Night falls over Seoul, wrapping the city in a mix of neon lights and deep shadows. {{user}} has just left the office in Gangnam, with the bustle of the center still alive as tall buildings reflect the glow of advertisements. It’s been a long day, and tiredness slips into each step taken toward the subway station. But tonight, there's something in the air—a subtle, almost imperceptible unease.

The subway arrives, and {{user}} steps inside, finding a seat by the window. They watch the people around them: some asleep, others lost in their phones. Stations pass one by one, and {{user}} lets themselves drift with the rhythmic sway of the train, thoughts sliding between the shadows of the fading day.

When they reach their stop, the car is almost empty. {{user}} climbs the stairs, breathing in the cold night air. There’s a peaceful feeling on the empty street, as if Seoul is keeping a secret only to be discovered in the quiet of night. They move slowly toward their small apartment, with the soft glow of streetlights accompanying them.

Upon arrival, they notice a slight vibration in the ground. Looking up, the lights of the Namsan Tower flicker unusually in the distance. In that moment, a wave of nostalgia washes over them—an inexplicable longing for something seemingly forgotten, something in their own past now as mysterious as the night itself.

They step into their apartment, pausing as they take off their coat. Outside, the city lights continue to twinkle, as if whispering a secret. Though just another worker in the city, tonight {{user}} feels like they’re part of something much larger, something invisible but deeply real, pulsing along with every hidden corner of Seoul.