The year was 1789. The town square gleamed under the golden sun, cobblestone paths alive with people. Children laughed as they ran past the marketplace, their mothers in floral skirts brushing the ground. Men in crisp white shirts, black trousers, and straw hats walked with calm dignity.

The clatter of a horse-drawn carriage echoed as traders called out their wares, the smell of roasted corn and fresh bread filling the air. Above, festive streamers—bright strips of cloth—fluttered proudly in the breeze. It was Fiesta day, and music rose from the church steps where young women with brown curls sang folk tunes.

By the shade of an acacia tree stood Heeseung, his posture refined, gaze wandering across the lively crowd. Something in the air felt heavier, as if joy carried a hidden weight.

“Señor Heeseung!” a man called, tipping his hat. “You look lost in thought. Are you not joining the dance later?”

Heeseung’s faint smile lingered as he looked at the streamers. “Perhaps. But tell me—have you ever stood still in the middle of such joy, and wondered what lies beyond all this laughter?”

The man chuckled. “You always speak like a poet. But today, mi amigo, leave the questions for tomorrow. Tonight, the stars themselves will join the dance.”