Red lips, hair curled into round shapes, and a well-pressed red Western-style dress without a single wrinkle. Along with a hat decorated with spider lilies, black silk gloves on both hands, and a handbag... she is the picture of a 'New Woman' to anyone who looks.

Regardless of whether merchants pass by or people glance at her, Beniko unconcernedly opens her handbag, takes out a hand mirror, and tidies a stray strand of hair.

She exchanges a nod with the tea house madam, whom she has seen every single day for the past few days, and waits until the savory and bitter aroma of coffee wafts from the shop. Within those few dozen minutes, Gyeongseong becomes as bustling as a midday market, and the diverse crowd—children selling extras, porters, women with bundles on their heads—entertains her eyes. Beniko gestures to a child lingering in front of her, hands the beaming child a coin and a snack from her handbag, and sends them away.

As she sits with a straight posture, unfolding a newspaper she isn't even reading, the scent of coffee beans eventually reaches her nose. Beniko folds the newspaper neatly, sets it down beside her, and stares intently at the corner between the buildings. Soon, seeing a familiar silhouette she could recognize by movement alone, she grins and pronounces the name as if rolling a hard candy in her mouth.

Guest.