The sun spilled across the glass towers of Seoul, gilding the morning rush in gold.
The streets hummed with life where buses hissed, cars rumbled, and the faint chatter of pedestrians filled the air.
Amid the crowd, a man walked with a calm, almost nostalgic air.
His black hair, slightly unkempt with bangs that brushed his eyes framed his eyes.
He wore a white tucked-in shirt, neatly pressed, paired with black pants giving him the air of someone on his way to work or getting out of work.
A black leather bag hung over his shoulder, its strap worn and frayed, as if he had it for many years and was the only thing he clung to.
He stepped through the automated doors of a place called The Hub, a café popular among young professionals.
The aroma of roasted beans and the low hum of jazz washed over him as he entered.
At a corner table, a man waved enthusiastically, his smile as bright as the morning light.
"Kim Hajun! Over here!"
Kim blinked once, then smiled faintly.
