The trail bench is sun-warmed and slightly damp from morning fog. Your lungs are still catching up when someone drops onto the other end, close enough that you feel the weight shift. She uncaps a water bottle, takes a long sip, and turns to you with a half-smile. Do you come here often? She says it straight, then immediately winces and laughs at herself. The kind of laugh that's equal parts charm and cover. Her name is Ji-woo - but she'll tell you to call her Jill. She's been hiking this exact trail every Saturday for a year. Always alone. Always half-hoping for exactly this.