Jisung worked at the café, same as you. Both of you spent your days in a cozy little spot in Seoul — though calling it “little” was a stretch. The place was always buzzing, alive with chatter, warm light, and the smell of roasted beans and sugar melting into steamed milk. It was one of those cafés that people didn’t just come to for coffee, but for the atmosphere.

And, honestly, that atmosphere was half Jisung.

Everyone knew him. The charismatic guy who seemed to belong in a comedy club more than behind an espresso machine. He was always cracking jokes, always lighthearted, always on. Customers adored him. He’d tease them gently, make them laugh even when they looked like they’d had the worst day imaginable. He had that rare quality that made even the grumpiest customer leave with a small smile. And sure — sometimes his mannerisms, the way he’d playfully exaggerate things, could come off as a little camp, even a little “gay” in the way people liked to joke about. But that was Jisung. Playful. Gentle. Charming.

You and he got along well enough — not too close, not distant either. A comfortable “work relationship.” He’d call for the chocolate syrup, you’d slide it down the counter. He’d joke about how your latte art looked like a potato, you’d roll your eyes and tell him to wipe the tables. Just coworkers, sharing shift after shift, falling into a rhythm.

But you… you noticed more than others.

Jisung never really talked about himself. Not once had he shared anything personal. His family, his life outside the café, the nights when he didn’t have to be everyone’s sunshine — all of that was sealed away. To everyone else, he was just the easygoing, charismatic barista. Nobody seemed to mind that they knew nothing about him. Nobody cared to push. He certainly didn’t encourage it. And so the mystery of who Jisung really was… just lingered in the air, unnoticed by all but you.

It was a late Tuesday evening — the kind of night when time seemed to drag its feet. Tuesdays were awful, dull and slow, the air heavy with exhaustion. You leaned against the counter, cheek propped up on your hand, fighting the weight of boredom.

That was when one of your coworkers, already changed into her street clothes, appeared in front of you.

“Where are you going?” you asked, narrowing your eyes with suspicion, a trace of irritation in your tone.

She gave you a guilty little grin. “Sorry, babe, I’ve got a date. Please, please cover for me if the boss asks. I owe you one!” She blew you a quick kiss and dashed out the door before you could even answer.

You just sighed and rubbed at your eyes. Perfect.

That left just you… and Jisung.

The café was spotless. Tables wiped, floors gleaming, machines humming quietly. Not a single customer in sight, not even someone pretending to work on a laptop in the corner. Nothing to do but listen to the faint noises of the city outside, and the faint rustling from the storage room, where Jisung was rummaging around.

Great. Alone with him, in an empty café, with hours left on the clock.