The night in Myeondeong was serene, casting a gentle glow over the quiet streets. Lanterns swayed softly in the breeze, their warm light reflecting off the smooth cobblestones.
The air was filled with the faint aroma of jasmine and roasted chestnuts from a nearby street vendor.
It was a peaceful night, the kind that made you feel like time had slowed down just for a moment.
Ms. Posh and Mr. Yoo Joon, A handsome man, clear skin and silky black hair that framed his face he had a cheerful smile on his face and a mischievous glint in his eye.
They strolled side by side, their footsteps softly echoing on the quiet street.
Ms. Posh, feeling relaxed, had her hand casually tucked behind her back, her shoulders loose and her face calm.
Yoo Joon, with his hands in his pockets, looked at her with a bright, genuine smile.
The two chatted easily, sharing stories about school, favorite foods, and silly childhood memories.
The night air was cool but comfortable, and there was a comfortable silence between their words, filled only with the gentle hum of the city.
Yoo Joon turned to Ms. Posh, his eyes shining with a mischievous sparkle. "Are you hungry?" he asked cheerfully.
Ms. Posh nodded, a small smile on her lips.
"Yes," she replied softly, feeling unexpectedly pleased by the question.
"Should I take you somewhere?" Yoo Joon asked, a hopeful grin spreading across his face.
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded again, her eyes twinkling with anticipation. "Yes, I'd like that."
They continued their peaceful walk through Myeondeong, the night wrapping around them like a cozy blanket, filled with quiet laughter and the promise of a simple, delightful evening ahead.
The old street food place was a cozy, humble shack nestled along a bustling alley in Myeondeong.
Its weathered wooden sign hung slightly crooked, and the faint aroma of grilled skewers, spicy tteokbokki, and salty fried snacks wafted through the air.
The place was simple but inviting, with mismatched stools and a small counter where the vendor, an elderly man with a warm smile, prepared dishes with practiced ease.
Lanterns hung overhead, casting a soft, amber glow over the scene.
Inside, the table was cluttered with small plates of assorted street foods—crispy fried dumplings, spicy rice cakes, and pickled vegetables — paired with chilled bottles of soju.
Penelope and Yoo Joon sat close, sharing food and drinks, their conversation light and comfortable.
Ms. Posh watched as Yoo Joon's gaze suddenly drifted into the distance, his expression becoming distant and introspective.
Her brow furrowed slightly.
"What? What happened? Why are you…?"
Yoo Joon looked up slowly, his lips curling into a small, uncertain smile. He reached for a tiny cup of soju, took a careful sip, and then looked at her again.
"No… Nothing's wrong with me. I'm fine," he said softly, his voice steady but his eyes still distant.
She studied him for a moment, then shrugged with a gentle smile.
"Ok. Since you say so," she replied, her eyes kind and understanding.
''But....'' Mr. Yoo Joon started but quickly shook his head.
Continuing to eat, Penelope let the moment pass, feeling a mix of curiosity and warmth as she enjoyed the simple, honest atmosphere of the old street food shop.
----
The sun shone brightly on a quiet, small house nestled in the countryside.
Its walls were weathered but sturdy, with a small porch where a girl sat peacefully on a wooden bench, washing clothes in a basin filled with warm water.
Her short hair was tied back neatly, strands escaping softly around her face as she moved rhythmically, humming a gentle tune.
She wore a simple white shirt that was slightly loose, and a tiny pair of shorts resembling denim, perfect for a warm, sunny day.
Her face radiated happiness, a soft, content smile illuminating her features.
Suddenly, her smile widened as she turned around.
"Ji-Soo," a familiar voice called.
And just like that, she appeared— as an astonishing sight.
The girl washing her clothes had short black hair that framed her face delicately, pink moist lips, and striking grey eyes that held a depth beyond her years.
Sitting on her forehead was a faint, almost covered birthmark, a subtle mark that seemed to carry a story.
It was a shocking yet familiar presence—how could Ji-Soo be there?
"Yes, Mother, I'm coming..." the girl replied softly, her voice a low, warm bass tone.
Without hesitation, she hurried inside the house with a bucket in hand, her footsteps light and hurried.
Inside, her mother, Mrs. Han, was busy in the kitchen. Her hair was tied messily in a bun, and she wore an apron that had seen better days.
Her face was warm and kind, creased with gentle lines of worry and care.
"Ji-Soo, I feel bad for you," she said, placing a pot on the stove. "You go to school, come back, wash your uniform, and help me cook. Don't you get tired?"
Ji-Soo gave her a light hug, a tender smile on her lips.
"Oh, Mother... I love to do work. That's why," she said softly.
Mrs. Han sighed, a hint of sadness flickering in her eyes. "You weren't like this before the accident. You hated chores... you were lazy," she muttered, a touch of frustration in her voice.
"Had I hated work?" Ji-Soo rolled her eyes playfully.
"Come on, please Mother let me hang this I will continue to help you cook....." she added with a small laugh, referring to her wet clothes.
"I'll hang these now."
Mrs. Han nodded and returned to her cooking, leaving Ji-Soo outside once more.
As she stepped out into the sunlight, hanging her clothes on a line, her mind drifted into dark thoughts.
Her face grew somber, and her gaze distant.
"Oh Lord, how awful this is I got the love I wanted so....." she thought, her heart heavy.
"I feel so guilty. Living a dead person's life isn't easy. I have to hide the fact that I am not Ji-Soo—I am Ji-Woo. Ji-Soo is gone…"
The bright day seemed to shine even more fiercely on her silent, troubled mind, contrasting sharply with her inner turmoil.