Supremacy of touch [NAMGI - SUGAMON]

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One of my wildest drafts, I must say.
I really loosened up writing this, it's the most dynamic I can manage for now lol

* English is not my first language so grammatical mistakes are bound to happen.

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They say if you are bold enough to prove your worth to the Gods, these divine entities will grant you with your deepest, most twisted and unfeasible desire. However, all deities are capricious creatures, their immortal nature makes them indulge in whimsical acts; thus this statement almost never stays true.

A man nearing his thirties, a secretly misanthropic sculptor devoted to art, one of the most renowned crafters in Korea, knows this and yet strongly believes he has the Gods on his side. For how lucky could a mere man be to earn his living by doing what he loves?

Yes, he is talented enough to give his sculptures a life-like appearance, that's the main reason he is so well known.

He is passionately attached to his profession: carving magnificence out of shapeless blocks of marble or granite. Even if he doesn't get paid insane amounts of money and believes his statues are of greater value than what his clients pay, for Namjoon an austere life is enough. This way he is as free as a mortal can be; after all, luxury and vanity are the worst kind of prisons a human can wander in.

It is a terrible pity that what he loves doing also brings doom to his life.

Namjoon is lonely by choice. Please do not misinterpret, he is a great conversationalist with a mind too brilliant to remain silent, but he still prefers to spend unending hours sitting inside his studio with the serene company that only his statues can provide.

Irony at its peak: he excelled on recreating the anatomy of both men and women in upmost detail, he learned by heart every curvature and crevice of the human flesh, and yet he couldn't bring himself to embrace someone in the most intimate of ways.

This feverish passion of his always spared him no time to appreciate the affection that a woman, or man, could give.

He is reminded of the misery of his ephemeral existence as his rough hands clench and unclench longing to grab tender, candid flesh instead of the usual cold, rounded edges of stone. Namjoon can't seem to find what he is looking for: a partner whose beauty exceeds that of his ivory creations. At this point, he is tired of trying. Every man he meets is handsome to some degree but either too rough or too lanky, and every woman he meets is delicate in her own way but either too conceited or too uncultivated.

He is not being picky. They are not worthy of his love because they are imperfect.

How many times has he met up with men of the trade and discussed this matter for hours, ending the conversation abruptly because they didn't seem to understand? Needless to say, all of these men were happily married and had discarded art as a lover long ago. They tell him to hurry up and marry the first lady that happens to bump into him and is decent enough, confidently suggesting he will learn to love her the same way he does art. But love is a deep, complex feeling, not something easy and practical as they imply. 'Hurry up, you will start withering soon.' 'What are you going to do when you grow old, die alone?', they say, and it unnerves him how plain everyone is.

Outraged, Namjoon always comes back home refusing the idea of marriage. But when moonlight falls upon his favorite collection of books, caressing the painting hanging on the wall or the sharp surface of marble, he wants to marry art in all its forms. He has come down to realize that absolutely no person that breathes could aim to be as beautiful and interesting as art itself, so, under the faint and discreet light that radiates the moon, he mutters his vows to the abstract entity.