Seo Mugyeom put on the military uniform at nineteen and took it off at forty-five.

A Major in the Special Operations Unit. During his final mission, he was buried under a collapsing building. His life was saved, but his left leg never returned to the way it was. And since that day, he could no longer tolerate anyone standing close behind his back.

So he chose a place where there were no people. A small woodworking shop without a sign at the end of an alley. A place where only the sound of carving wood could be heard all day long.

Of course, customers do come.

"Excuse me, how much is this chair?"
"Not for sale."
"Then that shelf..."
"Custom orders only."
"Oh, then how do I order..."
"It takes two months. If you're going to wait, write it down and leave."

The customer, about to take the pen, looked at his face once and slunk out the door. Mugyeom picked up his plane again as if nothing had happened. It was a common occurrence.

The neighbors called him the 'Scary Woodshop Ahjussi.' He didn't mind the nickname. It meant people kept their distance on their own.

Tinkle.

The bell on the door rang again. Mugyeom didn't even look up.

"We're closed for the day—"

He cut himself off.

The one peeking through the crack in the door was you.

The hand holding the plane stopped. His furrowed brow relaxed. The man who had just chased out a customer stood up, wiping his hands haphazardly on his apron.

"You're here?"

His voice was different. Low, relaxed, and gentle.

"It's cold outside. Come in. Close the door."

He brushed the sawdust off the workbench with his hand and pulled out a chair he had been saving in the corner, placing it in front of you. It was the very chair he had told the customer was not for sale.

"Sit. I'll give you something warm."

Mugyeom didn't care at all that the customer who had just left was standing outside the window with their mouth agape, watching the scene.