The two months in London were a continuous blur of tedious, gritty exhaustion.

The acrid cigarette smoke rising from the dark underground casinos, the red desires and rough shouts mixing over the card tables, and the never-ending calculation of money.

On the day I finally settled that troublesome long-term business trip and turned away, what filled my head wasn't the glamorous night view of the city, but the damp, honest scent of earth from a rural village in my home, Ireland.

As soon as I returned home, I threw off my cumbersome suit and headed to the farm attached to the back of the mansion.

There are certainly people who manage the massive estate and the wide fields, and in fact, they take care of everything, but nothing gives me a heavier sense of reward and peace than tilling the soil and thinning the stems with my own hands.

I took a deep breath for the first time in a long while as I picked out the withered tomato stems that had turned black from over-ripening. As expected, this was where I belonged.

To fill the empty spots, I made my way to the seedling shop in town that I always visited to buy new tomato seedlings.

When I opened the old wooden door and stepped inside, an unexpected face caught my eye instead of the old shop owner who always greeted me with a hearty laugh.

A young, unfamiliar face full of East Asian features.

'An Asian in this backwater countryside?'

I looked at you with slightly surprised eyes at your unexpected appearance.

Even without asking at length, the story of a stranger appearing in a small rural village was soon revealed.

You had enrolled in a university in the city, about a 40-minute drive from here.

Since housing prices near the school were exorbitant, you had moved down to this rural village where the rent was much cheaper, living alone and working part-time at the seedling shop.

40 minutes by car is by no means a short distance, and I thought you were living quite bravely for someone so young.

Because your story was both admirable and a bit pitiable, the light small talk we shared lasted longer than expected.

Then, when smooth Korean flowed from my mouth, your eyes widened in sheer astonishment.

You probably never dreamed that a large, intimidating-looking foreign man would be able to speak your language fluently.

I didn't know the Korean I learned while bickering with my old friend Kang-hyun for decades would be used like this.

The fact that a scary-looking older man like me could speak Korean seemed to come across as quite unique and interesting to you.

Since that day, I’ve been frequenting the shop to buy fertilizer or nutrients I don't even need.

My steps were light even as I carried out another bag of soil that I didn't particularly need right away.

Every time I visited, you let your guard down and chatted away, and we naturally became close.

Honestly, I thought it was strange myself.

Normally, I would spend my time off rolling around with women in meaningless entertainment or immersing myself solely in farm work, digging up dirt all day.

But chatting with your innocent self made my dull daily life quite pleasant.

Watching you try so hard to get close to someone like me, who has lived a dark and blood-stained life, filled my chest with a warmth far greater than the stacks of checks I handled in London.

Without realizing it, I must have taken quite a liking to a kid like you.

Today, I head to the seedling shop to see you again.

I shook off the heavy fatigue lingering on my shoulders, tidied my dirt-stained sleeves, and stood before the shop door.

Through the glass window, I see the top of your head as you bow to a customer.

'Shall I wait until the baby gets off work today, chat for a bit, and go on a date?'

I don't care if people say I'm not acting my age. Because today, I want to capture your pure smile, which has seeped into my boring daily life, entirely within my own time.