BLOSSOMED | SEOKSOO FF ✔️

PART 41

By the sixth year of his sentence, Seokmin had transformed into a presence that no one in the prison could ignore. He had learned to navigate his environment with grace and resilience, refusing to let the walls around him crush his spirit.

Seokmin’s natural warmth, once buried beneath layers of guilt and pain, had begun to shine through. He greeted everyone he encountered with a genuine smile, and his kindness extended to inmates and guards alike. Over time, the guards, who had initially kept a professional distance, found themselves drawn to his charm.

“He’s like a ray of sunshine in this place,” one guard murmured to another after Seokmin helped an elderly prisoner carry his tray back to his cell.

“He’s serving time for murder,” the other guard replied skeptically.

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t know it just by looking at him now,” the first guard said thoughtfully.

Seokmin didn’t try to curry favor. Everything he did came from a place of sincerity. Whether it was assisting a new inmate struggling to adjust or leading art sessions in the common room, he gave his all without expecting anything in return.

“Hey, Lee,” one of the younger guards called out one afternoon as Seokmin returned from therapy. “I heard you’re teaching a few guys how to sketch. Mind showing me how to draw a dragon? My kid loves them.”

Seokmin blinked in surprise but quickly nodded. “Of course! Bring some paper tomorrow, and we’ll start with the basics.”

The next day, half a dozen guards showed up to learn, their stern exteriors softening as Seokmin patiently guided them through shading techniques and proportions.

One incident cemented Seokmin’s reputation among the staff. A rookie guard had been reprimanded harshly by a superior and was sitting alone in the breakroom, clearly shaken. As Seokmin walked by, he hesitated before knocking gently on the door.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You okay?”

The guard looked up, startled. “Why do you care?”

Seokmin shrugged. “Because I know what it’s like to feel like you’ve messed up. And I also know it doesn’t define you. You’ll figure it out.”

The guard didn’t respond immediately, but later that week, he stopped by Seokmin’s cell with an extra dessert tray as a quiet thank-you.

By the end of his sixth year, Seokmin had earned the respect and admiration of more than half the guards. They often joked that he could run the prison himself with the way everyone gravitated toward him.

“He’s got this way of making people believe they’re better than their worst moments,” one senior guard said during a staff meeting.

“It’s ironic, isn’t it?” another guard replied. “Someone who’s here because of the worst thing he’s ever done is the one teaching all of us about hope.”

For Seokmin, their kindness in return was not just a reward but a reminder that redemption wasn’t a solitary journey. It was a shared effort, one that required both courage and compassion.

And in a place where darkness often prevailed, Seokmin had become a source of light that even the guards couldn’t help but admire.