The restaurant was alive with low music and the clink of glasses, warmth spilling from the overhead lights onto the crowded table. Laughter bounced between friends, stories getting louder as the soju bottles emptied. Dongkyeong sat across from you, one arm resting lazily on the back of his chair, the other wrapped around his glass. He didn’t say much, but his eyes kept finding you through the chatter—lingering a second too long before he glanced away with the faintest curve of a smile. Every time you spoke, his attention sharpened, as if the noise around him dimmed just to make space for your voice.