The morning sun painted the streets of Gwangju in warm golden hues as Yna stepped out of the Airbnb she shared with Minho. It was a quaint, single-story rental tucked between older townhouses, its modest yet inviting structure exuding a quiet charm. The exterior was simple—soft beige walls, dark brown wooden shutters, and a small veranda at the front adorned with potted pnts. A narrow path lined with stones led to a miniature garden, where a few colorful blooms peeked through the morning dew. The scent of fresh earth mingled with the crisp morning air, creating a comforting familiarity.

  Inside, Minho sat on the couch, bent over as he tied his shoeces. His duffel bag rested beside him, a sign he was about to leave for the station. The interior of their Airbnb was just as cozy—wooden floors, a compact but functional kitchen equipped with all the necessary appliances, and a small dining area with a round table and two chairs. The bedroom held a queen-sized bed neatly made, the undry room was tucked away separately, and the best feature of all was the mini veranda overlooking the quiet street.

  Minho looked up as Yna adjusted the strap of her handbag near the door. “You heading out early?”

  She nodded, gncing at the clock. “Yeah, I have to meet someone before lunch.”

  Minho’s brow lifted slightly. “Someone? Who?”

  She hesitated for just a moment, fingers lightly gripping the strap of her bag. “Just... a colleague I ran into when I got back here.”

  He studied her, his gaze unreadable, as if trying to decide whether to question her further. But instead, he exhaled lightly and nodded. “Alright. Just don’t forget about lunch with Lyn and Aky. We’re meeting at noon.”

  “I won’t.” She forced a small smile, though there was something distant in her eyes.

  Minho stood, stretching his arms before slipping his phone into his pocket. “You need a ride? I can drop you off before I head to the station.”

  Yna shook her head. “No, it’s not far. I can manage.”

  “You sure?” he asked, still watching her with mild concern.

  “Yeah,” she reassured him. “I could use the walk.”

  Minho lingered for a moment before nodding. “Alright. Just don’t disappear on me.”

  Yna chuckled softly, pushing the door open. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  As she stepped outside, the fresh morning air wrapped around her, crisp and invigorating. The quiet hum of the city waking up filled the streets—the distant sound of bicycles, the occasional chatter of shopkeepers setting up for the day, and the comforting aroma of freshly baked bread wafting from a nearby bakery. She paused for a second, taking in the familiar surroundings of a pce she once called home before moving forward, her footsteps steady against the pavement, heading toward a meeting that weighed on her mind more than she cared to admit.

  A week ago—A Roadside Encounter

  The sun had just begun to dip below the horizon when Yna’s car sputtered and lurched, a sharp jolt rattling her in her seat. A sinking feeling settled in her stomach as she steered the car toward the shoulder of the road, the engine groaning before falling into silence.

  “Damn it…” she muttered under her breath, pressing her forehead against the steering wheel. This wasn’t how she imagined arriving in Gwangju—stranded on a quiet, empty road, her Airbnb still a few kilometers away.

  With a sigh, she pushed open the door and stepped out, stretching her legs as she surveyed her surroundings. The street was lined with old, familiar houses—structures that had withstood the passage of time. She had only been back in Gwangju for a few hours, yet the air was already thick with ghosts of the past.

  The sound of approaching footsteps snapped her out of her thoughts. She turned just as a man, dressed in a dark jacket and carrying a pstic bag, slowed his pace upon seeing her. His weathered face was partially obscured by the fading light, but his sharp, searching eyes locked onto hers.

  “Do you need help?” His voice was deep, slightly rough from age.

  Yna shook her head quickly. “No, I—” She stopped mid-sentence as the man took another step forward, his expression shifting. His gaze—piercing and unwavering—sent a shiver down her spine.

  It wasn’t just recognition.

  It was disbelief.

  It was something close to shock, maybe even grief, as if he were looking at a ghost.

  Yna’s breath hitched. She didn’t understand why this man was staring at her like that—like he knew her.

  And then, as if the years peeled away in an instant, realization struck.

  Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out. She knew those eyes. She knew the way his brows furrowed in hesitation, the way his hands trembled ever so slightly as if he wasn’t sure if she was real.

  “Mr. Jang?” The name barely left her lips before the weight of it settled in her chest like a stone.

  A sharp inhale. His grip on the pstic bag tightened. “Yna…”

  The way he said her name—it wasn’t just recognition. It was something heavier, something deeper. A name spoken by someone who had once carried the burden of protecting a child, only to lose her to time and circumstance.

  Before either of them could say another word, Yna’s phone rang, shattering the moment. She tore her gaze away, her hands fumbling as she picked up the call.

  “Yna? Where are you?” Minho’s voice came through the phone, steady but expectant. “I’m about to head into a meeting—just text me when you get there.”

  She blinked, pulling herself from the moment. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened as she stole a gnce at the man before her, his gaze heavy with recognition, with something unspoken.

  “I…” Her voice wavered before she steadied it. “I’m almost there.”

  Ending the call, she turned back to him. Mr. Jang still hadn’t moved, still looking at her as if she might disappear if he blinked.

  Yna exhaled, gathering herself. She forced a small, uncertain smile. “We’ll see each other again.”

  For a moment, he said nothing. Then, slowly, he nodded. “I’ll see you then.”

  Without another word, she slipped back into her car, rolled down the window one st time, and met his gaze again. The years had changed them both, but for that brief moment, it was as if time had rewound—if only to remind her that the past was never truly gone.

  As she drove away, her hands trembled on the wheel.

  She wasn’t sure if it was fate or just cruel irony, but one thing was certain—coming back to Gwangju was never going to be simple.

  Where Time Stood Still

  The roads of Gwangju were still the same, though slightly worn by time. Each turn, each alley brought back a piece of her past—ughter echoing in the air, the scent of street food wafting from familiar stalls, the sight of children running freely, just like she once did. There was a certain nostalgia that wrapped around her, both comforting and suffocating at the same time. How many times had she walked these streets, feet scuffing against the pavement, never once imagining that years ter, she would return with so many questions left unanswered?

  She clutched the strap of her handbag a little tighter, her pace slowing as she neared the house at the end of the quiet street. Her heart drummed steadily in her chest, not out of fear, but hesitation. She hadn’t told Minho the truth about who she was meeting. When he had asked, she had simply said it was a colleague. A small lie, but a necessary one. Would he understand if she had told him? Would he have asked her to stay away? The uncertainty was enough to keep her from finding out.

  The house looked almost the same as she remembered, though the passage of time had left its mark. The wooden panels of the veranda were slightly worn, the paint on the window frames chipped, but it stood resilient—just like the man who sat there. Mr. Jang.

  He was seated in his usual spot, a chair facing the small garden, his posture slightly hunched, as if the weight of the years had settled onto his shoulders. He looked deep in thought, his gaze locked onto the small arrangement of flowers in front of him. There were only three kinds—yellow chrysanthemums, white lilies, and a single pot of red camellias. Yna’s eyes traced over them, sensing that they were not merely decorative but deliberate, a silent message only a few could understand.

  She hesitated for a moment before stepping forward. Her footsteps barely made a sound against the wooden pnks, but still, the quiet disturbance in the air made Mr. Jang stir slightly. He did not notice her at first, too lost in his thoughts, until she spoke.

  “What kind of flowers are those?”

  Mr. Jang flinched ever so slightly at the voice, turning his head toward her. His face had aged, lines etched deeply into his skin, yet the sharpness of his gaze remained the same—piercing, knowing.

  “Ah…” He exhaled, as if drawing himself back from distant memories. “Chrysanthemums for remembrance, lilies for mourning, and camellias…” His lips curled into a small, bittersweet smile. “For a promise unfulfilled.”

  Yna swallowed the lump in her throat, stepping closer until she was only a few feet away. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, heavy with the weight of the past.

  “It’s been a long time, Mr. Jang.”

  He studied her for a moment, eyes scanning her face as if searching for traces of the little girl he once knew. And then, with a slow nod, he sighed.

  Silence lingered between them, but it was not empty. It was filled with everything they both had yet to say.

  Mr. Jang gestured for her to sit. “Come, child. You must be thirsty. There’s juice in the fridge, help yourself.”

  She entered the house, finding it exactly as she remembered—clean, but aged, filled with old furniture and shelves lined with books and trinkets. The air carried the scent of wood and something faintly medicinal. It felt like stepping into a memory.

  She grabbed a bottle of juice, pouring herself a gss before returning to the veranda, sitting across from him. They sat in silence for a moment, sipping their drinks, letting the weight of time settle between them.

  Mr. Jang watched Yna in quiet contemption, his aged fingers lightly tracing the rim of his cup. His gaze, though warm, carried a weight that made Yna’s chest tighten.

  “You look well,” he finally said, his voice filled with something between pride and sorrow. “I always knew you’d do well. You were always the brightest among them.”

  Yna swallowed, a bittersweet smile forming on her lips. “I had help along the way,” she admitted, gncing down at her hands. “My adoptive parents took me in when I was ten. They… they were good to me. Kind. They gave me a life in Australia, and for the longest time, it felt like home.”

  Mr. Jang nodded slowly, his eyes reflecting something distant—perhaps regret, perhaps longing. “I always wondered what happened to you after…” He hesitated before sighing. “It’s good to know you weren’t alone.”

  Yna exhaled, her fingers tightening around the gss in front of her. “For seventeen years, that was my life. I went to school, made friends… I tried to move on.” Her voice wavered slightly, but she pressed on. “Then, three years ago, I came back to Korea. I wasn’t sure why at first, but the moment I stepped off that pne, it felt different. Like I belonged here.”

  A small, knowing smile tugged at Mr. Jang’s lips. “Because this is your home, Yna.”

  Yna bit her lip and nodded. “Yeah. It is.” She hesitated before adding, “I met someone after coming back… someone who made staying here even better.” Her heart pounded slightly at the mention of him, but she didn’t say his name. Somehow, it didn’t feel necessary. “He makes me feel safe. Like I don’t have to carry everything on my own.”

  Mr. Jang studied her closely, the corners of his eyes crinkling as if he were piecing together a puzzle only he could see. “That’s good,” he finally said. “You deserve that. After everything…” His voice trailed off, thick with emotions he chose not to voice. Instead, he chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “You know, I still see you as that little girl running around the neighborhood, always so curious, always asking questions.”

  Yna let out a small ugh, though her throat felt tight. “I guess I haven’t changed that much, then.”

  Mr. Jang’s smile faded slightly, his gaze distant once more. “No, Yna. You have.” He sighed, his voice softer now. “You’ve grown into someone strong. And yet… I can’t help but feel that same shadow still follows you.”

  Yna’s heart clenched at his words, at the way his expression darkened ever so slightly. She had wanted this meeting to be about the present, about reconnecting with the man who had been a part of her childhood. But it seemed the past was never too far behind.

  Mr. Jang studied her for a long moment before speaking again, his voice ced with something almost wistful. “Have you… rekindled your retionship with Aky and Lyn?”

  Yna hesitated before answering. “We’ve been spending more time together again,” she admitted. “After everything that’s been happening, I guess we had no choice but to face the past together.”

  Mr. Jang nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You three were inseparable back then,” he mused. “Always running around, always finding something to get yourselves into.” He let out a quiet chuckle, though it was tinged with nostalgia. “Your grandmother used to tell me she could always hear your ughter before you even stepped into the snack bar. She was so proud of you, you know.”

  Yna’s chest tightened at the mention of her grandmother. “She was?”

  “Of course,” Mr. Jang said warmly. “She knew you’d grow up to be something special. And she was right.” He gave her a fond look. “If she were here now, she’d be overjoyed to see the woman you’ve become.”

  Yna swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “I miss her,” she admitted softly.

  Mr. Jang’s expression darkened slightly as he turned his gaze back to the flowers. A heavy silence settled between them before he finally sighed. “Yna…” he began carefully. “Do you remember what happened back then? Before your grandmother passed?”

  Her grip on the gss tightened. “Bits and pieces.”

  Mr. Jang exhaled deeply, as if the weight of something unseen had settled onto his shoulders. His fingers tapped lightly against the worn wooden table before he finally spoke.

  “You, Aky, and Lyn…” he hesitated, his voice heavy. “You weren’t supposed to be there.”

  Yna frowned, confusion flickering across her face. “What do you mean?”

  Mr. Jang let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “It wasn’t supposed to happen.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but there was a sharp edge to it—regret, maybe even guilt.

  Yna’s grip on her gss tightened. “What wasn’t supposed to happen?”

  He looked away, his gaze settling on the fading light filtering through the window. “If only I had stopped him… If only I had done something sooner…” His words trailed off, incomplete, as if he couldn’t bring himself to say more.

  Yna’s heart pounded. “Stopped who?”

  Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Mr. Jang pressed his lips into a thin line, his hands curling into fists on the table. “You three shouldn’t have been involved,” he muttered. “Not like that. Not like them.”

  Them?

  A cold shiver ran down Yna’s spine. “Mr. Jang, what are you talking about?”

  But he didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face, as though the past had finally caught up to him, and it was far too te to turn back.

  Yna’s heart pounded as memories threatened to resurface. The dark shack. The voices. The overwhelming fear.

  “What really happened that night?” she whispered.

  Mr. Jang’s eyes met hers, filled with something unspoken. “Let me tell you everything.”

  Silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of unspoken truths. The past was no longer just a memory—it was reaching out, pulling them back in. And this time, Yna wasn’t sure if they’d survive it.

  20 years ago—In Yna’s Eyes

  Yna’s head was spinning, the dull throb in her temple making it hard to focus. The air inside the shack was thick and musty, carrying the scent of damp wood and something metallic—blood. She struggled to move, her limbs heavy, her breath shallow.

  She wasn’t alone.

  Through the haze clouding her vision, she saw Lyn and Aky, both unconscious, their bodies slumped against the cold, dirt floor. Near them, the woman they had tried to save was lying motionless, her body unnaturally still. Yna felt a wave of nausea rise in her throat. Was she dead?

  The sound of voices drew her attention to the doorway, where a faint glow of moonlight spilled in. There were three figures standing there. One of them was a man dressed impeccably in a dark suit, his posture rigid, his hands tucked behind his back. Next to him, bruised and bloodied, was Mr. Jang, looking as though he had been beaten but still standing. And then there was another man, slouched in a chair near the broken shelves—the man in bck. The mask he had worn before was gone, but the shadows still cloaked his face, making his features indistinguishable.

  Their voices were muffled, their conversation slipping in and out of Yna’s grasp. She tried to concentrate, but everything sounded distorted, like she was underwater.

  Then, a new presence entered the shack.

  A woman. Dressed in red.

  Her heels clicked against the wooden floor, each step precise, deliberate. She didn’t acknowledge the others at first, only the man in bck. When she spoke, her voice was smooth, almost soothing, yet ced with something sinister.

  The man in bck was trembling. His fingers twitched restlessly at his sides, his shoulders jerking in odd, erratic movements. He mumbled under his breath—disjointed, unintelligible words spilling from his lips like a broken record. Yna could barely make sense of them, but she knew one thing for certain: he was unraveling.

  The man in the suit exhaled sharply, his patience clearly wearing thin. His polished shoes barely made a sound as he stepped closer to Mr. Jang. His voice, however, was anything but quiet.

  “This is your fault,” he stated coldly. “You should have handled it before it got to this point.”

  Mr. Jang remained still, his expression unreadable, but Yna could see the slight tension in his jaw.

  The woman in red scooted closer to the man in bck, her movements slow and deliberate, like a predator sizing up its prey. She reached out, fingers barely grazing his arm as she leaned in. Her lips moved, whispering something only he could hear.

  Yna swallowed hard. Even in her disoriented state, she could feel it—the weight of her words, the way they slithered into his ears like poison. The man in bck shuddered. His mumbling stopped.

  Then the woman straightened, turning to the man in the suit with an almost zy smirk. “You should not have kept him caged like an animal,” she mused, tilting her head as if scolding a reckless child. “Now he’s turned wild.”

  Yna felt a chill spread through her limbs. What did she mean?

  The man in bck stiffened at her words, his breathing heavy, his fingers curling into fists. For a moment, it seemed like he might sh out, but he didn’t.

  He couldn’t.

  Because whatever hold the woman in red had over him—it was stronger.

  Yna clenched her teeth, her pulse hammering against her ribs. She wanted to move, to run, to do something, but she was trapped—by fear, by confusion, by the overwhelming feeling that she was witnessing something she was never meant to see.

  Mr. Jang moved with urgency, his focus entirely on Aky and Lyn as he carried them one by one toward the waiting car outside. His breaths were heavy, his steps uneven, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t even look back.

  Yna’s body felt heavy, her limbs numb, but her mind—hazy as it was—clung desperately to the fragments of awareness slipping through the cracks. She could hear the muffled sounds around her—the rustling of fabric, the distant hum of the car’s engine roaring to life, the crunch of footsteps against the dirt floor.

  She barely managed to shift, just a small twitch of her fingers against the cold ground, but it was enough.

  A presence loomed over her. The man in the suit.

  His gaze was sharp, dissecting, as if evaluating whether she was worth the trouble. “What about this one?”

  A pause.

  Then, slow and deliberate footsteps approached.

  The woman in red.

  She crouched beside Yna, her perfume—a faint mix of something floral and unsettlingly sweet—wafting through the air. Even through the haze of her blurred vision, Yna could see the smooth curve of her lips, painted in a deep shade of red.

  “Oh, you’re awake.”

  The softness of her voice sent an eerie chill down Yna’s spine. It wasn’t comforting—it was calcuted.

  A single fingertip trailed down Yna’s arm, featherlight but deliberate. She barely registered the sting of pain until the woman’s touch came to a halt right where warm blood had soaked through her sleeve.

  “How unfortunate,” the woman murmured, tilting her head slightly, almost as if in pity. “Such pretty skin… ruined.”

  Yna flinched.

  The woman only smiled.

  A sharp sigh cut through the moment. “We don’t have time for this,” the man in the suit said, his tone clipped with impatience.

  The woman in red didn’t even gnce at him. She simply let out a soft chuckle, brushing away an imaginary speck of dust from her pristine dress.

  “Oh, fine.”

  She stood gracefully, her gaze never leaving Yna’s. And in that moment, Yna understood something terrifying.

  This woman—whoever she was—wasn’t just here to observe. She was the one in control.

  Yna blinked, her vision hazy and unfocused. She couldn’t make out the woman’s face—just the striking red of her clothes. Her memory refused to piece together any distinct features, only recalling how her own dazed eyes had lingered on the fabric rather than looking directly at her.

  The woman crouched beside her, speaking in a voice so gentle it almost felt out of pce. “Your mother wouldn’t have wanted you to be this kind of child.” She sighed, almost as if disappointed. “You should have never meddled in things that don’t concern you—especially matters meant for adults.”

  There was something unsettling in her tone, something that made Yna’s skin prickle. It wasn’t a warning. It was a certainty. As if she knew exactly what Yna’s mother would say. As if she had known her mother personally.

  Before Yna could make sense of it, the woman in red reached for her, lifting her with ease. Yna’s weakened body offered no resistance as she was carried outside, pced carefully into the car beside Lyn and Aky.

  As the woman adjusted her position, she leaned in, her breath warm against Yna’s ear.

  “Forget, little one,” she whispered. “Forget this night. Forget everything. It’s better that way.”

  Yna barely had time to process the words before the darkness cimed her once again.

  The next thing she knew, she was waking up on damp grass, the soft murmur of water nearby. The riverbank.

  The fshing lights of police cars illuminated the sky. Officers swarmed around her, their voices urgent and frantic. Aky and Lyn were beside her, barely stirring.

  She wanted to speak, to tell them everything. But the words wouldn’t come. They never did.

  The fluorescent lights of the police station buzzed faintly, casting a harsh glow over everything. Yna sat still, her mind caught in a haze of exhaustion and confusion. Everything had happened so fast, too fast. One moment, she had been in that shack, and the next, they were here, surrounded by officers firing questions at them.

  The air inside the station was thick with tension, the low hum of murmured conversations mixing with the distant ringing of a phone. The cold metal of the chair pressed against Yna’s back, grounding her in the moment, though everything still felt surreal. She gnced at Lyn and Aky. They were both eerily silent, their faces pale, their hands trembling in their ps. Lyn’s lips were parted slightly as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t. Aky’s fingers dug into his knees, his jaw clenched tight. The air around them felt heavy, thick with something unspoken. Unlike them, Yna knew she could speak—she could force the words out if she wanted to. But she didn’t. Not yet.

  A dull ache radiated from her arm, pulling her attention downward. She barely remembered getting hurt, but now the wound was bandaged, the fabric clean and snug against her skin. Her clothes, too, were different. Fresh. Someone had cleaned them up. Had taken care of them. But there was something missing—something in her memory that refused to resurface.

  The doors burst open, and in a blur of frantic movement, Aky’s parents rushed inside. His mother immediately engulfed him in a tight embrace, sobbing softly into his shoulder. His father, usually composed, looked shaken, his hand pressing against the back of Aky’s head as though reassuring himself that his son was really there. Aky stiffened for a moment before slowly sinking into his parents’ arms, his expression lost, like he wasn’t quite sure what was real anymore.

  Yna’s throat tightened.

  Her gaze shifted to the doorway just as her grandmother entered, her expression a mixture of worry and relief. Behind her, Lyn’s parents followed, their eyes scanning the room until they spotted their daughter. Lyn let out a small, broken sound before her mother pulled her close, smoothing down her hair with trembling hands. Lyn barely reacted, her arms limp at her sides as if she didn’t know how to hold on.

  No one said anything to Yna, not yet. They were too caught up in their own relief, their own fears. She watched as families reunited, whispered reassurances passing between them, and for the first time, she felt something unfamiliar creeping into her chest—something close to longing. She wanted to move, to reach out, but her limbs felt like they were made of lead.

  Eventually, her grandmother turned to her, and though she didn’t rush forward like the others, there was warmth in her eyes as she held out a hand. Yna took it, letting herself be led out of the station, back home, back to the familiar walls that had housed her for years.

  By the time she reached her bedroom, exhaustion fully settled in. Every muscle in her body ached, her limbs sluggish as though weighed down by something far heavier than just fatigue. She barely reacted when her grandmother sat beside her on the bed, a warm towel in hand.

  “Come, let me clean you up properly,” her grandmother said softly, wringing out the towel before gently wiping Yna’s face. The warmth seeped into her skin, soothing but also unraveling something deep inside her.

  Her grandmother hesitated before pressing her fingers lightly around the edges of the bandage. Her voice cracked when she spoke. “Who did this to you?” she whispered, her breath uneven. “Oh, my poor child…”

  For a long moment, there was only silence.

  Then, Yna blinked—slowly, as if surfacing from a dream. Without looking up, she reached out, her small fingers curling around her grandmother’s hand. Her grip was weak, but the warmth of it sent a fresh wave of emotion crashing into the old woman’s chest.

  “I’m sorry, grandma” Yna whispered, her voice hoarse, barely audible.

  Her grandmother sucked in a sharp breath. Tears welled in her eyes as she stared at the child in front of her, at the sorrow etched into her young face, at the weight she seemed to be carrying—something far too heavy for such small shoulders.

  The old woman’s hands faltered for a moment before she continued her gentle strokes. Her expression, though calm, betrayed the sadness lingering beneath. “Oh, my sweet girl,” she whispered. “I am so sorry.”

  Yna blinked, confusion flickering in her tired eyes. “Why… why are you apologizing?”

  Her grandmother exhaled slowly, pcing the towel down before cupping Yna’s face in her hands. There was something in her gaze—something deep, worn, almost resigned.

  “Because, my love… I always hoped you wouldn’t.”

  Yna’s breath hitched. “Wouldn’t what?”

  Her grandmother didn’t answer right away. She ran her thumb gently over Yna’s cheek, as if memorizing her features, as if seeing something that wasn’t there. Her voice, when it finally came, was barely above a whisper.

  “We shouldn’t have come back here.”

  Yna’s brows furrowed. “Grandma… what do you mean?”

  The old woman’s hands faltered for just a second before she forced a tired smile. “I had hoped, with time, I could change you. The way I hoped I could change your mother.”

  Yna’s heart pounded against her ribs. “Change me? Change me from what?”

  Silence wrapped around them, thick and suffocating. The warmth of her grandmother’s palms suddenly felt cold against her skin.

  Her grandmother only sighed, pressing a lingering kiss to Yna’s forehead. “One day, you’ll understand.”

  But Yna didn’t want to wait for ‘one day.’ She wanted answers now.

  She wanted to know why her grandmother had always been so insistent that Gwangju wasn’t her home, why she looked at her with that same sadness she used to have when talking about her mother.

  Why, even in the safety of their small home, her grandmother still seemed afraid.

  But before she could ask, her grandmother pulled away, standing up and smoothing her dress like she hadn’t just shaken Yna’s world.

  “Rest now, my love,” she said, her voice gentle but final. “You’ve been through enough for one night.”

  Yna watched her retreating figure, her own exhaustion finally pulling her down into the bed. But sleep didn’t come easy.

  Because for the first time, she realized—

  Her grandmother had never been protecting her from the city.

  She had been protecting her from whatever the city remembered.

  Mr. Jang the Keeper of Lost Memories

  The wind was gentle that afternoon, rustling through the leaves of the old persimmon tree that stood tall beside the veranda. The scent of earth and blooming flowers filled the air as the sky stretched in muted shades of blue and white. The sun hung low in the sky, casting golden hues over Mr. Jang’s small house nestled in the countryside. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming chrysanthemums, the gentle rustling of leaves breaking the stillness of the afternoon. On the wooden veranda, aged yet sturdy, sat Mr. Jang, gazing out at the flower beds he tended to so diligently. His frail hands rested on his p, his eyes distant, lost in thought.

  Aky was the first to step forward. “Mr. Jang?” he called hesitantly.

  At first, there was silence. The old man turned his head slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly as if searching his memory. Then, recognition dawned upon his face, and his lips curled into a small smile.

  “Aky?” His voice was hoarse but carried warmth. Before he could say more, Aky strode forward and pulled him into a gentle hug, his usual carefree energy evident.

  “It’s been a long time,” Aky said, patting the old man’s back.

  Mr. Jang chuckled weakly. “Ah, you’ve grown into a fine young man.” Then, his gaze shifted, nding on Lyn. A flicker of emotion crossed his face—happiness, nostalgia, but also something that looked like concern. “And Lyn,” he said, his voice softer now. “You’ve grown up beautifully… just like your mother.”

  Lyn smiled faintly. “It’s been a long time, Mr. Jang.”

  Then Yna stepped forward. “Mr. Jang… I brought someone with me this time. And this,” she gestured toward Minho, “is the person I told you about st time. Minho.”

  Minho extended a hand, bowing his head slightly in respect. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

  Mr. Jang csped Minho’s hand in his frail yet firm grip. His eyes, though tired with age, held a knowing warmth. “Any friend of Yna’s is welcome here,” he said, his voice gentle but steady. Then, with visible effort, he began shifting forward, preparing to stand. “I should bring something for you all to drink.”

  Before he could rise, Yna pced a firm yet careful hand on his arm, stopping him. She offered a small, appreciative smile. “Mr. Jang, please, just sit. I’ll take care of it.”

  Mr. Jang hesitated for a moment before nodding, his expression softening.

  He sighed but relented, nodding as he eased himself back into his chair. Aky, ever the helper, grinned. “Let me help you,” he said, following Yna into the house.

  Mr. Jang’s gaze flickered toward Minho once more, and something in his eyes deepened—something thoughtful. “You are the one,” he murmured, almost to himself. “The one who made Korea feel like home for her again.”

  Minho, caught off guard, gnced at Lyn, who met his gaze with something unspoken between them. A warmth spread through her chest at those words—because they were true.

  “Yeah,” Minho finally said, his voice quieter, but sure. “I suppose I am.”

  Inside, the air was thick with old memories. The wooden floors creaked beneath their feet as they walked toward the kitchen. Aky leaned against the counter, watching as Yna opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of juice.

  “So… did he tell you everything?” Aky asked quietly.

  Yna hesitated, gripping the carton a little tighter. “Not everything… but enough to fill in the bnks.”

  Aky exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “You remember more than we do. That part still bothers me.”

  Yna nodded. “It bothers me too.”

  He looked at her carefully. “Do you think whatever we hear from him today will change things? I mean… for you and Minho?”

  Yna sighed, gripping the gsses from the cupboard as if grounding herself. She turned to Aky, meeting his gaze with unwavering determination. “I don’t know, Aky,” she admitted, her voice steady but weighted with something heavier. “But we need to know. It’s a must.” She swallowed, the air between them thick with unspoken fears. “We can’t keep running from this. We have to find out exactly what happened.”

  Aky studied her, his usual lightheartedness absent. The hesitation in his eyes was evident—uncertainty, maybe even fear. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled deeply. “Yeah… I guess you’re right,” he muttered, though his voice cked its usual confidence.

  Yna’s grip on the gsses tightened. She stole a gnce toward the veranda, where Lyn and Minho sat with Mr. Jang, shadows of the past hanging over them like ghosts refusing to be forgotten. The sight made her chest tighten.

  “There’s no turning back after this,” she whispered, barely aware she had spoken aloud.

  Aky leaned against the counter, his fingers drumming lightly against the surface. Then, with a small, resigned smile, he said, “Then we better be ready.”

  Yna nodded, but deep down, she wasn’t sure if anyone could ever be truly ready for the truth.

  They shared a brief, knowing gnce before heading back to the veranda.

  Lyn and Minho were seated across from Mr. Jang, the old man watching them with quiet curiosity. The wooden veranda creaked slightly under their shifting weight, the scent of flowers and damp earth lingering in the cool afternoon breeze. The air hummed with the distant chirping of cicadas, a sound that somehow made everything feel both nostalgic and fragile, like a memory teetering on the edge of recall.

  As Yna and Aky pced the gsses down, Mr. Jang chuckled, his weathered hands resting on his p. “I never thought I’d see you all together like this again,” he mused, his voice ced with something unreadable—fondness, perhaps, but also something heavier.

  Aky poured the juice, handing Mr. Jang a gss first before settling in. “So, Mr. Jang,” he started, his tone light and teasing, “how have you been all these years? Are you married yet?”

  Mr. Jang let out a weak ugh, shaking his head. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

  Aky grinned as he leaned back, stretching out comfortably. “Well, the dies are always lining up, but I’m in a serious retionship.” His expression softened slightly. “She means a lot to me. I really value her presence… so I want to take things slow. We’re still young, after all.”

  Mr. Jang’s eyes twinkled as he took a sip of his juice. “Ah, you haven’t changed. Always full of charm.” His voice softened. “But taking things slow… that’s wise. Time has a way of showing us what really matters.”

  Aky chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah. Who would’ve thought I’d end up as a neuroscientist, though? Even I can’t believe it sometimes.”

  Mr. Jang raised a brow. “A neuroscientist? Now that is unexpected. I always thought you’d end up as some kind of entertainer. Maybe a comedian or a radio host.”

  Lyn scoffed, arms crossed. “More like a stand-up act that never knows when to stop talking.”

  Aky pced a dramatic hand on his chest. “You wound me, Lyn.”

  Mr. Jang chuckled, shaking his head. “A neuroscientist… I am proud of you, Aky. Truly. But tell me, how did that happen?”

  Lyn raised an eyebrow, a smirk pying on her lips. “You? A neuroscientist? I still remember when you couldn’t even focus on one book without falling asleep.”

  Aky gasped dramatically, pcing a hand over his chest. “Wow, Lyn. No faith in me at all?”

  She shrugged, taking a sip of her juice. “I’m just saying… out of all of us, I wouldn’t have bet on you dissecting brains for a living.”

  Aky chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, tell me about it. I was never the smartest kid back then, but somehow, here I am, poking at brains for a living.” He took a sip of his juice before continuing, “Honestly, I didn’t think I’d stay in Seoul for long. But then… things just happened. Studying, internships, research projects. Before I knew it, I had barely left the b in years.”

  Mr. Jang tilted his head slightly, watching him with amusement. “And you enjoy it?”

  Aky exhaled, considering the question. “Surprisingly, yeah. It’s crazy, though. Some days, I still can’t believe I actually became a doctor. If you told teenage me this would be my future, I would’ve ughed in your face.”

  Mr. Jang chuckled. “Oh, I remember teenage you. You were always running around, getting into trouble. The idea of you being responsible for people’s brains is almost terrifying.”

  Aky ughed, shaking his head. “Hey, give me some credit! I’m pretty good at it.”

  Aky shrugged. “Well, Seoul is fast-paced, competitive. I knew I had to do something meaningful, something challenging. Medicine was never really my thing, but the brain… now that fascinated me. And somehow, I found myself there.” He grinned. “And you know what? I love it.”

  Mr. Jang nodded approvingly. “You always had a restless energy about you. I’m gd you found something that keeps you engaged.”

  Mr. Jang smiled, his eyes twinkling with amusement before he turned to Lyn. “And what about you, Lyn?”

  Lyn straightened slightly, the corners of her lips twitching as she gathered her words. “It… wasn’t as difficult as I thought.” She paused, gncing down at her gss before continuing, “The weather’s a little hotter in New York, and the food—completely different. I actually hadn’t had proper Korean food until yesterday.” She let out a small chuckle. “I never really got the chance to stay in Korea for long. Work kept me busy, always moving. But… this time, it’s different.”

  Lyn hesitated, shifting in her seat. She exhaled before answering, her Korean slightly stilted. “I… don’t talk much in Korean now. It’s hard to keep up.”

  Mr. Jang chuckled, nodding in understanding. “That’s alright. You still have that quiet strength about you.” He gnced at her family’s old mansion visible from the veranda. “Your mother… she must be proud of you.”

  Lyn’s lips pressed into a thin line. “She is, I think. Life abroad wasn’t too hard to adjust to. I wasn’t the only foreigner, so I didn’t feel too out of pce. But making friends… that wasn’t easy. I managed, though. Got a few good ones.”

  Aky smirked. “Not surprised. You were always the cold type. But—" he added quickly, “—I’ve heard a lot about you in the news. You’ve done well for yourself.”

  Lyn scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Gee, thanks for the acknowledgment.”

  Mr. Jang observed them closely, the way they interacted, how time had changed them yet somehow kept the essence of who they were. Aky, still lively and animated but with a maturity that hadn’t been there before. Lyn, reserved but with a quiet confidence that spoke volumes. And Yna, sitting beside Minho, more contemptive than ever, as though carrying something heavy on her shoulders.

  Mr. Jang then turned to Minho, his gaze gentle but curious. “And you, young man? Yna told me a little about you, but I’d like to hear it from you. What brought you into their lives?”

  Minho smiled slightly, his fingers tracing the rim of his gss. “I met Yna by chance, but sometimes, the most unexpected meetings turn into the most meaningful ones.” He gnced at Yna briefly before continuing. “She told me about her past, about the three of them, and everything they’ve been through. I suppose… I just wanted to be there for her, in whatever way I could. You see, she is my home.”

  Silence fell over the veranda, but it wasn’t an awkward one. It was the kind of pause that came when words carried weight, when they settled into the air, stirring something deep within those who heard them.

  Lyn and Aky exchanged a quick gnce, their lips twitching, struggling to suppress their reactions. Aky nudged Lyn’s foot under the table, and she raised an eyebrow at him, but the way her lips curled slightly betrayed the amusement she was trying to hold back. They weren’t used to hearing something so heartfelt from Minho, and it made them both giddy, like they were witnessing a scene straight out of a drama.

  Aky, never one to let such a moment pass without comment, leaned in with an exaggerated sigh. “Damn, Minho,” he said, grinning. “You really know how to make someone swoon. Did you rehearse that in front of the mirror or what?”

  Lyn snorted, finally letting out a soft chuckle. “That was disgustingly romantic.”

  Yna, meanwhile, sat frozen in pce, blinking rapidly. A warm flush crept up her cheeks, spreading down to her neck. She looked away, biting her lower lip, clearly flustered. “W-Why are you saying things like that so suddenly?” she muttered, staring down at her juice as if it would provide an escape.

  Minho just ughed, his expression completely at ease. “Because it’s true,” he said simply, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

  Aky let out a low whistle, shaking his head in mock defeat. “Man, and here I thought I was the smooth one.”

  Mr. Jang, who had been watching the exchange with a knowing smile, let out a soft chuckle. “Ah, young love,” he mused. “It’s nice to see that some things in life still have a touch of innocence and sincerity.”

  The warm afternoon breeze rustled through the veranda, carrying the scent of flowers and the faint sounds of the city in the distance. The golden light of the setting sun bathed them in its glow, making the moment feel almost surreal—like a memory that would be cherished for years to come.

  Mr. Jang studied Minho for a moment, nodding slowly. “It’s good to have people who stand by you.” His voice was low, but there was a weight to it. “Sometimes, home isn’t where we are born, but where we find the people who make it feel like we belong.” He nodded slowly, as if measuring the weight of Minho’s words.

  Minho gave a small, thoughtful smile at that, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of his gss. “I suppose that’s true. I grew up without parents, but I had my aunt—my mom’s sister. She used to visit me often when I was younger. She was the only family I had left.”

  Mr. Jang studied him carefully, his old eyes filled with quiet understanding. “And where is she now?”

  “She lives in Busan now,” Minho replied, voice even, but there was something guarded in the way he spoke, as if he had long since made peace with something he didn't want to dwell on. “We keep in touch, but I live on my own now.”

  A brief silence settled over the table. Lyn, Aky, and Yna exchanged quick gnces but said nothing, careful not to let their emotions show too much. They knew Minho’s story, but this was the first time he was saying it so pinly.

  Aky, always the one to lighten the mood, leaned forward, resting an arm on the table. “Wait, hold on a second,” he said, a teasing glint in his eyes. “If you live alone, why don’t you and Yna just live together already?”

  Yna’s head snapped toward him, eyes widening. “Excuse me?”

  Lyn stifled a chuckle while Minho just ughed, clearly unfazed. He lifted his gss as if in thought. “It’s actually… a negotiation,” he admitted, shooting Yna a pyful look.

  Yna crossed her arms, shaking her head. “I have my own apartment.”

  Minho nodded, his lips twitching in amusement. “True, but you spend most of your time at mine.”

  “That’s because someone has to clean and organize your mess,” Yna retorted, raising an eyebrow at him. “And you’re barely home anyway.”

  Aky let out a dramatic gasp. “Ah, so she’s your personal housekeeper now?”

  Yna swatted his arm, making him ugh even harder. “I’m just saying,” he added between chuckles, “Yna was always like this—even back in school. She never got close to any guys. She was way too proper.”

  Yna scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Brave of you to say that when you were the only boy I tolerated for years.”

  Lyn, amused, shook her head. “You two still bicker like kids.”

  Mr. Jang chuckled, observing the lively conversation with a warm, nostalgic smile. “It’s good to see that some things don’t change,” he mused. “Even after all these years, the bond you all share remains.”

  His gaze softened as he looked at each of them in turn, the past and present blending in his memory. It had been years since he had seen them all together like this, yet somehow, it felt as if no time had passed at all.

  The veranda was filled with ughter and conversation, the golden hues of the te afternoon sun casting a glow over them. It was a moment of ease, of familiarity—a moment before they had to face the truths buried in the past.

  Mr. Jang watched them all carefully, his gaze shifting between their subtle exchanges—the teasing familiarity, the unspoken understanding. “You three haven’t changed much,” he mused. “Time has passed, but there’s still something of the past lingering between you all.”

  Lyn’s lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but she simply nodded. The conversation drifted into a lull, the silence stretching as they sat with their thoughts.

  There was a short silence, filled only by the rustling of leaves in the cool breeze and the distant hum of the city beyond the veranda. The air smelled faintly of flowers, their soft fragrance blending with the scent of old wood and fresh juice.

  Yna, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke. “That’s why we’re here,” she said, setting her gss down. “To remember.”

  Another silence fell over them, this time heavier. Yna traced the condensation on her gss, her heart pounding in her chest. This was it—the moment they had all been waiting for, the moment they had feared.

  Aky cleared his throat, setting his gss down. His voice was quieter now, more careful. “Mr. Jang…” He hesitated, exchanging a gnce with Lyn and Yna before finally asking, “Can you tell us what really happened? Twenty years ago?”

  Mr. Jang’s smile faded, his fingers tightening slightly around his gss. He let out a slow, weary sigh, his gaze lowering to the wooden pnks beneath them. The wind carried a heavy stillness as the weight of old memories pressed upon his frail shoulders.

  “Alright,” he murmured at st. “It’s time you knew everything.”

  END OF CHAPTER 14