he always carried.

He stared at it for a moment, then flipped through the hotel notepad before standing up and pulling a sketchbook from his suitcase. Out of boredom, he thought he’d do a few rough sketches for Professor Kim Suyeon’s project.

Hand drawing was one of Juwon’s favorite tasks. Thinking through a building’s shape, proportion, and volume in his head, then setting the masses on paper, it was in that process that relationships between spaces emerged.

Sketching a building over diagrams of functions and movement wasn’t just a rediscovery of architecture’s essential beauty; it was also the best way to clear his head and refocus.

The sharp lead slid across the paper with a crisp sound. Each black line he drew made him bite down in concentration.

It was still the early conceptual stage, so the shapes were rough and the lines simple. But the perspective sketch gradually sharpened into clear, precise outlines with more detail.

Getting carried away, Juwon began drawing the elevations, carefully rendering the steel frame and brick patterns. He added vertical design elements for a modern touch, making sure each facility connected functionally around the central plaza…

After a long stretch of focus, he paused mid-floor plan, setting the pencil down. Running a hand through his hair with a slight frown, he reached for a cigarette out of habit, but didn’t light it. He just held it in his mouth and stared down at the drawing.

Suddenly, he thought architecture was a lot like a relationship. The early design stage was like the thrilling, passionate beginning of love. But as details are added and the form takes shape, unexpected challenges and variables appear, just like how a relationship becomes familiar and emotions get tangled.

“If I wasn’t chosen as a visiting scholar, what were you going to do if I said I wouldn’t follow you?”

“And you… so you were planning to go abroad anyway? Without talking to me first, just telling me like this, right?”

“No. I just needed time to think about us.”

After Jisoo turned him down, he’d buried himself in work, almost obsessively, and left for the trip as if fleeing. But no matter how busy he kept himself, her face, her voice, and that day’s conversation wouldn’t leave his head.

Maybe he’d underestimated it all.

He took the cigarette from his mouth and picked the drafting pencil back up, fiddling with it as he stared into the shadows under the dim light. His thoughts blurred. He lifted his head, looking out the window again.

The city that always pulsed with overwhelming presence and vitality suddenly felt far away. The pitch-black sky without a single star was suffocating; the buildings were cold and hard; the glittering lights were hollow, soulless.

It just looked lonely.

“Dad, why does everything get so quiet at night?”

“Because night is when the world catches its breath after a busy day. Trees, grass, houses, and us, too. Sometimes we need to rest like this to go farther.”

The memory was so vivid in his ears,summer nights in the Myeongnyun-dong garden, staring up at the night sky with his father.

“Juwon, how do you feel when you look at the night sky?”

“You’re right, they really are far. But that’s no reason to be sad. Just because something’s far doesn’t mean it’s gone. The stars will always be there, watching over you from a distance.”

The night before his parents’ accident, that was their last conversation.

“Juwon, as you live, you’ll get closer to some people and farther from others. You’ll gain things and lose things, sometimes they’ll be precious, sometimes not. But whenever that happens, don’t lock your heart away just because you feel sad or scared.”

His father couldn’t have known what would happen the next day, yet those words now felt like they’d been meant to comfort him.

Juwon stepped back from the window and sat on the edge of the bed, absentmindedly rolling the pencil in his hand.

“Don’t run away, be brave. Just like you shouldn’t stop looking at a star because it’s far, it’s the same with your heart. Be brave and keep moving forward. Who knows, maybe one day that star will be right beside you.”

Back then, the words had been too vague for him to fully understand. But now, they hit with striking clarity, like a prophecy sent across decades.

Setting the pencil down, Juwon buried his face in his hands and exhaled deeply. He’d been running after something always out of reach, but somewhere along the way, the direction had blurred. What did he truly want? Was he letting go of precious things right next to him?

Even the skyscrapers and glittering night view, Rostein’s prestige, and the career opportunities, all of it now felt like a hazy backdrop. Maybe what he really wanted was simply… someone’s presence beside him.

Lifting his head, Juwon picked up his phone from the table. Without hesitation, his fingers moved.

[I know I told you not to contact me while I sorted my thoughts. But there’s something I want to say. I’m flying back from New York tomorrow. Let’s meet and talk when I get back. Please give me some time.]

After sending it, he felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Maybe for the first time, he was choosing the direction he truly wanted. It was still scary, but there was a solid certainty beneath it.

***

Jisoo traced the rim of her teacup absentmindedly, gazing out the café window.
Her eyes wavered ever so slightly, scanning the silhouettes of strangers passing by, as if searching for a familiar shadow.

Like an unfinished canvas abandoned mid-stroke, Song Woohyun had left abruptly, covering everything just when it shone the brightest. Thinking of their last moment together left her with the same dull aftertaste as cold coffee.