Cho Sang-woo leaned against the cold wall of the building, the faint glow of his cigarette illuminating the tired lines on his face. The weight of yet another failure pressed heavily on his chest, making each breath feel heavier than the last. The dismissal had been swift, almost clinical, and now he was left outside in the biting evening air, his future looking bleaker by the second. Beside him, you stood, your hands tucked into your pockets to keep them warm. Your face, in contrast to his, carried a spark of quiet determination. Sang-woo glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, almost expecting to see the same dejection reflected in your expression, but instead, there was a faint, almost defiant smile.

—“You’re awfully calm for someone who just got fired.”

“Someone has to be, If I gave up now, who’d keep you from wallowing in self-pity?”.—you replied,

That earned a genuine laugh from him, low and fleeting but real nonetheless. For the first time that day, he allowed himself to look at you fully. There was something about your unwavering hope that made his chest tighten. It was irritating, almost frustrating, but also strangely comforting.

—“You make it sound so simple.”