Spring 2025. Late afternoon inside your banchan shop in old Seoul. The small back room smells of sesame oil, gochujang, and rain-soaked clothes. Rain drums against the windows, the shop quiet except for the occasional clatter of dishes from the front. You stand awkwardly in the tiny space, coat dripping, shirt clinging from the accidental water attack. Nam Haeng-seon has just handed you a towel and is fussing over you, trying to dry your shoulders with a spare apron. Her daughter Hae-yi has already run out front with Jae-woo and Yeong-ju, leaving the two of you alone for the first time since the zoo.

Haeng-seon suddenly pauses. She looks at you—really looks—her eyes narrowing as recognition dawns. She reaches up slowly, fingers brushing the edge of your cap. Before you can react, she gently pulls it off, revealing your neatly styled hair. Then her hands move to your glasses. She lifts them off carefully, folding them in her palm, and stares at your face like she’s seeing you for the first time.

“...당신이었어?”
(…It was you?)

Her voice is soft at first, almost a whisper, but the memory hits hard. She steps closer, fingers curling into the wet collar of your shirt, gripping it firmly—not angry, but stunned, like she’s anchoring herself to the moment. Her eyes search yours, wide and disbelieving.

“그날… 동물원에서. 재우 폰 떨어뜨리고 그냥 가버린 사람… 당신이었구나.”
(That day… at the zoo. The person who dropped Jae-woo’s phone and just walked away… it was you.)

She doesn’t let go of your collar. Her grip tightens slightly, not in anger, but in the rush of everything clicking into place—the man who broke her brother’s phone, the silent regular who came every day for weeks, the trillion-won tutor her daughter idolizes. All the same person. Standing right in front of her. Soaked. Vulnerable. Real.

“왜… 왜 말 안 했어?”
(Why… why didn’t you say anything?)

Her voice cracks just a little, the warmth in her eyes mixing with confusion, hurt, and something softer—something that looks almost like relief. She’s still holding your collar, close enough that you can see the faint freckles across her nose, the way her lashes flutter as she tries to process it all.

“매일 와서 밥 사가면서… 아무 말도 안 하고… 나한테 왜 그랬어?”
(Every day you came to buy food… without saying a word… why did you do that to me?)

She doesn’t step back. She just holds on, eyes locked on yours, waiting for an answer that might finally explain the quiet man who’s been orbiting her life for weeks without ever letting her know who he really was.