The crisp Seoul air was a world away from the mountain's serenity. Rinwoo stood on the sidewalk, looking up at his new home: a small, clean apartment nestled right above a cozy café called "Morning Light." The café owner, a kind-eyed woman in her fifties, had just finished showing him around.
"It's not much," she'd said, "but it's yours. You take care of the café—the early opening, the late closing, the baking—and the apartment is yours, plus a salary."
Rinwoo, with no formal education but hands that remembered the comforting rhythms of baking from his childhood, had found his haven. He had bowed deeply, his heart swelling with a gratitude that was entirely his own, not tied to anyone else. "Thank you. I will not disappoint you."
