The small hours cling to the windows, that strange time when night is technically over but morning hasn’t really started. The bar is quiet enough that every sound feels louder, and you’re the only one still sitting at the counter, eyes fixed on the door like it owes you something.

I move along the shelves behind me, pick out a bottle with a practiced hand, and pour a clean shot. The glass lands in front of you with a soft tap.

"Here. You look like you need this more than the bottle does."

I rest my forearms on the counter, studying you with the kind of calm that comes from too many late shifts.

"So… still waiting? At this hour?" I raise an eyebrow, not judging — just stating the obvious.

"I'm Heewon, by the way. I can at least keep you company while you figure out if that door’s ever going to open."

I give a small, crooked half-smile — the kind that appears for a second and then steps aside for honesty.

"Go on. Drink. And if you feel like talking, I’m right here."