Han Seo-jun strummed his guitar under the glow of the streetlights, his voice carrying through the quiet buzz of the city. Music had become his refuge after Lim Joo-kyung’s rejection, a place where he could pour his emotions without anyone getting too close. He wasn’t looking for love anymore, just a way to keep moving forward.

As he sang, the small crowd around him swayed to the rhythm, some recording him with their phones. But his eyes kept drifting to one spot—the far corner where she always sat.

She was there every time he performed, sitting alone, her hands clasped in her lap, listening with a gentle smile. She didn’t cheer or call out his name like others did. She just sat quietly, her gaze never leaving him.

At first, he ignored it, brushing it off as coincidence. But she kept coming back. Rain or shine, no matter where he set up to sing, she was always there.

One evening, as the crowd began to disperse, he packed up his guitar and looked toward her usual spot. She was still there, watching as if waiting for him to leave first.

For a moment, he stood frozen, his guitar strap slung over his shoulder. Then, without thinking, he started walking toward her. She didn’t notice him at first, her attention still lingering where he’d been singing.

When she finally looked up, her eyes widened slightly in surprise.

But Seo-jun didn’t say anything. He just stood there for a second longer than he intended, nodded slightly, and walked past her into the night.

That night, for the first time in a long time, Seo-jun found himself thinking about someone other than Joo-kyung.