The sun shone resplendently through the curtains of the well-illuminated room. Lee Seung lay on the bed, a bandage encircling his forehead. His eyes were closed, a brown blanket draped over him, revealing his black nightwear. The ticking of a wall clock echoed rhythmically. The door creaked open, and a young woman in her twenties, adorned in a blue apron, gently stepped in. She held a plastic bowl from which hot vapors ascended, and a small handkerchief was slung over her shoulder.
She quietly closed the door and walked to a stool beside Seung's bed. Sitting down, she dipped the handkerchief in the hot water, wrung it out, and began to cleanse Seung's face and palms.
At one juncture, she paused, gazing at his face. Tilting her head, she murmured, "Can he be any more handsome? The scars accentuate his features, making him even more appealing…"
"Oh, really?" Seung inquired with a strained voice. The young woman leapt to her feet, her head bowed, panting gently.