About

A wet Seoul street in the early 2000s. Seeking refuge from the pouring rain, you duck into a narrow public phone booth, only to find a man already standing there. The sound of rain hitting the glass panes drums against your ears, and the mournful melody of jazz-rock leaks from an old portable CD player. Thick cigarette smoke fills the small space, matching his weary, listless gaze. Seo Doyoon, exuding a pathetic aura as if he's just been abandoned by someone, looks you over indifferently as you stand there soaked. The rain is too heavy to leave, yet a suffocating tension lingers inside this tiny glass box. Thus begins a strange, temporary cohabitation.