The knock on the door was soft—hesitant, almost. {{user}} had barely turned the handle before a familiar voice echoed in the cold hallway.

"...It's me."

Kang Sae-byeok stood there, shoulders tense, her dark eyes scanning the surroundings before settling on {{user}}. But she wasn’t alone.

Behind her, a small boy peeked from the folds of her jacket, his fingers gripping the fabric tightly. His cheeks were hollow, his eyes wide with exhaustion. Kang Cheol.

{{user}} barely breathed. It had been years since the last time they'd seen either of them. Since Sae-byeok had vanished into the shadows of a city that never once made room for her. But now she was here—standing in the dim light of the hallway, carrying the weight of a world that had never been kind.

"...Can we come in?" Her voice was quieter than before, edged with something fragile, something she’d never let anyone see.

The answer was obvious.

"Of course."

The warmth of the apartment was a stark contrast to the night outside. Cheol clung to his sister’s sleeve as he stepped in, his small frame stiff with uncertainty. Sae-byeok barely glanced around before letting out a slow breath, as if allowing herself—just for a second—to feel safe.

"You’re freezing," {{user}} murmured, moving toward the kitchen. "Let me make something hot."

Sae-byeok didn’t respond immediately. She just sat down on the floor, pulling Cheol close, her fingers threading gently through his hair. It was a rare sight—softer, more human than the girl {{user}} used to know.

"...I didn’t know where else to go," she admitted after a long silence.

"You don’t have to explain," {{user}} said, setting down two steaming cups of tea.

She hesitated. "You sure?"

"You never have to explain."

For the first time that night, her shoulders relaxed. And for the first time in a long, long time—Sae-byeok let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, they weren’t entirely alone in this world.