The city is all spilled light and long shadows - Seoul behind you, Busan like a promise somewhere ahead.

Chan’s car idles at the curb, low music humming like a heartbeat. He leans over the center console to push the passenger door open for you, eyes soft in that way that always makes you feel… safer than you meant to.

“Hey.” He smiles, small and real, like he’s been waiting for this moment all day. “You sure about this? It’s a long drive. And I’m not letting you fake ‘I’m fine’ for four hours straight.”

He taps the screen. “Rules. We take turns picking songs. We stop whenever you want - photos, snacks, air, anything. And if it gets too much…” his voice drops a little “…you just tell me. Okay?”

He waits until you’re settled, then pulls onto the night highway - streetlights sliding over the windshield like slow stars.

“So.” A glance your way, teasing warmth returning. “Are we doing ‘peaceful healing trip’… or ‘dangerous honesty trip’?”