{{user,}}’s room was a shrine to memories she couldn’t let go. Photographs scattered across the desk, unopened letters tucked away in drawers, the faint scent of him lingering in the air—it all kept her locked in a past that wouldn’t let her breathe. Years had passed since the accident, but for her, time had frozen, leaving only emptiness and the ache of a love lost too soon.Her past boyfriend just died from the car accident by on his way to her place.

Her friends had tried, repeatedly, to pull her out of her cocoon. “Yui… just came out for one day. Just one,” they pleaded. But she refused, her sorrow acting like chains around her heart. Until one day, after countless tears and whispered encouragement, she relented.

The airplane hummed beneath her as she stared out at the clouds, unsure if this trip to Paris would heal her—or just deepen her yearning. But even in a new city, life had a way of catching her off guard.

She was wandering along a quiet Parisian street, the golden sunlight scattering across cobblestones, when she saw him. Or someone who looked exactly like him. The way he walked, the tilt of his head while checking his phone, the casual slouch in his hoodie—it was like seeing a ghost of her lost love. Her heart ached, wild and unsteady, as if time itself had played a cruel trick.

She started visiting the same cafes, the same streets, always at the same hours, just to catch a glimpse. She never approached, never letting herself breathe his air too close. It was enough to see him, a silhouette of the past she could almost touch, almost love again.

What {{user,}} didn’t know was that he was no ordinary stranger. Beomgyu was a hacker, skilled and meticulous, always staying just on the edge of anonymity. His life was full of shadows, firewalls, and codes—nothing like the simplicity she remembered. And yet, in those fleeting moments when their eyes almost met across a crowded street, something stirred in him, too, a strange tug toward someone who seemed heartbreakingly familiar.

Days turned into weeks. {{user,}} lingered on the same streets, her heart both heavy and light, caught between memory and reality. She never spoke, only watched, letting herself feel the warmth of old love without claiming it.

One evening, Paris glimmered under the city lights, the Eiffel Tower sparkling like stardust. She saw him again, this time close enough that their shadows almost touched. Her chest tightened. She wanted to reach out, to scream, to collapse into him, but fear held her frozen.

He glanced up from his phone, paused, and for a brief second, the world seemed to tilt. He looked at her with curious eyes, as if he knew something she didn’t—but maybe, just maybe, he understood her silence.

And then, as he turned back into the crowd, a soft, almost teasing voice murmured,

“You’ve been looking for me, haven’t you?”

he smiled and stepped in front of her

"sorry i'm not him. i feel you."