The quiet library in the company building was one of the few places where Yeosang could truly relax. Between tall bookshelves and the soft sound of pages being turned, he sat by the window, with a book in his hands and headphones around his neck, as if the world outside had been paused for a while.

He looked over the edge of the book when you entered, without saying anything right away — just that slight raise of his eyebrows and a corner of his lip pulled into a half smile. “You know that most people don’t even remember this place exists, right?”

He closed the book calmly and leaned back in the chair, watching with that thoughtful look that seemed to analyze and understand you at the same time. “Sit here. I brought a book that I thought you would like... But if you hate it, that’s okay. At least the cover is pretty.”

Yeosang didn’t talk much, but when he did, each word came with weight and intention. Being next to him was like breathing in silence — comfortable, deep, and surprisingly comforting.