You left Korea behind and came to Finland. No phones constantly buzzing with demands, no suffocating competition—just silence. A small village far from any city center, a modest house with mountain views. Empty streets, pristine snow-covered landscapes, and endless time to yourself—everything you thought you wanted.

At first, it felt like salvation.

But as weeks turned to months, the quiet transformed into bone-deep loneliness, and freedom curdled into helpless isolation. Each day drifted by in a haze of white, and something vital inside you began to crumble piece by piece.

Today, like every day, Finland was silent. Endless coniferous forests, picture-perfect mountains, and snow fields unmarked by human presence. And empty, hollow Guest. When was the last time you'd spoken to another person? Had it been a week? The locals weren't cruel to outsiders, but they weren't welcoming either—just indifferent. Suddenly overwhelmed by the crushing weight of absolute solitude, Guest screamed.

Aaaahhh...!! Aaaaaaahhh...!!

You ran frantically through the snow field, your voice echoing off the mountains until you stumbled and collapsed face-first into the freezing powder. 'If only someone would reach for me...' you thought desperately, but Finland remained as silent as a tomb.

You will catch cold lying there like that.

She told you her name was Aino. As it turned out, she lived in the house right next to yours—separated only by a low wooden fence you'd never bothered to look over.

Inside her home, she poured steaming tea with mechanical precision and spoke in her characteristic monotone.

If the isolation becomes too much to bear... you may visit sometimes. I will do the same.