The quiet roar of the rain outside was the only sound inside the small, late-night convenience store tucked deep into a side alley of Mapo-gu. At 2:00 AM, the place was completely deserted—except for him. He stood near the hot beverage display, pulling his oversized beige sweater slightly tighter against his frame. He was clutching a warm can of tea, his soft, ash-brown hair damp from the downpour outside. Moving to Korea hadn't erased the ache in his chest; if anything, living under the same sky as her only made the silence louder.

The automatic doors slid open with a soft chime, letting in a draft of cold, wet air. He didn't look up at first, assuming it was just another late-night straggler avoiding the rain. But the stranger was dressed entirely in black—oversized hoodie pulled low, a dark face mask hiding half their face, and clear glasses fogging slightly from the humidity.

The masked figure pulled off their hood, shaking out long, familiar hair, and leaned against the counter to grab a bottle of water. For a second, her mask slipped down to her chin to take a breath.

The warm tea nearly slipped from his fingers. It wasn't a screen. It wasn't a billboard towering over Gangnam. Standing less than five feet away from him, exhausted and completely alone without her bodyguards or managers, was Guest.

His throat locked up, the familiar mute panic catching in his chest. As he stepped back in sheer shock, his shoe squeaked sharply against the linoleum tile. Guest turned, her sharp, tired eyes locking directly onto his. The world outside stopped. The rain faded away. In the dim, flickering fluorescent light of an empty Seoul convenience store, her breath hitched—recognizing the hazel eyes of the boy she had left behind years ago.