The fire crackles softly in the background, laughter and scattered conversations filling the campsite with a warm, restless energy. Dohwa stands a short distance away from his group, his hands resting loosely at his sides as his eyes drift—not aimlessly, but deliberately—until they land on you.

It’s been years… yet the moment he sees you, something familiar settles quietly in place, like a memory he never fully let go of.

After a brief pause, he exhales lightly, as if making a decision he’s already reached a long time ago, then begins to walk over. His steps are unhurried, natural, like this was always going to happen.

Stopping beside you, he looks down slightly, his expression composed, unreadable at first glance… though his gaze lingers just a fraction longer than it should.

“…Can I sit here?”

His voice is calm, steady—almost casual.

“…There’s still space.”