One day, when they were all back in Gwangju, they each found themselves drawn to an abandoned snack bar—the very one they used to visit as kids. None of them recognized each other at first.

  Aky had arrived first, riding his scooter when he noticed a woman struggling with her car. He parked nearby and walked over to offer help.

  Yna’s car was old but well-maintained—at least until today. A sleek bck sedan with a few scratches near the bumper, it had been her reliable companion for years. But now, the engine sputtered uselessly, refusing to start no matter how many times she turned the key. The afternoon sun gred off the windshield as she sighed, pushing open the door and stepping out in frustration.

  She pulled out her phone, trying Minho’s number again. It rang twice before going straight to voicemail. Annoyed, she quickly typed out a message:

  Yna: My car just died on me. Near the old snack bar. Tried calling, but you’re MIA as usual. Hope you see this before I end up stuck here all night.

  She leaned against the side of her car, arms crossed, scanning the quiet street. The old snack bar stood just a few meters away, its once bright neon sign now faded and barely hanging on. The wooden counter was chipped, the pstic chairs stacked haphazardly outside, some missing legs. Time had not been kind to the pce, but the memories were still there—faint echoes of ughter and summer days long past.

  Meanwhile, Aky pulled up on his scooter, its blue paint scuffed and handlebars slightly bent. He parked near the curb, pulling off his helmet and shaking out his messy hair. His casual hoodie and ripped jeans made him look like he belonged anywhere but near an abandoned pce like this. He was about to enter the snack bar when he noticed Yna standing by her car, looking utterly frustrated.

  He hesitated for a moment before deciding to approach her.

  “Hey,” he called out. “Looks like you’re having some trouble.”

  Yna barely gnced at him, her irritation evident. “No, I’ll just call for help.”

  Aky shrugged, unfazed by her cold response. “Suit yourself.” He leaned against his scooter, scrolling through his phone while stealing gnces at her.

  She dialed Minho again. Voicemail. Again. She exhaled sharply and put her phone away, crossing her arms.

  Aky, never one for silence, smirked. “So, you a mechanic now, or are you just staring at the car, hoping it fixes itself?”

  Yna shot him a look. “I don’t like talking.”

  “Noted,” Aky said, still grinning. “But I’m great at it, so don’t worry. I can talk enough for both of us.”

  She sighed, looking away. He took it as an invitation to continue.

  “You know, this reminds me of the time I tried fixing my cousin’s bike. Thought I was a genius, but I ended up breaking the chain. Kid didn’t talk to me for a week.”

  Yna didn’t react.

  Undeterred, Aky went on. “Or that time I tried fixing my scooter with duct tape. Yeah, that ended well.”

  Finally, Yna gave in just a little. “I already called for help,” she muttered.

  Aky straightened up. “Yeah? Who’d you call?”

  Yna hesitated, then frowned. “Never mind.”

  Before Aky could respond, he got a phone call. He stepped aside, talking animatedly to what seemed like a work contact. Minutes passed. Almost half an hour. Yna leaned against her car, arms crossed, waiting.

  When he finally hung up, Aky turned back to her. “Wait, you’re still here?”

  “No one’s come yet.”

  “Well, let me check it then.”

  He walked over, crouching by the front of the car, peeking inside the hood after she reluctantly popped it open.

  “You know, I might not be a professional, but I think I can at least tell if your engine’s missing or something.”

  Before Yna could respond, a sleek, white luxury car pulled up in front of the snack bar. The door opened smoothly, and out stepped Lyn, dressed in an elegant yet effortless outfit—simple but expensive. She paused, staring at the snack bar as if it held years of untold stories.

  Aky looked up and, recognizing her, waved. “Hey! Got any tools in that fancy car of yours? This dy here’s got a broken-down ride.”

  Lyn’s gaze flickered toward them. For a moment, she just stared. Then, without a word, she turned and walked away.

  Aky blinked. “Well, that was rude.” He turned to Yna, mimicking Lyn’s expression. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Yna shook her head, hiding a smirk.

  Just then, Aky’s phone rang again. This time, it was a mechanic in Gwangju. “Yeah, near the old snack bar. Can you come pick up the car?” He hung up and turned to Yna. “I got someone. Should be here soon.”

  Minutes ter, an old tow truck arrived. The mechanic hopped out, inspecting the car before hooking it up to his vehicle.

  “You got a ride?” Aky asked Yna as the mechanic worked.

  She sighed. “I’ll follow them to the repair shop.”

  Aky gnced at the mechanic’s truck, filled with spare parts and tools. “Yeah, uh, I don’t think there’s room for you in there.”

  Yna hesitated.

  “I can give you a ride,” Aky offered, patting the back of his scooter. “Promise I won’t crash.”

  She eyed him warily before finally relenting. “Fine.”

  He handed her a helmet, and she reluctantly got on behind him. They followed the mechanic to the repair shop, Yna silent for most of the ride.

  As they reached their destination, she hesitated before speaking. “Can you drop me off at the police station?”

  Aky raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Sure. You got business there?”

  “Just something I need to check.”

  Aky didn’t push. He simply nodded and drove them toward the station. When they arrived, Yna hopped off quickly, giving him a small nod of thanks before heading inside.

  Inside the police station, Minho was in the middle of a meeting when he spotted them through the gss window. His eyes locked onto Yna, and for a moment, he hesitated.

  Aky, unaware of the history between them, simply revved his scooter, gave a zy salute, and sped off, leaving behind a moment neither Minho nor Yna was ready for.

  The Recognition

  The day had been long, the golden hues of te afternoon stretching across the city as Yna sat outside the police station, waiting for Minho. The sun had already dipped behind the buildings, casting elongated shadows across the pavement. She let out a sigh, gncing at her phone, which remained stubbornly void of messages. The occasional rustling of leaves and the distant hum of traffic were the only sounds accompanying her thoughts.

  Minho eventually stepped out of the police station, his sleeves rolled up and exhaustion evident in his stance. As he caught sight of Yna, he exhaled heavily and approached her.

  “What happened? You don’t usually wait for me here,” he said, concern flickering in his gaze.

  Yna shifted her weight, crossing her arms. “My car broke down. Tried calling you, but your phone was busy.”

  Minho frowned slightly, pulling out his phone only to notice the missed calls. “I was in a meeting. You okay, though?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, just annoyed. Some guy on a scooter helped me out, called a mechanic. I have no idea who he was, just some stranger who wouldn’t stop talking.”

  Minho raised an eyebrow but only said, “At least you weren’t hurt.”

  The next morning, the police station bustled with officers moving back and forth, modern technology repcing the old bulletin boards and stacks of paperwork. The sleek gss walls and LED screens dispyed real-time case updates. The air was crisp, smelling faintly of fresh coffee and worn leather from the chairs. Yna sat at one of the tables, scrolling through her phone, while Minho remained inside his office, deep in discussion.

  The entrance door swung open, and in walked Aky. He stood tall, his dark brown leather jacket slightly worn from travel, his hair tousled from the wind. His confident stride made him look like he belonged anywhere he went. As he scanned the room, his eyes nded on Yna, and a slow grin crept onto his face.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t the broken car dy.”

  Yna looked up, her brows knitting together. “Oh, great. You again.”

  Aky smirked and leaned against the chair across from her. “Miss me?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Not in the slightest.”

  “Harsh. After all, I did get your car fixed.”

  “You called a mechanic. That hardly makes you a hero.”

  “Ah, but I could've left you stranded. Instead, I pyed knight in shining armor,” he said, dramatically folding his arms.

  Yna sighed. “Do you always talk this much?”

  “Only when I meet people who are fun to annoy.”

  Before she could retort, Minho walked out of his office, rubbing his temple. His eyes flicked between the two before settling on Yna.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  Yna nodded toward Aky. “This is the guy I was talking about. The one who helped me.”

  Minho offered Aky a small nod of acknowledgment. “Appreciate it. Thanks for helping her out.”

  Aky waved it off. “No big deal. Just gd she didn’t end up stranded all night.”

  Then, as if suddenly remembering, he straightened. “Actually, I’m here looking for Detective Minho Kang.”

  Yna raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

  Minho, arms crossed, tilted his head slightly. “That would be me. What’s this about?”

  Aky looked slightly surprised but quickly recovered. “Oh, well, that makes things easier.” He turned to Yna. “Wait, so you two know each other?”

  Yna gave a small nod. “Yes. My name is Yna Lee. Minho is my boyfriend.”

  Minho crossed his arms. “What do you need, Mr…?”

  Before Aky could react, the station doors opened, and Lyn walked in. Stepping into the police station, Lyn exuded confidence, her cream bzer perfectly tailored, her hair pinned neatly back. The air inside carried a mix of coffee, paper, and an underlying tension only found in pces where justice and crime intersected. She scanned the room, her sharp eyes flicking over the officers and civilians moving about, before nding on a small group in the middle of the room.

  A woman and two men stood talking—both in leather jackets, their stance casual but alert. The second man, his back turned to her, was slightly taller, with an unmistakable air of authority. But it was the man beside him who caught her attention first. Even without seeing his face, she knew.

  Detective Kang.

  He looked better in person than the grainy images she had seen online. There was a steadiness to him, a quiet intensity that made her hesitate for just a moment. Then, straightening, she approached.

  “Detective Kang,” she greeted, her voice even and composed.

  Minho turned to face her, his sharp gaze assessing her immediately. “Miss Choi,” he acknowledged with a curt nod.

  “I was the one on the phone with you the other day.”

  His expression remained unreadable. “Yes. I remember.”

  Lyn Choi had never been one to waste time. After receiving the call from Detective Kang, she had spent hours searching for any information she could find on him. She combed through news articles, police reports, and even found an old interview where he had spoken about his work on unresolved cases. There were no social media accounts, no personal details—only his reputation as a relentless investigator. The more she read, the more intrigued she became. If there was one person who could unearth the truth, it was him. And now, she was finally about to meet him in person.

  Just as she was about to continue, her gaze flickered to the man beside Minho. Her steps faltered slightly as recognition struck her.

  She knew him.

  The sharp jawline, the confident stance—different, yet undeniably familiar. Lyn’s lips parted slightly, surprise flickering in her expression.

  “Aky Park?”

  The man in question blinked, clearly taken aback. His brows furrowed as he studied her face. “Wait… you know me?”

  Lyn nodded slowly, taking in his features as if piecing together a long-lost memory.

  “Aky. Aky Park.”

  At the sound of his name, Yna, who had been standing slightly behind, stilled. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag, her breath catching as recognition flickered in her expression.

  Aky had been quiet up until now, his gaze flickering between the three of them, but something about Yna held his attention. He watched her closely, a faint crease forming between his brows as if trying to grasp something just beyond his reach. His sharp eyes traced her features—the curve of her jaw, the shape of her eyes, the way she carried herself. She looked familiar, but something was off.

  “Yna...” he muttered under his breath.

  She gnced at him, startled.

  “Yna Yoon?” Aky repeated, his voice ced with uncertainty. His eyes narrowed slightly as he added, “But… your st name—”

  Yna hesitated, shifting uncomfortably under his scrutiny. “It changed,” she said softly.

  Before Minho could press further, Aky turned toward her, his eyes widening slightly.

  “You remember me, right?” he asked with a grin, though there was a hint of hesitation in his voice.

  For a moment, Yna simply stared. The name echoed in her mind, and yet, something felt... off. Her st name was different now. But there was something about his face, something that felt oddly familiar. Not just because of yesterday’s incident—deeper than that. Like a memory buried just beneath the surface, waiting to be uncovered.

  Her lips parted slightly, her voice hesitant. “I think so.”

  Lyn’s gaze flickered between the two of them, her mind racing.

  Aky, hands in his pockets, chuckled. “Wow. You both actually remember me? That’s a first.”

  Meanwhile, Yna and Lyn exchanged a gnce, both silently assessing the familiarity between them. Had they met before? There was something there, just out of reach, teasing the edges of their memory.

  The three of them stood there, caught between past and present, ghosts of forgotten moments swirling around them. And as the weight of their reunion settled in, a singur thought lingered in the air—This was only the beginning.

  The Truth

  The cafe was a quiet refuge from the restless city outside. Nestled in a quieter street of Gwangju, it had the charm of an old bookstore, with dark wooden panels and floor-to-ceiling shelves lined with novels that smelled of dust and nostalgia. The rain outside had settled into a soft drizzle, tapping gently against the windows, its sound blending with the low hum of conversation and the clinking of ceramic cups against saucers. Dim golden lights bathed the space in warmth, their soft glow making the pce feel smaller, more intimate.

  Minho had chosen this café deliberately—neutral ground, away from the suffocating walls of the police station, away from the weight of formal investigations. Here, they weren’t a detective, a neuroscientist, a powerful director, or a celebrated children’s book author and illustrator. Here, they were just Minho, Aky, Lyn, and Yna—four people bound by a past they barely remembered.

  Minho sat at the head of the wooden table, his sharp, structured features more serious than usual. He wore a dark blue button-up shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing his toned forearms. His short bck hair was neatly styled, and his deep-set eyes shifted between the three people in front of him. He looked collected, but the way his fingers lightly tapped against his coffee cup hinted at something else—hesitation, uncertainty.

  When they sat down, Minho had casually removed his leather jacket—a simple, no-frills design that suited his practical nature—and pced it on Yna’s p, a quiet yet unconscious gesture. Now, it rested there, forgotten as the conversation deepened.

  Aky leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms before crossing them over his chest. He was dressed in a fitted bck turtleneck, the sleek fabric complementing his frame. Over it, he had worn a dark brown leather jacket—slightly more stylish than Minho’s, adorned with subtle accents that reflected his personality. Now, it hung over the back of his chair. His tousled dark brown hair gave him the effortless air of someone who had long since mastered appearing both disheveled and refined. A smirk pyed at his lips as he let his gaze move between the two women sitting across from him.

  Lyn, ever composed, sat with her back straight, a quiet kind of elegance in the way she carried herself. She wore a cream-colored blouse with pearl buttons, the sleeves slightly billowy, tucked into a fitted bck skirt. Her dark hair was pulled into a sleek low ponytail, accentuating her delicate features. She stirred her tea absentmindedly, her fingers light against the handle, but there was a slight tension in her jaw that betrayed her unease.

  Beside her, Yna looked more hesitant than the rest. She wore a simple yet elegant beige dress, the fabric soft and flowing just above her knees. Sitting down, she realized it was slightly shorter than she was comfortable with, and she subtly shifted in her seat. Noticing this, Minho had wordlessly taken off his leather jacket and pced it on her p—a small, unconscious gesture that made her blink in surprise before murmuring a quiet thanks. Her wavy brown hair cascaded past her shoulders, and she had an absentminded habit of tucking strands behind her ear whenever she was deep in thought. Unlike Lyn, who held herself with quiet control, Yna seemed more restless, her hands csped around her warm cup of coffee as though drawing comfort from its heat.

  Minho exhaled, leaning forward slightly. “Do you remember each other now?”

  Aky’s smirk widened. “Yeah. I remember you two being a bunch of crybabies.”

  Yna shot him an incredulous look. “Excuse me? Crybabies? That’s rich coming from you.”

  Lyn scoffed, shaking her head. “You were the one always getting into trouble. We had to cover for you so many times.”

  Aky shrugged, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I didn’t say I wasn’t trouble. But you two were always trying to keep me in check, which was kind of cute.”

  Yna chuckled softly, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. “I remember you stealing snacks and bming it on me. I got scolded so many times because of you.”

  “And I remember you two trying to be all serious while I was just living my best childhood life,” Aky said, grinning. “Lyn, you were already acting like an old dy back then. Always brooding, always serious.”

  Lyn gave him a deadpan stare before taking a sip of her tea. “And you were already a menace.”

  “Some things never change,” Yna added pyfully. “I mean, look at him now. Still looking like trouble.”

  Aky pced a hand over his chest in mock offense. “I’ll have you know, I am a highly respected professional.”

  Lyn raised an eyebrow. “Really? Doing what? Annoying people for a living?”

  Aky ughed, shaking his head. “You wound me, Lyn. Truly.”

  Minho, despite himself, allowed a small smile to pass before he cleared his throat, bringing their momentary nostalgia to a halt. “I called you all here for a reason.” His voice was calm but firm, pulling them back to the present. The lightness in the air faded as reality crept back in. Aky straightened in his seat, his pyful expression dimming. Lyn set her cup down, folding her hands in her p. Yna felt a cold shiver run down her spine as she braced herself for what was coming.

  Minho reached into his bag and pulled out a thin folder, setting it on the table. The weight of it was heavier than it looked. He slid it forward, his fingers grazing the cover before he let go. “There’s been another case. A new murder.” The three of them stared at the file, unmoving.

  Minho continued, his voice measured. “It’s simir to the case from twenty years ago. The one that involved the three of you.”

  Yna’s breath hitched. Aky’s jaw tensed. Lyn remained still, but her fingers curled slightly against her p.

  Minho gnced at each of them carefully before speaking again. “I need to ask you something important.”

  The rain outside grew heavier again this time, the rhythmic tapping against the window matching the growing tension in the room.

  “Do you remember what happened that night?”

  Silence fell over the table, thick and suffocating.

  Yna swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around her cup. Aky let out a slow exhale, staring at the folder as if willing it to make sense. Lyn looked away, her gaze unfocused, as if trying to retrieve something from the depths of her memory.

  Minho knew this wasn’t going to be easy. But they had to start somewhere. And the past wasn’t going to stay buried forever. Minho leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady as he repeated the question.

  “Do any of you remember what happened that night?”

  Silence hung over them, heavy and unrelenting. The rain outside had softened, the faint sound of it pattering against the café window filling the spaces between their thoughts. Aky exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at the wooden table.

  “I remember my parents telling me that I wasn’t home after curfew.” His voice was casual, but there was a note of something deeper in it. “It was around sunset, and they said they searched everywhere for me. Thing is, I wasn’t the only one missing.” He turned to Yna, his expression softening. “You and I lived together back then, right? Your grandma was worried sick ‘cause you weren’t home either.”

  The house Aky’s family lived in wasn’t rge, but it had everything they needed, nestled in a quiet part of the vilge. The first floor was their space—a modest home where his parents and he shared a single room. It was a small bedroom, just enough for their shared bed, a few shelves stacked with books, and a corner where his father kept his work tools. The kitchen was cramped, with just enough space for the basics: a small stove, an old fridge that hummed day and night, and a counter cluttered with bowls and utensils. The dining area was no bigger than the kitchen, a simple wooden table that fit only the three of them at any given time. A faded, old TV sat in the corner of the living room, pying shows that they mostly ignored while chatting. The pce had a lived-in feel—nothing extravagant, but it was home, warm and familiar.

  Downstairs, in the basement that had once been a rice storage room, was where Yna and her grandmother had lived. Aky’s mother, with a heart as generous as her kindness, had made sure the basement was more than just a cold, damp space. She’d transformed it into a modest but cozy room for the two of them. A single bed, just big enough for both Yna and her grandmother to share, was tucked in one corner, its worn sheets covered by a thick quilt. A small wooden table sat nearby, with two mismatched chairs, one of which was old and creaked whenever anyone sat in it. A simple cabinet housed their few belongings, mostly clothes that Yna’s grandmother had carefully folded. There wasn’t much in the way of luxuries, but it was warm enough, especially when Aky’s mother made sure to keep the space heated with a small stove during the colder months. A few basic kitchen appliances sat on a small counter in one corner, along with a dining setup that worked for the two of them. Though humble, the space had an undeniable warmth to it, a quiet pce where Yna and her grandma could rest and find soce from the world above.

  The setup was nothing special by modern standards, but to Aky, it was more than just a house—it was a pce where everyone had their own corner to call home, each shared space serving its purpose and connecting their lives together in simple, meaningful ways.

  Yna frowned, her fingers curling around her cup. “I... don’t remember any of that.”

  Aky nodded, as if expecting her response. “Later, I found out Lyn was gone too. You weren’t in your room all afternoon, were you?” He gnced at Lyn.

  Lyn inhaled sharply, as if she hadn’t expected the question to turn to her so quickly. She set her cup down with deliberate care. “One of the maids told me they found me at a snack bar.” She paused, her eyes distant. “I don’t remember why I was there, but I do remember the three of us used to sneak out and go there.”

  Her thoughts drifted back to their old home, a pce so far removed from her life now, a mansion that stood like a towering memory in the heart of her childhood. The Choi mansion, grand and imposing, had been the center of her world. It was a fortress, nestled atop a hill, its stone walls towering above the lush grounds that stretched endlessly before her. The gardens were like something out of a dream, neatly trimmed and fragrant with freshly bloomed roses, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the dull gray of the mansion. The scent of jasmine and vender lingered in the air, creating an atmosphere of quiet opulence, a kingdom that belonged solely to her, even if she had never truly felt at ease within it.

  The mansion itself was massive, its halls echoing with silence as if every room had a story to tell, though none were ever shared. Guards were stationed at every key exit, their stoic expressions and rigid postures a constant reminder of the wealth and power that surrounded her. The maids, too, moved like shadows in the background, their faces impassive as they went about their tasks. But Lyn remembered something else, something softer, something freer from those days. She could almost hear the distant whispers of ughter as she and her childhood companions had found their own secret paths within the mansion.

  There were times, she recalled, when they’d ducked behind tall potted pnts, pressing their small bodies against cold stone walls to avoid crossing paths with the maids. They’d hold their breath, waiting for footsteps to fade away, then scamper off to the side of the mansion where few dared to go. It was a part of the estate that wasn’t often used, the forgotten side gate leading to an old, overgrown pathway. The hedges that lined the path were thick and tangled, their branches twisting together in a tangled embrace, blocking out the sunlight and casting shadows on the ground. It was there, in that hidden corner of the mansion’s sprawling estate, that they had found a sense of freedom, even if only for a short while.

  They would slip through the gate, careful not to make a sound, and venture into the world beyond the walls, where life seemed simpler, less suffocating. The snack bar wasn’t far from the estate, and it became their secret haven, a pce where they could ugh, share stories, and be just children again, without the weight of expectations that came with her family’s name.

  But those days, those stolen moments of joy, seemed like a lifetime ago now, as the mansion, the gardens, the secret paths, all faded into the past, repced by the quiet simplicity of a different kind of life. The memory of it all, though, lingered in her mind, vivid and sharp, like a photograph that could never truly fade.

  Aky let out a small chuckle, though it cked his usual amusement. “Figures. We always did love sneaking away.”

  Lyn gave a small nod but quickly grew serious again. “But that’s the thing—I have no memory of how I got there that night. My parents refused to talk about it. Every time I asked, they brushed it off.”

  Minho studied them carefully, his fingers lightly tapping against the table. He turned to Yna, who had remained silent.

  “Yna?”She stared at the table, her thoughts racing. “At least someone told you stories about it...” Her voice was quiet, almost strained. “I never heard anything. My adoptive parents never mentioned it. Not once.” Her fingers gripped the ceramic cup tighter.

  Yna’s mind drifted, the heavy weight of silence pressing against her chest. She had spent so much of her life with a sense of longing, a quiet ache in her heart that never seemed to go away. She was young when she’d lost her grandma, her st true connection to the life she once knew. But as time passed, the memories of her grandma had started to blur, fading like old photographs left out in the sun too long. What she did remember, however, was that her adoptive parents had made sure she always had her grandma’s picture. A simple framed photo, with the warm smile of the woman who had cared for her in her earliest years. It was the only link she had left to a past she couldn’t quite grasp. They never told her stories about her—never spoke of her childhood or the days she spent in her grandma’s care. And for reasons she couldn’t understand, her mind wouldn’t allow her to remember much more.

  She had tried, so many times, to cling to the memories. Sometimes, in the quiet of the night, fragments would surface—her grandma’s gentle voice, the feeling of her small hands, soft and warm as they tucked her into bed. But they were fleeting, like whispers carried away by the wind. Instead, what she often remembered were the nightmares—the haunting dreams that pgued her since she was a child. She would wake, drenched in sweat, her heart racing, calling out for her grandma in desperation. The dream was always the same: she was small again, lost in the dark, wandering through empty streets, crying out, “Grandma, where are you?” But no one would answer. There was no voice to soothe her, no warm arms to pull her close.

  Sometimes, in the midst of those dreams, she could almost feel the cold, empty space that had grown between her and the memories she used to hold dear. There was a strange sort of emptiness she couldn’t expin. She could never remember exactly how she came to be in her new home, how her life had shifted from the warmth of her grandmother’s care to the cold, distant embrace of her adoptive parents. They had been kind, yes, but there was something missing. They never spoke of her past, never filled in the bnks. It was as though her previous life, the one that had revolved around her grandmother, had been erased, swept aside like it never existed.

  She clutched her cup harder, the ceramic pressing into her palms. The silence in the room felt heavy, suffocating even, as though the memories that had been locked away inside her were threatening to break free. But they never did. They stayed buried, locked in a part of her mind she couldn’t reach, a part that only resurfaced in the form of those vivid, torturous nightmares.

  And so, she sat there, staring at the table, with the weight of everything she couldn’t remember pressing down on her. She wanted to know the truth. She wanted to hear the stories her adoptive parents refused to tell. She wanted to know what happened to her, what had become of the life she once had. But all she had was the photograph of her grandmother, and the memory of her cries in the dark, searching for someone she would never find.

  Aky’s smirk faded, and his expression softened. “Wherever she is, I’m sure your grandma is proud of the woman you’ve become.”

  Yna blinked, caught off guard by his words. A lump formed in her throat, and she quickly looked away, forcing herself to stay composed.

  Minho reached over, pcing a reassuring hand on her arm. “Don’t push yourself too hard. We’ll take this slowly.”

  Lyn, who had been quietly observing, suddenly spoke. “I have memories of an old shack.” She hesitated, then added, “A forest, running, shouting someone’s name... looking for someone.”

  Aky’s brows furrowed. “I remember that too. Running through the trees, calling out. But I don’t know why.”

  Yna’s fingers twitched around her cup. “An old shack...” she murmured. “I think I remember it too. And I was running.”

  Before she could dwell further, the waiter arrived with coffee for Aky and their pastries, carefully pcing the ptes and cups on the table. Minho was getting a refill, and Yna and Lyn had already had theirs. As Yna reached to adjust one of the small ptes, her hand accidentally knocked over a fork and knife, sending them cttering to the floor along with a piece of pastry. The sudden noise broke the momentary silence, drawing the attention of the others.

  She instinctively bent down to pick it up, but the moment she did, a sharp pain fred through her hand. She gasped softly, clutching her palm.

  Aky was the first to react. “Yna, are you okay?” His voice was ced with concern as he reached out, his hand hovering near hers.

  Minho immediately moved as well, taking her hand gently, his brows furrowing. “Let me see.”

  “I’m fine,” Yna muttered, though the sting in her palm lingered.

  Lyn, watching closely, narrowed her eyes at the scar that ran along Yna’s skin. “What is that from?”

  Yna hesitated, staring at the faded mark. “I... don’t know.”

  Minho’s grip on her hand was firm yet careful. “We’ll figure it out. Don’t force it.”

  They fell into a contemptive silence, each taking slow sips of their coffee and tea, lost in their own thoughts. Aky continued stealing gnces at Yna, his gaze filled with concern. Lyn, ever observant, studied the scar on Yna’s hand, deep in thought. Minho kept Yna’s hand in his for a moment longer before slowly letting go, his expression unreadable.

  Minho had thought this would be easier. A simple conversation, some questions, and maybe the pieces of the past would start fitting together.

  But it wasn’t that easy.

  The past refused to be unraveled so quickly. And he wasn’t sure if they were ready for what they might find.

  END OF CHAPTER 6