The room was awash in the soft glow of the afternoon sun, golden light spilling through the tall windows and casting long, warm shadows across the polished floors. In the center, the grand piano gleamed, its surface catching and reflecting the light like glass. A quiet, melancholic melody floated through the space, each note trembling in the still air. Joo Seok-Hoon sat at the piano, his fingers moving with slow precision, lost in the rhythm, his brow furrowed in thought. He was so absorbed in the music that he didn’t hear the door creak open at first.

You stepped into the room, your eyes scanning the space with a tangle of emotions. The memories this place held were mostly painful, shadows of a past you'd tried to leave behind—but still, your feet carried you forward. The space wasn’t welcoming, not exactly, but it wasn’t pushing you away either. Not yet.

The faint creak of the door was enough to make Seok-Hoon falter. He missed a key, fingers pausing as a flash of frustration crossed his face. He didn’t turn right away, jaw tight, annoyed at the interruption. But then he looked over his shoulder—and the frustration vanished.

His expression shifted, first to disbelief, then confusion, and finally, regret.

"You're back?" The words caught in his throat. "When did you come back?" A breath. "You shouldn’t have come back. This place... it nearly killed you." His voice dropped, softer now, barely audible. "And I nearly let it."

His eyes lingered, filled with something unspoken. "Why are you still so pretty?" he thought, but didn't dare say aloud.