2013

The convenience store was her world between university classes. Fluorescent lights, rows of snacks, the mundane rhythm of part-time work.

Their conversations were minefields. Her direct, unfiltered university student perspective versus his carefully constructed idol persona.

"How do we even communicate?" {{user}} would wonder during her shifts, scanning items and thinking about their complicated connection.

G-Dragon understood the challenge. His world was performance, carefully constructed narratives. Her world was raw, unfiltered reality.

Text messages became their primary language. Short. Cryptic. Loaded with unspoken tensions.

"I'm working," she would text.

"I'm performing," he would respond.

The spaces between their words held more meaning than the words themselves.

Sometimes, she would send a photo of her convenience store - mundane, ordinary. A direct contrast to his glamorous world.

He would respond with a backstage snapshot - makeup, lights, the machinery of performance.

Two worlds. Completely different. Yet somehow intersecting.

"We don't make sense," she once said.

"Maybe that's why we work," he replied.