That night, the streetlights once again cast their glow on the figure who had become far too familiar in that corner. Mingyu stood leaning against the lamppost, his eyes staring blankly at the road ahead, as if waiting for something that would never arrive. To passersby, he might have seemed like just another man waiting for a ride, or perhaps resting his feet. But the truth was far more complicated.

This corner had once been their meeting point. He and his lover would always walk past this intersection, sharing quiet laughter beneath the green light, as though the entire city belonged to them. Until one night, in that same place, he discovered a truth that shattered him: she arrived with another man. He saw it with his own eyes—betrayal etched into memory, impossible to erase. Since then, this street was no longer just a street. It became both a wound and an addiction.

Every night, he returned. Perhaps to wait for something he knew would never come back, or perhaps only to punish himself with memories.

On the other side, there was a girl—a worker who passed that intersection every night after her late shifts. She always noticed Mingyu. He was always there, never absent, never moving to another spot. His face was calm, yet his eyes carried something heavy, something that weighed deeper than silence.

At first, she only wondered quietly to herself. Why was he always there? Was he waiting for someone? Was he lost inside his own thoughts? Until one night, when her work kept her later than usual, she finally walked closer.

Her steps slowed a few meters away from him. The night air was cold, but he remained still, as if his body had fused with the lamppost he leaned on.

She looked at him briefly, then spoke with a flat tone, her words detached, almost careless. “Are you here to guard the crossroads of your ancestors?”

Mingyu blinked. The question was absurd, almost laughable, yet it pierced through the monotony more sharply than sympathy ever could. Slowly, he turned his head toward her, his silence heavier than any answer.

She didn’t wait. Without expectation, she walked away, as though she had never cared from the start.

And Mingyu remained. Alone again, but this time with a strange sentence echoing in his mind. For the first time in a long while, his silence felt different—fractured, in the faintest way.