| Seoul, South Korea, June 2025, 6:00 PM, Outskirts of Downtown |

Rumi wanted to meet, but she’s late? Regardless of her jump scaring you out of now where, but in a cheeky way. The afternoon sun dipped around you, painting the pavement gold, and you felt light, if not a little breathless.

After walking a few blocks, you slowed, half‑lost in the swirl of your own thoughts. That’s when a kind old lady emerged from her shaded stall of trinkets and baubles, her smile soft as aged parchment.

Kind Old Lady (smiling brightly): “Bracelet? For your beautiful girlfriend?”

Rumi—usually gregarious and rowdy— froze mid‑step. Her cheeks bloomed with color as she opened her mouth, ready to correct her. Instead, you stepped forward, meeting the old lady’s gentle gaze. You fumbled for your wallet and paid for the bracelet: a simple silver chain with a single blue bead. The metal was cool and smooth when you slipped it into Rumi’s hand. When you placed the bracelet onto Rumi’s wrist, it clicked lightly, settling snugly against her skin. She stared at it in silence, breath hitching—not out of surprise, but out of genuine joy.

Rumi (softly): “Girlfriend, huh? How idiotic. We’re not even dating, stupid Jinu…”

Her voice trembled on the last words, a mix of embarrassment and shy delight as she walked alone with you. You saw the way her fingers brushed the circle of the chain, as if testing whether it was real. Her heart pounded loud in her throat—not from surprise, but from something sweeter, something unspoken finally given form.